An Element of Surprise

After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And he said to him, “Follow me.” And leaving everything, he rose and followed him.

And Levi made him a great feast in his house, and there was a large company of tax collectors and others reclining at table with them. And the Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” And Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. Luke 5:27-32

As Christians, we are most comfortable when things can be neatly categorized, boxed and shelved.  Jesus, on the other hand often surprises us with His approach. 

In Luke 5:27, we see Jesus springing a big surprise on the Pharisees when he casually enters the home of a notorious thief,........uh, tax collector, named Levi and sits down to enjoy dinner and conversation.

The religious leaders are scandalized, shocked even, when Jesus makes it clear that He is completely comfortable hanging out with a bunch of sinners.  If we are honest, many times, we don't look much like Jesus in this area. We get rather agitated around someone who cusses, drinks or parties too much.  Some of us might even have a sense that we've somehow been sullied simply through being with them.  

So why is Jesus so very comfortable in that setting when His followers are squirming in their chair?  Was he simply trying for shock value?  

Before he (very deliberately) did this, he'd been healing people and telling them not to let on to others about what had happened to them.  Again, a bit unexpected for him to not want his ministry successes publicized. Yet, he is clear that he's not interested in publicity as he repeats his directive to 'tell no one' again and again.

I've often thought, when reading the Word, that Jesus's words and actions were at times puzzling and sometimes downright weird.  As I've continued getting to know him, I've begun to realize that when his response seems odd to me, it's simply an indicator that I don't understand.  It's not an open door for me to try to justify what Jesus does so that it'll fit into my box, instead, it's on opportunity for me to let him show me something I didn't know before.

How many times have I been in a conversation with someone where they were angry at God because he didn't act the way they thought he should?  And yet I am just as guilty when I try to squeeze Jesus into my own image of what God is meant to be.

I think the bottom line is that I, as a follower of Jesus, need to spend a great deal more time following his lead and a lot less time trying to tell him how to do it better. The Pharisees were experts at telling God how it should be done, but that isn't how I want to be.  By His grace, I want to become more willing to be pleasantly surprised by what Jesus wants to do next.

Activities

Our week in Flagstaff was a good one, filled with good conversation, a trip to the Grand Canyon and plenty of late nights.  I hadn't had time away from typical life, a proper vacation, since I was 12 years old and it was refreshing.  I don't believe I'd experienced the kind of connection I felt with the Schneider's ever before in my life either.  Whether I realized it at the time or not, I can see now how that time planted seeds of hope in the parched ground of my heart.

(At the Grand Canyon)

Jeremy introduced me to his hometown and a few friends and we had a week full of low key, casual and comfort. I'd not been in the snow much prior to that and thoroughly enjoyed the way the blanket of white completely altered the landscape.

(Posing for Dorothy's ever-ready camera! I was delighted to do so as I'd had very few pictures made since I'd moved to AZ and I did enjoy being in front of a camera.)

(In Mom and Dad's front yard when we were about to go cross-country skiing for my first time ever!)

(I recall Bob saying to us, at the time this picture was taken how the two of us were 'like a couple of band-aids, always stuck to each other'. LOL, not much has changed.)

Finally, our week ended and it was time to head home.  Reality crashed back in on me and the weight was heavier than I'd anticipated.  My first stop after I left the Schneider residence was to gas up and buy cigarettes. Jeremy wouldn't be returning to Tucson for several more days and I took the opportunity to smoke my pain away.  Not that it helped really, but it an instinctive response.  I don't recall craving cigarettes at all during my stay in Flag, but as soon as I left.........

I spent the next three days smoking and working.  I'd come home to a VERY angry roommate and now I was going to have figure out how to smooth things over.  I'd left Terri with minimal explanation as to why I was leaving and how long I would be gone.  I'd also left her to care for my 2 adult cats and a batch of kittens.  Let's just say Terri wasn't so much a fan of the 'arrangements' I'd made, or not made perhaps is a better way to put it.

In hind-sight, I did Terri wrong, but at the time, with my identity fully wrapped up in being a victim, I somehow felt she owed me the care of my cats.  Looking back, it was a ridiculous assumption, but my immaturity was showing itself clearly.  All I thought of was myself and my pain and my actions hurt for my roommate, made her feel insignificant.  I wasn't able to see through my grief that other people still mattered.  I suppose Terri didn't see me accurately either, but in the end, we are all responsible for our own response and I'd responded poorly.

