Willie Nelson - Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain

Fury

I haven't been looking forward to a movie this much since I heard they were finally making The Lord of the Rings.



This makes Brad Pitt the second best-looking tanker in Army history. ;P

"Why does everyone settle for stupid boringness and penalize people like us who have passion?" -- Maggie Thrash

Because they're afraid, Sweetie. People want to read books about other people's passion, watch movies about other people's passion, listen to songs about other people's passion, and gossip about other people's passion, but they're terrified of experiencing it themselves: it burns. And because they lack the courage to throw their own hats into the ring, they treat us with cool derision and mockery. Sour grapes.

Hell with them.

As a servant earnestly desireth the shade, and as an hireling looketh for the end of his work: So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me. When I lie down, I say, 'When shall I arise and the night be gone?' and I am full of tossings to and fro until the dawning of the day. -- Job 7:2-4

Resolution

I have, as you know, been struggling to discern what direction I am to take from here. I have formed a resolution. But first, I will explain my reasoning.

I have, for almost two years, been praying about my relationship to this girl as the primary concern of my life, and even longer as a peripheral issue. And also during that time, the Lord has used her and my love for her to make remarkable positive changes in me, always drawing me closer to Himself. Loving her has been one of the main channels by which He has been producing the fruit of the Spirit in me. Secondarily, He has used our church and my other friends there. Therefore, along with other signs and leadings, I must believe that this is where I am supposed to be and where I should stay, until He clearly leads me elsewhere. I reject running away due to my own fear and embarrassment.

She currently refuses any kind of reconciliation or restored fellowship, as does her family. As much as I believe that they are wrong to do so and mistaken in whatever beliefs or feelings are keeping them locked in their current state, I cannot force them to it, nor make them see the truth. I can only continue to hold out the offer, to love them, to ask and offer forgiveness, and to pray for them. Even if she hates me, I will not return the same, but continue to love, as He commands, and count my humiliation as suffering for Him. I reject anger, resentment, and bitterness of spirit.

My relationship with the Lord has been suffering severely by my being separated from the sacrament. Through a kind mediator, I have received word that she says she is not disturbed by my being present at church. However, I cannot, for reasons of conscience and emotional turmoil, fully rejoin the fellowship until this rupture is healed.

I also am incapable of taking any pleasure in life in my current state. Nothing pleases me. I cannot see beauty, I cannot hear music, I cannot feel happiness. I cannot enjoy the company of friends, I am completely devoid of joy, and of hope in anything but what comes after death. My only comfort is in spiritual fellowship with my Creator.

It seems to me that I am in the second Dark Night, of which St. John of the Cross says, "this latter night is a more obscure and dark and terrible purgation" and, "The first purgation or night is bitter and terrible to the senses. But nothing can be compared to the second, for it is horrible and frightful to the spirit." St. John was not kidding.

Therefore, it seems clear to me that I have two paths:

Shrug my shoulders, walk away, accept that I have been deluded all my life and that the Lord does not actually actively lead us and work in our lives (and thereby reject His hand in all the miracles and answered prayers I have seen and received in the past), and slide down into a life in the flesh and the world, seeking refuge in escape and trying to numb myself with empty distractions, with some pro forma acknowledgement of His detached lordship and hope for eternal salvation. Like the children of Israel grumbling in the wilderness, forgetting about the plagues of Egypt and the parting of the Red Sea: like those who have " a form of godliness but deny the power thereof"..

or

Humbly accept my current state and continue to seek Him, to pray for restoration and reconciliation as I am convinced He has led me to do, and wait on His answer, believing that He will answer, as commanded and promised by Christ Himself.

My resolution is to adopt the second course. While I am doing so, I will seek no pleasure in life, although I won't reject any comfort that comes my way incidentally. I will attend Mass, receive the sacrament, pray, work for the good and comfort of others at every opportunity, fulfill my commitments and obligations, and try to live as rightly as I can. But I will be living a largely ascetic life: both because I cannot find any joy in it anyway, and as a kind of fasting: a spiritual discipline to aid my prayers and my growth. The good things in this life are good, and given to us by the Lord. I did not know just how good they are, until this past few years. But I give them up to Him from whom they came, until such time as He sees fit to give them back to me: until I have passed through the second Dark Night and His work is complete in me.

I hold firmly to Scripture: that it is God's will and Jesus's prayer that we, His followers and friends, live together in love and unity. I reject social convention and the wisdom of men which say that I should just give up on them and live with us just barely tolerating each other. Jesus said, "Therefore if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." Again, I cannot force them to reconcile, but I must do everything in my power to do so on my part and, having done so, will not deny myself the sacrament.

I pray for what I am convinced that He has led me to pray for, but I here openly acknowledge my willingness to be shown by Him that I am mistaken in any particular or on the whole, and ask Him, if that is the case, to PLEASE SHOW ME CLEARLY AND UNMISTAKABLY. Let God be true but every man a liar, including me. But I believe and hold to Jesus's promise: "And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive," and I will not cease to ask until He answers.

"Which of you shall have a friend, and shall go unto him at midnight, and say unto him, Friend, lend me three loaves; For a friend of mine in his journey is come to me, and I have nothing to set before him? And he from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not: the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee. I say unto you, Though he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many as he needeth."

So if you're still praying for me, then pray with me that He will answer, and soon. He must prove Himself faithful to His promises because that is His nature, although I do not presume to dictate how or when He will choose to do that. I wait patiently for the Lord: may he incline His ear and hear my cry.

Love and Fellowship

I appreciate very much the love and support that I have been shown in this difficult time, both those few with whom I have spoken directly and those who have been reading my thoughts here and praying for me.

I want to say to those of you who are in my church, that I in no way wish for there to be "sides" in this. Although I very much want people to not be against me, I equally don't want people to be against them. Even if there is a "their side", I don't want there to be a "my side". I want you to continue to love, cherish, support, and if necessary, forgive them just as you have me. I wish for no animosity, ill-will, judgment, or hard feelings of any kind to be harbored on my behalf, nor any breach in the fellowship of the church as a whole. My hope and fervent prayer is that we all are restored, not only to mutual acquaintance and tolerance, but to true friendship and brotherhood in Christ.

My wish is to be restored to the fellowship of everyone there, and that all of us dwell together in love and unity. I am only a man and I have, on occasion, allowed my frustration and hurt feelings to show. But I choose love, in the end, even if I am not loved in return, and would like all who wish me well to do the same.

"Let God be true, but every man a liar" -- Romans 3:4

Touching the Untouchable

I had a chance to spend the day yesterday with Pastor Devan, as I drove him to the airport in Norfolk. Devan is from India, and was born a Dalit, or "Untouchable". When he was a young orphan, living in Mother Theresa's home, Jesus appeared to him in his bedroom. Not a dream, a waking theophany. He has been beaten nine times for breaking caste taboos (for instance, begging food for his dying mother from someone of a superior caste), and nearly killed on several of those occasions. Don't be fooled by pie-in-the-sky Western portrayals of the wondrous wisdom and peacefulness of Hinduism: it is a great spiritual darkness. Ask the Untouchables.

At one point, starving, hopeless, and depressed, he climbed a mountain to kill himself, but the Lord spoke to him audibly, calling him to serve Him. Later, he was led to go to a training course for indigenous pastors, but spoke no English, and was going to be sent home. He locked himself in his room and fasted and prayed for sixteen days, when he began speaking in tongues, which then changed to English, and he was supernaturally instantly granted the ability to speak and understand English.

Now he has founded over 11,000 churches in India, mostly among the Dalit, as well as orphanages, sewing schools for women to teach them to earn a living, wells for poor villages, help for widows and beggars, education and support for native missionaries, and much more. Now this is the Gospel in action. No matter how educated and cultured you are, or how beautiful your worship, or how lovely your own little life is, if you're not living like this to some degree, you're not living the Christian life. "Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels, and have not charity, I am become as a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal," and "When you did it not unto one of these, the least of my brethren, you did it not unto me."

