I am my father

I sit on this old blue couch which is a product of someone's castaway and my diligent cleaning. And I am a castaway - my father's castaway. He saw good in me, yes, but he also saw so much bad. So he scrubbed at me, over and over and over. He hammered the same points over and over. He ignored the 99% good that I did and narrowed in on the 1% bad. Every conversation was a test to see whether I measured up to his expectations. He usually had a comment or two that made me hate telling him what I accomplished.

As a 17-year-old girl, I vowed one thing. I will never be like my father. And I prayed regularly growing up, God, please change my father.

While my dad was focusing on my 1% bad, I was focusing on my dad's 1% bad. And I became my father.

How do I become my mother? How do I encourage, nurture, and only offer advice when asked. How do I let go of my criticism and trust people? How do I love unconditionally. How do I stay silent even when I know I am right? How do I stop constantly trying to teach people, and instead just be with people?

Why can't I stop ruining silly, fun moments with my fiancé? Why do I have to push him away the closer he gets to me?

I do want to change some things about him. I want to fix him. I want him to see every minor detail as being important - just like my father hammered into me.

But I love him. I love him like my father loved me. My father spent more time with me, trying to fix me. But he also spent more time with me telling he believed in me - I could be a great writer - I made him proud. Is it possible he made me a better person?

Maybe I need to take a moment to thank my dad for the 99% he did right in his little girl's life. Maybe I need to beg God to change myself just like I used to beg Him to change my dad.

With my dad's attention to detail, I feel empowered at work. But I feel handicapped in relationships. Instead of being my earthly father, I want to be more like my heavenly Father. My heavenly Father has the highest of all expectations, and yet he showers more love and grace on me than I will ever receive in an eternity from anyone else.

God, help me? I am so lost. How do I change everything about myself and yet still respect myself and others who don't measure up to my expectations?

Nervous

I look at my vacant left ring finger, and I'm nervous. And excited. But still nervous. It's such a big decision. It's sitting in front of him and agreeing to love him even when we had nights like last night. It's agreeing to disagree and to give up some of our personal space in order to be in each other's space forever. It's FOREVER. It's forever of loving him and sometimes loathing him. It's dying to self over and over. It's having a constant magnifying glass on my flaws that I live with just fine.

After this there is no turning back. I'm so nervous.

When the Enemy is Your Friend - Chapter Four

Chapter 4 (Thursday) – Day of the Murder

It was a party—a real one. No balloons and cake were present. Like most frat parties involving booze and girls, this party was no exception. Alyson felt nervous to be walking up to the large home sporting Greek signs that was pulsing with loud music.

“Hey, Bree, are you sure I’m invited?” she asked nervously, looking behind her shoulder.

Bree laughed. “Sweetheart, you’re so green--like you believe there’s a cop on your heels.”

“Could  there be cops?” Alyson asked her levelly.

“Relax. Kevin invited both of us. And it’s PG-13 rated. He wouldn’t invite us somewhere unsafe,” she assured her as they walked up to the front door.

Alyson was at least relieved that she had been able to drive herself. Her great aunt had surprised her by giving her a car as a Christmas present and had her two grandsons drive it from the dealership to U of W on Alyson’s second week back. The car was white and had flakes of rust on it, so it was by no means brand-new, but she insisted to her aunt that age didn’t matter.

“It’s my first car!” she screamed, thanking her profusely on the phone, and she hurriedly made her first trip to go to Wal-Mart and buy decals for it. She was more than happy to let Bree hitch a ride whenever she was heading out to Wal-Mart or the grocery store, because she not only enjoyed showing off her ride, but she also enjoyed Bree’s company.

After Christmas break, Alyson’s relationship with Bree had changed. Alyson’s popularity seemed to climb drastically once her first articles began to show in the school newspaper. Suddenly everyone wanted to be her friend, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

“They just want to be your friend so they can get their story told,” Bree told her, sounding a little jealous.

Alyson raised her eyebrow at Bree and asked, “Do you want your story told?”

Bree snorted at the idea and said, “What kinda story would that be? A tragedy?”

“A drama. No, a tragic, fictional drama.”

“Agreed. So how about we don’t tell that story and I’ll just be your friend, huh? After all, you had the equipment all along to make yourself popular. You just needed the right…advertisement.”

“Enter, Bree,” Alyson guessed.

“Ta-da!” She said humbly, accepting the acknowledgment. Now she was looking at Alyson, her eyes flush with excitement and pride.

“You look great. How do I look?” she asked breathlessly, looking to Alyson like she was drunk with the idea of getting drunk.

“You look…gold,” she said awkwardly, surveying her roommates shimmery gold dress and pumps.

“Gold? That’s your idea of a compliment?” she reproved, making Alyson feel like the pupil once again.

“Were you looking for a compliment?”  Alyson asked with a bit of mock innocence.

Bree huffed and shook her head in exasperation, pushing Alyson ahead of her through the door. Her head immediately began bobbing with the music, and she removed her evening jacket to make sure everyone got a good look at her.

“Dang, girl,” one guy said, while another guy whistled at Bree. She smiled and tried to act like she didn’t notice their reactions.

While they were still in the front entrance she narrowed her eyes at Alyson. 

“Do I need to keep an eye on you in here?” she asked.

Alyson shook her head. “You insisted that I must experience at least one frat party. It doesn’t mean I have to drink or get into trouble. I’ll be careful.”

“I wasn’t asking if you would be careful! That’s exactly what I was afraid of,” Bree huffed again. “I can see I’m going to have to do some introducing.”

When they entered the dance floor, Alyson was surprised. She had no idea that Bree knew so many college guys.

“I don’t know them all,” she insisted after introducing Alyson to her boyfriend Kevin and some of his buddies. Then she teased, “But I know most of the cute ones.” Alyson suspected she was enjoying the feeling of being so knowledgeable in comparison with her freshman roommate. She could see it in the way Bree looked at her when Alyson was clueless about something. Alyson blushed when she walked past a couple that were openly making out and looked away in discomfort. Bree rolled her eyes and laughed.

“What did you think Frat parties were all about?” Bree teased her, holding Kevin’s hand lightly and giving him a peck on the cheek. He grinned over at Alyson, and Alyson felt slightly pleased that he was acknowledging her now that she was dressing differently. Bree also seemed less embarrassed to bring her along when Kevin’s buddies wanted to hang out. It was like they held a new respect for her. Well most of them seemed to respect her, but Alyson noticed that a couple of his friends eyed her body a little disrespectfully. Bree said something else then, but Alyson could barely hear her over the music.

“Oh! Allie, you have to come over here. I know you won’t approve of the drinking, but it really is a fun game,” she said, dragging Alyson over to a game of beer pong, where opponents basically played each other into a drunken stupor. Alyson hung back in shyness, but Bree and Kevin charged ahead into the body of pumped and cheering college students. When Alyson quickly lost interest in the game, she decided she might as well just leave the party and wait outside.

“God, what am I doing here?” She asked herself as she breathed out the cold air on the porch. This was a dumb idea.

“Party too hot for you?” asked a deep voice from behind her. Alyson jumped with a start and the breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you Jake.”

He was looking at her funny, and Alyson suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Have you been drinking?” she asked her editor.

“Naw, just a couple. Nothing to get me wasted,” he insisted with a bit of a slurp. Even as he drew closer, he was staggering slightly, and Alyson felt like recoiling from the smell of his breath.

Alyson turned away to look out into the night as though something interested her out there. She wasn’t sure how to act around drunk people. She knew, according to Bree, that some people were funny drunks and some were mean drunks. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what kind of drunk her editor was.