My relationship with Terri deteriorated quickly from there and it wasn't long before I was forced to move out.  As luck would have it, a studio apartment opened up in the same complex and I quickly moved in. It was very small, perhaps 15 x 15 plus a bathroom and closet.  

I still owned no furniture so I haulted my mattress in and set up shop.  Someone must have donated a small dining table and two chairs as I recall having those.  I don't believe I spent a great deal of time at home, at least, I only have a couple of specific memories of being there, though I lived there for two or three months.    

I wish I had a photo of the bomb that was my studio, you'd get a laugh out of it. I was the poster child for a teenager's messy room.  I can still see it in my mind's eye.  The floor, completely covered with laundry and cat hair, the bed never made, the closet with more clothes on the floor than on hangers.  I think the kitchen may have been relatively tidy since I rarely used it.  In general, it looked like a bomb went off in there.  And yet, Jeremy kept on coming over. Apparently, he didn't mind too much.

We didn't often go to his place since Cole was there. An awkwardness had developed between the two guys since Jeremy and I had begun dating. So, we avoided each other.

It was during this time that Jeremy taught me how to ride a motorcycle.  He'd recently purchased a motorcycle for his dad, but hadn't transported it to Flag since it was too cold to ride in there anyway. The Kawasaki staying in Tucson for a while provided the perfect opportunity for Jeremy to give me riding lessons.

We began lessons in the parking lot of my old high school during the late afternoon when the biggest lot was empty and I learned how to ride in circles.  Pretty quickly, I graduated to the streets and we began taking rides together. 

Come to think of it, a lot of our dating activities included motorcycle riding.  That was Jeremy's favorite activity and I was happy to go along.  It was especially exhilarating once I learned how to ride myself. Our free time was often spent either riding, or planning for the bike I'd get soon.  We poured over motorcycle magazines and classified ads looking for the right one bike for me.  

Mind you, I didn't have a motorcycle license yet, but since I also didn't have a lot of regard for the law at that point, I wasn't terribly concerned.

We went along quite happily, as young couples in love often do, without much of a care.  But one day, all that changed.

On Remaining Hidden

I could easily have kept my story hidden, or only told the parts that others would have deemed acceptable to share. But then you'd never have known the real me, only a fictional woman you and I had created in your mind.

It is Truth that sets us free.

Don't make the mistake of thinking that this has been easy for me to share. I've wrestled with it for years. I've been keenly aware of the fact that some who read will judge me harshly. But I've also come to realize that my story isn't unusual at all.  There are MANY more stories 10x more heartbreaking than mine is.

The fact is, the kinds of things I have shared with you on the blog are as common as bread.  The only difference between my story and that of millions of others is that it is being told openly and without shame.  There is one reason for that.

Jesus.

More than likely you've heard phrases like 'He is the Reason' or 'Jesus is the Reason for the Season'.  Perhaps you've heard them and quickly moved on, having had some sort of negative encounter with Christianity in the past.  Or perhaps you are a well-acquainted follower of Christ and so when you hear them you say, 'I KNOW!!' in your mind.  Either way, you may not typically spend a lot of time deliberating over what that means exactly.  I'd like to take a moment to encourage you to consider what it means.

I am able to live as a reasonably healthy adult woman simply because Jesus took me and held me close.  Over the years, Jesus has held me while he pulled back layer upon layer of shame, rejection, pain, confusion, anger, resentment, pride and so many other things.  He's been so very patient with me.  So patient that today, when I've acted like an ass, (yes, I said ass and I am a Christian woman, both at the same time) I run to Him first to get myself set straight.

Living out in the open is living in the light of truth.  That truth allows me to relate to Jesus much like Adam and Eve did in the garden.  I can walk with Him unashamed, even when I have done or thought something that someone else might think I ought to be ashamed about.

Why?

Because I am 100% confident that Jesus loves me anyway.  I know without a shadow of a doubt that when he looks at me, he's not looking at my sin.  He's looking at me through a covering that He gave me which wipes every bad mark away as soon as it tries to mar my image.  He's looking at me through the covering of His blood which does a curious thing.  His blood actually washes a person as though it were water.  It doesn't make me red, it makes me pure white, holy and clean.

