I command my dearheart, but mere words do not encompass my Command. Words alone will inevitably fail us, as will I falter and make mistakes. To be in Command requires bearing such mistakes with grit and forging onward.
Being in Command is not about being correct, nor is it about being in control of everything. Instead it is grace – accepting the circumstances you are given, and doing the best you can to improve them. Altogether too often this feels like stumbling in the dark, groping for any answer.
This uncertainty melds into my orders and becomes a peril. How many times have I made a halfhearted suggestion that nearly broke my dearheart in his attempt to achieve it?
Orders speak to my dearheart's submission with an insidious confidence. They seem assured of themselves, and my original uncertainty is transmuted into do-or-die proclamations from on high.
Thus I ask my dearheart not to trust individual commands, but in my Command as a whole. Doubt always the orders I give. Question them. Force an understanding.
What if I cannot explain my orders, cannot defend them, and cannot clarify them? Then the orders are fragile and imperfect.
The best commands are made stronger through examination and scepticism. Being in Command is about the process of refinement. Not just continual improvement of my orders, but of our lives and fortunes.
When my dearheart pledged his life to mine, he placed his trust in that process. He must expect that I will screw up and lead us astray. He must also trust that I will mend the mistakes and return us to the proper path.