As she hugged her arms to her chest, she realized she needed to do something. She needed to draw a line for herself. How far was too far? Had she crossed her own line? It wasn’t about what people expected anymore. Alyson knew people expected her to get silly drunk tonight and go home with some guy who wouldn’t remember her name in the morning. People expected her to cheat if she didn’t get good grades and it was considered normal for her to pursue a guy aggressively if she liked him. This was all typical for a 19 year old college-girl. But somehow, Alyson didn’t want to be the normal, average girl. She wanted to be above the expected. She wanted to stick out in a good way and not let people’s perspectives, conservative or liberal, govern her decisions. She knew she didn’t want to end up like her parents, but she also didn’t want to be exactly like Bree. She wanted a balance between the two. Was that possible?

Her phone buzzed in her small carry-on purse, and Alyson wasn’t all that surprised to read a text that said that Bree didn’t need a ride home because she was going to stay with Kevin for the night.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Jake asked her, clumsily trying to read the text on Alyson’s phone.

“No,” she huffed, annoyed by the kind of drunk Jake was. “It was my roommate – she’s apparently ditching me for the night.”

“Ditching you? Who would ditch you? You’re like, the awesome Christian girl. Everyone knows you,” Jake said convincingly.

Alyson paused. “What do you mean everyone knows me?” she asked.

“Why everyone knows you. All the guys talk about you. You’re like the virgin girl on campus,” he laughed.

Alyson’s face grew hot. “All right, Jake. You’ve had enough to drink tonight. I think I’m going to go home,” she said, feeling hurt by his impression of her.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You can’t blame a guy for being curious. I mean,” he burped, “you’ve been hiding under those skirts for so long. Little miss untouchable. And then, here you are. In a little black dress, and I just want to dance with you,” he said, reaching for her.

“No, thanks,” she said, twisting from his grasp and backing into the house. The assault of music found her inside and she winced when Jake stumbled in after her.

“Come on, Allie. Just one dance,” he said.

“Jake, you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re going to regret what you’re saying in the morning,” she said crisply, facing up at him, her lips twitching angrily.

“Don’t be silly, I won’t remember what I’ve done in the morning. And you won’t either,” he encouraged.

Suddenly, amid the din of music and the pulsating, gyrating bodies around her, Alyson noticed something eerie. A boy was staring at her from the stairs. Normally she would have felt pleased by a boy’s attention, but the look in his eyes made her shiver instead. His eyes were angry, piercing her black dress and undressing her with his eyes. She thought she even saw him take a picture of her. Alyson instinctively covered herself with her arms and moved a little closer to Jake.

“Jake,” she prodded him, “Is that Max on the stairs over there?”

Jake narrowed his eyes and said, “What’s emo boy doing here? He’s not a Theta Delta Nu.” He turned as if to go reprimand him, but when Max saw him approaching he immediately disappeared. Jake grinned, turning around towards Alyson and said confidently, “That took care of him.”

Alyson was still looking at the stairs anxiously when Jake grabbed her waist and pulled her to his chest.

“Dance with me,” he whispered harshly in her ear, and Alyson felt like vomiting from the smell of his breath once again.

“Jake!” she cried, “Let me go!”

Jake ignored her cries and crushed his mouth against her lips, a tongue finding entrance in an unwelcome place. His beer-soaked breath exhaled into Alyson’s mouth and she felt like gagging. Alyson struggled to get an arm free from his strong hold and finally succeeded, only to immediately slap him. To Alyson’s horror, while Jake looked slightly stunned, he didn’t reléase his hold and in fact he only looked amused.

“I love how you just slapped me like that was supposed to hurt,” he quipped, not releasing his hold on her. Alyson would have welcomed any interference at that point from anyone who was willing to rescue her from this unweclome make-out session.

As if on cue, Lyla walked up to them and when Jake saw her narrow, angry eyes, he instantly released Alyson.

“Lyla, babe, I was just going to get us drinks,” he insisted. But a little smile was on his lips and he looked down and winked at Alyson.

Alyson expected Lyla to be angry with Jake, since apparently they were together, but instead she turned on Alyson, her eyes flashing and her teeth peeking out menacingly.

“Touch my boyfriend again, you little whore,” she spit out, “and I will personally cut off your hands.” Alyson sucked in a breath and knew instantly what kind of drunk Lyla was.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she responded angrily, “I was just leaving.”

As she weeded her way through the crowd, a couple guys from the frat blocked her path.

“Hey, hey, hey, the night’s still young. ‘Sonly 11:00 baby. Where do you think you’re going?” One said, his words slurring.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” the other one said, slinging his arm around her shoulders and ushering her toward the kitchen. It took Alyson a good five minutes to shake them and convince them she wasn’t interested in drinking and that she really just wanted to go home.

“Whatever, we don’t need you to have fun,” one of the guys said and he let his beer slop onto the front of Alyson’s dress.

She headed to her car angrily, suddenly feeling ridiculous in her short black dress and stinking of someone else’s alcohol. She plucked her red earrings out of her ears as she walked, realizing afresh that doing something just for the sake of doing it was not always rewarding. There was no profit in the party she had just attended, she admitted to herself, but she’d made plans and gone anyways. A verse she’d read that morning came back to her, and she brushed it away quickly, knowing she’d taken matters into her own hands tonight. The verse read, “I know the plans which I have for you; plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah something or other. Not important. God could put those plans on hold. Alyson was comforted to know God had good plans for her, but really, she just needed a little more time to figure things out on her own before she let God do all her planning for her.

Alyson was on the road by then, and was fumbling with the radio knob. It was 11:50 p.m. on November 6th. She couldn’t have possibly known what was coming, because at that moment she had her whole life ahead of her. She was sure that tomorrow her biggest struggles were going to be with unwanted acne, an insult from Lyla at the newspaper, or a B- on a paper.  Thinking about the issues that undoubtedly lay ahead was giving her a headache, and she watched the signs pass by her aimlessly, trying not to think about the pressures of the next day.

Suddenly she heard a scream, and it took her a few seconds to realize it was her own scream she was hearing. She jammed the brake to the floor and held her breath in terror as she felt her car speeding too fast, too fast to stop. She was trembling with relief when she realized her car had stopped in time, but she could not stop staring out her windshield in horror. What was that? It had to be what it looked like. Her two hands instinctively went to her chest and begin pressing her own heart back to life.

There was a body in front of her car. She was almost sure of it. But what was she supposed to do? Should she approach the body and see if she could administer CPR?  She thought she might remember it from that one emergency help class she’d had in the eleventh grade. Was it 30 compressions to 2 breaths? Or 15 compressions to 2 breaths? Or hadn’t they changed it now? Wasn’t it 5 sets of 30 compressions and then 2 breaths? She couldn’t remember for sure. She realized her hands were fumbling for her phone on the seat beside her, and she opened the car door as she flipped open the phone. She decided to check to make sure it was a body before she called 9-1-1. She threw the door open nervously, and left it open, the headlights flooding the still form before her.

“Hello? Hello! Are you okay?” She shouted as she ran toward the man in the road. He was face down, but although she saw no signs of wounds, she also thought she Heard him groan.

“Oh, God, oh God,” she kept saying over and over and found herself backing up slowly. Putting her phone to her ear, she began walking up the road past the vehicle. The gas station couldn’t be more than a mile down the road, could it? She picked up her pace, her tired vision suddenly sharp with wild adrenaline.

Why wasn’t it dialing?  She cursed, realizing she hadn’t even dialed, and with shaky fingers dialed 9—1--.