If you know the Lord, then perhaps you understand what I am saying, but if you don't follow Jesus, this may seem strange.  Here are the basic facts that you need to understand.

God loved the world sooooo much that He gave the life of His dear Son Jesus to the world to pay the ultimate price that He demands for sin. That price is death.  When Jesus died on a cross over 2000 years ago, it was a sacrifice meant to appease the one true God.

Many religions require blood sacrifices so perhaps you are familiar with the idea already, but the main point is that gods get angry in most religions and they can be unpredictable and demand blood to satisfy their anger. So people kill animals and other people to give the blood to the gods. (I don't believe that other gods are true gods, but many people do and so it's important to understand what they think about these things.)

But God, the Creator of the Universe, the One True God, isn't like that.  Instead, He provided His own sacrifice.  When people did what made Him angry, He loved them anyway and offered Himself, His very own Son, to die in our place.  Now, all we need to do is recognize that we all sin, or live a life that breaks God's commands and that we need a sacrifice to pay for that. If we don't give payment to God, then we can never be with Him because He is holy and can only be in the presence of holy things.  We then simply accept the gift that Jesus, God's Son gave us when He died on the Cross.  We believe He is who He says He is and we begin living our lives in gratitude to Him for what He's done. Our payment for sin is now applied to our account.

How does that change the way we live you may ask?  It begins by learning who God is through reading the bible, through spending time with other people who follow Jesus, known as Christians.  We begin running to Him each time we are in a situation where we don't know what to do or where we act sinfully.  He then begins patiently and gently peeling back the layers until finally, we live in the light I told you about earlier. We find out from Jesus that we don't need to hide our sin anymore, or any other part of us.

If you want to know more, please leave a comment and let me know how I can reach you.

This is the MOST IMPORTANT thing I will ever tell you on this blog, please don't ignore it. Please don't remain hidden.

Suicide

The shriek that burst out of my mouth at my mother's words is something I'll never be able to describe.  It must have been quite chilling to a hearer.  It was enough to bring Terri running to my door to see what was the matter but I refused to answer her calls and knocks.  Something had happened between Terri and I that left me feeling I couldn't trust her and so the only comforter available to me at the time was a comforter I refused to allow in.

I was completely devastated. Wailing and crying and broken.

I didn't know what to do.

There was nothing I could do.

I'd been rebuilding something with my sister and all was now lost.

(This is the last photo I received of Kim, she'd visited South America with our brother, Russ and this is one of the photos that was snapped and which she mailed  to me when I'd requested some pictures of the two of them. It was sometime in her early 20's but I'm not certain when.)

My mother told me that the suicide had taken place on December 21st but they hadn't wanted to tell me, thinking I wouldn't handle the news well.  They'd already cremated her body and held a service.  Everything was over and I'd been left out of the loop.

'How had it happened?' I asked, hoping that would somehow help me to assimilate this information.  Mom said it had been like the other times, she'd overdosed but no one had found her in time.  'Do you have anything of hers that I can have?' I asked, this time, hoping that an object of hers might somehow assuage my pain.  'No, everything is gone.' was her only explanation. Years later, I learned the truth, that she'd shot herself.

I can't imagine the grief Mom must have felt.  Yet I believe she immediately numbed it, as she'd learned to do with so many other painful experiences.

Our brief conversation ended and I was  left alone to mourn.  When I called my father to tell him, he offered that he was sorry, nothing more.  He said little by way of comforting words, not even suggesting that get together. He simply hung up the phone and continued his life with the woman of the moment.  I hadn't realized that until typing it just now.  I wonder now why he was so indifferent.  How could he have so little feeling towards his daughter that he would abandon me to grief rather than offer even a modicum of comfort?  That still smarts, only I never considered it until now.

And so, I did the only other thing I could think of to do, I phoned Jeremy in Flagstaff.  And he answered.  I was overcome and it must have been difficult for him to understand all my rushing-out words.  But he listened and allowed me to pour it all out.  I asked if I could come right away and after checking with His parents,  he said yes.

I hurriedly shoved a few clothes and things into an overnight bag, poked my head into Terri's room to tell her what had happened and that I was leaving and then got in my car at 1 AM and drove all night. I reached Flagstaff, chain-smoking the entire time and staring down the darkened, lonely Interstate through the tears coursing down my cheeks.

