There was once a place I knew – a warm place, sheltered from the biting wind of winter. Many lived there, fueling the fire that fought the piercing cold. Wealth co-existed with poverty, complexity with simplicity; patience with the temperamental. Life was never easy, for what life is? But neither was it hard to live. People are people and are seen and treated as such; each a unique and beautiful creation of God.
But such harmony rarely lasts…
There was no great war or terrible battles fought. There was no tragedy that ripped apart the shelter I’ve always known. Yet there were casualties – Oh yes, there were casualties. So subtle and discreet, unnoticed by the rest of the revolving world, but the blast that tore through the foundations has left no one unscathed, least of all myself.
The blast was not external. It was not caused by an explosive device. Some may say that it doesn’t even exist because the cabin is still standing in the middle of that vicious winter onslaught. Some people left; others were pushed away. Both stupid and reasonable decisions were made, but no one was left unaffected. Eventually, I was the only one that remained in the cabin. The people, who were the heat source, were all gone, and now I’m left alone in a room with no defense against the winter – no fuel to fend off the suffocating cold.
In less than a year the last trace of residual heat had fled. I am on my own, surrounded by phantoms of what once was. The blow dealt to this place was just as effective as a bomb, though no weaponry has touched it, except that made by our own hands – my own hands… This building still stands, but now it is just a building; a shadow of the home it used to be. It no longer possesses the quality that made it a home so many months ago. That foundation has crumbled beneath the blast, yet the building still stands empty and forlorn. Only I remain. Empty, and forlorn.
Yet in the middle of such silent chaos, of so many anguished and frightened faces, only one stands at the center of them all and it the rest aside. Yes, Beautiful, that face is yours. I once knew of love. On days when few were present in the cabin, the warmth of Love was sufficient to beat back the omnipresent winter. Your love. My love. God’s Love.
But Winter broke into the cabin with terrifying force and without warning. I grew scared. My mind was a tangled mess and I couldn’t see a way that both of us could remain in the cabin. I was weak… I thought I was being wise and pushed you out of the house so you could save yourself, when in reality all I did was push away our best chance at surviving this storm. And as it consumes me, my only thought is “Did she make it? Did she survive, or did I send her to her death?” I’ve heard from you a little since then, even caught glimpses of you once or twice, but I may never know how much damage you endured, or how much can be healed.
I have not found Love since then, in any of its forms. Sometimes a shadow masquerades as Love but it vanishes before I can fully identify it for the fraud it is. Its warmth eludes me and refuses to cover my shivering form. All that remains are the memories of you, in a time where warmth was in abundance and Winter was not an entity I needed to fear. You had stood by my side, and I by yours, despite the weight we both endured, and then I abandoned you on such a foolish whim of impulse! I’ve always said I would never be that guy who leaves her alone removes his warmth from her. I’d never be the guy who runs away when he gets scared, leaving her to fend for herself. Look at me now… LOOK AT ME NOW!!! What have I become but a cShell of the man I thought I was?
Beautiful, I’m sorry… I’m sorry for pushing you out in the midst of a storm. I’m sorry for bolting the door behind you so you couldn’t get back in. I’m sorry for never realizing what real Love was when we were together. I’m sorry for failing to step up like a man when opposition rammed down my door. But I know sorry can’t fix the damage this cabin has undergone. Sorry can’t heal the wounds that you’ve acquired. But these are not mere words flowing from my heart onto this page. They are promises of action; a covenant to step up and do things right the next time. I only wish that you would give me the opportunity to show you what this cabin can, and will, be like if we both were to enter into it once again and allow the warmth of Love defend against the might of Winter, together.