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An Open Letter to My Future Wife

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Dear Beloved,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? My apologies. I’ve had a tumultuous time wrestling with doubts about whether or not I’ll ever find you. Or rather, if God will ever lead us to each other. You know I go through times like that. Some are short, some not-so-short. But when I throw off the dead weight, I realize longing for you is part of how God wired me. To bury that would be to deny part of who I am. I must believe I’m not meant to be alone.

This letter is different. It is being shared on the Internet for friends and family to read. However, it will be the first and only time I do such a thing. Lovers are entitled to their secrets. Some people may read this and call me desperate, naïve, unmanly, or something worse. They may lecture me on “trusting God for a spouse” or “not looking” or a myriad of other things (I’ve heard them all). Let them. They can judge me, label me, and/or condemn me. I know where I stand with you, and I know where I stand with God. Their opinions can’t and won’t change that.

The mystery of who you may be both excites and pains me. Maybe I’ve not met you yet. Maybe you’re reading this letter right now on one of the sites I’ve posted it. Maybe we’re friends right now but love has yet to blossom. In which case, how did we meet? How will that love form? I hope and pray it’s a great story. While I still mock bad (or sappy) romance stories in fiction, I love it when they’re done well. I’m not foolish enough to think our story will be a romantic comedy or a fairy tale (though if it even remotely resembles “The Princess Bride”, I’ll be happy), I still want a love story that we’ll enjoy recounting to our kids and grandkids until we’re old and gray. A story that will amuse and encourage everyone who hears it. In other words, a story crafted by the Author of romance Himself. I hope that is your prayer, too.

Life should be an adventure. I’m working hard to add more adventure to my own. Not just a fun adventure, but an adventure with danger and high stakes; where I’m doing great things for God’s glory. That’s the sort of life I want to invite to join me on. When God said man shouldn’t be alone and made a “help-mate” (or in Hebrew, “ezer kenegdo,” which means “lifesaver”) for him, it was to join the man on the great work He had commissioned him to do. So, I hope you’re adventurous. Like Indiana Jones, I tend to get in over my head sometimes. I’ll need a partner who can help me get through it. I promise it’ll be exciting.

While I can promise an exciting marriage, but I can’t promise a wealthy one. We live in uncertain financial times and I studied to work in a field that doesn’t guarantee oodles of money. I’ve been hurt by a woman who found more security in a man’s money than in his love. It’s often left me wondering if I was too poor to marry. But I know God values wisdom above wealth, so I trust you do, too. A man who is rich but unwise is a terrible husband. “Better a little with the fear of the LORD than great wealth with turmoil” (Prov. 15:16). No matter what financial difficulties assail us, I know we’ll get through them together.

Though you may not know it, I’ve failed you. I’ve failed you in word, deed, and thought. And I know I’ll do the same when we’re together, though I won’t want to. This agonizes me. You deserve nothing less than a man who’s perfect. Then I tell myself, “No. She deserves a man who’s perfect for her.” I want to be this man for you. But when I am less than perfect, I pray you will forgive me. Loving you as Christ loves the church is a high ideal that I will spend the rest of my life trying to attain, and I will misstep along the way. May you love me regardless of my mistakes.

So, Beloved, whether we’ve met yet or not, pray for me as I pray for you. Don’t be afraid to voice your loneliness or your longing for me. Let the haters hate. Find friends and family who will encourage you to be even more of the woman of God I know you are as you wait. May God grant you patience now (you’ll need it to handle me). 😉

May we soon come together to serve God more than we ever could have apart.

Your (Future) Husband,
Nate

Vlog, Review

But I Digress…, Episode 12: A Review of ‘Star Trek Into Darkness’

“But I Digress…”
Hosted by Nathan Marchand

I’ve been very busy with several writing and personal projects, so I wasn’t able to film a review for “Star Trek Into Darkness.” However, I managed to get an old friend to do the review for me–none other than Capt. James T. Kirk himself! (Did I mention I’m a HUGE Trekker?)

However, I did see the movie (at midnight) and wrote a review for it on my column for Examiner. You can read it here.

