I feel myself hardening like melted chocolate that was one time all warm and gooey but has been left out on the counter top, unprotected too long from the air. I want to be all soft and melted again. I want to be fluid not rigid and tasteless so I grab more tissues boxes from the cabinet and walk downstairs.

“Jesus. Make me soft again.”

And I know that He is trying.

I get a text and am asked if I have time to talk. I want to give the asshole response I’ve been given several times when I’ve asked the same question, “About what?” but I don’t. I say nothing.

I sit at the desk and realize that this is exactly where I have wanted to be for a long time though I did not want it to be this to bring me to this crossroad. I know I am for reasons that far surpass my current situation. This is more than a marriage issue. This is an issue within each of us, not only together but individually.

Maybe it’s a place in me I have always wanted to go but just haven’t had the guts to and this is my opportunity.

This thought takes the edge off a bit and my heart feels heavier and not as light. Maybe heavy isn’t a bad thing, I can feel heavy. I can’t always feel light so perhaps the lightness my heart has been feeling is because it’s been left out on the countertop too long unprotected and its beginning to dry up.

He walks in and sees me sitting at the desk and says nothing. I think he’s hiding his heart behind a text. Maybe texting makes him feel courageous and safe when all I want is his flesh, for him to approach me himself but he doesn’t and he walks back out. I try to see him for who he is; the father of my children and a man whose heart is big and I know is full of good intentions. I try to see the Lord in him but all I see at the moment is a man hiding behind a text, trying to take a short cut.

I am wrong. He is courageous and brave and eventually walks back through the door and faces me heart first. The conversation throughout the day goes from bad to doable to worse and I eventually go to bed resolving that this will never work. There’s too much hurt, too much blame and too many justifications and I don’t even know how or where to begin sorting things out.

I tell myself it may be easier to just start again, like a new life, but I don’t even know what starting again would look like. Try again hasn’t worked. So I start another day by saying, “Jesus make me soft again.”

Maybe I’ll start there. Longing to be softer.