With my book read, my soda gone, and those kids going nuts–the plane was late. But I really didn’t care. I’ve been waiting for this for two weeks. The scratchy intercom voice announced that flight 718 from Houston had arrived, and passengers would be arriving at gate F7. Finally. Gathering my things, I strode over to the concourse, and found an unobtrusive spot to stand that allowed me to see down the little aisle-way. One by one, the passengers streamed off. Every person that rounded the corner wasn’t the one I was looking for, and I strained to see who the next person was. Anticipation grew as the flow of passengers lessened, and then stopped. But it resumed again, and again I strained to see past all the people, trying to find that one recognizable face. My heart continued to beat faster and faster in anticipation. And then that face. That smile. In moments she was in my arms, and it was all worthwhile.
Category Archives: Love
Spring and Love
Well, it’s officially spring. Today it was finally warm enough to don the shorts and have class outside. The two sure signs of spring.
“I still can’t believe you two,” he started. “I still have to do a double take when I see you guys together.”
So do I. So do I. Sometimes it’s strange how things work out. You just can’t explain it. The next thing you know you don’t want to let go. You find yourself looking back to catch one last glimpse before it’s time to go.
While sitting at my desk this morning in my pajamas, reading an e-mail, I heard a knock at the door. Annoyed, I stomped over to the door, grumbling about roommates who forget their keys. I opened the door to a bouquet of flowers. Not for me, but for one of my roommates. It was his girlfriend. She was standing there all dressed up with flowers in one hand and a plate of breakfast rolls for the townhouse in the other. “Fresh out of the oven,” she offered. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself, standing there in my pajamas, grumbling only moments before about flowers and food.
Finding a New Love
This morning the church service was held outside. What a beautiful way to worship God. As a side effect, I now have a sunburn.
“So what’s on your mind?” she asks. You again, huh? Hmmm. Where do I begin and what do I say?
Projects, tests and papers bear down on me, and finals loom on the horizon. The sun has finally come out, and the warm weather is beckoning me away from my work. 15 people died in the Columbine massacre, and people struggle to understand. Bombs fall in Yugoslavia as the ethnic cleansing continues in Kosovo. Conflict guts my church at home, my mother breaks down crying as she tells me, and I’m 700 miles away and can’t do a thing. And my heart finds a new love that the old won’t understand. “Why, O Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” the Psalmist cries out (10:1), and I understand the pain he feels. But I also know that “You are my Lord, apart from you I have no good thing,” (Psalm 16:2).
The pain she feels is tremendous. I can only imagine. “No, you can’t.” she retorts. Well, maybe I can’t. But I think I can. Do you think I planned this? Do you think I meant it to be this way? It’s times like these that I can only cling to God. I didn’t write the script. No man could write a plot so complex. I’m just stumbling along, trying to read my lines and adlib the ones I forget. Somehow He gives me the cues I need. I know it hurts. Your tears pierce my soul. You don’t want to believe that, because that would mean I have compassion, and you can’t hate me if I have that. But enough of that. It gets us nowhere. I don’t want to see you hurt, but this is the way it’s working out. There’s a plan behind it, and it makes no sense now, but someday it will. I’m following the way I know. I showed care and concern for you, and still do. And now I must move forward. I’m sorry. Don’t bury your rage in a ball. Don’t hate yourself. This is more than that. This is beyond all that. Can’t you see?
And so I step forward, knowing the past is shaky, but confident in the present. I hold your hand, and I know that only God could have put it there. So we walk forward, and move on to the next scene, “Line please.”
Hold My Hand, Laugh and Talk
How can things be so right, and yet so confusing? The chorus of a cheesy pop song from middle school returns to my mind. “I need to hear from you,” (Petra). A good friend and I used to sing those words in jest, referring to his girlfriend who had been ignoring him. The words return to my mind for vastly different reasons, but they still return. So much confusion and cloudiness can so easily be cleared up. I know it’s hard, but why must you take so long?
“Do you want to go for a walk you can hold my hand we can laugh and talk. You can lead the way, which way you want to go, tell me all the things I really, really want to know. Hair is gold and her eyes are blue I’m in love with the girl with the flower tattoo and if I wrote the perfect song you know I’d name it after you. t-shirt, sneakers, some faded blue jeans, pockets in the back ripped from the seams. Doesn’t really care what she hears or sees, what they think about her what they think about me. Hair is gold and her eyes are blue I’m in love with a girl with a flower tattoo and if I wrote the perfect song you know I’d name it after you. Do you want to go for a walk you can hold my hand we can laugh and talk. You can lead the way, which way you want to go, tell me all the things I really, really want to know. Hair is gold and her eyes are blue I’m in love with a girl with a flower tattoo and if I wrote the perfect song you know I’d name it after you.” – ‘Flower Tattoo’ by the W’s
(close enough)
The Fairy Tale Continues
Life seems to happen so fast. One week things are one way, and the next week they’re completely different. So much can happen, and so much does. The person I didn’t think much of talking to, I now long to hear a word from. The feelings I ignored before, I now have trouble resisting. Yet it’s only been a week. One week.
“It doesn’t mean anything / Without You here with me / And I can try to justify / But I still need you here with me” (‘Here With Me’ by Plumb)
She holds my hand, and this fairy tale continues. She asked what was on my mind, and I let her into the maze. Where are we going, and what will we become? I don’t know, but I like it. The challenges lie ahead, and I want to face them.