When someone like Devan tells you that you are a good man and forms a special bond with you at once, it makes you feel good about yourself; you have to trust his spiritual discernment. I've been rather doubting myself and my relationship with the Lord recently, and this is exactly the encouragement and confirmation I needed that I am not, in fact, crazy or delusional. Thank you, Lord. And thank you, brother Devan.

This is Kokkiligadda, my new Indian "daughter". Unlike those massive charities you see on TV, I have a direct connection with her through Devan. I already love her.

My Life, Part XII - Final Thoughts

There is yet another way to think about love: Love is a choice.

Most of the literature about love portrays it as an irresistible act of fate: Cupid's arrow, star-crossed, soulmates, "the heart wants what the heart wants": these terms all imply that it is something beyond us which is out of our control. The original Greek god Eros was a primal force of nature, before the gods, before the titans; one of the first beings to come into existence, along with Chaos and Fate. The feelings, when you are really in love, certainly do seem that powerful and mysterious, and can easily get out of control and even come to control you. But feelings are not all there is to love. And I submit that even our feelings are, to some degree, under our control, or at least subject to our influence. Feelings follow thoughts. If, as you are getting to know someone, you choose to see them as wonderful, lovely, good, and desirable, your emotions will eventually catch up with your ideas, once they've seeped down into your subconscious and become a part of you. I am not embracing a pragmatic, rationalist, materialistic behaviorist view here. I do absolutely believe that there is an element of "fate" in our lives (also known as 'God's will'); love included: God loves us and knows us better than we know ourselves, and brings people and situations into our lives to give us opportunities to be and to receive blessings. But we must still choose, and we are very capable of choosing wrongly, missing His guidance, refusing His will for our own, and generally screwing up our lives.

What I am saying is that no matter how hard the feelings hit you, you've still got to choose whether to actually love the person, because there is no true love without choice. This is why we were placed in the Garden with a tree from which we should not eat: so that we could have the capacity to love our Creator, and not merely to serve Him. Or to put it another way, loving feelings don't become real love until there is a choice. Human "love" without choice is not love at all: it's emotion, need, desire, and sometimes something darker. If someone claims that they "can't help loving" someone else, then they either don't understand love or do not understand their own heart. You may not be able to help having feelings for someone, but whether you actually love them or not is your decision. This may seem confusing, if you are only thinking of love as a feeling. But to be true love, love must be expressed in action. Jesus says, "If you love me you will obey my commands." St. James says, "Faith without works is dead." The theme runs throughout the Bible: if you say you love Jesus, but live as if you don't, then you are not a Christian, but a Pharisee: you are not a sheep, but a goat, and He will tell you at the last judgment "Depart from me, I never knew you." And the same principle applies to human relations. If you say you love your wife, but cheat on her, then you really don't, do you? Not that the action has always to be exterior: Jesus also taught the principle that if you are guilty of lust or hatred in your heart, you are also guilty of adultery or murder. It only follows that if you are guilty of love in your heart, you are truly loving. But in both cases, it's the element of choice that makes the difference; having feelings of anger ("be angry and sin not') doesn't make you guilty of murder in your heart: willfully entertaining and harboring them does. Remember that in both cases, Jesus associated an action with the sin: in the case of anger, cursing your brother, and in the case of lust "looking on a woman to lust after her". So with loving. I know it's a very complicated thing, and not always clear and apparent to one's own observation, and I don't wish to oversimplify.

And it's not just an isolated, one-time choice, either. It's a choice that has to be made continually, throughout the life of your love. That's what marriage is, and that's the sense in which the pragmatists are right about marriage being hard work and commitment (they're not wrong about it being that: they're just wrong about it being only that). We have to choose, day to day, moment to moment, to continue loving the people we love. And God too, for that matter: there's another parallel there between romantic love and our relationship to Him. You can't just "get saved" one time in your life and then set Him aside and go about your life. You've got to live every day, every moment, making that choice to love and serve Him rather than yourself. That is what it means to die to yourself; to take up your cross and follow Him daily.

Here is the crux of the matter: Love is not truly love unless it's given away. So how does one give one's love away without external action? How does one truly love another who refuses that love? Through prayer and willful well-wishing, and through self-sacrifice, kind thoughts, and consideration. Does the person you love not only not want any expression of love from you, but not even want you around? Then honor that wish. Don't be around. Give up the things in your life which are connected to her, so that she can enjoy them. Make her happy by your absence. Give her the gift of freedom from yourself. But don't let yourself grow bitter and resentful for it, and don't let yourself become a martyr. In other words, "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." Is that easy? @*#% no. It's the hardest @*#%ing thing in the world. But that's what Jesus would do.

So this is how I love her. Appreciatively, self-sacrifingly, needfully. With friendship, affection, desire, and unconditional charity. And intentionally, as a free choice, while honoring her free choice not to love me in return, and asking nothing of her. Well, that's not entirely accurate, I guess. I do ask her to set aside her fears and anger, or whatever it is that stands between us; exchange forgiveness with me and re-enter into genuine Christian fellowship. Of course, I wish that she would love me back. I wish that she would want to be my friend again. But I demand neither, nor have I tried to force or pressure her into them. What she and her parents apparently see as obsession and fixation, is really just a conscious and continual choice to love, in my absolute best effort to obey God both in His active leading and in His written Word, and not conditional on its being returned or even accepted. In other words, I try to love her as He loves us. No matter how much or how long we refuse Him, curse Him, and shake our fists at Him, He loves us just the same, but never forces His love on us (although He does sometimes lead us rather heavy-handedly back to Himself, for our own good; but there the parallel ends--I have neither the right, the wisdom, nor the power to presume to try to act on her behalf against her wishes).


So then, what now? That's one of the chief questions I started this series to consider. And although it has been very helpful in many ways, I still don't have an answer to that one.

I go back and forth on whether to just sell my house, pack up my things, and hit the road for some other place and a new life. But I feel pretty clearly that that isn't the Lord's will. And also, I've got quite a bit invested in this version of my life, and rather like it, apart from current circumstances.

My dream is to publish some writing, make a little money on it, and then start a Christian artists' colony and retreat center, where we would be devoted to seeking, learning, enjoying, and creating genuine, deep, complex works of art in all forms, in the great classical Western tradition: Shakespeare, Bach, Michelangelo, et al., along with the great Christian classics of all ages: Tolkien, Lewis, MacDonald, Chesterton and all the other great minds of the Church throughout history. (This would definitely not be the place for the kind of trite Christian art--or entertainment, rather, that fills the shelves of the Christian fiction section, the airwaves of the Contemporary Christian music station, or the walls of most Christian bookstores.) I envision writers, poets, painters, dancers, and musicians milling around the grounds, studying, working, interacting, sharing ideas and critiques; concerts and plays in the evenings; communal dinners; a chapel with high liturgical worship and gorgeous sacred music; a library; woods to walk in; a woodlot, gardens and some livestock, where we could both raise some of our own food and people could enjoy the benefits of physical labor. This would actually be a perfect area in which to do it--I'm thinking somewhere near Staunton--another reason not to leave. I've also got the various charities and volunteer works I'm involved in, and don't really want to just up and leave them. Nor my friends. But all that seems a long way off, and even longer right now. I can't seem to get my mind settled to do any work, with all this stress, pain, and uncertainty buzzing about in it.

But it just doesn't seem to me right now that I can continue in this life with this awful weight hanging on me. I mean the hostility, ill-will, and disrupted fellowship, not my own broken heart and loneliness: those are my concern to deal with, with the help of God. And especially it seems wrong to keep going to church and receiving the sacrament alongside people who refuse to reconcile and forgive. And it disrupts our fellowship with other parishioners as well. So I'm kinda stuck, and just have to wait on God. He can do anything. And I believe, in spite of everything, that these are good people at heart, and will see more clearly and do the right thing eventually. And I still love them, dearly. I know it seems like I'm wasting my time, and I should just give up and write them off. But I love them. I consider them family, and families argue, get angry, stop talking, sometimes for years, and even betray each other. How long do I wait, and hope and pray for reconciliation? I don't know. I have to wait on God for that too.