But something stopped her; it was the sound of an engine revving. Alyson turned around, and her frantic eyes suddenly filled with disbelieving anger.

“Hey! Hey, what are you doing in my car? Get out of there!” Two guys had jumped in her car and slammed the doors shut.

They’re going to run over the body, she realized with horror. They’re going to run over the body and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. She didn’t know whether she should run toward them or run away, so she stood frozen in place, instinctively covering her eyes as the engine revved. 3 seconds later, she realized she had heard no slam of tires against flesh, no sickening thud or tearing clothes. She peeled one hand away from her eye and sucked in a fast breath. The two guys were still revving the car, but the man in the road was starting to get up.

Backing up slowly, she flipped her phone back open and dialed 9—1—1. But she never got to send the call. She doesn’t remember his face, but what she does remember is that she backed into someone who was very much alive.

What happened next, she swears she does not remember.

When the Enemy is Your Friend - Chapter Three

Chapter 3 – Back Home

While all of Alyson’s classmates were buzzing with excitement over Christmas vacation, Alyson was depressed at the thought of going home. She packed her suitcase carefully, taking only her most conservative skirts and shirts. When she put her pair of “sensible” black shoes that had served her faithfully for most of high school into the suitcase, she grimaced.  What had her feet ever done to her to deserve those?

When her parents came to pick her up, the ride home was rather silent, except for a few polite questions from her mother. Alyson noticed she was sporting a new hair-dye job and was almost positive it was not a purchase her father had approved. She was somewhat relieved when her parents were content to talk about the progress they had made on fixing the stairs leading up to their trailer home and how exciting the church Christmas program was going to be this year.

“Oh, your friend Abigail from church says hi! She asked about you all the time you were gone,” Alyson’s mother said cheerfully, tossing her new dark brown hair.

Alyson had forgotten about Abigail and was cheered up considerably at the thought of seeing her high school chum again. Snow was covering her driveway and the minute the car pulled into it, a little boy and girl came careening out of the trailer home, door slamming shut behind him.

“Allie!” Ben screamed, running to hug her and take one of her bags from her.

“Aunt Alyson,” cried Faith wish an irresistible laugh.

“Can I help you?” Ben asked excitedly. “Can I take this bag in?”

“There’ll be plenty more of those when you’re done with that one,” his father said, laughing at Ben’s enthusiasm.

“Just wait till you see the tree,” Ben said, grabbing Alyson’s hand boyishly. “It’s huge!!”

Alyson agreed when she climbed the stairs and saw the 5-foot evergreen sitting in corner by the entrance. It’s tip almost reached the top of the window.

“Do you like the new stairs?” her mother asked anxiously as she followed Alyson into the home.

“Yeah, I do. Great job, Dad,” Alyson said, feeling disoriented to be back home. Nothing had changed. Well, not really. Ben seemed a little taller, but that was it.

“You’re probably tired,” her mom said, “Go wash your hands and we’ll eat supper. Oh, I’m so glad to see you home safe and sound where I can keep a good eye on you! I think I’ll sleep tonight!”

Supper that night was fancier than usual. The potatoes were peeled and Alyson’s mom had tried a new recipe with corn. Her father had grilled some chicken on their neighbor’s grill and smothered it in barbeque sauce. It wasn’t a feast, but Alyson was touched because she knew her family had gone to extra lengths to welcome her back home. She felt happier than she had before she went to college. Now she had the best of both worlds. She felt fairly confident when she was at college and felt loved when she went home. What could go wrong?

Alyson cherished that night and thought back on it often during Christmas break as her time at home bothered her more and more. She didn’t know why, but she was growing increasingly discontent with being home. As eager as she had been to be done with school, she was eager to be out of the house again. There was nothing big that made her want to leave home; just little things.

She was uncomfortable with how her parents seemed obviously happy that she hadn’t changed at all. And when she wanted companionship to discuss her frustrations, Alyson now found her high school friend Abigail to be annoying. Abigail was 17 and too meek to try to change or go away to college.      She walked around with a defeatist attitude, her shoulders constantly slumped, and her clothes unkempt and dirty-looking. Abigail hinted that she wanted to change, but she insisted it probably wasn’t what God wanted. How did she know what God wanted? She was exactly what Alyson’s parents would want her to be, and that made Alyson dislike her even more.

Ben clung to Alyson over the break, and as much as Alyson loved her little brother, she wanted a little space from him to breathe. There was so much she couldn’t tell him. She wished she could make his future college-experience better than hers, but she wisely knew he would not care to hear what was coming. He’d have to just discover life for himself, she guessed.

Another thing that bothered her was that it was amazing how poor Alyson’s family seemed to her now. Before they seemed to be just average, but after living with Becky who threw away shirts when the buttons popped off, Alyson knew her family was very poor.

“Have you grown out of this skirt? I could hem it and give it to Julia’s girl. She’d fit into it by now. Her oldest girl might have some clothes for you in return,” her mother said, going through Alyson’s closet one afternoon. Alyson didn’t want Julia’s oldest sister’s cast-off clothes, but she simply said, “Okay.”

Despite the bad times at home, there were some good memories that she would look back on later. She loved the nights her family played Monopoly when Ben’s lame attempts at cheating made her laugh so hard she could barely stop. And church wasn’t that bad. Little old Mrs. Westbrenner at church would press a $20 in her hands from time to time and take the time to ask her how college was really going. She was a woman that Alyson respected deeply, mainly because Alyson believed she had finally found a Christian who lived out what she believed. Or it could have been the $20 cash that made her like her—she wasn’t sure.

Still, when the spring semester was finally ready to begin, Alyson could not say goodbye to her parents fast enough.

“Wait, don’t you want us to come in with you and help you get settled?” her mother asked.

“No, thanks, Mom,” Alyson said, feeling a small shoot of terror snake down her spine at the thought of bringing her mother into her college dorm. She pictured her mother trying to pull off that French coat on top of her conservative drab dress, and the thought was too embarrassing for words. She didn’t want to put her mother through the humiliation, she thought selflessly.

“Have a great trip!” Alyson said encouragingly, thumping the hood of the car in goodbye.

When her parents’ economy car finally pulled out of the parking lot at U of W, Alyson breathed a great sigh of relief. Now her life could begin again.

Little did she know that her life was going to change completely in just 3 short weeks.

Before and After Love

I look at pictures of myself when I was single and I remember. I remember what it was like to feel like making the most of every night on the town because it might be the opportunity where I would meet him. And if I didn't meet him, oh well, I was making a ton of friends who were in the same boat. I also remember being happy "just as I was" and not "needing" a man. Still, a huge part of me was always searching. I felt like I was missing something...or someone. And yet, there was something beautiful in that hopefulness, that peace in trusting God's plan, that wild adventure because I had nothing to lose. Being single was just what I needed.

It was a beautiful phase. But I am so thankful it is a phase that is now in my past.

I can't believe I've already been dating Andrew for six months. He has made that time fly. We have become one of the sappiest couple clichés that I always swore I would never become. It's great.

And I can't help but see a different person when I look at pictures of the before and after "me": before and after I started dating Andrew.

Before

 

                                                                          After

Single, I was free to love whomever, but dating, I can love and be loved.
Single, I could have alone time whenever I pleased, but dating, I never have to feel like I'm alone.
Single, I was everywhere for everyone, but dating, I am content to be everything to one.

He adds a new depth to my life. A new perspective. A sense of belonging and wholeness.
Whole is the perfect word for it. With him, I feel whole. He mentioned the same thing about me tonight and it got me thinking about how different I am since he has come into my life. It's more like he shook my life upside down. And then flooded it. And let it dry up. And then burned it all.

