I was asleep but my heart was awake.
A voice! My beloved was knocking:
‘Open to me, my love, my darling,
My dove, my perfect one!
For my head is drenched with dew,
My locks with the damp of the night.’
“I have taken off my dress,
How can I put it on again?
I have washed my feet,
How can I dirty them again?
“My beloved extended his hand through the opening,
And my feelings were aroused for him.
“I arose to open to my beloved;
And my hands dripped with myrrh,
And my fingers with liquid myrrh,
On the handles of the bolt.
“I opened to my beloved,
But my beloved had turned away and had gone!

-Song of Songs, Chapter 5 verses 2-6


I was sleepwalking through my days and nights, but somewhere buried inside … my heart was awake. I wanted to feel alive, but mostly I just felt tired.  My heart was beating inside my chest, but my limbs and eyes could barely feel it. Life is just draining, isn’t it?

I got all ready for bed. The kids’ teeth were brushed, pajamas on, homework checked, clothes set out for tomorrow, lunches planned, and after 3 trips back into their room with forgotten stuffed animals, glasses of water, and extra hugs, I finally started winding my own self down for the night. I took a quick shower and put on my toner, serum, eye-cream and nighttime moisturizer.  I plucked a few stray hairs from some, places…There’s coconut oil on my feet inside cotton socks. My hair is braided in the hopes that the Pin I saw about beachy waves is true. Finally, I lay down with a book to relax – just for a few minutes before my eyes cross and I do that thing where I read the same paragraph 3 times without knowing what I read.

Then, my husband comes in with that look in his eye.

He bumps me, unnecessarily, and asks,

“How Are you?”

He, too, wants to relax. His version of relaxing is sometimes different than mine.

I hesitate.  How am I?

Me: “I’m fine. How are you?” 

Him: “Good. I’m good”

{He stays very still, keeping eye contact}

Him: …. “Are you tired?”

{I reply, honestly, but also knowing what he’s getting at and not sure I’m up to it}

Me: “Well, yes.”

Him: “oh, ok.”

{He leaves the room, slowly}

I sit, thinking. I love him. I wish I felt more awake… more alive. I wish I felt passion or desire or any kind of freakin energy so I could go and love him… actively. Instead I sit and feel the push and pull of wanting and not wanting to have sex tonight. I know it’s a good idea. I know he loves me and wants me to open up to him. I’m just so… tired. And ready for bed. I am ready for bed. Do I really need to get all messed up and start over. That’s a lot of special nighttime product I already put on.

Finally, I decide to go out and see him. I stand next to him as he sits on the computer. I lean against him, my stomach and chest pressing into him. He doesn’t look up.

We share a few words but they don’t connect.  We lost each other, for tonight.


So many men and women will live this story tonight?  Will I choose it again?  Or will tonight be the night that when he knocks, I open the door? Will tonight be the night that I am already covered in “myrrh” and ready to be open to him in body and spirit – when he first reaches for me rather than as a afterthought when the rejection has already taken hold of his heart and he is gone?

What will you do? 

open to me my love