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The first time He visited me… There was no gradual unfolding of activity, no time to become accustomed to each other, nothing that so much as slightly resembled any other encounter I’ve ever had.

20130807-002505.jpgHe had told me to greet Him at the door, naked, kneeling. I did as He instructed. I knelt there, trembling, frightened, alone in the darkness of my mind, waiting for Him to arrive, fighting the waves of panic that rushed over me. I had never felt so deeply physically exposed before and so intensely aware of my body’s tiniest movement. To be naked before a lover is one thing for they are intimately acquainted with your body already. This was something else entirely.

I was trembling with anticipation, frightened that my body wouldn’t please Him, panicked with thoughts that somehow my fear would overcome me and I would cover myself in that moment I heard his footsteps, terrified that I would fail.

There were no similarities between this one and the other. One had spent month after month and thousands of hours in intense conversations with me, getting to know me in incredible detail, coaxing me gently into revealing who I am, comforting me through realizations and past hurts, panic attacks and secrets revealed. In the end that one had left me adrift.

Now, here I was, kneeling naked at my door for essentially a stranger that I’d met in person but once, yet felt intensely drawn to. So drawn that I had not even stopped to consider just how changed I had become since the last one until the moment He opened the door.

Looking back I’ve wondered how it was that I was able to make it through it with Him, but not with the other, and I think it’s because sometimes we can get so close to something, so familiar, that it actually has the result of stifling us instead of allow us to expand, but that’s another entry for another day.

I had not faltered, I had not hidden, I had not covered myself. Was I still frightened when I heard the knob of the door turn, the slide of it opening and then closing behind Him? Absolutely. But then He stepped toward me, put His hands in my hair and held my head to His body, and it let me go. It didn’t go away, it just..let…go. I was still frightened of what was to come, the unknowing of a thing is often much worse than the thing itself, but I was no longer tightly gripped by the throat. That came later..and it wasn’t fear anymore, it was Him.