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"A little Piece of a Memory of You"… and Hints of a Love to Come

There are ghosts from my past that own more of my soul,
Than I thought I had given away.
They linger in closets and under my bed
And in pictures once proudly displayed – Jennifer Knapp.
Sometimes I feel like Russel Crowe's character from “A Beautiful Mind.” Only instead of seeing fictional characters I am stuck in a city full of ghosts. Ghosts of a relationship. Everywhere I go is full of memories of her, memories of us, things that used to be but are no longer. We were here once, we sat in this place, we passed through here, I once traveled this way knowing you were my destination. And I feel like I'm taking a step back to come out and admit that. I feel like I'm losing the battle by even acknowledging their presence. So I stumble through, try my best not to make eye contact, try my best not to remember, not to let old emotions flood back into me. I mean, how long has it been? Shouldn't all these things have dissipated long ago?
This weekend at camp was a lot harder for me than I thought it would be. I didn't expect everything to hit me so powerfully. Here is her house, here we sat and talked, here we first walked beside each other, here we kissed and she rested her body against me… the memories fly passed my eyes as I lower my head and try to feel like I'm free.
It's funny that I once prided myself on being a good lover. I really thought I was good at all that, at sacrificing, giving, devoting myself to another. I did all those things eagerly. I thought it was one of my greatest strengths. It's only after I've moved into trying to know God as Lover that I've begun to question myself in that regard. It's only now I've begun to realize how much I need to grow in that area. When I met my second girlfriend all thoughts of the previous one disappeared. There was no longing, no wondering, no wishful thinking. I was so passionately in love that such thoughts were completely foreign to me. So what kind of lover am I to God when I am so suddenly moved by a chance encounter with the ghost of a memory? How is it that so much rushes back on me and I'm left feeling this longing?
I've got to be honest. As long as I refuse to face these ghosts they will gain a substance they do not truly have. Once I look squarely at them I may notice that I can pass right through them. In the midst of it all I feel like I've only just begun a journey. It's as if God gave me hints in Paris so that I would have the strength to push through the rough beginning, so that I would have strength to truly get to that place I glimpsed. Like a honeymoon – a beautiful moment of sharing, of passion of intimacy, the memory of which can go a long way to get you through the first year(s) of marriage. I will not always be unfaithful.

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