To My Beloved,
Many years ago you professed your love for me and told me you wanted to be with me forever. For the next several years we spent much time together, talking, laughing, singing.
But now, it seems you don’t spend as much time with me. Each day I write you a letter. Sometimes you skim it quickly, and then check it off your “List of Things To Do” and don’t give it another thought. But so often, now, you don’t even look at it. You’re in the middle of something, you’ll get to it later, you say.
You still talk to me often. You talk of the problems you are having, and tell me things you’d like which would make your life easier, you think. But you rarely take the time to listen to me.
I’ve painted you a special picture—a glorious red and purple sunset. But you are busy cleaning in the bathroom and don’t notice it. Later you complain of how much you have to do, and how tired you are. I offer to help, but you don’t hear me.
I miss you. I think you miss me, too. Yesterday I saw you crying and saw how lonely and overworked you looked.
I’ll be here, waiting for you when you are ready. We’ll talk and I’ll tell you of many things. I’ll shoulder your burdens and you will have time to watch my sunset. And then you will sing again.
With Great Love,
God
Read more articles by Amy Michelle Wiley or search for articles on the same topic or others.