Can't You See

Tom Waits - Green Grass

Message to ISIS Cowards

380 Wokonda Trail
Stanardsville, Virginia

Come and get me, bitches.

Miss Misery

You're just a kid

The Art of Manliness on inter-sex communication

Q:

My wife and I got into an argument the other night about how many hours she has been working at her job. I would like her home more. I let things cool down a bit and did not speak with her again that night. The next day, I thought I would apologize to her for getting into an argument. But when I texted her, she responded with a snide remark. As hard as I tried to make things right, it just turned into another argument. It seems like no matter how hard I try, she is not willing to make up. Should we go to counseling?

A:

Hold on, let me get my police issue bullhorn. Testing one two. Okay. “PUT DOWN THE PHONE. REPEAT, PUT DOWN THE PHONE. IF YOU VALUE YOUR RELATIONSHIP, STEP SLOWLY AWAY FROM YOUR TEXTING DEVICE.”

Let’s talk about texting. I’ll get back to your marriage in a moment.

Call me old-fashioned (believe me, it won’t be the worse thing I’ve been called) but I just don’t believe that all of our problems can be solved with technology…or pharmaceuticals (something I’ve mentioned here in a previous column). Some things should be handled old school. In this case, we’re talking about…well, talking.

If you care about her, AND you’re dealing with a touchy topic, do not text, do not email, do not Twitter. Really, don’t you think your relationship deserves more than 140 characters?

If everything is just peachy, then sending an I love you is swell. But if you’re wanting to apologize, explain, plan, express feelings, offer support, debate or disagree, DO NOT do it electronically. If you must, pick up the phone. But this old guy’s advice is to do it face-to-face.

http://www.artofmanliness.com/2009/05/27/ask-wayne-man-appologizes-to-wife-in-text-message-wife-responds-with-snark/ 

Well this is something that I've learned the hard way, to be sure. Where was this a year and a half ago in my life? I think about 90% of what's happened is exactly this: she probably understood something so completely different from what I intended when I tried to write her to fix things, that I couldn't imagine it if I tried. Of course, it's not entirely my fault: I did ask, repeatedly, for a face-to-face conversation to sort things out. And have yet to have had one.

Dropkick Murphys - Rose Tattoo

13 Tank Reunion

Got together at Ft. Knox last weekend with guys from my first unit, the 13th U.S. Cavalry. Mostly re-telling old stories of fights and drunken shenanigans and people and places now gone.

 The 13th Cavalry was the Army's very last horse cav regiment.

One of my two best Army buddies, Mitch Stein, and me in front of an M60A3 Patton tank, the ones we were on in 13 Tank, at the Patton museum, Ft. Knox. Remember the story from my bio about almost shooting my best friend? This is the guy.

The barracks where we took basic training together. Now abandoned. Fort Knox has been the home of Armor since the very beginning, 1940, when they switched from horses to tanks, but now they've moved it to Fort Benning, Ga., and combined it with the Infantry center. When we arrived for training in April 1985, we stayed first in the original wooden barracks from WWII. Pretty sad to see it all go. 

 Reliving memories of basic, in the spot where we and hundreds of thousands of men experienced untold hours of pain and misery from 1967 until last year. When we went to basic, it was still HARD, especially for combat arms soldiers, who trained separately with guys from just their own branch. Ft. Knox has three lovely hills which drill sergeants just loved, quaintly named "agony," "misery," and "heartbreak".

Notice how I look normal-sized amidst my comrades-in-arms? There's nothing light on a tank.

 

On the way home, I passed the spot where I wrecked my truck. Back up at the top of the pass, there are now signs all over instructing truckers to pull over for mandatory brake inspection before going down the pass.

"Feel the fear and do it anyway." -- Jillian Michaels

Been a rough day...

Nothin'

Wednesday Nights Alone

Tonight has been much harder than I expected. First night of my former social activities resuming after the summer break. I knew it was coming, but I wasn't prepared for how bitterly I'd miss being part of the things that have been such important parts of my life for so long now. I feel like that guy who's standing out in the dark and cold, looking in through the window at the people inside with the loving family, the good meal, the warm fire, and the light.

PTSD Dogs

I don't post a lot of "isn't that cool" links here. After all, this isn't facebook. But this is seriously cool.

I was just talking yesterday about how my cat has been keeping very close to me lately, and wondering if he somehow sensed how poorly I've been doing. I love animals.

Back in the Saddle

I'm back. Heart rate is just about where it should be, lower back is still a little twingey, but I can manage.

So I upped my workout. New routine:

1) 1 hour of cardio on various machines
2) Grappling circuit

3) Stretch
4) Free weight training: split routine. Monday chest, Tuesday back, Wednesday core, Thursday shoulders & arms, Friday legs. I use machines for leg day because of my knee.
5) Sauna

I know you bodybuilders out there are saying "You can't mix heavy weight training with all that cardio and endurance training!" Yeah, I'm aware. But I'm not trying to bulk: I'm big enough.

I'm thinking about adding some yoga and tai-chi; my gym has free classes. With that, I could be moving about 4 or 5 hours every day.

"All paths are good, provided one arrives."

-- Rousseau

My Life, Part XI

"There is a lot of nonsense talked about love, and most of all by the people who have never known it, who have no spirit within them to inspire it in others. Talk of love in such mouths is a grossness, indeed." -- Richard Llewellyn

Love is not a simple thing.

A bit of C.S. Lewis for those who aren't familiar or have forgotten. In Greek there are four words for what we usually call love: eros, or romantic love (not just sex but the whole human experience of falling and being "in love"); philos, or friendship; storge, or affection (including familial love); and agape, or charity, also called unconditional love. Some focus on one aspect, others on another, in talking of romantic relationships. The World, for example, is generally obsessed with eros and by placing that in the top box you get philosophies like "follow your heart" which tell you that it's ok to leave your spouse if you fall in love with someone else. Much of the Church, on the other hand, swings the pendulum the other way, and discounts eros almost entirely, saying that it is not real love: that real love is commitment, familiarity, and hard work. But real true love between man and woman is all four loves in proper balance, with agape ruling over all the others. A marriage without all four, including eros, is doomed either to fail or to be less than entirely fulfilling. Marriage is one of the first gifts God gave us, the very first command he issued to us, and the type and image he chose to represent his relationship to us. It is the first sacrament, given before the Fall, and in many ways the deepest and most rewarding one. Marriage embodies the sacramental life, not just the practice of a sacramental action in isolation. By participating rightly in marriage, we worship, obey, and glorify God, and to neglect part of it as he gave it to us, i.e., the romantic or erotic aspect of it, is like practicing a liturgy without sacred music.

The real irony of that prevalent "Christian" view that romantic love is not real love, is that it is not Christian at all, but just as worldly as its counterpart. It mostly comes from 70s pop psychology: The Road Less Travelled, with some roots in the dourest forms of Calvinism and Romanism. While it is certainly true that real love must involve more than emotion: that it is an act of will and in order to last must entail hard work, sacrifice, commitment, and continual choice, it is not true, nor biblical, that emotion, desire, affection, and the whole experience of falling and being "in love" has nothing to do with real love, as Peck asserts. For proof that the erotic is part of love and marriage as God gave it to us, start with the Song of Solomon, and do a topical Bible study.

