Tonight, we have our first guest post! As a part of my Valentine’s Day present, I wrangled a promise from the husbandman; that he would write a post for me (of course, he promised this weeks ago and promptly forgot, and I only reminded him yesterday – less time for him to come up with an excuse). So without further ado, I present the one, the only: husbandman!!
Set upon by chills, the weight of the lonely wights sits upon my flesh as I wander the empty battlefields of old. Surrounded by peace whilst walking through a field of blood, life stills itself in the presence of old deaths.
I know the little wife talks about her projects, her sewing, her business, and her life. She talks about what makes her happy, she talks about pretty much anything. She talks to pretty much anyone who will listen. And I, fortunately, like to listen. Sometimes to the silly, sometimes to the profound, sometimes to the wise, sometimes to the foolish – I just listen.
Listening is funny sometimes. You hear whispers of fragmented pasts as they reach out to you through places or things. You hear strains of solid thought beneath the fractured appearance of our high-tech society. And, most importantly of all, you hear others talk about their past.
Why place so much emphasis on the past? Well, you don’t realize exactly what you have until it’s gone. You treasure something the day after you lose it or it breaks. You love your wife or your husband, but when they leave for a trip or leave this world, you LOVE them like none other. You dream about the future, and those dreams are important – but look around at what you have now. Love what you have now, instead of what you might have down the road.
I don’t know how you celebrate Valentine’s Day. I honestly don’t care much for the holiday, but because it exists, I use it to remember what I need to be loving in the here and now. Not what I need to be dreaming about, but what I need to love right now. I love the little wife. I love my family. I love God. One of those things will never ever go away. For the other two, I need to make the most of the time I’ve got. Nobody understands that more than soldiers coming home.
Maybe the little poem at the beginning of this post did nothing for you. Maybe it sent chills up your spine as you think back to the haunted places you have visited. Maybe it reminded you of unpleasant things. That poem tells me, over and over again, that things aren’t always as permanent as they seem. So make the most of the present you’ve been given, because the past is always gone and the future never arrives.