Despite the absolute audacity of doing such a thing to an unsuspecting, and possibly-seeing-someone-else (I wasn’t sure, but I had one of my feelings) man, I was only vaguely aware that I’d put my heart out to be (possibly) smushed and trampled on that very night.
I had a mediation to get to, people who needed help communicating. I had a friend in desperate need of company. I had babies to go watch and love on and put to bed and after all, I NEEDED sleep.
So when he, a classic “I’ll need a little time, I’m processing,” kind of man, called me just hours later, I laughed the laugh of a woman half hysteric, half ecstatic, and completely in love.
“So….I got your call.”
“Did you want me to elaborate?”
“That might be good.”
Poor, sweet man. What sense can you make of a woman you loved so much, for so long, who fought you on every turn, coming back the very day you’ve prayed to be able to love someone else, and telling you that she knows that above the noise and the news and the flowers, she wants you?
My feeling was right. There was someone else.
“Is this because of her?” He asked.
“Only in the sense that the one thing that would have kept me from telling you was fear that you would THINK it was because of her. But I couldn’t justify not telling you based on fear of man. I couldn’t not tell you. It wasn’t even a chioce anymore. Have you ever felt that way?”
I could hear the hesitation. I could hear the fight. I could hear every logical, self-preservation part of him screaming RUN AWAY, THIS GIRL HAS ONLY EVER BEEN TROUBLE AND HEARTACHE AND FIGHT.
And I could hear the pull, the desperate fight, to not acknowledge the part that said, “And she’s the only one you’ve ever loved.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t chose it. But I realize now that, I wouldn’t have changed it if I could. I don’t want to choose to not love you.”
“I don’t know how I feel.”
“That’s totally reasonable.”
“I can’t promise you anything.”
“That’s very kind and responsible.”
“You want time to figure out if you can love this other girl?”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
“You’ve got it. I know what it’s like. To want it to work with someone who is there. Where it’s easy, where it makes sense, someone who matches you, who gets you. I’ve been there. I understand. You can have all the time you need, sweet man. I want you to figure it out as well.”
“Okay. Well, okay. Thank you.”
“Yeah, uhm, if we’re not going to talk for a while, can I tell you something? (sure) I know you must wonder why it’s different than anything before. I can tell you, I don’t feel any differently.
I’m just not afraid anymore.”
“Well, I’ll talk to you in a few days.*”
And then I hung up the phone and wondered what the deuce just happened and who was the person on the phone with that man, who was that calm woman who willingly trusted God when the man she loved more than anyone else asked for time to figure out if he could love someone else?
Apparently, that was actually me. Good job changing me, Jesus. Thanks for the reminder that you’re always shaping me more into who you want me to be.
* this is the number one reason I didn’t want to tell you. I knew the instant he said it the man hadn’t considered what “a few days” meant. I knew it would take a long time. And for good reason! No telling how long. Weeks? for sure, so far. Months? That wouldn’t be out of the question. But NO ONE GETS TO BASH HIM FOR TAKING A WHILE. He’s been put through the wringer. And once he knows, one way or the other, he’ll tell me. I have perfect peace in God’s timing and believe in his heart enough to know, he wouldn’t just leave me hanging. If you’re still concerned, just pray that God will give him clarity, strength, and peace.