There is another way to divide up and get an intellectual handle on love as well. One can differentiate between need-love, gift-love, and appreciative love. I'll let Lewis explain, because he does it so beautifully:

"Need-love cries to God from our poverty; Gift-love longs to serve, or even to suffer for, God; Appreciative love says: 'We give thanks to thee for thy great glory.' Need-love says of a woman 'I cannot live without her'; Gift-love longs to give her happiness, comfort, protection--if possible, wealth; Appreciative love gazes and holds its breath and is silent, rejoices that such a wonder should exist even if not for him, will not be wholly dejected by losing her, would rather have it so than never to have seen her at all."

Each of the four loves can be subdivided thus, or one can apply these categories to the love and relationship overall.

There is one final way of looking at love that I'd like to mention before I resume the narrative, and this one is more or less specific to romantic love or falling in love. The normal way it works in The World is that one is first attracted to another's body and often, especially in our day, that desire is immediately gratified and the love often ends there. Then, if the relationship does continue, one becomes fond of the other psychologically, i.e., finding things in common and building shared experiences, and becoming "friends as well as lovers". And most of even the best relationships in The World, and unfortunately many in the Church as well, end there. But a very few go on to form some sort of a spiritual bond.

The right way to fall in love is to form the spiritual bond first. For Christians, of course, this means only being involved with other Christians, but it must go far deeper than that. One needs a true connection on a subconscious and unconscious level with the beloved. One needs shared convictions, shared worship of the divine, shared sacraments, shared love for Him, and shared appreciation of the holy and the true.

The next step in doing the thing properly is to become friends. To meet each other on an intellectual and emotional level; to find commonality; to form the bonds of shared experience and familiarity. To learn respect, admiration, and fondness for one another, and to reach that point where the other is indispensable to one's life; to find that place where you just "get" each other.

THEN, one is ready to take the final step of physical attraction and, if one is fortunate and blessed, to consummate it in marriage.


So what is the point of all this philosophizing? To answer the question "How do you know that you were really in love with her?"

1) I fell in love in the proper order: spirit first, as we worshiped God together, shared sacraments, discovered how each other loved Him, and as she taught, challenged, and led me to ever higher and deeper relationship with Him. She was to me as Beatrice was to Dante: leading me ever upward through the celestial spheres. Then, as I came to know her, my admiration and affection grew continually and ceaselessly, as each new thing I learned about her thrilled and amazed me and showed me how alike yet unlike she was to me. And the romantic part last and least (but still the most powerful I have ever experienced): it was literally like I'd been struck by Cupid's arrow as we sat talking one day. One moment she was just my sweet little friend, the next she was the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world.

2) I had all four types of love for her: charity, for she was my dear and precious sister in Christ for whom I would joyfully have laid down my own life; friendship, as we grew in bonds of mutual respect and  affection; familiarity, as she became a comfortable and important part of my life; and lastly again, romantic love.

3) I loved her in all three ways, again in the proper order. At first it was purely appreciative love. I had no designs or desire, but truly "gazed and held my breath and was silent, rejoicing that such a wonder should exist". That became gift-love, as I praised and complemented her, gave her gifts, and sought to do whatever was in my power for her solely for the joy of seeing her smile. And last of all need-love, but always (ok, almost always) in subjection to the other two.


Unfortunately, when I decided to tell her of my feelings I was an emotional wreck and unable to articulate it coherently. Nor even to see it quite so rationally myself, to be honest. I was in love. You've all been there, so no explanation needed.

My plan, when I decided to do it, was to have a face-to-face conversation, and just lay it all on the table. I envisioned it going in one of three ways:

1) The least likely, but most pleasant, was that she would say that she felt the same way. I had little expectation of that, but if it had happened then my intention was to say that we should be slow and cautious: continue to just be friends for now, and to get to know one another better. And that I would be working on improving myself: losing weight, attending to my writing, perhaps going back to grad school. And also, we would be working together toward gaining her parents' approval, which her mother had made clear to me we wouldn't have. I envisioned a year or more from that conversation until we actually began "dating".

2) The most likely, as I thought, and one I could live with, was that she didn't and couldn't feel that way about me, but cared about me and wanted to keep being friends. In which case I would have asked her how much of the special attentions and affections she was comfortable with from then on, knowing now how I felt about her.

3) The worst-case scenario, and my deepest fear, was that she'd be so repulsed by the very thought of my feeling that way about her that she would cringe, shudder, and maybe even run away. That our friendship would be ruined, as would my friendship with her parents and our church and community. In that case, I was prepared to run away like a shamed coward, in terror of a repeat of what happened with Amanda and Sewanee.

So I wrote an email to her asking for a private conversation. She replied in an email, anticipating what I wanted to talk about, and preemptively rejecting me. She was not at all harsh. But it hurt so much more than I had anticipated, that I freaked and defaulted to worst-case scenario. I wrote her back, outlining my feelings in detail, and telling her that I was leaving and would never bother her again. Then, a day or two later, when I had gotten hold of myself to some degree, I wrote again, apologizing for being so intense. She wrote back and said that it was alright, that she cared about me and valued my friendship, that I needn't leave, and that "unrequited affection is no sin, and therefore not in need of forgiveness". I couldn't believe how sweet and kind she was, compared to every other girl I'd ever had dealings of this kind with.

I also wrote to her parents, apologizing. Not asking to be friends again, but just wanting to clear things up and leave with no hard feelings. They too, said that I needn't leave, and that they wanted to still be friends. But they also wanted to talk more about it, and to understand exactly what had happened. So I told them. Pretty much everything I've just written. They were kind and forgiving, but they also did something that I found hurtful and confusing: They told me that I didn't actually love her, but that it was this or that. Her mother said passing crush, and that I didn't really know her well enough to love her, and her father said. that it was just shallow male erotic infatuation. Both were hurtful and insulting to me, but especially that last. How could they presume to know my heart better than I did myself? And how could they simultaneously tell me I was too old and treat me like a child who'd never had any experience of love? But at that time, I was a complete wreck, emotionally, and also decided to be humble, meek, and agreeable, so I didn't really argue the point. I tried to express my side of it, but they weren't open to it, so I just let it go.

After a while, her and her parents' assurances that I was welcome back at church, along with a growing conviction in my prayers, led me to go back. I realized that I'd been running away from social conflict my whole life, especially anything involving women. Funny, really. I can stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching. I can keep control of an eighty-thousand-pound vehicle as it hurtles down a mountainside without brakes, without panicking. I can fight for my life against a determined enemy. I can walk fearless through hundreds of violent criminals. I can wade through the Everglades entirely alone, with the alligators and snakes, sleep with the bears and panthers, and never worry. But the frowns and disapproval a hundred and ten pound girl with hair like flowing honey and eyes the color of the sea sends me running and crying, and lands me in the hospital with heart failure. I'm ridiculous.

Anyway, I took them at their word and went back to try to resume my life. I had initially burned all the poetry, unfollowed her blog, deleted her from my contacts, and removed everything that reminded me of her from my life. But now I was going to just be her friend, and let her determine how much and to what degree. So I told her that, and waited for her to make the first gesture. She did, came and talked to me, and smiled and was friendly. I thought we were genuinely going to be friends again. But I wanted to clear a few things up from before; mainly to make it very clear to her how much I respected and honored her, and that my feelings were not at all of the nature which her father had represented them. Not that I'm inhuman or anything: of course I had feelings of attraction, once I had fallen for her. That is only natural and right, and there's no sin in it. But it had never been an erotic fixation, as he'd said, and it had most assuredly not been the case that that was the only, the primary, or the first cause of my love. Attraction of that kind was the very last thing which came into being in my love for her.

But that was a mistake. It just made things awkward again. So I tried to fix it. And that made it worse. So I tried to fix that. And made it even worse. You see where I'm going with this, right? It's like that delicate, precious thing that's a little bit broken, but you can't stop trying to fix it until it's in tiny pieces and beyond all hope of repair.

It ended with her telling me that I'd never been anything but an acquaintance to her. Which killed me. Absolutely shattered me. Acquaintance? Really? Acquaintance means, "You're nothing to me. Just some guy I know." I'd thought my heart had been broken before, but now it was just annihilated..