It's impossible to adequately explain all the thoughts that go through your head when you've lost someone in such a despicable manner. Or the thoughts that keep on, even 25 years later.  Suicide is such a senseless thing.  It's completely selfish,  and done in desperation.  So many experiences that should have happened, never shall.  And you know, as the one who is left behind, that all those things are now lost to you.

So many memories flew through my mind as I drove in the deepest part of the night.  But one in particular haunted me.  Was this my fault?  Was it because I hadn't gone to visit last month when she'd called me?  Could I have prevented her death?  Tormented with that possibility, my heart broke all the more.

When finally, I arrived in Flagstaff, I received a greeting unlike any I could recall before this one.  It was cold and snowy outside but a soaking warmth permeated the cozy little woodland home of Bob and Dorothy Schneider.  That warmth didn't come only from the well stoked wood stove in the center of their home, but from their kindhearted smiles and open arms.

Bob and Dorothy are the sort of ordinary folks whom a girl like me hadn't had occasion to encounter.  Or at least, not in a way that I'd been able to receive up to that point in my life.  There was nothing the least bit pretentious about their family.  Instead they were down to earth people who offered comfort to a young stranger when she needed it most with no expectation of anything in return.

One evening as we sat crowded around the dining room table talking, I shared my concerns for my sister's soul.  I'd been raised to believe that suicide was a direct ticket to hell.  Bob and Dorothy took the time to explain to me that this was not a biblical concept but that God's grace was shed on the despairing souls of suicide victims just as it was on anyone else. They reassured me that if Kim knew Jesus, and I was sure that she did, then she was with Him now, in peace.  They took plenty of time to answer my questions and in so doing, eased what may have been the worst part of my grief.

Did anyone else ever take time to really talk with me about faith before Bob and Dorothy?  If they did, I hadn't really heard them.  Bob and Dorothy's love reached through all sorts of barriers to carve out some healthy space in my broken heart.  I'll never be able to repay them for the way they welcomed me when I was in such a desperate and hurting place.  Ever since then, when I've thought about what unconditional love is, I've thought of the way they welcomed me on that Winter morning into their home and into their hearts.

Happy Wednesday

Just posting a print image that I have hanging in my home.  It is by an artist named Arthur Singer who created a series of these in the 1950's for a sewing magazine.  The prints themselves came in the magazine itself and the reader was meant to collect them all.  It was an early ad campaign and judging by the number of these prints that are out there still intact, I'd say it was at least a moderate success.

The birds pictured in the image above are a pair of Northern Cardinals, a type of finch.  They sport a specialized heavy seed cracking beak which allows them to break open seeds that other birds can't quite manage. Sunflower seeds still in their shells are one of their favorite items at the backyard birdfeeder because so many of the birds can't manage them.  The males sing a lovely song each spring, seeking to serenade the females.  They are found throughout much of the United States and even up into the colder, snowy regions of the Eastern part of the US but seem to avoid the colder regions of the West.

I found mine at various antique shops and at least one was purchased on Ebay for very low prices.  They had been quite yellowed and carried the stains of time.  I scanned each on in and spent hours and hours cleaning them up in Photoshop to get the final result that you see here.  I then printed on sturdy white photo stock and framed them in simple black frames with white matts.  Every day, I get a smile out of the grouping.  Today, I thought I'd share one with you in the hopes it will put a smile on your face too!

Kim

Sometime in late November, I received a call from my sister Kim.  Kim and I had never been close.  Well, that may be an understatement.  When we lived together, we fought like crazy.  From my childish perspective, it was primarily Kim's fault, after all, she was in a perpetual bad mood and I, being unperceptive, didn't know how to navigate her moods effectively.

On the other hand, I incessantly asked childish questions and was likely to have been generally annoying as younger siblings are inclined to do. At any rate, the result was a regular routine of bickering and hitting, tattling and general sibling rivalry.

  (Kim at about age 12, wearing a necklace that she heisted from ME!!!)

Even so, I fiercely loved my older sister. I saw in Kim, everything I wanted to be.  From my point of view, she was beautiful, smart, athletically gifted, popular, and in charge.  She always had some sort of witty response. She always dressed fashionably.  She always had all the right friends.  She was, in a manner of speaking, my hero.

