drop your coat

{via pinterest}

dear you,

you wanderer through the Valley of the Shadow
drop your coat.

you who haven't figured out how to process the change or the ache or the new or the rejection
drop your coat.

you who are finding yourself in the season of "no" or the season of leaving or the season of lots of taking and very very little giving back
drop your coat. 

// 

do you know what that looks like, to drop your coat and leave it there?

there is unspoken courtesy, ingrained in us from the very beginning. you do not just drop your bag, your coat, your shoes on the floor. not in another's house, not even in your own house. you pick it up. you find the hook or drawer or little nook. you hang it up. tidy, organized, everything appropriately tucked away.

even when the fabric is so heavy that it almost seems unbearable, this idea of crossing another twelve steps to the closet. even when the smile is pasted on, and the "let me take your coat" feels falsely cloying because you would just rather not lean into the pity (even though it's nothing more than your host being polite).

so I want to tell you something. I want you to look me in the eye.

I want you to rest. drop your coat. right there, in the hallway. shoes too. kick them off. let them thud against the wall.

I want you to find freedom. leave it there, on the floor, in a crumpled pile of soft fabric and silken lining. leave it there.

because it's not just a coat, is it, love? it's grief and heaviness and weight and confusion and a lack of knowing which direction to step next. and there may not be answers there between the hardwood slats. but there is a solid surface on which to rest. and sometimes that works better than answers. at least for now.

so drop your coat. leave it there. the world won't end while it lays on the hardwood.

dust washes off. you can use my machine.

that wailing rhythm

the rhythm is a funny thing. it's an entity of its own. can't you hear it, thudding and pulsing slow below your skin, that gentle thumping by which our bodies sway?

there's one in the air, too. i can feel it, the rhythm of thunder crashing and lightning answering back in brilliance of light. it's majestic and strange and powerful. i don't think i understand it fully...will i ever?

life is a rhythm, one of those things that isn't really composed with ink and pen on paper. i wish it was, because my words seem paltry to sum up the inhale-exhale that seems to make up every second of every day until the day it just doesn't anymore.

:: but apparently vulnerability is the rhythm i needed to find. 

the very night after i wrote about releasing, we were struck with a strange sort of loss. we had been chasing a dream, a purple house tucked into a grove of green countryside and garden mermaid groves. and we had it, right there in the curve of our fingertips, and then it was gone, because that's how real estate works.

and i wailed. // oh, that wail. 

see, i write about the Lion's song a lot. it's a melody that hums beneath my skin and courses through my body like blood and electricity wedded together in the strangest and holiest of matrimony. i can hear it, that low growling hum to which my feet have found a rhythm to stamp and my lungs have found notes to cry and keen.

and yes, sometimes, you have to wail.

sometimes it's all we have to keep us going when everything seems a muddled blur and off-center to the point that even the melody seems to have faded. but there's always that rhythm.

sometimes it's hard to find your original self when everything under the sun has been done. and you watch yourself drumming on the side of your cup with a bamboo stick as the teabag bobs like a ship in the calm, and you wonder, am i in the calm too? 

i had never understood that expression until the day my life stood still and i caught my breath when i raised my hands and begged the moon to stand still over me. Joshua needed the sun to fight, but somewhere, the moon stopped too over some corner of earth.

before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.

you must wake up with sorrow.

you must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows

and you see the size of the cloth.

:: naomi shihab nye

and perhaps in the calm is a place to catch your breath, when the crush and rush of the world is pulling you right and left and backwards and forwards and pinching off pieces of you until there is nothing left at all.

{via dramaticelegance}

and you need a minute to heal from the scrubbing, so you bury your nose in the tea and you breathe. the poking and the prodding leave fingermarks all over you in shades of invisible bruise, like starry-night constellations that tell a story, something glorious that might heal another when they touch the marks the world left behind.

so weave a crown of blooms from the basket by the door labeled "weeds" and peer up at the world through one-too-many loose tendrils of escaping hair. find the pool, still in the calm, and study the freckles like cinnamon sprinkled over something made with apples and dough and that whisper of love that you don't understand how you can taste, but you can.

and pick up your drum from beside the door and dive into that pool until the bottom becomes the top and out you emerge into glorious Light where the world hums in a fresh newness. and the rhythm of your heart merges with His.

