Hosea's Wife
She was the girl you steered clear of when you saw the red lipstick.
She is the girl that paints her nails in shades of blood to mimick the one that was sent to atone for her sins.
She is the girl that identifies with Rahab, Hosea's wife, and the woman at the well.
She was the girl that is still lost, and fighting to find what once made her feel alive.
I remember it was dark, and I couldn't help thinking that the darkness that surrounded me was nothing compared to the darkness that enveloped my heart, the darkness that had enveloped my very soul. His steady breathing, so calming usually, had no affect on me that night. I grabbed his hand, gently moving it from across my body, and dropped it in the space between our bodies. He stirred, but didn't awaken. I pulled my body free of the blankets, planning on sliding stealthily out of the bed, to creep away in the silence for a forbidden cigarette.
I never got it. His arm enveloped my waist as soon as the cooler air breathed on his skin. He pulled me into his body, molding us together, entwining his arms around my torso, under my head. His fingers caressed my cheek as he smoothed my hair, exposing my cheek for his lips to brush.
"I love you." It was barely a whisper on his breath, but it was heard. I smiled, then whispered it back before resigning myself to his embrace.
The darkness wasn't ready to let me go so easily. It tugged at my stomach, started pointing out his faults in the daylight, when his subconscious didn't have as much control over his actions. The voices whispered that he didn't love me as much as he said, that his actions showed otherwise, that there would come a day he would lose interest and toss me aside for his next mistress.
Months passed. He forgave me for my last indiscretion. Our trust began to build.
But life happened, and what started out as a blessing became my downfall. He brought me home, gave me time with my family, and supported me. My daughter calls him "Daddy." We planned a life together.
And the voices would not be silenced. Our teamwork was picked apart, warning signs went off in my head when our discussions over minuscule details didn't get finished. And my bank account balanced stayed in the single digits. Money became the wedge that would awaken the insecure girl, that would raise my past with a vengeance.
I became the adulteress, the whore of my past, the terrified woman that would not listen to reason, but reacted with emotion born of fear. I ran from him, and into a world where money could be exchanged for the use of my body. I ran, out of fear of the unknown, and away from the security of his everlasting love, into a world of illusion, where security could be bought by a paycheck in the bank, and stripped by my own hands.
I am Hosea's wife.
And there is still hope for me.
Return, O Israel, to the LORD your God, for your sins have brought you down. Bring your petitions, and return to the LORD. Say to him, "forgive all our sins and graciously receive us, so that we may offer you the sacrifice of praise. Assyria cannot save us, nor can our strength in battle. Never again will we call the idols we have made 'our gods.' No, in you alone do the orphans find mercy."
-Hosea 14:1-3
She is the girl that paints her nails in shades of blood to mimick the one that was sent to atone for her sins.
She is the girl that identifies with Rahab, Hosea's wife, and the woman at the well.
She was the girl that is still lost, and fighting to find what once made her feel alive.
I remember it was dark, and I couldn't help thinking that the darkness that surrounded me was nothing compared to the darkness that enveloped my heart, the darkness that had enveloped my very soul. His steady breathing, so calming usually, had no affect on me that night. I grabbed his hand, gently moving it from across my body, and dropped it in the space between our bodies. He stirred, but didn't awaken. I pulled my body free of the blankets, planning on sliding stealthily out of the bed, to creep away in the silence for a forbidden cigarette.
I never got it. His arm enveloped my waist as soon as the cooler air breathed on his skin. He pulled me into his body, molding us together, entwining his arms around my torso, under my head. His fingers caressed my cheek as he smoothed my hair, exposing my cheek for his lips to brush.
"I love you." It was barely a whisper on his breath, but it was heard. I smiled, then whispered it back before resigning myself to his embrace.
The darkness wasn't ready to let me go so easily. It tugged at my stomach, started pointing out his faults in the daylight, when his subconscious didn't have as much control over his actions. The voices whispered that he didn't love me as much as he said, that his actions showed otherwise, that there would come a day he would lose interest and toss me aside for his next mistress.
Months passed. He forgave me for my last indiscretion. Our trust began to build.
But life happened, and what started out as a blessing became my downfall. He brought me home, gave me time with my family, and supported me. My daughter calls him "Daddy." We planned a life together.
And the voices would not be silenced. Our teamwork was picked apart, warning signs went off in my head when our discussions over minuscule details didn't get finished. And my bank account balanced stayed in the single digits. Money became the wedge that would awaken the insecure girl, that would raise my past with a vengeance.
I became the adulteress, the whore of my past, the terrified woman that would not listen to reason, but reacted with emotion born of fear. I ran from him, and into a world where money could be exchanged for the use of my body. I ran, out of fear of the unknown, and away from the security of his everlasting love, into a world of illusion, where security could be bought by a paycheck in the bank, and stripped by my own hands.
I am Hosea's wife.
And there is still hope for me.
Return, O Israel, to the LORD your God, for your sins have brought you down. Bring your petitions, and return to the LORD. Say to him, "forgive all our sins and graciously receive us, so that we may offer you the sacrifice of praise. Assyria cannot save us, nor can our strength in battle. Never again will we call the idols we have made 'our gods.' No, in you alone do the orphans find mercy."
-Hosea 14:1-3
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