The next time I saw her, she smiled and said "hello", although I could tell it was a little forced. But I was so hurt and fragile that I couldn't even respond. My voice was gone and there was a rock in my throat, and I felt like I was going to completely fall apart. So all I could manage was a nod and a grunt, and I think I hurt her feelings. I determined to speak to her the following week: not to address anything, but just to be friendly and cordial and show her that I hadn't meant it. But that just happened to be the week when she showed up absolutely radiant in this gorgeous dress, with her hair done up and her face made up for the first time that I'd ever seen...she was like the sun, and I couldn't look directly at her for fear I was going to burst into flames and be burned to ash and cinder. But that started a long period of us being awkward, avoiding each other's eyes, not speaking, and generally growing more and more uncomfortable. I fear I hurt her unintentionally; that she thought I was angry, or being purposefully unfriendly. But the truth is, I was scared. Scared of more rejection. Scared of making things even worse. Scared of making more of a fool of myself. And mostly scared of things taking that turn which they had with Amanda, which I still didn't understand how it had happened. Ironic, that that was what ended up happening in the end anyway.

I talked to her mother about it, and she said just to give her some time. Don't write her for a month or so, and then keep it short and simple. So I waited three months. Then I wrote and apologized for that incident, but didn't try to explain. However, she started not showing up for church activities, or not participating fully. I suspected that it was because of me, and asked her mom. I was told no, but then some things happened which made me sure that she was avoiding me. So I told her that I was going to stop coming to anything where I knew she'd be, so as not to make her uncomfortable, nor to deny her the things she loved nor the church the beauty of her presence. I started going to the early mass and nothing else, and had no contact with her at all.

Then, just before Christmas, I asked her mother if they were going to both masses. She said only Christmas Eve. So I went to Christmas Day. And the two of them showed up. Then She showed up a couple of times at the early mass, which they knew I was going to, as I passed them sometimes on my way out as they came in. Then, a little after New Year, I accidentally ran into her in a café. I opened the door and saw her sitting there with friends. I thought it would be awkward and embarrassing for her if I turned around and walked out, so I went and got a table without speaking to her. But she came to my table and spoke to me, and was very friendly. And later, we saw each other at a party and she spoke to me again; we actually had a bit of real conversation, like in the old days. So I thought that finally, at long last, we were going to be friends again. And I was so, so very happy that I was fit to burst. Because I haven't bored you here with how much pain I'd been in this whole time, or how much I missed her, or how hard it had all been for me, but I had been missing her terribly and suffering severely. If you want to know, just read back through this blog.

So I started going to all the regular services again, and the Sunday before I left for my hike, I told her mom goodbye, and that I loved her, and hugged her. And I told Her goodbye, and that I was glad we were parting on better terms. That's it. I missed her father, but wrote an email to him to say goodbye as well. Then got one back that said things along the lines of "I don't know how many times she has to tell you..." and so forth. In other words, accusing me of forcing unwanted attentions on her. I was hurt, upset, shocked, and confused, after I had spent so long bending over backwards and turning myself inside out to be considerate, kind, and unselfish toward her. So when I wrote back, some of that showed. As I've pointed out before, sometimes I'm too honest. Ironically, her father had said the same thing to me a couple of times: that, when given the chance to speak plainly, he often did so unwisely. Perhaps we both need to pay more attention to trying to listen to what others are saying and less to saying what we want them to hear.

So I went on my hike, and I harbored a little bit of anger and resentment the whole time. When I came back, I was still holding on to it, so that when her mother came and talked to me and was very friendly on my first Sunday back at church, I was a bit distant. Not unfriendly, just cordial and not very warm. I regretted it immediately, but my anger had begun to become pride. My friend Charlie, whom I'd met on the hike, told me I needed to forgive them but I argued and resisted. Then, on Easter weekend, I was watching The Passion, and when Jesus broke the bread and said, "My command to you is that you love one another," I felt the Holy Spirit speak to my heart. I heaved a great sigh, said, "Okay, fine," forgave all, and gave it all up to Him. And immediately felt both better and worse. Better, because I had obeyed and was in His presence. Worse, because my anger and pride had been shielding me from my feelings, and I'd been doing ok as far as Her; but as soon as I let them go, my armor was gone and I felt the full force of my love again.

I had been meeting with a priest for counsel and advice on this since before I'd left. And as the months passed after my return, first her parents and then she had begun to make efforts to be civil. The two of us, together, decided it was time for me to make a gesture: to try and reach out and heal this, and be restored to true fellowship. I still felt I had legitimate grievances, especially with her father, but I thought that the right thing to do was to be humble and conciliatory. So I wrote each of them a very short note saying that I still cared for them and wanted to make things work between us. I specifically used the word "friendship" in hers.

I want to try to explain, briefly, what had been going on in my heart and mind over all these months: over a year, in fact. Every action I had taken toward her, every word and gesture, had been solely to try and restore friendship and fellowship. Yes, I loved her. Yes, I wished that someday, somehow, things would change between us. But she had said she wasn't interested, romantically, and I understood that. I never tried to force the issue, never tried to persuade her to change her mind, never even brought it up again or talked about my feelings to her. But they didn't go away. Her parents had told me that I just needed to "get over it" but it wasn't happening. I'd been in love before, and I'd gotten over it before, but this was different. But that was what was going on in my own heart, and though I thought about it, talked about it with my confidants, and wrote about it, albeit obliquely and obscurely, here on my blog, that was me living with and dealing with my feelings, not me pestering her with them, I only made overtures of friendship directly to her. I knew, of course, that there was a possibility that she would be reading what I wrote here. But I thought that, if she did, that would be her choice, and that it would be because she wanted to know what I had to say. I was in no way importuning or impositioning her with it.

And it wasn't a "scheme" or an attempt to win her over. If I had any sort of design, it was only to get all the facts, all the truth, and the real depth and power of my love out there where she could see it, if she chose to, and to hope that maybe someday, with the full knowledge of the truth in mind and perhaps with her heart having been touched in some way, she might decide that she wanted to give me a chance. As I've said before, I don't believe in trying to emotionally manipulate women in order to get my way. I do, however, believe in being honest and open with them and hoping they'll freely choose to love me. But that was only in my mind as a remote and temporally distant possibility: everything in the here and now was only meant to a) try to be her friend again, b) be an obedient and faithful Christian by following biblical teaching on maintaining fellowship, and c) just do the right thing.

And, I believed and still believe, that the way of the cross means continuing to love even when it gets hard. Loving when you aren't loved in return; praying for those who hate you, all that. It isn't easy by any means, and I don't always get it right; especially in the moment, when emotions come into play. But I always try to choose that path in the end.

Anyway, a few weeks passed after I passed the notes. Her mom wrote me a short but sweet response. Then, out of nowhere, again, I got an email from her father, basically accusing me of stalking them because we were both in the parking lot at the same time after church. I was probably a bit harsh in my reply, and told him it was silly and ridiculous. Which, I still maintain that it was, but I could have been more polite. I think, however, that you can, having read about my past now, understand why it upset me so. It was happening again. And after I had opened up and bared my soul to her mother about that very thing. I felt not only hurt and disappointed, but betrayed.

Through a series of emails with various people involved, I was told that she was feeling "fearful and vulnerable". And that hurt me even more than the false accusations. To be the cause of fear and pain to the one whom it was my fondest dream to be a comforter and protector, was unbearable. My initial response to her father's email had been to basically tell him to go jump in a lake, but if she really was feeling like that, I could not let it continue. I couldn't be responsible for upsetting her every Sunday and Wednesday, robbing her of her joy, keeping her from the things she loved, and depriving the church of its most beautiful jewel. So I withdrew, again, but this time completely.

