My Luna Moth

This morning I left the house.

Any other morning that would be unquestionably normal. If my mom or dad were up, they would most likely audibly wonder where I was going. And I would tell them. Maybe I'd be out to a friend's house, going to the store or just wandering around aimlessly.

But this morning was different. I'm here in Wolcott again which means I'm not at my own house. I slept in my room (on the couch downstairs). I went to bed in an awkwardly silent mood, knowing I could neither talk to Alyssa nor hug and kiss her good night. For her sake, I will not share with you the particulars of her character that lead to said decision but I will say that it was a conscious choice on my part.

Normally I do. I'll kiss her several times on the cheek, forehead, eyebrow (one of my favorites). We don't kiss on the lips, a decision we've made together but that's another entry if I so choose to share. You'll have to wait and see. I did not realize why it was that I refrained from these outward affections but I just knew that I couldn't. The only words I let out last night, on my way to the couch, were quietly whispered.

"Good night."

I thought that perhaps sleep would conquer these unsettlingly disconnected emotions. It usually does. Sleep has this odd ability to melt off negativity and cause the previous day's frustrations to somehow vanish.

But not this time.

I woke up feeling the same way. I didn't want to talk to Alyssa. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Getting back to what normally happens, I tend to wake up and walk into her room to bid her a pleasant good morning. I'll sit bedside and talk to her for a few minutes about whatever happens to be on our minds or floating around in the vast spaces upstairs. It's an enjoyable way for me to start my weekend days here. But this morning, after a hollow "good morning" to her, I suggested she go back to sleep. It was not yet 8:00 in the morning and we hadn't exactly gotten to sleep at a decent time the night before.

So, after my suggestion that she return to her unconscious state, I went back to my couch. Why? I don't know. But every time she walked in the room I pretended to sleep. I just didn't want to talk. To anyone, really. She just happened to be the one there.

I had, after a few seconds of lying on that couch under the guise of my shut eyelids, an undeniable urge to leave. To grab my Bible, get in my car and just go. I knew where too. I had to go to the local high school. It's a big, quiet space of fields and pavement.

So I left. I got up, said not a word to Alyssa, changed my clothes, grabbed my Bible, picked up my keys and my iPod (just in case) and left. I felt a little guilty for not saying anything to her about where I was going or what I was doing. But I knew it had to be this way. Even if just for me.

I walked around the school fields just talking to God about what's been going on the last few days. He knows, sure. But it's nice to tell Him anyway. I had to confess some things to Him and ask Him advice on some others. And some things were just me relaying how I've been feeling. It was a nice time, just the two of us.

On the final stretch of ground before I got back to the car, God left me something. There, laying in the still dew moistened grass, was a Luna Moth. I have only seen one once before in my life. So to see it now, just sitting on the ground (and not moving when I touched it) was amazing.

I wanted to get something to bring it home on (or in) to show Alyssa. I grabbed some cardboard from a nearby dumpster but not before taking a few pictures with my phone. That turned out to be a good idea. Upon returning from my garbage recanoitre, it was gone.

But I saw it. I was there. For the brief moment that it chose to rest there in the grass, unswayed by human hands, I got to see it. No one else.

And that made me think.

Have I been taking this relationship for granted? Have I been trying to fit it into a certain box or at least trying to avoid parts of it that are to my dislike? Maybe that's going to far. Maybe it's just that I've been trying to manipulate every moment of time spent with her to get everything I can out of it. But it doesn't work that way.

If I put that moth there in the grass, what special moment would that have been? What would I have then experienced but my own hands at work? And while it can be good to see the fruits of my labor, it isn't anything special for me to manipualate beauty into existence. Because in all honesty, I can't.

And so what good is it for me to manipulate my time with Alyssa? What will I gain from creating my own special moments? Absolutely nothing.

But what do I gain from letting God control and direct? Everything! When He is in control and when I let go and allow Him to do His thing and simply follow His lead, I am shown His glory and beauty through His works. Who am I to attempt control of a God given gift?

My life is His. This relationship is His. And because it is His, it is His to do with as He sees fit, according to His will. And I want nothing else. Those Luna Moth moments in my life, and in our relationship are His doing. Just the way they are. I can't create that moment. Only He can. And they're blessings to be enjoyed and cherished not held on to and stretched by my hands as much as possible.

Alyssa is His too. And I should not ask her to be anything other than that which He has created her to be. She is His and His alone. She is a gift also. Something to be enjoyed and cherished. Something to be, as I so galantly said two entries ago, fought for. To be protected.

Thanks for the moth, God. And thanks for Alyssa.