and you and the Lion count the beats together.

shattered alabaster

{via pinterest}

we fear brokenness. we fear what comes when we are face down, palms up. we can't see our backs from this position, this place of humility.

and what if someone sees us here? they might whisper, they might talk about how low we have fallen. and whispers hurt, after all; who doesn't know that? 

but He sent them out into the streets to bring us in. the broken, the lame, the blind and the weary. and He brought us in and set us as His table, us broken ones. and He stood still in the crowd and said someone touched Me. 

we forget these stories. they get pushed to the back as we look around and stand shoulder to shoulder with others and stretch to stand on tiptoe to measure up like we think we should. brokenness does not negate the warrioress, but instead it creates glory. 

a phoenix cannot rise until it burns. 
a seed cannot grow without death. 

“God uses broken things...it is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume.

 it is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever." 

:: vance havner

it is something we are taught to fear, taught that we must flee from and hide, that we must scrabble for some token of false strength to save face. do we deign ourselves so great that our Jesus must be broken, but we find shame in this place for ourselves?

the prostitute was the first to find Him in the dawn when the stone had rolled away. those who followed Him were too full to see, but this woman was empty of all but Him. and He said her name, and she knew in a word. this broken vessel, this woman of the night now turned bright as the Son. 

raised to glory, this broken ones.
living in life, these blessed ones.

driftwood

{via stylemepretty}

these days i have felt very unpoetic, very uninspired.

all of my artistic energies have been focused on my NaNoWriMo novel, and all of my strength has been poured into the care of my precious warrior-daughter of now eight weeks.

and then the doctors said i needed more surgery. my gallbladder quit working, as though it wast just as tired as i was. and i went under the knife again two days ago. my body is rung out like a rag in the bottom of the kitchen sink, tossed and crumpled and completely without strength.

i am weary. i am without poetry. i am simply exhausted.

i am driftwood.

lead me to the Rock that is higher than i.

and i am tempest tossed and oh, so forelorn.

i am a ship and the waves are swelling. 

but there is One who calms the waters with a word.

peace. be still.

for I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel.

and He has gone before me, unsurprised by a single thing that has occurred over the past month. and all i can do is whisper "thank you" to the stars that illuminate my night. because the Cross is what i cling to without ceasing these days, or i would be smashed to pieces against the shoals, carved with lies. 

insufficient becomes :: enough

broken becomes :: whole

empty becomes :: filled

and i am driftwood carved to elegance, leaning against the Rock that is higher than i.

why sacred :: relationship

if you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you will have noticed my fervency for the sacred, my new and hounding pursuit of holiness that has taken over my life in recent months. i've turned my attention toward seeking Him in everything, every breath and every step. finding Him in the rubble as well as in the consecrated.

but that has not sat well with everyone.

i've heard from several different people in my life that what i'm doing is dangerously false and far from His truth. because sacred is in the Church, in the Word, and in the ordained.

isn't that right?

that was last week. and i felt something start to spin off-center in my heart.  wasn't this what He was telling me to do? wasn't i going His way, following His pull?

was i wrong? 

and this week, this video appeared. i saw it posted here and there, on one friend's wall, and then another's twitter. and then i clicked play. and i sobbed.

because it was my answer to these careless-flung words from one broken heart to another. because we've knocked His hands off the cross and hid the bloodstains under the carpet. we've repainted His face and highlighted mismatched sections of the Word until the sacred has been turned into stigma.

it's not a museum for good people

it's a hospital for the broken.

religion says do.

Jesus says done

religion says slave

Jesus says son

and this was my answer to the questions and the controversy. and i felt ashamed of myself, because this should have been my answer all along. 

and i cannot thank Him enough. because this is what i've been trying to say, and couldn't form. 

and so i find myself clutching brave again, like a drowning solider with just a scrap of fight left, unwilling to surrender. no more making Him small because it fits better. He isn't supposed to fit, after all, but change. 

when He said it is finished

i believe that He meant it.

final notes :: in review

{via pinterest}

tomorrow is 2012. 

honestly, it's hard for me to believe that another year is so close. i can almost feel the smoothness of the chalkboard, that clean slate that lurks so near. it's refreshing. 

this year has been remarkable. 

and you've blessed me. 

and life has changed for the sacred, for the beautiful. 

i'm humbled to be surrounded by such incredible brothers and sisters as you, once strangers turned beloved friends who have held my hand as this year has tossed and turned. in the beauty, we celebrated. and in the darkness, we held up the candleflames. 

it has been a year of Light in this place. a year of drawing closer. 

and so, here they are. 