And so that left me where I am now, and led me to write this self-reflective and seemingly endless series of posts on my life. Although I have moments of despair, I still hope, in my will if not always in my heart, and pray every single day that somehow some good will come of this. That justice, truth, forgiveness, and most of all love will prevail in the end. If you have read this far, I assume that means that you care for me in some way and so I thank you, and ask you one more favor: pray for me. And pray for her.

He hath made every thing beautiful in his time; also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.
I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life.

Ecclesiastes 3:10-11

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

-- Abraham Lincoln

Setbacks

Pretty bummed today. I've been all motivated and determined, and ready to lose some serious weight. But first, I did have to adjust my diet because I wasn't consuming enough calories and I'd stalled. So I added fruit and some more real food, but I must have gone too far because I've bounced back the wrong way. Have to mess around to find the right balance, and I feel like that's just wasting time when I could be losing. Then, yesterday, I didn't realize it was a holiday and that the gym was closing early, so I missed my workout. And last night, in bed, my heart was acting up again. Now today, my back has gone out for the first time in ages, and I'm missing another workout.

None of that means I'm giving up, of course. It's just very frustrating and disheartening. Always something working against me. Always.

My Life, Part X

I don't really blame Amanda. And I certainly don't hate her. She was confused and overwhelmed, and receiving bad advice from those around her. But she was wrong about me. Not about choosing not to be my girl, which she was perfectly entitled to choose. But in the character judgments she made about me, the way she saw me in the end, and in her false beliefs about me. And she made a mistake in rejecting my friendship: in me she lost a true friend who would have been loyal, giving, loving, understanding, and faithful to the end.

I'm over it now. If she knocked on my door today and said, "Do you still love me?" my answer would be "No, but I'm here if you need a friend."

I think now that she was just lonely and looking to have some fun. I don't mean that in a judgmental way, as if to disparage her character. I mean to say that I think I understand where she was, and that when I fell in love with her, it was more than she had expected or was ready for. I fell in love, because I had been alone for so long, and her interest in me sparked something that I had thought was long dead. And when it came back, it came back with a vengeance.

The thing was, I had long before resigned myself to hopelessly loving Beth-Anne forever. The girl I should have married. The one who got away. I had no real hope of ever finding her again, and even less of finding her single and available. So I put it in a box: my antique keepsake love, and took it out and looked at it every once in a while, but just knew that I would never love again because that was The One and I blew it. And I thought the best I'd ever do again would be to find pleasant companionship: something nice, and practical, and warm, and maybe even passionate. But not romance: not true love. And I doubted I'd ever get married again. Not only because of my abiding love for Beth-Anne, but because I had once made a solemn vow: a vow to love and stay with someone till parted by death. And I had broken that vow, and didn't think that my word now meant anything, or that I had any right to make the same promise to another.

Amanda asked me at one point if I believed in true love; I said "no," and she said she didn't either. So when I started to imagine us together, I didn't picture us getting married and having a family. She had her life, which is very, very busy and entails a lot of travel, and I thought that would be just right. We'd spend time together when we could, I'd go with her sometimes because she didn't like travelling alone, but other times we'd just be apart. When we talked about it, she said, "You'd get tired of me being gone all the time anyway, just like everybody else," and I said, "No, that would actually be perfect for me." I wasn't all the way there yet with wanting other people around. In other words, I just wanted a girlfriend, not a wife. But for the first time in many years.

It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, but it taught me something very important: that I could love again.

One last thing before I leave the subject of Amanda behind and move on to the final chapter. As I've mentioned before on this blog, I still like her music no matter what happened between us. I was listening one day, a couple of years later, to a Pandora channel on which I have her as part of the mix. A song came on, and as I started listening to it, I thought "Wow, I really like that," and went to look who and what it was. It was this:

I think I can be excused in thinking that it might have been her way of saying that she understands now where I was, too.

Maggie and I suspect that "Garden Song", which I posted earlier on this blog (randomrantandramble.blogspot.com/2014/06/amanda-shires-garden-song.html), is also about me.

I went back home, as I said, and it was hard. So, so, very hard. But I saw clearly that I had a choice to make. The hurt, and anger, and bitterness, and resentment, and disappointment were pulling me back toward that place that I had left behind the year before. Only this time, there was another path clearly marked before me: the path of love, humility, and forgiveness; of living with an open and vulnerable heart, and of learning to let people in and to trust. I can't say I walked it perfectly. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't neat, and it wasn't clean. But it was the path I chose and, with the Lord's help, I got past the worst days of it and slowly continued to leave the darkness behind.

As part of my spiritual path, I began a process of prayer, reflection, and self-examination to determine what part I had played in the things that had happened, as well as all the earlier social failings. I identified some of my weaknesses, and after some consideration, decided to tackle them as I had tackled every other problem in my life: through prayer, self-discipline, and academic inquiry. I devoted myself to reading old manuals of etiquette, learning to read facial cues and body language, acquiring social graces, and generally becoming a better man and a true gentleman.

Of immense help in this time was my new church. When I came back from Tennessee that year, I wouldn't have described anyone there as anything more than "acquaintance". In fact, I remember having just that conversation with some people, downstairs in the fellowship area (which we call the "undercroft", for future reference). I said I had no friends in the area, only acquaintances, and the people with me said that they considered themselves my friends. I was touched.

It may just be my imagination: paranoia and insecurity and self-doubt because of all the bad experiences I've had interacting with other people. But I still always feel a little bit different, a little bit of an outsider in whatever group I'm in. Like they're just being kind and charitable: humoring me and being gracious. But they don't really like me or truly want to be my friends. I know I have this tendency and so try to look past it, telling myself that it's not the case, and putting a more positive interpretation on people's words and actions toward me. But in times of stress and conflict it comes out, and whispers in my ear that I'm nothing to them but a big, awkward, fat, pathetic loser. That I'm really just a joke to them, and nobody really cares about me except as a curiosity and a source of amusement. That I'm a freak and a monster, and everyone is always just on the verge of asking me to leave, of calling security or the police because I frowned or spoke too loudly or something. And this is the one thing that, even today, I don't think has been completely healed, even when all the other scars and wounds of my past have been dealt with. This will be important later.

As you can imagine, I was hesitant, in the beginning, to start trusting people again. But some of the people at my church started to get in, and to make me believe that they really did care about me. And the most important of those was Her.

I hadn't been back too long when the church finished its renovation of the undercroft into a really nice, homey, comfortable fellowship area, and we started having Wednesday night Agape suppers and Bible studies. At one of the early ones, she came to the table where I was sitting, introduced herself, and sat down beside me, and we talked as if we already knew each other. I wasn't over Amanda, wasn't really looking for a girl, and didn't feel any immediate romantic attraction. But I felt something. A sense of connection; a strange intimacy. And I found her very, very interesting, intellectually and personally. I had already noticed her, and admired the way she carried herself, and the way she dressed: modest yet elegant; simple yet sophisticated. And I, of course, noticed that she was very pretty. But that was an aesthetic judgment, not an erotic one.

And also, there was something about her that made it hard to guess her age. Maybe it was the wisdom and maturity that she exuded, or the dignity and poise with which she carried herself. But for all I could tell, she could have been anywhere between early twenties and mid thirties.

And so I began to "wonder". I wondered if I was interested in her. I wondered if she was, somehow, interested in me. It seemed highly unlikely, but after all, other girls had been, including Amanda (who, by the way, had been twenty-nine to my forty-two). I still had women flirting with me and showing clear interest from time to time. Sometimes even obviously young girls. And women are always saying that looks don't matter, it's what's inside that counts. I generally dismiss it as B.S., but one wants to believe it, and hopes that there are those women out there for whom it is true. And I thought, if there are any, then surely this is one of them, because this woman has the most admirable character of any I've ever met.