I was vaguely aware that she suffered some mental instability, but again, in my childish naivety, I didn't really have a good grip on what that meant. I certainly didn't see her through that lens. The reader may recall that Kim had run away from home when she was 15 years old. That event stood out starkly in my mind as one of profound change.

The tension in our home had been building and building. One particular incident involved a physical and verbal explosion surrounding the cooking of a simple pot of rice. Kim had been taking a Home Economics class in school and the lesson that day had been 'how to cook rice'. Rice was a staple in our home, with Mom having grown up in India, we paired it with most meals.  As you'd imagine, Mom had refined her technique and the rice was always perfectly cooked.  Kim rushed home from school, excited that she now knew how to cook rice and offered to prepare it for that night's family supper.

When it came time to serve, it was discovered that Kim's rice was NOT perfectly cooked.  In fact, the condition of the rice catapulted our mother into an all out rage in which she physically attacked Kim, hands firmly tangled into Kim's long, thick, brown hair and she pulled.  I still have the image of the two of them locked in anger.  Kim's instinctual response was to reach out and strike Mom's face with all her open palm.  The loud thwack resounds like a thunderclap in my mind.  It was one of those moments where time seemed to stand still.

Time gets jumbled, but that may have been the very night that Kim ran off. I never tasted the rice so I have no idea of just how 'bad' it was but I admit to having doubts that it was bad enough to merit any of what happened.

Several days passed during which we didn't know where Kim had gone, but eventually, she settled in at our Pastor's house and there she remained until she was 19.  They nurtured her heart in ways that my mother and father were unable to do.  Their family even paid for Kim to see a therapist for her struggles. In the end, it seemed a much better place for her.

(Senior Portrait, 1983?? This would have been purchased by the family Kim stayed with for the remainder of her childhood.  Our parents only purchased a very few portraits of us kids and never our Senior portraits.)

 (Innverness High School Graduation, either 1984 or 1985.  I didn't get to attend this, not sure if my mom did but I doubt it.  Our parents didn't attend most of our events. Mom was very unwell at this time so I think we missed it entirely.)

Kim attempted suicide through overdose more times than I can recall.  Her mental state was much worse than my mind could comprehend.  She seemed so very different from our mother that I couldn't quite understand how she could also be so mind-broken.  To my young mind, she appeared so very together.  In truth, I dismissed the reality of her extreme mental illness in favor of my prettier version of who and what she was.

As I write today, my heart breaks even more when I consider how easy it is for people to dismiss the reality, the gravity, of the hurt their loved ones are experiencing in order to maintain their own false vision of the person.  I wasn't able to do anything else at the time, and perhaps this is typically the case in such situations.  It is heartrending though, to consider how frequently emotional instability goes unaddressed because people are so dedicated to their own personal view of an individual.

Back to that phone call I mentioned at the outset.  Kim called me one evening, it must have been quite late for her in Florida because it was late at night for me here in Arizona.  We'd been building some relationship over the phone for a while so it wasn't terribly unusual for her to be calling.

I wish I had a recording of that call.  I can't remember much that was said. She seemed desperate, begging me to fly to Florida to see her.  She was missing me terribly and she was lonely.  Kim wasn't making a whole lot of sense and, in hindsight, I believe she was drunk or high.  She'd shared with me at some point her multitude of diagnoses, including addictions to alcohol and cocaine, Bi-polar (then called Manic/Depressive) and Kleptomania.  When she called, she'd finally been caught stealing and was in considerable trouble with her employers.

She'd had and maintained a housecleaning business for sometime, but had taken to stealing objects from her clients homes and hiding them in her home. She hadn't been arrested, but I suppose she must have been in danger of that in the near future. She was panicky and I assumed she was also having a manic episode. As much as I would have loved to fly out, I didn't have the money to take a trip like that.  I was living hand-to-mouth, spending everything I had.  Our conversation ended with my apology that I wouldn't be able to see her anytime soon and a quick 'I love you'.

After our conversation, I recall thinking that I was glad that our relationship was improving.  It made me feel loved that she 'needed' me, even if I wasn't actually able to come through for her.

Jeremy and I, on the other hand, were spending every free moment together.  Christmas break was approaching, and with that, a brief separation while he headed North to visit family in Flagstaff and then to LA to join extended family for Holiday celebrations.  I was NOT looking forward to our time apart at all. Hoping to limit the length of the separation, I proposed that I could drive up to Flag and stay with  him and his family during the second half of his break.

