I love how, when it seems like nothing else in my life can go wrong, something does. Sometimes it just seems like God loves to do that to us down here (before I get yelled at, I know it's not true). The last semester has, without a doubt, been my most emotionally taxing semester to date. It starts with an attempted suicide, losing a good friend, my dad leaving for war, my teacher dying, my parents maybe moving and me losing my free tuition, and now... I get played yet again. For the third time in 2 years. Is it just me, or is there something wrong with that?!
At least, that's how it seems to me.
So I had been sort of talking to this guy at school since Israel. While we were on our trip, we talked all the time, he'd come by my room and we'd go exploring with our roommates, we either sat next to each other or close to each other on the bus or at dinner... and it seemed to be going really well. I knew he had an ex-girlfriend that he was unsure about, but it didn't really bother me all that much. I figured that he'd get over her eventually. Apparently I was dead wrong.
We hung out solid for six weeks after we got back from Israel. At least once a week. Sometimes more. On the trip, he found out I love red Starburst, and one day he brought me some and said that he bought them earlier and thought of me, and he wanted to give them to me. On the trip, he found out I love fresh strawberries, and he brought me some when we went to church together. He'd say really sweet things, like how he was surprised that there were no boys in my church growing up if I was there. Or how I looked nice on a certain day. Or how I had a really nice smile, and if it came out more often when he was around we should keep hanging out. Stuff that no guy, not even my best guy-friends, say to me. I knew he was still hanging out with his ex, but he told me that they were still friends and he liked to hang out with her. Little did I know, huh.
So the other night we were hanging out, doing homework in the library when the power died. We couldn't see to do homework, so we sat in the dark and looked at pictures on our laptops before they died too. He was showing me pictures of the Rangers games he'd been to, and one came up of him and his ex. He said something like how he was really excited to see her that day, because he hadn't seen her in a while. So I kinda got to thinking that something was up. I knew something was up before this went down, but now I really got a suspicion. We finally left the library because it was dark and hot and his computer died, and he walked with me back to my dorm. I finally got up the courage to ask him if I could ask him a question, so I asked him if he and his girlfriend were talking about getting back together. He said, "Yeah. I want to, but she's still trying to decide if she can deal with the whole military thing."
You would think that I'd be a little upset about it. But I wasn't. Not at first. We went down by the pond by the apartments, and I played a couple of songs on my guitar. A couple of minutes later, he got up to leave so he could do homework and I said, "Ok. I'll just play a little more down here." He said, "I'm sorry if I misled you or anything. I still like hanging out with you." I said, "It's ok. Your heart is where your heart is." So he hugged me and I told him, "I hope [your ex] knows that she's a very lucky girl." After I played another song, I went to Borders with some friends to watch a movie, and he called me while we were there to check on me and make sure I was ok.
I guess it's a blessing in disguise, in a way. At least now I know where I stand with him, for now. And I don't know what the future is, so something could happen later. It still doesn't dampen the pain and the heartbreak.
I wrote a Facebook note with the title of this blog at the beginning of last summer, when everything with Ben went down. I guess this latest situation reminded me of that. I admit my part in what went wrong. I screwed up and didn't guard my heart. He screwed up and didn't guard my heart either. Truth is, I liked him a lot. I still do. He had almost every quality I look for in a guy... a strong relationship with the Lord, a passion for people and kids, confidence in himself... almost everything. I'm so tired of BOYS. I want a MAN that will stand up and say "I like you, do you like me back?" In my entire life, that has never ever ever happened. I'm not waiting for the perfect man. I'm just waiting for someone to actually be a man.
I'm sick of being played. I'm sick of winding up with a broken heart for guy after guy after guy. I'm sick of waiting. Sometimes I wish that God would just put a guy in front of me and say "This one is good! Go for it!" And just once, I wish that that guy would have the same feelings for me that I do for him.
While I'm kinda angry, I don't think that he did it on purpose. He's not the type of guy to intentionally hurt someone. In a way, yes, he did lead me on. He gave me signals that I could not have possibly misinterpreted. And by signals, I mean flirty text messages, gifts of my favorite things, saying really sweet things. For those that I've talked to about this, ya'll know just what kind of signals they were. He never acted that way to other girls, even girls that he's known much longer than he's known me. I could have sworn things were going really really well... especially since he told me that he doesn't like rushing into relationships.
I don't know what to do. I want to be friends with him still. I'm cool with being friends with him still. Especially since I know what's up now. At least, I think I can be friends with him still.
