Sunset Struggles

I just got home for the summer yesterday. Tonight I went out to walk and watch the sun go down. There's fires in the mountains to the west, and massive thunderheads in the southeast, making for a glorious blood red and orange display. I found an old enamel soup bowl too while hiking our 80 acres. But mostly I complained.

When I take my beloved sunset-walks, I feel like I can talk to God like He's right there. And so I do. I ranted and raved, complained and accused, blamed and threatened. As if I have any right. I made up all these things that I was upset about. Not understanding choices people make, not knowing if He was real, being scared of life in general, and how it wasn't fair that I've never 'seen' Him. After all, it happened all the time in the Old Testament. Enoch walked with God. And what do I get? A book. And a feeling now and then. I'm supposed to base my faith in someone I can't see in these two things. I was pretty mad.

But then I realized.
Those were just cover-ups.

What I'm really bitter about is this. I have a lover, someone who loves me more than life itself. Someone who was willing to die for me. Someone who watches me every day, who knows me better than I know myself. He wrote me the most romantic letter I could ever receive. He's everything to me. And I can't be with Him. I can't hold His hand, cry on His shoulder, or hear His voice. That sucks.

I'm really missing him.