:: the ones that blessed you ::

woman 

//

we need more than our silent allotments of stand and sit and worship and listen and nothing more than this. we crave Him. we ache to go deeper. we want to search His will and see His heart and wrestle with Him in hand-to-hand until we find ourselves undone and exposed before Him. because He chose us too. 

grace alone

//

i am walking on Grace alone.

Sometimes, I find myself at a loss for how much poetry I dream and then promptly forget upon my waking.

It is a powerful ache to realize just how much this world of chaos, of tears, of sleep-stolen moments and overbooked days has ripped my art from me.

dreaded souls :: imperfection

//

if He makes all things new, all things good, all things beautiful -- then this i ache to emulate. i want to follow in His footsteps, stepping down the path with the ambition to dwell in His mercies
to make all things beautiful. to take my imperfections and make them into Art.
to make them dreaded. 

ink of wait

//

the three years worth of familial well-meaning words cut like the lies mixed with truth that they are...because really i'm not wasting anything.

why don't i go? i'm not called.

but i have wasted nothing.

this is rebirth, i would say. and it's painful.

three things

//

and so i take my pen and my paper and my too-many thoughts and i sit and i wonder just what might happen if i knew something, anything at all.
i watch the people, feet on pavement and pavement on feet. and i realize what i know.
i know three things, because sarah kay says good things come in threes, and she's right, after all.

:: :: :: 

i cannot thank you enough. the blessings that you have poured over my head like anointing oil in this past year has been more than i can understand.

it's been a walk into sacredness, toward gripping the hem of the Son of the Most High. a walk into adventure, hand in hand with my Abba.

it's been the vigil of death with candles lit and joy coming fresh in the morning. it's been a path with more stones than i expected, and more joys than i could even fully pen.

be blessed in 2012, dearhearts. 

{also, for those of you that have been following my OneWord journey here and here, i have found my word. 

tomorrow, it will breathe. and it will begin. 

so much gratitude for all your prayers and all your blessings.}

rage :: Light

{via pinterest}

i heard a poem when i was in the first grade, and it's haunted me ever since.

i didn't know what the words meant, but i knew they had meaning. i knew that i would find out one day, if i just kept searching. 

do not go gentle into that good night

rage, rage against the dying of the light

all my life, these words have followed me. my entire life, i have heard this words whisper into my soul, a mantra of sorts that my soul sings over and over, a battle cry.  

now, i think i'm beginning to know what they mean. 

i always thought that rage meant to be angry, to be furious at the extinguishing of the light. but it means more that just anger, than just angst. 

it's fighting against it all. the fear, the expectations, the trepidation. it's warring against anything that quenches this Light. 

it's about stepping from the shadow into the Light, hands up and fingers parted to let every fluttering beam to slide into every crevice to let oh, so much strength flow into my every pore. 

{via pinterest}

it's about finding the power. because the Light, the Son is more powerful than we are. 

rage, rage against the dying of the Light. 

maybe the author didn't mean for this piece to be taken this way, but isn't that what art is about? freedom and expression.

and so i read these words over and over again. they've pulled me forever, and i think they will always weave some kind of spell over me. 

it's all about stepping from broken to Grace, from dust to sovereign. and so that's what this poem says to my heart as Christmas comes and the the mystery of skin and flesh and bone and God and Eternity meld together with stable straw and beating hearts. 

and so as i stand under twinkle lights and white pine trees with silver and red and green, i have a hand raised. 

because i am not going gentle into that good night.

and i will rage, rage against the dying of the Light.  

prisoner of hope :: always

{via pinterest}

i am hope's prisoner. 

i am Light's conquest. 

and i seek no freedom. 

sometimes i wonder how people muddle through this world without the glimmer of hope behind their eyes. i see it, you know...that look that slips across their face when i meet their eyes with a smile. 

that look of want. of plead. of empty. 

and then we pass and they are gone. but they stay with me even after i've passed and am home under covers. because that look of hopelessness coats my soul with the grief that only loss can bring.

i want to go back and touch their shoulder and draw them back to the place i call Home and the One i call Father. 

but as for me, i will 

:: always :: 

have hope

for You have been my hope.

i cling to Him tightly in those moments when the world rocks and i have nothing but the pounding cries of uncertainty. what do they do, when the waves slam them against the rocks until their grasp loosens and their dreams flow from their eyes like water?