He agreed, and we made plans accordingly.  I'd join him and his family in Flagstaff on the 29th of December and spend a week with them.  I had also decided that was when I'd quite smoking! I figured that since I knew I'd not be able to smoke inside their home and it would be below freezing outside, it was the perfect time to quit.  Everything was arranged and I was excited!

Christmas break came and Jeremy left.  I wasn't thrilled with that, but I knew I'd be ok.  I had work and Terri and a litter of kittens to keep me company and that ought to be alright.

I can't remember what I did on Christmas Day, I may have spent it alone, or maybe working?  Coco's stayed open on holidays to serve those for whom roasting a ham was a fate worse than death.  At any rate, it came and went with no particular memory.

But on the evening of December 26th, very late at night, I received another phone call. It was my mother.  She didn't call to wish me a joyful holiday.  Instead, she called to tell me, in a voice devoid of emotion that Kim, my sister,  had taken her own life.

Kim was dead. DEAD.  forever

Disconnected

With Mr. Handsome having to travel on business lately, I've had some time to reflect on the nature of our relationship. More specifically, I've been considering the effects of separation.  There's an old cliche that says one's marriage partner is one's 'better half'.

We're often tempted to dismiss cliches as being, well.......cliche. But don't be so quick to push this one aside. The Lord himself has said 'what God has joined together, let no man tear asunder.'(Mark 10:9) I'm betting He had a good reason for that statement and I believe I've gained a bit of insight as to at least one or two of them during our recent separation.

When Jeremy is away, I feel the separation in my spirit. My sense of purpose is diminished. Who else on this earth can I look at that understands me as he does? Who else can I sit with, saying nothing, and yet still know that we are together in a profound way. Who else will laugh at my witless humor in such an uproarious fashion. Who else keeps me grounded and accountable as he does?

It's the same when we stay apart from our heavenly bridegroom.

Jesus intends to walk with you and I through every single joy and trial and all the moments in between. There isn't one moment that He is willing to miss. He gives ultimate purpose to His bride, as well as ultimate understanding, ultimate companionship and ultimate accountability.

The good news is that Jesus never has to go away on business. He says 'I am with you ALWAYS.' And that is the truth. But sometimes, I am inclined to hide myself from him, forget him, disregard him or even at times resent him.

Isn't that just how it is in an earthly relationship?

I want to be a bride who cherishes every moment with her bridegroom. I don't want to lose a single moment of the precious gift I've been given. I know I will at times, still trample on my bridegroom. But I hope that today, I'm able to cherish a little more the precious connections God has gifted me with Jeremy and so many others, and even more, with my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Beginnings

After Jeremy and I burned the midnight oil on our first date, I raced home to tell Terri with absolute certainty that I'd met the man I was going to marry.  I know, I know, there's no such thing as love at first sight, but I'm willing to say there is such thing as love at first real conversation.

I had no explanation for this certainty, but I WAS CERTAIN.  This was a kind of certainty in the area of romance I'd NEVER encountered. It was the kind of certainty I'd bet everything I had on. (Granted, everything I had wasn't much, but if you imagine it was........) Now, how to convince Jeremy that this should be the case was my obvious dilemma.

The next evening, I arrived home to a card from Jeremy tucked into the doorjamb. It happily contained an invitation to get together again later that night.  Perhaps we hadn't exchanged numbers?  I don't recall, but I do believe it's safe to say that this may not have been typical behavior for him, given that he was exceedingly shy with girls.

Please keep in mind the sort of woman that I was while I explain this next bit.  Meeting Jeremy was not quite the same as waving a magic wand and making me into a good girl.  I was the same girl I'd always been, with the only difference being that I was now exclusively dedicated to Jeremy.

Right after informing Terri of my impending engagement, I promptly reported to the various fellows I'd been seeing my permanent lack of availability. I couldn't see them any longer.  And I didn't.

With that taken care of, I focused on getting to know this man who seemed to me to be nearly a god.  You may be wondering why I would say that, after all, I was no stranger to men.  But Jeremy was unlike anyone I'd ever dated before.  I'll try to explain what was different.