Please comment, subscribe, and share!

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Days 29 & 30: ‘Sub vs. Dub’ and ‘The Fight’

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My month-long poetry-writing marathon comes to an end. I gotta say, I did better this year than last year. For one thing, I never fell more than one day behind and I finished on time. I did use the last two prompts, but in my opinion, my last two poems aren’t the strongest ones from this year’s NaPoWriMo. Feel free to disagree with me.

Yesterday’s prompt was to write a poem with five words from a foreign language. I chose Japanese. While it should be obvious, I put the Japanese words in bold. It’s based on a less-than-serious debate among anime fans, but it was fun to write.

Today’s prompt was to take a short poem I like and rewrite it by replacing words and phrases with their opposite. For example, Shakespeare’s sonnet, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” could be changed to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.” I selected “The Fray,” a poem used in the 2011 film, The Grey, which was written by it’s screenwriter/director, Joe Carnahan. I don’t think it turned out too well. I chose it because it was only four lines, which I thought would make it simple. Perhaps I’ll rework it later (as I’ll probably do with all these poems).

Day 29:
Sub vs. Dub
By Nathan Marchand

Do you prefer “Konichiwa” or “Hello”?
The original language or English?
Otakus decry their own tongue
Being put in the mouth of Naruto.
“Nai! Too must lost in translation!”
They’re annoyed by people who,
When they hear “Ohayō,” think of a state.
They’d rather read than listen,
Perhaps even missing the action.

But must a character say “watashi wa”
Instead of simply saying, “I”?
The eyes should be free to admire
The beauty of the art, the animation,
The hand-drawn work of masters,
And not be distracted by scrolling text.
Watch it as it was intended:
With voices bringing life to drawings,
And bid the elitist otakus, “Sayōnara!”

Day 30:
The Fight
By Nathan Marchand

Once more out of the fight.
Out of the first bad brawl I’ll ever forget.
Live or die on this night.
Live or die on this night.

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Days 27 & 28: ‘Pride Goes Before a Fall’ and ‘Red Passion’

 

Yesterday’s prompt was to take a commonly known proverb or saying, plug it into an internet search engine, and then select words or phrases in the first few pages of the search for a poem. I chose, “Pride goes before a fall” (based on Proverbs 16:18). The words in bold were the excerpts from the search.

Today’s prompt was deceptive in its simplicity. I was to choose a color and write a poem inspired by it. I chose red.

Enjoy!

Day 27:
Pride Goes Before a Fall
By Nathan Marchand

In this maniac world,
People worship themselves.
What does it mean?
You’ve become your own idol.
Might as well admit it—
You don’t love me.
How could I compete?
How could I compare?
Composing the most beautiful
Song lyrics could do you no justice.
No modest alterations could
Make me worthy of you.

But as history illustrates,
Hubris is always fatal.
The arrogant are likely to fail
Despite their haughty spirit.
God opposes the proud
You may exalt yourself,
But God will humble you.
Who will follow you
When the truth is revealed?
You will watch in despair
As the humble are exalted
And the meek inherit the Earth.

Day 28:
Red Passion
By Nathan Marchand

A man was drenched in red
As passion bled from his wounds.
A self-sacrificial suffering
At the hands of those red with rage,
Driving nails through
Flesh and bone,
Soul and spirit,
With unquenchable bloodlust.
From him, a crimson flow, washing
Hearts stained scarlet
And leaving them white.
The bread of life
Dipped in burgundy wine,
Poured out as an offering.
Eat his flesh and drink his blood,
And you will have eternal life.

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Days 25 & 26: ‘Ballad of a Broken Heart’ and ‘Triumph of the Nerds’

I used yesterday’s prompt but not today’s. Yesterday, I had to write a ballad. I’ve never done that before, and honestly, I was disappointed with my first effort. Feel free to disagree with me, though. Then read my rather silly poem for today. Enjoy!

Day 25:
Ballad of a Broken Heart
By Nathan Marchand

I was foolish and young
When that Cupid’s arrow first stung.
Never knew a girl
Who could throw my heart for a whirl.