My life, my person has changed so much because of his life, his person. I marvel at how crazy perfect man is for woman, how natural the bodies fit together, how his needs complement hers, how attraction works between the sexes, and how sacrifice is almost nothing when you love someone.

So for 22 years I lived not quite whole. I had a great life. I did a lot. But it feels like I was just born six months ago and I have just begun experiencing life. In giving up a little of myself, I gained my other half. I went from living in part to gaining a whole. In sacrificing my desires, I gained his desires. And the more I've given up myself for God's version of love (1 Cor. 13), the more I've learned and received selfless love.

Selfless love. That really has been my theme for the year. And God really has been teaching me, beyond what I ever imagined when I asked him to help me learn it back in January. It's amazing how he answered my prayer before I even knew to ask it. Amazing how God loved me forever before I knew what forever love was.

After our last disagreement, I truly don't feel any barriers anymore. I could spend forever with one man.

And then he says I'm sorry....

There I was - the emotional ice queen. So stressed from the first week back at classes and unable to fully process my need for space from him. So boiled up from months of holding small things in.

And then he says I'm sorry like no other guy in the world knows how. And it was actually super sexy to see him owning up to stuff  and calling his own actions stupid. It's not like I'm always right - I know that; he knows that. But there is something downright sexy about a guy looking at you and saying, "I know what you're trying to say. And I thought about it. And you're right. There are some thoughtless things I'm going to try to change because I see your perspective and I want to prove to you that you are the only woman that I want."

Bam. Everything I wanted to hear - and then some. And I'm not going to be an old bitter woman, clawing at the injustices of the past. I'm going to take him at his word and forgive him and move on. Because that's what you do in a relationship. You forgive. And that's no charity act on my part. There are plenty of times when he has had to forgive my thoughtlessness and he often does it without a thought. So I know it's a two-way street. And sides, God forgave me a whole crapload of horribleness, so it's only right.

The long conversations, 6-month anniversary card/book, beautiful jewelry and nice dinner with a fudgy dessert were also a nice touch. But I didn't expect them. What I needed to hear was that he gets it, he's going to act like he wants only me, and that he loves me for me.

Then as we ate cheesy-bacon fries tonight, he said, "We can get fat together, babe." And I felt pretty sure that we were going to make it.

Neverland

I'm pretty hard on my boyfriend for wanting to stay in college Neverland, where he never has to grow up. But I was thinking about it tonight, and I guess I have my Neverland moments, too. There's something about macaroni and cheese and a good cartoon that reminds me of the days I would stay home "sick" with my mom.  There's something soothing about listening to old Adventures in Odyssey episodes and remembering the many trips we made as a family while listening to them. I used to listen to those over and over - it was an escape for me. I still love escaping to a good cup of coffee - it takes me back to the times I longed to drink coffee with my sisters and mom when I was too young for coffee.

I'm still not ready to talk to him, though. I don't know - I'm tired of apologizing for things that bother me. I'm tired of trying to come back from feeling like such a monster. I'm stressed and I just seek escape from thinking right now. I wish I could stay in Neverland.

On Break

Sometimes you need a break. In my case, I need a break from hearing the following things for the last eight months.

"I wonder if she's going to let me hug her." Why do you care? It doesn't mean my sister likes you any less if she shakes your hand. Why does that matter to you?

"I'm sure she wouldn't even give me her number." Why do you care? I gave you my number.

"What's wrong? I just like a lot of pictures of other girls on Facebook and Instagram. Is that a problem?" Yes. It's a problem. It makes me feel like crap.

"Maybe I could go with you to meet the girl you're giving your book to." Do you not realize how weird that is for me?

"I friended your friend on Facebook that I met by walking behind you while you were Skyping her." Thank goodness she wasn't wierded out by that. I would have been!

"You don't mind if I bring along this old friend of mine who Matt likes but really likes me, do you?" You know why they like you more than Matt? Because you act so stupid around Matt they can't possibly take you seriously. Matt's too serious. They're not interested in either of you, but it's easier to hang out with you because they know it's going nowhere. It's not because you're a better guy than Matt or better looking.

"Hey, come meet these two high school girls who are coming to campus to check out the school. I knew one of their sisters. We're hanging out all afternoon, wanna join? It was weird, they asked me if you were okay with it. You don't mind, do you?" I don't want to mind. I don't even want to know. But when a girl asks you if your girlfriend is okay with something, guess what she's really trying to say? She's saying, "Hey, you're dating. Shouldn't you not want to hang out with other girls? Wouldn't this make your girlfriend feel bad? I'm a normal girl who doesn't want  to feel like she's intruding on a guy's relationship and you are crossing a normal relationship line."

"I text girls regularly to see how they're doing and to keep up our friendship. I can't help it that I'm their shoulder to cry on. It doesn't mean anything. But for you....I'll stop." Don't do it for me. How about doing it for yourself - because you want to be in a relationship with one woman.

"I hear what you're saying, but my mom talked with her platonic guy-friends for hours on the phone even after she was married. It would be no big deal for me to do that, too." No big deal for who? Because I love how you're already okay with having hours in the day to talk to your girlfriends after you marry me. It's not like I'm not a big talker. Really gets me excited about committing forever to you. 
I need a break from not being enough.

I need a break from letting a man make me feel insecure and making me feel like I'm an overly jealous girlfriend for having a problem with him talking like he just wants other women to like him/befriend him/want him all the time. It's not my job to make him feel less insecure about how women view him. In the meantime, he makes me feel insecure - am I not enough woman?

I need a break from loving the responsible, caring guy off-campus who turns into an excited freshman who is just the funny guy on campus who wants everyone's attention. It's like being in a relationship with someone who is bi-polar. It's time to grow up everywhere - not just when you're out of your comfort zone and meeting my family. It's time to leave that school you've clung to for years behind, spread your wings, and get a new, responsible identity. Be a man.

I need a break from cringing every time I introduce him to another girl, because I realize he would probably want to get to know her or wish she would be willing to get to know him. I should fully expect him to friend her and message her after meeting her once. The worst part is? If she's a normal girl, she is wierded out by guys like this or she thinks he's coming on to her and she feels bad for me.

It's like I've just tried to ignore these things. Over. and Over. and Over. It's actually something I picked up on when he first asked me to date him and it's why I said no to dating him. And suddenly it's a pattern that I can't look beyond because he hasn't changed. He's tried to limit what he does with girls. But he still wants other women. And it's pretty obvious to me now.

Okay. Single guy? This pattern is okay. Dating-almost-engaged guy? This pattern is so not okay. It's like he wants me on his arm and he wants a whole bunch of other girls on his arm, too. I want a break from it.

Weirdly enough, I didn't miss him today. Good thing? Bad thing? More permanent thing? I don't know.

Single habits die hard

Alyssa watches him lead the way into the school building and she loves him. She wishes she was holding his hand as they walk through those old familiar school halls. They walk together, on the verge of marriage, on the verge of forever. She feels safe there. And then he asks her, "So, that girl you met selling your book - did she look nice?"

Huh? You're dating me. Why would you care how a random girl looks?

He back tracks a little. "I mean, does she look like a nice person? After all, I noticed her name on my class roster and I'm going to be in lab with her. Who knows, I could be lab partners with her."

Again, huh? Why have you already memorized her name from a class roster and you are looking forward to meeting her? Why have you already thought through the scenario that you could be lab partners and you want her to be friendly?