First of all, among the many men I'd dated, none of them had stood out to me as particularly physically attractive.  You may think that is shallow, but I believe God designed us to be visually stimulated by the person we end up with.  I suspect that if that isn't part of the relationship, there will likely be some issues down the road.

Secondly, Jeremy was kinder to me than any male I'd ever known and had a way of listening to me that made me feel I could share the vulnerable places with him.  It seems as though I must have shared my story, at least some portion of it,  with those who'd come before, but if I did, I can't recall ever feeling as though they knew me or cared about me as a result. Jeremy, on the other hand, wanted to know me.

Thirdly, Jeremy was a responsible young man who was on his way to typical 'American' success. He was a student in a promising field that would likely result in his being able to earn a good wage. (Jon and Cole had fit that part of the description too, so Jeremy wasn't the first to have this quality) Other's I'd dated tended to be somewhat lacking in stability.  In hindsight, it's what I'd grown to expect from men as my father might have been the poster-child for fatherly instability.  Jeremy was the exact opposite. Not only was he personally stable, he was also personally able to accomplish anything he set his mind to.  He is the poster child for 'Jack of all trades' as he can do anything and do it well.

Fourth, and this is one of the most important bits, Jeremy came from a family who strongly believed that Jesus Christ is the Living God and they lived in such a way as to proclaim that to those who came under their influence. Jeremy himself wasn't terribly convinced that this needed to be given much heed, but it was part of his family legacy and that legacy would eventually transfer to him personally.

Fifth, Jeremy gave me evidence that he wanted to spend time with me. I didn't feel like an afterthought.  I can even recall times when we'd talk about the future and what we'd do together. That was a new experience. It seemed as though he saw a future for us.

I'd go on to say that Jeremy was not primarily interested in sex, but I suspect Jeremy himself might debate that point.  He was, like most young men his age in the 90's, certainly open to and hopeful for a physical relationship.

Since that was my typical MO, I didn't waste any time with him.  I invited him over that second night and before he knew what had hit him, I was snuggling in his lap.  He didn't exactly refuse my advances and so we began our relationship as I had each of the others before.

The two of us aren't so proud of that.  We've often wondered how things might have been different if we'd waited, but at that point in our lives, we couldn't really understand why that was important anyway.

By the time two weeks had passed in our burgeoning relationship, my assurance hadn't slipped a bit. The fact was, I was beginning to feel impatient, perhaps even a little desperate.  I didn't know Jeremy well enough to understand that he always took his time with decisions and when he hadn't told me he loved me by the two week marker, panic began to set in.

I decided I needed to spill my heart's desire to him. I needed to DO SOMETHING!! But what?

I settled on writing him a letter.  I can't recall what all I said in that letter and I've never seen it again so I assume it found it's way to the trash.  What I can remember is that it was several pages long and that it very likely sounded desperate (have you ever read your journals from when you were in your teens?! Yikes!!?? I'm pretty sure it was like that!).  I'm sure I poured out my love for him and my desire for our relationship to be serious, monogamous and well..........I was likely angling for a proposal.

The anxiety I felt as I waited to hear back from him was excruciating!!  What did he think?! Does he agree?!  Will he still want to be with me?!  What is he THINKING!!!!!!?????

How long it took in actuality to respond I can't say, but I do know that it seemed like forever. Amusingly, I doubt he picked up on the gravity of my feelings or my desperation.  Whether that is because he's super logical and, at that time, not terribly emotional or because he's male and I'm female and that means foreign, I am uncertain. At any rate, somehow, as a result of that letter prompting things to move along, we became serious about one another.

I loved him and he loved me and all would be right in the world as a result.

Read the Whole Story Here!

Full

What does it mean to be full?

Is it having a lot on your schedule?  Is it when you've eaten a lot of food and your pants are stretching across your waist?   Is it when you have all the earthly goods you think you could want?  Is it feeling satisfied?

Today was a full day. What I mean is that all the hours and then some were scheduled with things that seemed important. (for many of us, that is every single day) Because of that particular brand of fullness today, I didn't end up with much in the way of a quiet time with the Lord. I have friends for whom that poses no problem and other friends for whom that poses a huge problem.  Sometimes, when I see such a wide spectrum, I am left wondering if one or the other is more 'correct'.