“There’s no telling WHAT that young fellow will do!” (If I Ran The Zoo by Dr. Seuss)
Now What
And who saw that coming? The masks are removed, and the naked truth is exposed. Now what do we do?
It’s Not Okay
It’s okay. It’s alright. Is it really? Then why is she crying? And why can I do nothing to stop the pain? I’ve never felt so powerless in my whole life. My hands are tied, and I can only watch, and feel my stomach turn inside out. I can’t stop the tears of an angel. It hurts even more to know that I’m the cause of those tears. You think everything’s going just fine until you discover the truth. The tears can be wiped away, and you can put on a happy face. But what’s going on underneath the mask? What’s your secret pain that’s tearing you apart? What is it that makes you cry into your pillow? And why do the rest of us foolishly accept your mask, and think that it’s okay. It’s alright. I’ll never forget the crying voice that shot back at me, “It’s not okay.”
Freedom Isn’t So Sweet
And so a new day begins. I can’t be your Prince Charming anymore. It’s just not the way it was meant to be. Meant to be. I’ll just keep whispering that to your falling tears. I have a box of memories, I have a head full of unfinished dreams, and I have a heart full of hurt. It’s over now, and I can only tuck the box away in the attic. My head and heart, however, will have to ache. What else can you do? No aspirin will deaden this pain, only tears will carry the hurt away. And my stubborn eyes are dry, so dry. And the box, well you can’t just throw it away. It’s worth more than that. But my eyes can’t stand to see it, so stashing it away is the only answer. Flames would be an adequate end, a rather poetic farewell. But I couldn’t do that either. I watched you cry tonight, and I wanted to throw up. My jacket is stained with your tears, and I am proud to have leant my shoulder for you to cry on. Now everyone will ask why, and I won’t know what to tell them. If only they understood. If only they heard the ice crack.
My friends and I have had a long standing joke. We’ve applied the word “freedom” to the lack of a significant other in a man’s life. A dating relationship, of course, would mean an end to that freedom. We always got a great chuckle out of it, and if you’ve ever seen the movie Braveheart, it almost seems comical at the end. But tonight I find new and wretched meaning in it. At the end of the movie, William Wallace is tortured in a feeble attempt to force him to pay homage to the king of England. Wallace remains silent throughout the torture. In the end, they slice open his stomach, and you can imagine the pain involved. Finally, Wallace speaks. With every ounce of strength left in him, he shouts at the top of his lungs, “freedom.” He is then beheaded. I can tell you now that my guts are being twisted and spilled from my body, I open my mouth to speak. But it is not with triumph and victory that I speak, but with pain and agony I mutter the words that seem like vomit on my lips, “freedom.”
But somewhere ahead lies the hope. It’s not clear to me yet, but I do know it’s there.
Valentine’s Day Apart Sucks
You know what, Valentine’s Day really sucks when you’re 700 miles away from your girl friend. I realized that tonight when I was talking to her and just wishing I could be there with her. But I suppose it’s not all that bad, because she really cheered me up.
When we first started talking I was bummed out, and when we finally hung up I was in a very cheerful mood. It’s just kind of hard being that far apart. Most people are shocked when they hear that we’re that far apart and still together. In fact, it was three years ago today that this whole thing kind of started. That would be the joyous day when I put my foot in my mouth and made my feelings known. Of course the official date isn’t for another month or so, but that’s a long story that you single people really don’t want to hear about right now.
That three years part shocks people all the more. I like to think that’s where we have something special. I see so many people who only see love as sex or people who are very quick to get married. They don’t go through the roller coaster ride of the relationship and really find out what the person is like on those hard days. They don’t have time to deal with the really tough issues, and I really wonder what’s going to happen when those issues come. ‘I love you’ is a phrase we often throw around. I wonder how many people really mean it.
What Is Love?
Love. With Valentine’s Day quickly approaching (sorry for the continued topic, but it should be obvious that lately I’ve been working hard on my contribution) I’ve been pondering what love is all about. Love. What a stupid language we have that I can love my yo-yo, I can love my friend Adam, I can love my girl friend, and I can love God. All the same word, yet all have a different meaning. I could slip into a Greek word study right now, but that’s beside the point.
With all those different meanings, love is very hard to define, much less understand. It can get very confusing and cloudy. It doesn’t help when most people equate sex with love. It’s such a mixed bag that it’s really pretty hard to talk about. Yet I think love is very important. I think it has the ability to bring about a lot of change. But it also has the ability to fade into confusion with an over abundance of hearts and “I love you’s.” Do we really understand what we’re saying when we say those words? Do any of us even say those words? And why can I only say those words to my girl friend?
I think love is so much more. It’s something higher. It’s something that is grossly misunderstood today, even among couples that should understand it. I wish I could define it in exact language. The ambiguity is killing me. I just wish I could get a blanket statement, Love is x. I suppose there are a few of those. A chapter in the Bible lists off several (1 Corinthians 13). A certain cartoon featuring naked eight year olds who are married (as Homer would describe it) tries to explain what love is, and I think it usually does a good job. I think a lot of people need to understand these definitions of love. They’re not so commercialized and marketed. Love doesn’t come in boxes or bouquets. It’s higher than all that. And it’s something everyone needs.