Maybe it’s just me…but I feel anything but free on this Independence Day. Instead of feeling free, we now feel like prisoners. Wearing our masks. Limiting our gatherings to 10 people. Staying six feet apart. Quarantining in our homes. I haven’t felt free since mid-March of this year. But I didn’t lose my freedom when the coronavirus hit. Neither did you.
I fantasize about love because, deep down in my soul, I don’t actually believe I will get to know it. Yes, it is real for other people—but not for me. I have been given access as an observer, but not a partaker.
I believe God has convicted me that, deep down in my soul, I treasure these people and things more than Him. Yes, I still know Him. Yes, I still love Him. Yes, I still belong to Him. But I've been chasing my fleshly desires.
I know I’m not the only one who struggles with swimsuit season—whether it’s figuring out how modesty is involved, picking a swimsuit that's cute and trendy, or determining who we’re trying to impress—the hot lifeguard or our great aunt. With that being said, perhaps you can relate some of the fears I’ve experienced pre- and post-swimsuit season.
I know what it feels like to be the outsider looking in. So that's what this poem is about—watching your friends start dating, get married, and have families. This poem is about feeling stuck on the sidelines and wondering how long you'll be waiting. But the waiting isn't meaningless. You'll see why.