Alyssa struggles with her boyfriend sometimes. She can't control her boyfriend - doesn't want to. She loves who he is - all on his own. He's agreed not to have close girlfriends in addition to her, since it bothers her. And she so appreciated that he was willing to do that. But - she can't make him want to be a one-woman kind of guy. Sure, he wants Alyssa. He wants her in pictures with him. He wants sex. He wants to have her. But he also pays really close attention to other women. He makes a point to not only catch their name, but to try to get their phone number, to follow up with texting, and to hope they will be his friend. With Alyssa's girlfriends he has Facebooked them just to get to know them, with good intentions. It's a habit he picked up when he was single for 22 years. And somehow he still doesn't get it.

Girls don't have platonic life-long guy friends. Every guy Alyssa tried to be "friends" with throughout the years has over-exaggerated her fondness for him as attraction. Each guy always thought that she liked hanging out with him because he was attractive. But in fact, she just liked the attention. It was all about her, not about him being a great friend. She only kept guy friends around so that she could feel better about the fact that she wasn't dating. She wanted male attention - wanted to feel wanted. She used these "platonic" guy friends to make herself feel better about being single. She only made guy friends to see where it went - maybe they would date down the road, or maybe she would date his friends. For Alyssa, guy friends always equaled a desire to date.

And then she started dating Mark (who was initially a "platonic" guy friend). And she no longer had a need for guy friends to keep "potential future relationships" around. The only guy friends she has now are ones she has a purpose for talking to. She isn't rude - she has fun with them in groups. But she doesn't single them out. She doesn't try to hang on to those guys who naturally fall out of her life. She doesn't text them regularly. In fact she never texts them - she only responds to texts. She doesn't seek them out. Her relationships with guys have a purpose.

But Alyssa's boyfriend thinks that he can have platonic girl friends. He wants them to like him. He wants to get to know them. He says he's just being nice. But what is the purpose behind trying to get to know someone of the opposite sex? Either you're sharing the gospel or you're looking to fill an intimacy or an ego boost that you're not getting at home.

So this makes Alyssa take a step back and think. Maybe she hasn't done enough to make him feel good about himself. Maybe she hasn't physically given enough of herself to keep him from needing other women's approval.

And she feels bad. He puts so much time and energy into her. He often says he loves her with all his heart. He wants to marry her.

But why does he want girl friends?? Wake up!! They don't view you as a platonic guy friend! They view you as someone who is sexually interested in them! They view you as someone who makes them feel better and more attractive! Call me crazy, but this is how girl's think.

And while he is sincerely believing he means nothing wrong or sexual by forming these bonds, he doesn't get how women think.

And they look at Alyssa and they pity her. Doesn't she know that he's into so many other girls? Doesn't she know how he is with women? How he seeks after them and wants their approval and pays special attention to them and is their shoulder if they ever need it and has texted them about nothing?

Guess old habits die hard. And as Alyssa sits there, pondering whether she wants a future of feeling like the nagging, jealous wife, she wonders if those habits will ever die.

A Time for Relationship Band-Aids

I hear a little girl scream and my heart leaps into my eyes as I run to find my niece, sure that she is lying dashed in some corner, broken into little pieces. I find her in her room, a toy dropped at her feet, and large crocodile tears in her eyes. "Auntie...." she cries, as she reaches for me with limp hands. She has somehow managed to reopen an old cut on her knee and she now holds her offending knee out to me gingerly, clearly hoping I can take the pain away for her. I examine it closely and see that it's irritated, but not bleeding. It'll be okay. But, like all good Auntie's, I smartly realize that before she can actually "heal" from the incident, she needs a big hug, an exciting hello kitty Band-Aid, and a lot of exclaiming about how strong she was when she got hurt. Soon, she is proudly showing her owie to anyone who will look and she goes back to playing with the same toy, clearly forgiving it for any offense it may have caused her.

That process of forgiveness is a little like the hurts that we receive in relationships. As we get closer to each other, we get wounded. It's worth it, but sometimes it hurts. For little pin-pricks, we forgive quickly. But then there are this knife wounds that almost knick an artery. Those take surgeons, such as relationship books and wise advise from people we trust to sew that back up. The antibiotics include time to heal, lots of hugs, and lots of talking it out instead of avoiding it. And then, just when you think you've gotten over it, the other person does something to re-open that wound or irritate it. And you think....why keep on living with this? But then you think.....can I live without my heart in my body?

No matter what, you know you love them. If you don't know it, then that's not the right relationship. But for me, I know it. Even though I feel hurt and like one in millions instead of one in a million (quite the fall from specialness, let me tell you), I do love him. So I forgive him. But you know, just like my niece, I just need some time. Time for hugs, some innocent fun in our relationship, and affirmations that we are good together and that the best is yet to come. I need time to put the Band-Aid on and just let it heal again and to look back and be able to smile at the Hello Kitty Band-Aid because we actually got closer because of it. The analogy ends there, though. I won't be showing my owie to anyone - except for my blog lol.

We all need forgiveness at some point in our lives. For some of us it's forgiveness every day when we're a little too mean and we realize it's not very cute after a while. And for other's of us, it's forgiveness for big bombs that we drop that shatter our loved one's view of us.

I'm just reminded that this must be how God feels when he has to teach me some things over and over. My greatest love relationship of ALL time is with my Savior, and how often do I neglect him, under-credit him, and under-cut His glory? How must that make Him feel? And yet, He forgives me. He already forgave me when He loved me enough to die for me. And that's how I want to be for Andrew. I love him enough to die to myself. So no matter how he hurts me, I already forgave him.

Stolen Moments

Tonight I had a thought that left me with a sickish feeling in my stomach. Ever have one of those? It nags and nags on you until you can finally think about something else. The thought I had tonight is - what if a lot of my cherished moments with my boyfriend are actually stolen moments from my future husband? I don't mean that Andrew and I aren't meant to be together. But I do mean, what if I am stealing future delight from Andrew by letting him do things now that generally only happen in marriage? Or, God forbid, what if my future husband is not Andrew, and I have to explain to some guy someday that our moments in marriage aren't as precious because I've already experienced them with someone else.

Somehow separation has dulled my sense of wanting to wait. Reuniting and reconnecting was so sweet. Expressing love physically seemed so natural, especially after being unable to for so long. Don't get me wrong; I'm still a virgin. But I'm not doing the best job at staying one. Since dating, it's almost like I need to remind myself EVERY day to love and protect Andrew's heart/mind and if I miss one day of reading 1 Corinthians 13, - BAM - I'm down on my butt, failing at selfless love.

I just want to be that good example for someone. I want to hold my head up during the day because of who I am at night when no one is looking. Alone, I can't do this. But with God, I know it has to be possible.

Virgin at 23?

To someone who is not me, they might wonder how someone can reach the age of 23 and not have lost their virginity. People ask themselves if something is "wrong" with him/her because they haven't lost it yet. Society tells us that it's a shame if you haven't lost it yet, but that you are also a slut if you've given it away carelessly. Rarely do you hear that it is a beautiful thing to lose it to your husband or wife. There is a fascination with selling quick, easy, no-strings-attached sex. And it's nothing new.

I write this post, not as a holier-than-thou Christian virgin. I write it as a girl who struggles just as much as the next person. I write it as a girl who has too easily allowed men to touch her and has definitely had opportunities to lose it and been asked to lose it. I write it as a girl that has deeply believed since she was a teen that she wants to save herself for her husband, and yet she has allowed herself to come as close as you can to losing it.

