If I should disappear, will He remember me? Would He remember me, if I should disappear?
If I stood up one day, stuffed a bag of clothes, all the while He was gone. Left the bed made and the house clean, cooked His favorite meal… would He remember me when I disappear?
Would He notice my absence or miss the sound of my voice, the smell of coffee in the morning or the sound of my steps coming home... the feel of my hand in His hand, the touch of my lips on His forehead. If all my things were gone; the things that made a house, our home. Would He notice, I too, was gone? Would He wonder when I left or if I would return? Would He ponder on the 'why' as He lay awake at night? Would He?
Would He know the reasons why ... I left Him without even goodbye? Would He know that it didn't matter much His sacrifice untold- nor the love He had- for me; for me alone?
His faithfulness, His goodness, His gentle loving touch… None of these would satisfy me much. He gave me all I needed and still I needed more. I'd be still for a moment, anxieties bottled for a time... and then, somehow, they'd wake up- stir inside... and finally explode. I could not contain them any longer.
So I took a stand and decided that I was not going to take it anymore: not His love, His sweet caress, or His well-kept promises. Neither could I longer take His million kindnesses. When I fussed and I fought, and I raged, He continued to say..... Nothing!
I walked up to Him, struck Him across the face… if but one word, say… Something! Say that you don’t love me that I failed you as a wife. Tell me that you hate me, for all my wicked lies. Tell me there’s another you would prefer instead of me; that another will give you what I’ve never given thee. Tell me that you’re tired of waiting up for me; say that you would rather walk away and leave.
So, because you do not hear me or have ignored my plea; I’ve decided… I will be the one to leave. After all, it is only a matter of time, before you give up and resign. Resign to the fact that I’m no good for you, that I’ll never live up to what you expect me to.
That I could have done better, given you more time; talked with you more often, shared with you my life. Given you more kisses, embraced you with much love… I never really honored you. I chose the fast way out. I chose to leave before I was able to see you; before I was able to see in your eyes that look.
Disappointment, anger, maybe even a tear… I was sure if I saw that look that alone would keep me here. It would keep me from leaving you once and for all. It would hold me back, lock me up and only you’d hold the key… the key that I have never given thee, to my heart, to my mind. I simply did not know, to accept your kind of love or how to just let go.
In the past, everyone has left me all alone, so I surrendered to the fact that before you get the chance, I’d leave you before you leave me. I have decided. I've made up my mind, so please don’t try to stop me at the door. After 16 years, I know how you are. You won’t argue with me or ever tell me to leave; you’ll just stand there, arms stretched out… one long look at me… and I will be… weak at the knees.
I can almost see you now standing there at the door with that look in your eyes like you had once before.
Okay, I’m convinced. I’ve decided not to go! Not now anyhow; I’ll stay for a while- to see, if perhaps there’s a chance that I learn, to give thee all that I am: my heart and my soul. And somehow…be… set free! From all the confusion, from roller coaster rides, from the many fears that I try to hide.
...
So before you get home, let me unpack. Let me let go of the baggage that I’ve held onto for years. Before you even notice… I almost disappeared.
Based on My relationship with God
Copyright © 2004 by Ellie Kings
Note: This is a Spoken Word piece; please excuse the grammar.
Paintings by Amy Hautman and Bruce Rolff
There are times when I think back on what I had and wish I could relive those moments again. I think of him walking through the front door, giving me kisses and hugs, making me feel like a queen, as if he worshipped the ground I walked on.