{via pinterest}

in my nights of darkened grief when all i can do is weep until my pillow floats and my hair is moist with salted sorrow, i know that my fingers can upward reach and grasp those of the One who holds me close.

this tangled kiss of hope that binds me against His chest. 

hope stays perched on the branches of my soul, singing like the uncaged bird, this phoenix of hope rising from the ashes of Death, killed and conquered and fingers sliced from off my shoulders. 

in the dark, i have hope. 

i'm running to Your arms

the riches of Your love

will always be 

:: enough ::


i hope you will forgive me, but again, with the holiday rush, i am simply going to reveal the winners here instead of in a full post. 
item no. 1: Ashley
item no. 2: Jennoelle
item no. 3: Ashlyn Nicole
item no. 4: Lucia
just shoot me an email, beautiful ladies.

submerged

{via pinterest -- America's Next Top Model}

for the past week, i have been singing the same song.

lead me to the cross by Francesca Battistelli 

it's been following me, actually. i keep hearing it everywhere i go. 

they haunt me, these words. the simplest of truths, locked into this precious melody. it makes me weep every time i hear the first few notes of this song float from my speakers and fill the room. 

and this morning, as i sat and listened to this song, as the tears flowed again down my cheeks, He whispered to me then.

do you see now? 

do you see Me better?

because this is what I want you to understand, child. 

you must be SUBMERGED into Me. 

and i wept anew. because this is my whole purpose.  

no other religion has this sense of relationship, this place of community with the Holy One. 

it's a lake in which i yearn to drown. i don't want to stand at the bank anymore with my toes just brushing the surface. 

i want to be drenched in Him. i want to hear Him everywhere i go. i want to fully grasp His humanity and His Godship into my soul. 

i want to fully lose myself into Him. 

because there is the calm beneath the water. i am held so close to the heart of Christ. i crave this silent rush that comes when i allow myself to slip beneath the surface of this Living Water. 

drowning to survive.

death to self to life in Him.

i wish i could express to you the passion burning in my soul. i weep as i write this with the realization that i have allowed myself to remain in the boat. i merely live on His surface. 

{via pinterest -- America's Next Top Model}

do the waves frighten me too much? is my faith that small, that fragile, that i cannot trust myself into the Hands of the One who has carried me thus far? 

have i forgotten that He is no stranger to this place of struggle?

You were as i, tempted and tried. 

human. 

the Word became flesh, bore my sin and death

now You're risen!

i need to step out, hands spread and eyes fixed only on Him.

i need to let the chaos fade to black and let my focus burn onto His eyes. 

He broke the ground for me to follow.

this is my inheritance.

peace in the soon

i'm at peace with wanting.

{via pinterest}

i have my little list, tucked in a place where only He and i can find it when the time is right. and sometimes, we pull it out late at night, my King and i, and we laugh and we weep together over this little scrap of paper. 

my Love knows my list, too, but he doesn't understand it fully. he listens when i can contain it within myself no longer, and i pour my soul like water over us both. and he comforts me then, as best as he knows how.

but i think no mortal can understand another want unless they want it too, and just as badly. 

it's tricky to find this place of wanting and having without stepping over into this dangerous place of 

my will be done. 

there is a strange darkness in this place where we blow out the Fire and shiver by self's candle instead. and i've learned that it's not worth it to cross this line. 

and so i learn to wait and cling to the hem of His robe, knowing that i am safe when i stay at His feet and softly whisper

Thy will be done. 

who knew it was so hard to wait? 

and sometimes i find myself looking into that mirror and beating my fists on the walls and begging for the now and not the then. and then i must stop, because i am waiting on me and not on Him anymore. 

because His wait is not as hard as mine. because it's strength renewing and wing-giving. 