Christian dating couples struggle just like any other couple. I'll never forget the day my best friend called me up and said she lost her virginity to her boyfriend. She said she didn't see the point in waiting anymore because he loved her and they belonged together. Another friend I grew up with used the same logic. She said they had committed themselves to each other, so in the eyes of God they were practically married. How is making it legal important? These are two Christian girls I grew up with that had encouraged me to wait until marriage. It was so important to them once. And then a man became important to them, a common thing in any age or culture. And he was more important than their belief in what God called good and right.

So I'm faced with this thought. Would God be okay with me losing my virginity as long as I feel committed to someone? As long as I love them and they love me? As long as we talk about getting married someday? I'll still be a Christian even if I do this. God will forgive me if I regret it later. So why wait?

This led me this morning to read Romans 6. It says, "What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?....We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin."

This is a great question. How is it that I have been saved from sin and yet I still struggle with my flesh? Sometimes I feel like I'm one part Child of God and one part sex slave. How is this possible?

"Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions. Do not present your members to sin as instruments for unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and your members to God as instruments for righteousness. For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace."

This verse helps me understand that while I have been forgiven for my sins, I am still human. I still have basic human desires like anyone else. Any one of my desires could be used for evil if I let that desire "reign" over my body. I could abuse my natural desire to eat, to find beauty, to work hard, and to love. I'm not supposed to just hand myself over because the pressure is too great and my reasoning is too powerful. I'm not supposed to let sin have dominion over me. I know what is sin now will be beautiful in marriage. But how can I be strong with him when I am so weak even just thinking about him?

"For when you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness. But what fruit were you getting at that time from the things of which you are now ashamed?"

What fruit did I get? Pretty much just regret and a bad thought life. I think back to the past boyfriends I had before this one. And a couple of them were sure we would be married, so I let them touch me. And another one wanted to just "see where things would go" and I still let him touch me. And when things ended, I big time regretted it. Those guys belong to other women and I have left them with those images and memories. I stole their first kiss and first love from their future marriages.

"For the end of those things is death. But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."

What a stark contrast. If I continue to pursue what feels good in the moment, even when I know it is wrong in God's eyes, there will be consequences. My best friend never did get that proposal...until she was three months pregnant. And then after she bought her wedding dress, she lost the baby. I'm thankful to say they still got married and after a couple years just had their first baby girl. She is adorable! In talking to her, she said to wait. She and her husband will be together forever - she looks back and thinks 'why not wait'. My other friend was not allowed to return to school because she got pregnant over Christmas break and they eloped. She has a wonderful husband and adorable son, but she talks with regret that she was never able to finish her education, she never had the big church wedding, and she was a stay-at-home mom before she was ready.

So we talked about it. And why even talk about sex or flirt with the idea of sex when neither of us truly believes it is right to engage in premarital sex? I think that's the first step. When thoughts arise and the flirtation and physical goes too far, we have to be willing to pray for God's help to think on things that are true, right and pure. Because alone, we are too weak. We need prayer because we need His help.

The next step is probably not allowing ourselves to be in situations where we know we are weakest: alone, in bed, or at night.

And thirdly, if we're really serious about saving ourselves for marriage, then we shouldn't have to fight the battle alone. We need someone to keep us accountable. Somehow, some way. As annoying as it would be to get a call in the middle of a date or to have a chaperone semi-nearby....we can't trust ourselves to always be strong when our connection is so much stronger.

I want to someday be able to walk down the aisle and hold hands with my husband and not cringe when the pastor refers to our purity in holy matrimony. I want to look into his eyes with anticipation, not regret. I want our child to be born in joy and security, not sorrow and remorse. I want to look my teenage daughter in the eyes and say it is worth waiting and that with God's help I did it and so can she. I want to use sex with my husband as an expression of both love and commitment (after marriage), not lust and self-love (before marriage). I think it's okay to be innocent and surprised by everything after marriage. Unlike what popular society says, I don't have to be a knowledgeable expert going into it. Just like some people explore and learn about sex before marriage, we can explore and learn together after marriage with no guilt.

Yes, I love him. Yes, we want to be together. Yes, we already feel committed together. Yes, we are both physically and emotionally ready for sex. Yes, the only thing between us and marriage is simple, agonizing time. A year, to be exact. But God was still very clear, no matter what our circumstances or exceptions. We as a culture have changed, but God hasn't changed.....

God said...

Hebrews 13:4 ESV         
Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.

Ephesians 5:1-33 ESV        
Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. But sexual immorality and all impurity or covetousness must not even be named among you, as is proper among saints. Let there be no filthiness nor foolish talk nor crude joking, which are out of place, but instead let there be thanksgiving. For you may be sure of this, that everyone who is sexually immoral or impure, or who is covetous (that is, an idolater), has no inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God. ...

Returning to a simple time

So often I seek to jump ahead. I don't want to age beyond my current 23 years. But I want to jump ahead just a few weeks to when I can see him again. I want to jump ahead to when we can be married, to when I'm not a virgin anymore, to when we've settled down in jobs, and to when we have our own place to call home.

But that would mean that I am skipping this moment. And as I sat on my porch at my brother's and my quaint little rental A-frame house, I realized that some day I may want to return to this simple place. I may long for the summer where I have three weeks to lie around the house. I may fondly remember having late-night decaf coffee and watching Netflix until 3 a.m. when my heavy eyelids would let me watch no more. I may envy my carefree hours where my sisters and mother called just to chat for hours. I've finished my internship and my job is part-time every other weekend. I have no husband or children, no duty to anyone or anything in this moment. I don't have to be anybody or be anywhere. As much as I think I'm biding my time until I get to return home, I'm really on a solo vacation for possibly the last time.

So I sit on the porch, for the first time putting down my wedding planning book and just looking at where I am right now. Two birds fly above me in the afternoon sugar-colored clouds. The ivy-wrapped trees rustle quietly. The afternoon air is warm, bathing my body in relaxation. I lean my head back and sit on a simple white chair in shorts, a big t-shirt, and bare feet. I just went for a run, took a warm shower, and had a healthy veggie-filled meal. Not one sound of traffic can be heard over the distant hum of the air conditioner vent, evidence of the beautiful, crisp chill waiting for me inside my little house.

I thought decaf green tea with a blog-entry sounded nice, and just like that - I'm here. Sipping. Sighing. Typing. Thankful.

Not a care in the world. Thankful to God for all He has given me. And as much as I long for Andrew to be here and me to be his and him to be mine....I recognize that there is no time like the present.

It's a slow thing

Growth is a slow thing. There's no instant happy pill to a relationship. I was reading today in "The Purpose Driven Life" that our lives are like a battle strategy. When God gets a hold of our life it's as if he establishes a beachfront. Then he slowly starts taking over more territory, one battle at a time. His goal is to make you more like Christ. I can't believe how awesome this vision is. Instead of viewing "battles" and "hard lessons" as a constant barrage of God beating me down, they are really his loving way of teaching me how to let go of bad habits and develop new ones. The book said something crazy great - "Your character is the sum total of your habits."

WOW. I can't just say, "Well, I've always been impatient, controlling, or untrusting, so deal with it." No, I need to learn this same lesson over and over until it is a habit for me to be trusting, and glorifying God in all I do. I can't say I "am" something (like kind or loving) until I do it all the time without thinking. They say it takes 30 days to make a habit. So I'm going to start being patient with Andrew and trusting in God now - even if I'm starting for the fifth time. My goal is not to just win these battles and temptations - it's to grow more like Christ.

Wanting to be sorry

I want to be sorry.....

Sometimes I hate how high my drive is. Or maybe I just drink too much caffeine.