But then I found out her age, and she was significantly younger than me. Not a child, and not so much as to make it totally weird or completely out of the question, but enough to make my first reaction to be "Well, that's the end of that. Question answered." Between fifteen and twenty years, in case you're wondering.

So we became friends. One of us sought out the other at pretty much every church or social activity we were both at. And it wasn't all one-sided: she sought me out at least as often as I sought her. We had such lovely, interesting, deep conversations about so many things that I can't adequately describe how impressed I was with her. And she was accomplished, talented, well-read, tasteful, gracious, graceful, and so, so, incredibly feminine. I had truly never met anyone like her. She became, not the reason I went to church of course, but the thing I most looked forward to when I went. And I won't lie (I never do): there were a few times when I was feeling bleh, and the possibility of seeing her was the final deciding factor in whether I went or not.

The more I learned about her, the more I liked her. She was cultured, gracious, and elegant and could move gracefully in the society of the educated and affluent. But she also loved to garden, to raise chickens, to cook, to knit, sew, and quilt. She was conservative, politically, which is rare enough in a young woman, but even rarer, she wasn't a feminist. She loathed and despised contemporary pop culture, maybe even more than I did, which was a lot. I saw a movie once where two people were falling in love, and one said to the other "I hate everybody but you." It was kind of like that: the only woman in the world who hated all the same things I did.

But even more importantly, she loved all the same things I did. Old stuff. Traditional European culture. Elizabethan theatre, classical music, classic literature, liturgical and sacramental worship, the "old" virtues and values. Fairy tales. Fantasy. C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, G.K. Chesterton, George MacDonald. How many people have even heard of MacDonald, and of those how many actually read him, and of those how many understand him, and of those how many love him as I do? At a guess, probably 100 in the entire world. And then she drove in the final nail: at dinner one night, a friend and I were discussing Tolkien, and she said, "I taught myself Elvish out of the back of The Lord of the Rings when I was fifteen." What I said was "So did I!" But what I thought was, "That officially makes you the perfect woman."

I had always thought that I would be lucky to meet a woman who had one or two of the qualities and the things in common with me that I listed above. (And there are more I haven't included, and I'm sure some that escape my memory at the moment.) But all that? It couldn't be coincidence: it had to be the Lord. It seemed like, finally, at long last, my life was coming together. I'd always, even in the darkest, most miserable, despairing times, felt deep-down that someday, somehow, it was all going to work out and I would have that happy ending. I'm not naive: I know it was never going to be perfect. I had just believed that someday I would actually have a happy life: to have joy, and love, and peace, and perhaps even a bit of prosperity.

But I still didn't have any romantic intentions, although I did begin to think (and say) things like, "If I was only 10 years younger and a hundred pounds lighter...."

I had, though, been coming to view her as my "special" friend: my rose in crystal in an enclosed garden. Every minute I spent with her was like a minute stolen from someone else's life: a good life; a lovely life, very unlike what mine had been. And when I was with her, I finally didn't feel alone. I don't know why or how, but that sense of not belonging, of never quite truly connecting with others that I talked about earlier, just wasn't there with her. I don't believe in soul-mates, at least not in the formal Platonic sense. But I do believe that God, who creates and knows us all, can send us people whom He knows will truly connect with us and complement us in ways that we couldn't have foreseen or wished for ourselves.

We went places together sometimes. Out to lunch after church, or to a concert or play. Usually with other people, but sometimes alone. And we always had fun and enjoyed one another's company. I had become friends with her mother too, and her mother would tell me how much she thought of me, so it isn't just me speculating. After we went out to lunch once, her mom came to me and told me about how much she'd appreciated it, how she "couldn't stop going on" about how much fun she'd had and how interesting I was, and all that. I don't mean to be ungracious or boastful, I just feel the need to demonstrate that it wasn't some sort of weird fixation or imaginary friendship on my part. I was always, from the beginning, very complimentary and open with my admiration. And she was, from the beginning, very comfortable with it and liked it. Again, not just guessing: she told me so, in no uncertain terms. For instance, "I appreciate the creative ways you find of saying nice things" is not my imagination, nor is "I love presents!"

One evening, the three of us were sitting together: she and I on the couch and her mother on a chair next to us, having a lovely conversation. And I felt something. Not an erotic something, but a familiarity something. Stirrings of true storge love, if you're familiar with The Four Loves. It just felt so good, so comfortable to be sitting there with them like that. I said to myself, "I've got to be careful or I'm going to fall in love here. And that won't do anyone any good." And myself asked me, "How do you know?" And I answered myself, "I don't: I'm just extrapolating based on historical trends."

So I sort of pulled away from her and our friendship a bit. And I began to feel a little awkward and embarrassed around her, and I guess it showed, which isn't at all surprising, based on how sensitive and perceptive she is and how open and transparent I am.

But after a while, I began to ease back into it, and I actually felt kind of bad about distancing myself; worried that I'd hurt her feelings and she didn't know why. And I couldn't tell her without opening up something there was no need to open at that point. So I made an effort to "make it up" to her, sort of. We planned some things to do, but I guess I tried too much, and things got genuinely awkward between us, and I was terrified that I'd lost her friendship. Ghosts of the past were haunting me, especially of the incident with Amanda. And I freaked out a little bit. I panicked, and decided to leave the church and run away from it all before I could be hurt like that again.

The thing was, it had hurt so badly that it had created something inside me: a knot of fear that never completely went away. Ever since I'd been back from school and putting more and more of myself into this new community, part of me had been waiting for the ax to fall. Every time I got a letter from the church, every time someone from the clergy said he wanted to talk to me, every time I got a phone call or an email from anyone there, I'd been expecting that it was going to be that, "You've been making people uncomfortable, and we just feel that it would be better if you didn't come back" conversation. It was like waiting to be struck by lightning again.

One of the things I'd done, as part of my self-examination and self-improvement after the incident, was to adopt a policy of constant vigilance regarding my words and actions to others. Knowing that I had the social challenges I had, and remembering all the pain that I had experienced and that I had caused others by thoughtless words and deeds, I began to keep guard on my tongue. After every social interaction, I would go back over what I'd said and wonder if I'd given any offense or hurt any feelings. I thought of it as "riding the fences". And I would go to or contact anyone whom I thought I might have hurt or offended, and apologize and try to make things right. Most of the time it turned out to be unnecessary, and I'm sure a lot of people thought it was strange, or that I was strange, but I, more than anything, wanted to prevent a repeat of my past experiences, especially the latest one. And I believed I was doing the right thing: the Bible is very clear on the matter. (http://www.openbible.info/topics/our_tongue) Nevertheless, I know I came across as a bit odd sometimes, and I'm sure it was especially so to her, as it was with her that I tried hardest to keep myself in line.

Anyway, I went to her mother, who as I said, had also become a dear friend, and told her that I was leaving, and why. And she was so very sweet to me, and understanding, and encouraging. For the first time, in my entire life, someone actually just sat there and really listened to what I had to say, and took it seriously. No patronizing, no platitudes, no false consolation, no lame justifications. And it all ended up coming out. Amanda. My ex. My stepmother. A bunch of the stuff I've written about here in previous posts. She assured me that "She" thought the world of me, but admitted that there had been some doubt and awkwardness, but begged me not to leave. In other words, she loved me, and showed herself to be a true friend. And from that moment I loved her more deeply and dearly than ever: like the mouse that pulled the thorn from the lion's paw; like a second mother; like an angel of consolation sent from God.

She asked me if I had romantic feelings for her daughter, and I said, honestly, that though I of course saw how wonderful she was I had no intentions. We talked about how it was confusing to sort it all out and to know clearly what one is feeling, which was very, very true. And I was honest with her about viewing Her as my special friend.

So her mom talked to her; told her I only had "big brotherly" feelings for her, and shortly thereafter she came to me after church and gave me a lovely smile and a big, warm hug, and all was right with the world again. And suddenly I realized something: I was in love with her. What else could account for my acting so strangely and feeling so intensely? I didn't get that upset when anyone else failed to say hello or return an email. And I wasn't that relieved when anyone else returned me to their good graces.