{via pinterest}

and He takes delight in blessing His children with good things. 

wait is not never. wait is only this -- wait. and soon. 

and so i find my place in this thickly woven cosmos, and remember that i am seen and i am known by the One who made and placed me here. 

 and i curl into His arms and wait for the rain. 

i am at peace with this thing of wait. because wait doesn't mean never. 

it means someday. it means soon. 

for He calls all time soon. 

{linking this moment with my King along with Laura; also, over at the "Write It, Girl" project}

wanting need

{via pinterest}

i want a lot of things.

things that might make my life better.

things that might simply take up another spot on a shelf and never be used, though i will say

i have that. 

some things are bigger though. some are wants that drive us to our knees, blurring the line between want and need. 

sometimes

 it isn't about material things that we want.  

sometimes, wants are soul aches that strum a chord of longing that only we can hear...us, and those who long, too. 

we all want. 

my wants are vast. i have my Christmas lists and grocery lists and reading lists and all those things i want. 

{via pinterest}

and then i have the list that only He and i share, the one where He must hold me as i read, as i shake with sobs in wanting. 

i'm learning to want Him first. 

to want His will when it hurts, to want His timing when it takes so long.

i'm learning to be still, and know, and wait for strength renewed and heartcries fulfilled. 

i'm learning these words:

yes, Lord. 

i will wait. 

i'm learning to ask for the right things. for His will. for His place. 

taking Him at value. that His promises are sure

and His grace is sufficient. 

of all my wants, He is my need. 

 Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

— St Francis of Assisi 

life step

this whole life can seem like a theater dream.

you know, the bad kind.

the kind where hands push hard on your back and you stumble

stumble out onto a fully lit stage with naught in hand and strange clothing on your back, if any at all.

and they tell you dance but there is no familial music and no steps to guide your feet.

and they tell you speak but you don't know the words.

you don't even know who or what you're supposed to be. 

and you freeze and stumble and bleed and weep and all you want to do is run

run 

run 

run 

run 

run 

run 

until you can't see this strange place anymore ever.

and the comes the laugh. the hearty mocking gafaws that echo through your heart and cause you to freeze and stumble and bleed and weep all over again.

and there is no run.

because your legs have turned to liquid stone and you have nothing anymore.

and then you wake up. and it was all a dream. 

the sigh of relief falls into canter with the beating of your still unsure heart.

but then the news clicks on. death and destruction and ache and break and death not life and dark not light and nothing is as it should be anymore.

hands pushed you into this glaring place and you don't know what o do.

nothing in your hand. nothing on your back.

and then they say dance. 

but He gives the music and holds your feet against His bleeding nail scars and you move together.

they say speak. 

but He gives you His words and you speak. 

a mouthpiece for a mouth of peace. it's a symphony, 

this life of you and He together.

alone it's a kurfuffle of empty noise.

together is a dance.

 a step. 

a life. 

no fear. no stone. no ice.

life love warmth freedom courage.

all this life in Him. 

{linking with my dear emily for this broken song of love}

Step

When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. ~Nora Ephron, When Harry Met Sally

My best friend got engaged on Tuesday.

I still have a hard time believing it...after all, it's something we've both been dreaming of for the past two years of our best friendship.

I guess the reality of the whole thing is just a little hard for me to grasp -- I can only imagine the thoughts racing through her head and heart at this moment!

There's something about the first step a couple takes together...something so incredibly intimate about the lowering to one knee, the stifled gasp as she presses her hands to her mouth, and the stammering of that single word that will change their lives forever.

An engagement is so much more than just a sparkling diamond ring and the giddy smiles of two people in love.

It's a vow of its own.

It's the voice of a young man as he gazes into the eyes of the girl of his dreams...the whispers of his frantically beating heart, saying:

"Baby, I'm not going anywhere. And in a short time, I will give up EVERYTHING and take you as my other half. My perfect fit. My missing puzzle piece. I want to love you as Christ loved His church, how my King loves His bride. So be with me forever."

The wedding is the woman giving of herself -- the passing from girl to woman, the taking of another name, the change from "Miss" to "Mrs."

But the engagement is the man's surrender.

The lowering of himself. The ultimate humility.

And so, I have words for two of the greatest blessings in my life:

Firstly to my beautiful Alex:

Babe, you are the most incredibly strong, beautiful and passionate young woman of God I have EVER had the honor of knowing.