The fact remains that I love to be busy, get ahead, and stay late. But not everyone does. And that's okay. God allowed me to take a different path than most college-age kids. This doesn't mean my path is better. It just means it was the best path for me.

That being said, I push people. Generally, I just have an idea for improvement and throw it out there. If they want my help, I help. If not, it's o.k. I'm not invested in their lives, so I can walk away. But with Andrew, I am invested in his life. I have a hard time walking away from things I see that I could maybe help. And I'm finding I have to find the balance between pushing him to be his best and pushing him away.

Today I sat through two corporate meetings and as usual felt inspired by the big picture. I heard about med students all day. I got to hear so many things when they were just ideas....before they even happened. It's inspiring. But it's also frustrating. I want so badly to get into the trenches and do things instead of just talking about them. I love hands-on work. I love being given a problem and finding the solution. Today I just felt valued, useful, and sad to be finishing my internship.

I think since I was feeling so inspired/useful/semi-successful, I had higher expectations of my boyfriend's success when I talked to him. I felt like our conversation went mostly like this:

"How's Australia?"

"It's good. I love you."

I love that he loves me. I love him, too! I want to tell him every day and vice versa. But I feel like there's more to his life and I feel so cut off from it right now. Suddenly, my high-energy drive and his night-time falling-asleep chatting collided horribly. I just wanted to hear details of how he's being successful where he is. What challenges did he face and how did he overcome them? What difficult camper did he have and how did he counsel them? What burden does he have and how is he seeking to fulfill it? What relationship in the team has he struggled with and how is he actively seeking to improve it? Does he just run away from problems, dread them and avoid talking about them? Or does he embrace them as a learning experience? All I hear him saying is that he wants to be with me. Which is great, but - again, I feel cut off from his real life....like my relationship growth with him is stunted by sweet nothings and there's no real life to hear him work through. And I feel  concerned that he doesn't tackle problems like I do. Is it good, is it bad? I don't know.

Life is filled with problems. I embrace them and love them because it's a challenge and a thrill to solve them. I love talking about what problems I've faced and how I've conquered them beyond people's expectations. But I think he views problems differently. Like he mentions them but never how he's seeking to solve them. Problems are always just something that's getting him down. It's not an opportunity. I don't understand that thought process.

The crazy thing is, I don't care what kind of success he has. He doesn't have to be a doctor or a medic or an anything. I just want to hear him take pride in his work. I want him to tell me specific ways that he's made a difference being there in that day. I want to hear his struggles, yes, but I also want to hear how he is handling those struggles. A couple weeks ago he was bursting with confidence and details on how his week was going, and I loved hearing it. I could tell he felt good about his work. He took pride in and I took pride in him. Does he not tell me details because they're all bad and he feels like he can't do anything about them? I guess that's what I assume. I have a feeling I assume the worst. Poor guy.

Sometimes I wish I could poke around and live inside his mom's head for a day. I don't have the same luxuries she's had. I didn't get to see his work ethic, his GPA, his relationship with employers or his accomplishments growing up. I just have this blind faith that he worked hard in school, can get good references, and that someday he can get a good job. I have no idea what kind of worker he is but the crazy thing is that I blindly love him, no matter what he becomes. I know from what I've seen he takes responsibility and he works hard. It's just that all I see is this narrow fragment of his life. He tells me big picture what he wants to do. But how can he have success in his dreams down the road if he doesn't take pride in his work now? How can I sit by and say nothing?

Success is so important to me. I'm focused, task-driven, and goal-oriented. Is that wrong? I feel like I'm every boss' dream but that those same qualities make for nightmares in a relationship.

Am I crazy? I just love to hear new reasons to be proud of him. I'm always proud of him, though. I'm proud that he graduated. I'm proud to be his. I'm proud of how good he is at expressing his love. I'm proud to be with him. I'm proud that he's in Australia working so hard even though he'd rather be here.

If I were him I would be upset with me. I mean he's working his butt off half-way around the world and I have the nerve to say he doesn't have a high enough drive just because I had a great, highly-motivated day. So I completely get it and I don't blame him.

But at this point I can't sincerely say I'm sorry. But I'm going to sleep on it and pray on it. Because I want to do whatever I have to do to make it right. Even if it means shutting up.

Once upon a time.....

I feel so undeserving. All around me, people are searching for love. I just finished watching an episode of the Bachelorette in which Des is searching for true love. And then a commercial pops up advertising e-harmony where you might find your match. Sitting on my desk is a book called "La Boda" which means "The Wedding", where a female lawyer tries to find love in Hollywood. And it feels like everywhere I turn, friends and authors seek to find someone who can complete them.

So here goes. I'm going to write a romance novel....inspired by the guy in my life. It is, of course, completely fictional and not based upon real life in the least. :P But I hope it shows just a little bit how happy he makes me and how blessed I am that God would bring him into my life and let him love me.

___________________________________

Alicia lay there in her back yard. How have 23 years flown by so fast and yet so agonizingly slow? The grass tickles her toes and she sighs, realizing it's time to repaint her shrimp-pink toenail polish. But that can come later. For now, it's Saturday and she's laying in the grass, her arms up behind her head, and she's looking up at the sky. Suddenly she's a kid again, picking out a train, a giant with a club, and a celestial city in the clouds. So many memories here in this small, old home. How many times has she fallen onto this grass, angry after a fight, crying out to God in times of doubt, praying late at night and looking up at the stars, petting the dog even though she claimed to always hate it, and sneaking out for late-night walks in the cemetery when she just needed to get away. This house, this street, this grass - it's nothing spectacular. But her feet have traced a pathway through them for the last 23 years. And through all 23 years, she has grown closer to God while feeling that natural urge to search for someone without a face, without a name.....but someone that she can someday look at and call home.

When she was in elementary her dad didn't have much time for her. So she loved to hang out with the high school boys and she had crushes on Leedee and Mark. They would give her suckers and chocolate-covered granola bars and her sisters were always telling her not to sit with the boys. Trouble from the start. :P

When Alicia got into middle-school, her parents will tell you that she hit a rebellious streak. To be honest, she just wanted attention. She was the baby of the family and wasn't expected to do much besides follow in her older siblings' shadows. From observation, she learned that her older sister's got the most attention when they dressed a certain way. It didn't matter if her Dad was working late or working at home; he was always telling them to go upstairs and change. They were always so mad at him, but he spent plenty of time with them convincing them he knew better. Selfishly, she was tired of being over-looked. She gradually felt that if she was truly attractive, her dad would always be telling her to go change her outfit. If he didn't ask her to change, it must mean she looked butt ugly. So she began borrowing her sister's clothing and began hanging out with a girl named Nikki who was always getting sent to the principal's office. Nikki was pretty and she swore and had slits in her skirts and had a single mom. She was cool.

High school was rough, as you can imagine. Alicia was searching for love and attention in all the wrong places. In 7th grade she had a huge crush on an older guy named Joe and he didn't give her the time of day. Her family was pretty poor, her dad was a teacher at her school and always seemed to be around, and she always wore the same long black velvet skirt because her dad didn't like any of her other outfits. Any time she was home, she was working or practicing hours on instruments every day. She hated it. She was miserable. The only time she enjoyed was when she could hang out with her friend Nikki at church and try to feel normal.  "Normal" was still pretty messed up in the seventh grade. Two hormonal girls just discovering their sexuality and wanting attention - not a good combination. In this school, everything was in the extreme. You were either a chaste virgin who dressed as conservatively as possible, or you pushed the line on everything and you were willing to go all the way. Alicia was pretty naïve. She didn't know what she wanted, but she was willing to give whatever she needed in order to distance herself from her parents and feel normal and accepted. She was looking for love in all the wrong places. Nikki told her that she should give up on Joe and that he was a jerk. She said Alicia should instead hook up with Patrick, because he had paid her $100 to get Alicia to go on a date with him. Looking back, she realizes that the guys she flirted with had completely wrong intentions and it's probably good she went to a freaking conservative school. Somehow she ended up getting pulled into a dark room with a guy named William --another one of Nikki's ideas. Alicia didn't even like him; she just liked the attention. She liked being with someone who wanted her. Anyways, he didn't even kiss her; he pulled her into that room three times to just hold her and feel her up a little. But once word got out, she got suspended and literally grounded for a year. This certainly wasn't the love she had been seeking.

