All those nights living without you taught me to surrender my heart to God. But it has taught me something else. It taught me to give you up.
I had come face to face with the reality that you were never mine. And you never would be.
Each day spent without you has prepared me for the days when I need to let you go. Even if we do get married – should there be that rare and fleeting possibility of a lifetime together – even then, I cannot call you mine. I will have to surrender you to God, every morning of our married life.
You could be my husband, but I have no hold over you. You belong to someone else. Someone who loves you much, much more than I ever could.
You may be my spouse, but only for a while. Your soul was made for eternity, and to hold you to this momentary life would be so selfish of me. You were not made for lesser things such as I.
I love you, husband I never had. And perhaps, if by God’s grace he would let me borrow you for a few years of my life, then I shall remember to cling to you loosely. To cherish what I could lose, and to surrender the love I never had. Because you had been bought with a price I could never, ever pay.
You were never mine. And you probably never would be. But I love you all the same, in my limited and flawed way, within this short lifetime – husband that I never had.