You blow my mind every day with your drive and your willingness to do anything for the Kingdom of God. You are the most wonderful best friend I could have ever asked for, and you bless me more than I could ever begin to say.

Also, you are insane. You are my Heathcliff, my mad little gal-pal. You make me laugh. You listen. You have this amazing ability to laugh with me and then cry with me, all in the same conversation. You write songs with me, and you manage to keep my head on straight.

And I love you.

You truly are the Jane to my Lizzie; you better know this by now. I could not be more honored to have you as my best friend...and I look SO much forward to undertaking this journey with you. I love so much, dear one.

And to Zach:

I have been praying that God would bring someone like you into Alex's life ever since she and I met. She deserves an amazing man of God who loves her with everything that he is, and is willing to give his life for her, if the need arises. Someone who will treat her with tenderness and adoration, and still manage to bear with her complete and utter insanity.

And I believe more than anything that you are indeed that man. Thank you for bringing a smile to her face and love to her life again. Thank you for loving my best friend with such a pure and selfless love. You are indeed her Mr. Darcy. You have wooed and romanced her in ways that continue to blow my mind. Your selfless and strong care for her touches my heart daily. I love you, and I cannot wait to get to know you better and better in the many insanity-packed years to come.

God bless you both.

Stay strong in love, and stay true to one another.

Alexandria and Zachary -- March 8th, 2011 -- Just the Beginning

As You Wish

"Death can not stop true love, it can only delay it for a little while" ~ The Princess Bride

I can quote a lot of lines from a lot of movies. It's just one of my many quirks. My memory seems to latch onto cinematic dialogue. I have no valid explanation.

However, there is one movie that I can quote in its entirety without hardly batting an eye.

The Princess Bride.

For those of you who haven't had the distinct privilege of viewing this 1987 cult classic film...GO WATCH IT. Because, I have to say, it is one of the most incredible movies ever released.

Oddly enough, as my husband pointed out to me tonight, it is the movie that best describes our marriage.

One scene in particular, actually.

The Dread Pirate Roberts has "rescued" Buttercup from the hands of her three unusual kidnappers, and they are on the run together. They stop for a brief rest on a mountaintop. Roberts is being rather gruff and brutal with her, mocking her and treating her sorrow over the death of her one true love, Westley, as something trivial

She finally becomes fed up with him and screams in his face,

"You mocked me once; never do it again. I died that day...and you can die too, for all I care."

With that, she shoves him off the cliff and watches him tumble head over heals down the mountainside. As he falls, Roberts manages to call three simple words back up to her.

"As...you...wish..."

Buttercup suddenly realizes that the man that she has just potentially murdered is not the frightening Dread Pirate Roberts. It is her soulmate, Westley, whom she had thought to be dead. Horrified, she throws herself down the mountain after him.

In so many ways, that is my response with Jon. He becomes gruff or sharp with me in a time of conflict, and I retaliate with a knee-jerk reaction of pushing him away from me...maybe not down a literal cliff, but most certainly in a way that disrespects him.

Suddenly, I realize that I have just injured the man whom I love the most in this world, and I throw myself down after him. I would rather be wounded myself than to live the rest of my days knowing that I had hurt him and had lost him forever.

This is the conundrum that is so prevalent with marriages all across the world. We hurt the ones we love, and then we self-destruct in a last-ditch effort to save the one we have just wounded so brutally. This unending cycle seems intent on destroying our relationships -- not just with our spouses, but also with our friends and family members.

It's at moments like this when I look into my husband's eyes, and I realize something so incredibly powerful.

Jon loves me. He would risk his own safety to protect me and keep me safe.

He would brave the Cliffs of Insanity.

...swim through "eel-infested waters."

...sword-fight with a Spaniard.

...engage in hand-to-hand combat with a man six times his own size.

..."go against a Sicilian when death is on the line!"

...brave the three terrors of the Fire Swamp (lightning sand, flame spurt, and even R.O.U.S's)...

...and finally, he would even undergo the most horrific of tortures and surrender his life

...all for me.

Because he loves me just that much.

So maybe, I need to lay down my pride, take his hand, and brave these terrors of life together. Because, as everyone knows...

"This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?"