Grounding must have done Alicia some good because she finally got her attention back on God. She ended up becoming best friends with Kim and Megan who, while immature, had hearts that just wanted to have fun and grow closer to God. Kim stayed with her through the years, the churches, the schools, and the boys. She was always the one to talk to Alicia about everything for hours and every conversation led back to growing more like Christ. Because of Kim, Alicia began to see that her heavenly Father was not the same as her earthly Father. Her heavenly Father always loved so much every day. A relationship with God was unlike any other. Her high school years were mostly spent realizing that God was the most important love-relationship she would ever have.

She first realized that boys noticed her when she traveled to Colorado with her youth group. They were assisting with a VBS and Michael, the cutest boy in the church starting following her around. Alicia was so rattled she couldn't even finish conversations with him. She would just walk away mid-conversation.

Then camp happened...This particular Christian camp was just a cess-pool of hormones. Tim happened. What an idiot. They emailed for a few months and she wasn't serious about him. His grammar was awful. After a receiving a few poorly re-written Romeo letters, she moved on. The misguided search continued.

And then age 16 rolled around. And with that, her body started changing. She was a bridesmaid in two weddings and suddenly her brother's friends were seeing her differently. Needless to say it was all very immature, but Alicia was convinced that at age 16 she had met the love of her life. They snuck around school sneaking touches and holding hands. But when she looked at him, she could never ever imagine wanting to marry him. She wouldn't let him kiss her. And when he looked at her and asked her to wait for him in college, she couldn't do it. The chemistry was real, but the person and the time was all wrong. She wasn't into the whole commitment thing.

Alicia headed into the workforce at age 17, confident that she knew where her life was going. She worked and finished her senior year, once again hanging out with older guys but finally realizing some discernment. She was still pretty naïve, though, and while she thought she was just being friendly she was sending all the wrong signals. During this year, she got asked out a lot, aggressively, by a lot of older men. Thankfully, it would have been illegal to say yes. Somehow, one guy stuck. He was 26, the security guard, and married. She still doesn't know why, but she went down a really dangerous and stupid road with him. Looking back she realizes he could have gotten in trouble for the things he said to her. Even though she didn't respond, he continued to call her, text her, email her, bother her into her freshman year of college until Alicia finally went to one of her friends Liz with the problem. Liz answered the phone for Alicia and told him to stop bothering her and to go be with his wife. He finally got the picture and left her alone.

As a freshman in college Alicia was confident she would meet the love of her life the minute she stepped foot on campus. In fact, as she unpacked her things in her room, she had no doubt she would be dating within a couple weeks. But God totally didn't see things that way. She doesn't know exactly what happened. Call it hormones, call it trying a new "Asian" medicine that her Korean boss gave her, call it stress, but over that first semester her face broke out to the point that she didn't even recognize herself in the mirror anymore. It completely shattered her. She didn't feel like a person of worth anymore. She certainly didn't feel desirable and beautiful. She felt like something from yesterday. Someone who, at age 18, needed to say goodbye to outward beauty. It was a truly hard time. She was away from her family and didn't know what to do. The only person to turn to was God. She couldn't imagine anyone ever again looking at her and saying that she was beautiful. But she decided that she was going to focus on internal beauty. She was going to still smile and she was going to try to grow closer to God, more than anything. At the end of the day, love from a lot of men didn't matter. It had to be all about the love of Christ.

Then at age 19, Frank came into her life. He was 6'3" and the life of the party. Funny guy and a truly good guy. She never even saw him "like that" until one of her brother's friends declare they had chemistry after hearing them argue. She wishes she had never heard that comment, because she truly never found chemistry with the guy. And after a year, him saying he wanted to marry her, and a love-less first-kiss on Lake Michigan, she did the hardest thing she's ever done. She broke up with her best friend. That sucked.

She went out with a lot of guys. Honestly, she can't even remember all of their names. A lot of them she doesn't want to remember. Time after time after time. Excitement over a new guy, several dates, and then his flaws come out. And Kim, bless her heart, got excited with her for each and every guy. She listened. And when they broke up, she comforted her and never said that she told her so. She was a true friend.

Alicia sat out of school and continued this vicious cycle of meeting a guy, saying yes, and breaking up with him within a couple weeks. She found a time period where she wasn't working or going to church with any guys her age other than her brothers dumb friend. Out of boredom, she joined dating websites. And with that, she only cemented her constant search for love in all the wrong places. She felt that she need to always be meeting someone or she might miss God's will. There was Adam, and Nate, Jared and Adam, and so many other guys it's too hard and too embarrassing to remember.

But with about 99% of all these relationships, Alicia would end it before it got too serious and before it got physical. So while she did date a lot of guys, not very many of them got very far with her. She certainly never let anyone to second or third base. She didn't make out with any of them. She barely went on a fourth date with any of them.

I say all of this to say that she didn't even know what she was looking for. She didn't know what her type was. She didn't know whether he needed to be rich or funny or tall or short. Alicia just knew that she wanted to meet the God-honoring guy who would make her fall in love with him and would make her stick around for the long haul. ;)

And then she met a guy named Andrew. He infuriates her, excites her, makes her laugh, makes her cry, and makes her keep coming back for more. The first time she saw him differently, she was sitting across from him at an Olive Garden table. They both casually said they weren't seriously dating anyone, they were just "seeing where things led". So super casual - so cool of them. They were so noncommittal and not tied down. Suddenly they're making out on the couch, in the back of his truck, on her bed, in the department store dressing room, everywhere they can. And then he stops touching her and says, "I want more than this." And Alicia's like, "What the heck? What more could you want?" Turns out he wants a freaking relationship.

Time after time, their relationship should have been doomed. And somehow God gives them grace to forgive each other. Honestly, their relationship should have stayed shallow and selfish. But God gave them the chance to look beyond the physical and see deeply into each other. She grew to love the person that he is--the good AND the bad. So often, they could have dated other people. But God closed those doors and opened this strange and unpredictable one.

She looks at him and loves and hates and likes and wants him all at once. He looks back at her and adores and desires and loves and teases her all at once. Somehow, love is no longer about a search for the right person. It's not a search for a better person. It's a journey to dying to self and a beautiful discovery of who he is. It's an inability to control the other person and a resigning to loving them even with their flaws glaring right out in the open. It's praying together and being vulnerable together. It's finally looking into someone's eyes and still being herself but finally finding someone who helps her be ready for commitment. It's skin on skin, passion that is reigned in only because of respect and a desire to honor God in the bounds of marriage. It's him saying he wants to do the right thing by her and her giving herself to him 100%.

It's rare. It's pure. It's scary. It's beautiful.

She lays there in the grass. 23 years old. So flawed. So imperfect. So undeserving. So in love with God and so afraid to say she has finally stopped searching. So hopeful that this is forever. So sure that if God would allow it and the man she loves would want it, she would spend the rest of her life making him fall in love with her every day.