How do you heal a broken heart? Is there really anyway other than facing it? I don't want this whole thing to take another six months to get over.
Apparently I need some more practice in reading people.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Three Weeks Later
It has been three weeks since my world got shaken up yet again. Somehow I feel like I've been in a fog since Mrs. Marks passed away. I seem to function normally... I go to classes, I hang out with friends, I laugh, I sing, I worship. But it's still empty... everything except my worship now. That's the only thing that is constant in my life at the moment. It's like, instinctively I know that Jesus is the only thing that makes sense in this kind of situation. I love chilling with my friends (one in particular, of course), and it keeps my mind off it, but it's like there's so much that I need to get off my chest that I'm holding in.
There's a huge void in my heart now, and I didn't even know that she had filled it. I was close with her while I was in high school (she was one of my absolute favorite teachers), but over the past couple of years, since I graduated, I didn't get to see her that much. I would always make sure I gave her a hug and talked with her a little bit whenever I went up to school, but those trips became fewer and more far between after last year.
The only place I can think of turning to is Jesus. I was thinking about it last night as I was trying to write a song for these three weeks. As empty as I feel, as pointless as this death seems, the only thing that I could think of saying to God was "Bring it on." I think somewhere in the back of my mind I realized last night that this storm makes me trust Him more. When nothing in my life makes sense, I know that this situation is growing me as a person and as a Christian. He's all I have left to hold onto, and I have to resolve that the wind and the rain is not going to loosen my grip on Him or His grip on me. His mercy and His grace are the only things that can make my heart whole again, but it's through that rain falling down on me that I am washed clean from all my grief and shame.
I can almost hear God saying to me what He said to Job: "Who are you to question My plan?" If I can't trust God in EVERY circumstance, my faith, my life, my salvation means nothing. God didn't call me to trust Him in just the good times. He called me to take up my cross daily and follow Him, leaving everything behind that I held dear. He said that narrow is the road that leads to eternal life. He promised that the road would get rocky at times, and that I would walk through the darkness where a million other voices would compete for my attention. But He also said that He would be a lamp for my feet and a light to my path. He promised that He would be the Prince of Peace, a Wonderful Counselor. He promised that nothing could ever pluck me out of His hand. He promised that He would never leave me or forsake me. And most of all, He said that death has no more victory, and the grave has no more claim on my life because Christ rose from the dead and is now seated at the right hand of God the Father. I believe those promises. It's the only place I can put my hope. Christ is the only hope for me now.
Three weeks. A lot has happened in three weeks. There's so much good that has come out of a really bad situation that it's impossible to deny God's hand in it. From what I've heard, two people have accepted Christ as a result of Mrs. Marks' death. The classes at the high school are finally banding together, acting as each other's support pillars. The Ovilla students here at DBU have come together to support each other, and to pray for each other. The teachers have gathered around her husband and son to be there for them. People have come together all over the country to be a support for everyone grieving. And most of all, I can see it's effects in my own life. I have something spurring me on now... just to make her proud of me. I want to be an encouragement for the students at Ovilla (a place that I just wanted to get out of). I want to make her proud of the woman I have become, and proud of the woman I will become. If I can have half the impact in my lifetime that she had during her short 32 years on this planet, I will look at my life with no regrets.
Three weeks. Seems much longer for me. I feel like I've aged about a year in these three weeks. But it's a combination of a good aging and a bad aging. I think God has made me grow up more in the past three weeks. Death and the brevity of life are realities for me now. You know, when you're young, a lot of times you think you're invincible, that there's nothing in the world that can get you. A tiny little bacteria got Mrs. Marks. I'm not invincible. My life is short, a mist fading with the coming morning. I hadn't really faced that before. Oh sure, people I know have died before, but I was young then. It didn't affect me much. Mrs. Marks was only 12 years older than me. That's not a lot. God's sovereignty and power are realities for me now. I have to place my trust in Someone that knows a lot more than I do, and who is way more powerful than I am. I have to place my hope in something that I can't see. Believe me, I'm not using God as a crutch. When something like this happens, His control and His power are the only things that make sense. If I blame someone for this, it only makes me bitter and coldhearted. God is my life. God was her life.