In the end, I'm not sure that either end of the spectrum is better.  The point of fullness is that it is found in Christ alone.  The method by which that happens isn't all that important to Jesus.  Jesus, when he was talking about the way the Pharisees tried to usurp God's place, said "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10.  I believe his point in that teaching moment was that our 'full' life will come when we are in relationship with Him.

When he says 'my sheep know my voice' He is referring to the idea of Relationship.  Recognition.  It's not just that they are able to read the Word of God and believe it, it's that they hear His voice and understand His Words to them personally.  The end result is being FULL.  And what are His sheep full of?

Him.

The Date

Since I hadn't gotten Mr. Teal's number, I had no idea when I'd see him again.  I had heard some vague reference to the fact that he and Cole had been considering rooming together, but it was uncertain and I didn't spend enough time with Cole to feel comfortable asking.

Life went on.

Over the course of the next weeks my pattern didn't change any.  I went to work, I flirted, I went home.  I woke up the next day and did it again.  Occasionally, I'd find some guy or other to hook up with but it was always brief and always without future.

One day, I stopped in at Cole's house for something and as I was walking in the door, down the stairs came Mr. Teal!!!  With NO SHIRT!!!! 

Let's just say I was impressed again and fumbled about for something impressive to say or do myself.  I came up empty and the opportunity came and went without much to help my plight.  

Halloween also came and went.  I'd dressed up in the same costume as Terri had for work that morning. She'd rented a Court Jester costume and worn it to work and I'd worn it that evening.  Two for the price of one!  It was the first time I'd dressed up for Halloween in 6 or 7 years.  And it was pretty much a dud.  Nothing to write home about.  I was hoping for something remarkable.  I simply got a pink and black face. Really there is no point in my sharing this, but I'm hoping you'll enjoy it as trivia, and a picture!

And then, for no explainable reason, I happened upon a ray of hope.  

Cole had gotten up a party of dancers again on a Tuesday night, this time, November 5th, 1991 and we'd all headed down to the Wildcat House to dance the night away.  And guess who joined in?  Yep, you guessed it, Mr. Teal!!

I'd heard some of the others talking over their need to head home early that evening as they had a test early the next day.  In fact, everyone had a test the next morning.  What great luck!! I made my move! When the party was breaking up, I asked the group casually if anyone wanted to go over to Carrow's, an all night restaurant to hang out a bit more. I was banking on the fact that they'd all say no since they had to study and sleep in preparation for their tests.

What I hadn't banked on was the fact that Mr. Teal too, had a test the next day. 

Once again, my hopes deflated and I went home alone. (can you tell what a yo-yo my emotions were?!)

By some miracle however, at around 1:00 in the morning, my phone rang and who was on the other end but Mr. Teal himself!  'Would you still like to get something at Carrow's tonight?' he shyly offered. Ummmm, YES, yes I would!  My plot had worked, just a bit more slowly than I'd expected!

I drove over to Carrow's and we went in together and sat in a booth.......all night long!

It was the first time I could remember having a connection with a man.  I can't tell you what all we talked of, or what we ate, or what we were wearing.  What I remember is a feeling of euphoria that told my heart I'd come home.

When 5:00 AM rolled around it seemed like we ought to call it a night......er....morning.  Mr. Teal (yes, it's actually Jeremy for those of you who've been dying to know) and I stood, face to face trying to figure out how to end our conversation.  Perhaps one of the silliest things I've ever said has become one of our 'held onto' memories.  'Can I give you a hug so we can call this a date?' I queried.  Jeremy agreed and that became known as our first date.  

It was the beginning of the REAL story of my life.  It was through Jeremy, with all of his own flaws and imperfections, that God was going to bring new life, REAL LIFE into my broken spaces. It was through Jeremy, who hadn't the slightest idea what he was getting when he said 'sure, give me a hug', that God would do what can only be described as a miracle.

Stories get more difficult to tell as you begin to involve the people you live with so I hope you'll bear with me as I begin sharing the next bit. I'll have to leave some things out to respect the people I love with today, but I hope God will allow you to see the work He's done in me and in my family.  

If you've come this far with me, I want to say THANK YOU.  The writing of my story to this point has been a journey I never expected to go on.  There are ways without number that God has used these musings to speak to my damaged heart and expose things I didn't even know were hidden. So thank you for allowing me to get it all out there.  I hope that in some way, this has blessed you as well.

Now, on to the story of Jeremy and Danielle!