I felt like a liar, although I hadn't meant to be. What had really happened was that her mom had seen things more clearly, in that regard, than I had. I had been fooling myself, unwilling to admit to myself how I felt, or to permit myself to feel that way.

But she, obviously, didn't feel that way about me, and I had said that I had no intentions, so I decided that that was going to be that. I told myself that it was only ever going to be a special friendship, and that I was just going to have to live with it. I channeled my feelings into that, and made even more efforts to be a good and loving friend, and to be sweet, kind, complementary, and supportive. I thought that, as I had loved Beth-Anne without hoping for so long, so I would love this girl without hoping; that I would truly make her my perfect, unattainable love. Because love is not love unless it's given away--if kept inside it becomes something else, something not nearly so lovely. And because loving without expectation of return is the truest kind of love.

Meantime, I had been becoming heavily invested in my church community. I had discovered, for the first time since my church in Belgium when I was a teenager, an entire group of people with whom I felt at home. People with whom I shared interests and tastes: with whom I could have intelligent conversation, and from whom I could learn much. And who, evidently, actually liked and cared about me too. I had, for instance, longed all my adult life for a church with as high a regard for the importance and sacredness of music as I had. I had always disliked the "pop song" style of worship, feeling it to be irreverent and shallow. But even among the other liturgical churches I'd gone to, they'd either mixed bad music with good, or simply hadn't had the resources or ability to put on a truly good music program. But this one was unbelievable. It not only met, but so far surpassed my own taste and knowledge of music that I learn something every time I worship there, and experience depths of beauty and holiness that move me sometimes to tears. And more: Wednesday night classes about the metaphysical poetry of John Donne; clergy who consistently educated and challenged me in their teaching and preaching; a library containing books you'd have to go to a University to find; classes on New Testament Greek, and multiple Greek and Latin speakers of whom to ask questions. And warm fellowship, good food, and a sense of humor among the parish in general. It wasn't perfect, but it was just about all I could have asked for and more than I had ever expected. I believed with all my heart that God had led me there, and that I had stumbled, finally, onto the right path for my life.

Because I was also making great spiritual progress. In addition to the benefits of regular sacrament and fellowship, I delved deeper into mysticism and the rituals of daily prayer. I even, at the urging of the rector (that's sort of like a senior pastor for you protestants), adopted a "rule" of life...rule in the religious or monastic sense of the word. The Lord and I had finally reached the deep stuff in my soul--the stuff that had been crippling me, emotionally, all my life. It didn't come out easily, but it came out. One Lent...in fact, the Lent that I started writing this blog...I went through a purgation so intense that it left me physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted. And it so happens that that's the same time when I had the conversation recounted above with Her mother. I suppose that was by design, though not my own. That was really just the beginning though. I entered into the first of the two stages of the Ascent of Mount Carmel (the road to the crucifixion of the flesh, or the old man); what St. John of the Cross calls "the dark night of sense". And that lasted until just a few months ago, when I thought I was done. But if you read this blog, you know what's happened since then.

My life had also been improving in other ways. I was still losing weight. I had a serious of treatments in my back that almost completely eliminated the pain from the tank accident, which had been the most debilitating of my injuries. And I had found Beth-Anne, at long last. The day I found her was when I wrote the poem "For My First Love," posted previously. She was, as I had expected, married. But we talked quite a bit, and it was cathartic and freeing for me and gave me closure. I made absolutely no hint or suggestion about the feelings I had held for her so long: married is married, and I find that view of romantic love which suggests that it's alright to break your vows for "true love" abhorrent. But the catharsis I got from knowing her again, coupled with the knowledge that she was, indeed, married, allowed me to finally put it to rest, and truly move forward.

But back to the narrative. I determined to just be friends with The Woman, but special friends. Romantic friends. But then something happened.

I asked her for advice on a situation with another woman in my life. A woman who was a dear friend, but had been giving very clear hints she wanted to be more. I wanted a woman's perspective on how I could be most sensitive in going forward with her. She said to me that she believed that everyone needs to be responsible for their own feelings, and although it was very sweet and chivalrous of me to try and spare this other girl's, I needed to allow her to do that rather than making myself responsible. And she also said, "Try to stay open to anything, because you never know. The only time I've ever just been like "NO!", I regretted it immediately afterwards and found that I was open to it after all. And then it turned out that he wasn't making romantic gestures anyway, and it was kind of embarrassing." I don't think I need to tell you what questions that raised in my mind, in light of what had just recently passed between us.

Then, not long after that, she had spoken of Deitrich Bonhoeffer, and his relationship with Maria von Wedemeyer. How he was "twice her age" and had a "big-brotherly manner" toward her.

So I was thrown back into confusion and doubt. Had she changed her mind? Did she have feelings for me after all? And if so, who was I to just say that I wasn't good enough for her, or was too old, or wasn't the best thing for her? I mean, I knew that she would have made me happy. What if I could make her happy too, and wasn't being open to the possibilities? After all, all the considerations on which I'd ruled myself out for her were external and rather shallow: mainly age, wealth, and beauty. I thought myself too old, but on the other hand there was Bonhoeffer and Maria, C.S. Lewis and Joy Davidman, who'd been 17 years apart, Joseph and Mary, if tradition is correct, the fictional yet beautiful story of Colonel Brandon and Marianne, and countless others. It wasn't like she was twenty and I was sixty. A hundred and fifty or two hundred years ago, a time which both she and I adored and admired, it was very much commonplace for marriages of this kind to take place. And as far as money, well, I wasn't wealthy, but I wasn't destitute either. When you factored in that I don't pay income tax, social security, or health insurance premiums, I made as much as the average non-tenured professor at a university, and that wasn't so bad was it? And I had five figures tucked away in savings, which wasn't a bad start for a new life. That left only beauty...and I could lose weight. I'd done it before, and was already working on it anyway. But most of all, I needed to respect her free will, and allow her to decide for herself whether she wanted to give it a try with me, rather than ruling myself out from some misplaced sense of nobility. That was the mistake I'd made with Beth-Anne, and it had obviously been one of the worst of my life.

I also don't want to neglect the importance of prayer and seeking guidance here, because I did that ceaselessly, tirelessly, and absolutely sincerely. But it's impossible to convey to others one's experience of seeking and receiving the Lord's guidance. It's so individual, personal, and unique that people misjudge it based on their own opinions, or you fail to really express what you're trying to say because words are inadequate, and you just end up sounding lame, stupid, or crazy. I'll just say that I was always, all the way through this entire process, convinced that it was right. And that I offered up every thought, word, action, feeling, and impulse of mine toward her to the Lord, and strove to always remain in His sight and will in everything regarding this whole situation, as well as offering, consistently and continually, all my feelings and desire for her up as a sacrifice to Him and to His will.

So finally, at last, I let myself fall, or admitted to myself that I had fallen, completely in love with her.

But now what? I had reason to wonder, but I was by no means confident that she had feelings, or was open to seeing me that way. Should I tell her? Should I just let it go? Should I wait and see? Should I be subtle? Should I be direct?

I won't tire you with an account of the long and tortuous process I went through in deciding, but will only say this: in the end, it became clear that I must be true to my character and principles, and therefore must choose courage over fear and honesty over manipulation. I just sincerely believed that it was dishonest and manipulative of me to try to play that game where a guy wants to win a woman's love, but pretends to not be interested that way in order not to freak her out or scare her off. I know that that's the way it's normally done, but that doesn't make it right. I've spoken here before about my commitment to being completely honest and forthright, even in affairs of the heart. And it would be cowardly and weak of me to just never say or do anything at all. To let the opportunity for what was beginning to seem like a dream come true: true love: The One, to pass without making any effort at all to reach out and grab it. So I decided to tell her.