She promised loyalty
And I saw her as royalty.
Beautiful as a dove.
I could not help but fall in love.

But I lied to myself,
And she was shrewd like a dark elf.
She perceived how I felt,
And then left my heart with a welt.

This was my first heartbreak.
I still have the same searing ache.
My heart was torn in twain.
How can I ever trust again?

Day 26:
Triumph of the Nerds
By Nathan Marchand

I am a nerd.
Or haven’t you heard
The name you called me an insult
Became my badge of honor as an adult?

I created your favorite TV shows.
Your video games? Wrote the code for those.
You probably read a book I wrote,
And I created the smartphone you use as a remote.

You were king because you played a sport,
But your reign has been short.
The kids at whom your insults were hurled,
In the end, it was them who shaped the world.

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Days 23 & 24: ‘A Dirge for Elektra’ and ‘Wasteland’

I didn’t use either yesterday’s or today’s prompts. It was mostly due to time. In the words of the Doctor from “Doctor Who: The Curse of Fatal Dearth,” “I’ll explain later.” Regardless, here are my poems for yesterday and today. Enjoy!

Day 23:
A Dirge for Elektra
By Nathan Marchand

Her name is Elektra,
A warrioress clad in red,
A veteran of many journeys,
And I saw her die today.
Crushed between two soccer moms
Because one was distracted.
Reliable though she was, Elektra
Was declared too broken to mend,
And too old to save.

She lays unburied amongst the dead,
A lifeless husk to be scavenged by vultures,
Forgotten by all except the one
Who journeyed with her most.
He’d revive her if given the chance…
If only give the chance.
Death came before her time.
Now he must move on, but her
Memory will always be with him.

Day 24:
Wasteland
By Nathan Marchand

I am lost in the desert,
The unending wilderness,
The most barren wasteland.
I see an oasis, my refuge,
But fear it’s a mirage,
So I walk on, my mouth parched.

I see the promised land,
My long-awaited destination,
But a minefield is before me.
Voices whisper in the stinging wind.
Some urge caution
And some reckless abandon.

I’ve seen others killed by mines—
I myself have their shrapnel
Imbedded in my body.
Another will kill me,
But the promised land beckons.
I don’t want to die in the wilderness.

It’s the only life I know,
Yet I desire far more.
I can receive more if I will but take it.
But I fear the minefield
That has wounded me so often.
I am at an impasse—what shall I do?

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 22: ‘Magnolia Tree’

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Today’s prompt was inspired by Earth Day, which is today. I’m not one to celebrate this “holiday,” but the prompt was a good one. It was simply to write something that had to do with the natural world. Growing up in the country, I was always surrounded by nature. This poem was inspired by my favorite tree on my parents’ property: a magnolia. It was the most beautiful tree there, especially for the several weeks it bloomed in spring. (It was also easy to climb). I hope you enjoy it.

 

Here's a photo of the magnolia tree at my parents' house. It inspired today's poem. Photo by Nathan Marchand
Here’s a photo of the magnolia tree at my parents’ house. It inspired today’s poem. Photo by Nathan Marchand

 

Magnolia Tree
By Nathan Marchand

I hid in the shade of the magnolia tree,
Holding my broken heart as the
Pink petals fell like tears in the breeze.
This, the tree reborn annually at Easter,
Held no comfort for me
Despite its sweet-smelling overtures,
For like it, I’ll bloom only for a short time,
And then my beauty will fall,
Leaving me as common-looking as the others,
Until the onset of winter steals that from me,
And I am left naked and lifeless,
But with no hope of rebirth.

I wept like a widow, mourning my loneliness,
When I heard a man’s voice amid the wind.
“Did you come to cry here, too, as I do?”
I looked up to see a man with a weathered face.
He extended a hand to me, saying,
“The magnolia petals look lovely in your hair.”
Reluctantly, I took his hand, and he pulled me to my feet.
He took one pink petal from my hair wiped my tears with it.
“I came to grieve a broken heart, but perhaps
I no longer need to,” he said, and clipped a blossom
From a branch, placing it in my hair.
There, under the magnolia tree, we found our rebirths.