I was digging through my garage a couple of weeks ago, about a week after she died. I found a letter that she wrote me on graduation. At the end of the letter was one of my favorite verses of all time. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:1-2) She ran the race marked out for her since the beginning of time. She fought the good fight and finished the race and kept the faith, and she's received her due reward. Now it's my turn. She was my track coach so I'll use a good track term. She's handed the baton off to me, and it's my turn to run the race. My only prayer is that I finish in a manner that she would be proud of, and in a way that would make my Father in heaven say to me the same words she heard when she stepped through that door: "Well done, good and faithful servant."
There's a huge void in my heart now, and I didn't even know that she had filled it. I was close with her while I was in high school (she was one of my absolute favorite teachers), but over the past couple of years, since I graduated, I didn't get to see her that much. I would always make sure I gave her a hug and talked with her a little bit whenever I went up to school, but those trips became fewer and more far between after last year.
The only place I can think of turning to is Jesus. I was thinking about it last night as I was trying to write a song for these three weeks. As empty as I feel, as pointless as this death seems, the only thing that I could think of saying to God was "Bring it on." I think somewhere in the back of my mind I realized last night that this storm makes me trust Him more. When nothing in my life makes sense, I know that this situation is growing me as a person and as a Christian. He's all I have left to hold onto, and I have to resolve that the wind and the rain is not going to loosen my grip on Him or His grip on me. His mercy and His grace are the only things that can make my heart whole again, but it's through that rain falling down on me that I am washed clean from all my grief and shame.
I can almost hear God saying to me what He said to Job: "Who are you to question My plan?" If I can't trust God in EVERY circumstance, my faith, my life, my salvation means nothing. God didn't call me to trust Him in just the good times. He called me to take up my cross daily and follow Him, leaving everything behind that I held dear. He said that narrow is the road that leads to eternal life. He promised that the road would get rocky at times, and that I would walk through the darkness where a million other voices would compete for my attention. But He also said that He would be a lamp for my feet and a light to my path. He promised that He would be the Prince of Peace, a Wonderful Counselor. He promised that nothing could ever pluck me out of His hand. He promised that He would never leave me or forsake me. And most of all, He said that death has no more victory, and the grave has no more claim on my life because Christ rose from the dead and is now seated at the right hand of God the Father. I believe those promises. It's the only place I can put my hope. Christ is the only hope for me now.
Three weeks. A lot has happened in three weeks. There's so much good that has come out of a really bad situation that it's impossible to deny God's hand in it. From what I've heard, two people have accepted Christ as a result of Mrs. Marks' death. The classes at the high school are finally banding together, acting as each other's support pillars. The Ovilla students here at DBU have come together to support each other, and to pray for each other. The teachers have gathered around her husband and son to be there for them. People have come together all over the country to be a support for everyone grieving. And most of all, I can see it's effects in my own life. I have something spurring me on now... just to make her proud of me. I want to be an encouragement for the students at Ovilla (a place that I just wanted to get out of). I want to make her proud of the woman I have become, and proud of the woman I will become. If I can have half the impact in my lifetime that she had during her short 32 years on this planet, I will look at my life with no regrets.
Three weeks. Seems much longer for me. I feel like I've aged about a year in these three weeks. But it's a combination of a good aging and a bad aging. I think God has made me grow up more in the past three weeks. Death and the brevity of life are realities for me now. You know, when you're young, a lot of times you think you're invincible, that there's nothing in the world that can get you. A tiny little bacteria got Mrs. Marks. I'm not invincible. My life is short, a mist fading with the coming morning. I hadn't really faced that before. Oh sure, people I know have died before, but I was young then. It didn't affect me much. Mrs. Marks was only 12 years older than me. That's not a lot. God's sovereignty and power are realities for me now. I have to place my trust in Someone that knows a lot more than I do, and who is way more powerful than I am. I have to place my hope in something that I can't see. Believe me, I'm not using God as a crutch. When something like this happens, His control and His power are the only things that make sense. If I blame someone for this, it only makes me bitter and coldhearted. God is my life. God was her life.
I was digging through my garage a couple of weeks ago, about a week after she died. I found a letter that she wrote me on graduation. At the end of the letter was one of my favorite verses of all time. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:1-2) She ran the race marked out for her since the beginning of time. She fought the good fight and finished the race and kept the faith, and she's received her due reward. Now it's my turn. She was my track coach so I'll use a good track term. She's handed the baton off to me, and it's my turn to run the race. My only prayer is that I finish in a manner that she would be proud of, and in a way that would make my Father in heaven say to me the same words she heard when she stepped through that door: "Well done, good and faithful servant."
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