September 6, 2005


  • I have never been more heartbroken over


    anything


    in my entire life.


    Ever made a mistake, realized it was one, and tried to make things right but were too late?


     


     


    Thursday, when I talked to Laura, I suggested we should just be friends, and perhaps I should indeed pursue priesthood. Why did I do this?


    Because for the last several months, every effort I made to discover her feelings for me revealed nothing. She hid her feelings behind a wall so I wouldn’t find them. Why?


    She didn’t want to influence my journey and decision. She didn’t want to get in God’s way.


    Oh but she prayed. She prayed that it would be God’s will for us to be together.


    On Thursday, I said the things I said thinking this was what she wanted, for us only to be friends, and I decided that I would do the most service to God as a priest. I felt that it was what I was best suited for, now that I finally accepted the “fact” that Laura did not want to be with me.


    What followed that was two hours of her weeping. Every tear that fell broke my heart further and further until, now, it is only a quivering lump of weak flesh dripping with lethargic blood.


    After she left my room, I began to wonder if I had made a good decision. The next day I realized that I had not. I made the decision for her, not for myself. I SHOULD have told her my heart’s deepest desire, I SHOULD have told her that I loved her too much to give her up, I SHOULD have told her that though God was calling me to serve Him, He never specified that I should be a priest, and NEVER demanded that I give her up. But I refrained from doing so because everything she had previously communicated though silence and general avoidance of discussing the matter made me think that she did not want me in any other capacity than friendship.


    Friday I decided that I had to act. Soon. So, with the assistance of a good friend I purchased some supplies and on Saturday morning I began what was to be a forty-mile walk to her home. I wanted the time and pain to think about how horrible it was to do that to her, how foolish both of us were and are, and to pray about what to do. I thought that pushing myself to do something difficult and placing my whole life and well-being in God’s hands would be a good start along the path to redeeming myself in her eyes.


    I made it to the small town of Brandon when I ran out of water. I had tried to refill at various houses along the way, but no one was home. So I hitchhiked from there to the exit that lead to her house. I walked the remainder of the way, finding one blessed soul that gave me water.


    When I finally arrived at her house I dropped my heavy pack and limped to her front door. I pushed the doorbell and held onto the stair rail so I wouldn’t collapse. When she opened the door all strength left me and I wrapped my arms around her feet. I was barely able to tell her that I loved her, and that I was sorry.


    She realized it was me and helped me into a chair, putting my feet up and removing my shoes. I think I was close to some sort of shock, or maybe just chronic exhaustion. I was sweating profusely and shaking in my weakness, and she brought me ice water.


    When my strength somewhat returned to me, I told her that I had walked over twenty miles and hitchhiked to come tell her how sorry I was and how much I loved her before she had enough time to change her mind about me.


    She replied, “Jake, let’s not do this right now. Let’s just be happy that you are here.”


    The weekend went on, and her family welcomed me like I was part of it. They cared for me, and Laura gave me her room to stay in. Though it all sounds perfect, it wasn’t. I could tell that Laura was upset that I had come at all, and if I could have walked back I would have left in the middle of the night. But my feet were so wounded with blisters that I could barely limp from place-to-place within her home.


    After the weekend was done, I rode back with her to Cedar Falls. On the way, I asked her if she was upset with me, and she was, and then began a dialogue that rode the edge of a knife during its entire length.


    I went into detail as to why Thursday was a mistake, why it never should have happened, and pointed out the reasons why I said the things I said. She responded with the reasons she refrained from telling me how she felt, and also informed me that she was past Thursday and she was ready to move on with her life. During the discussion she came so close to asking me to stop imagining the possibility to be with her but, praise God, she never did. I just know that being together is something she still wants, deep down, but she just isn’t ready to be in such a relationship.


    She said that she just wants to start over with her life, and I asked if I could start over with her. She said yes.


    We agreed to just be friends, nothing more, for now. IF in the future we arrive at this same place, if we again find that we love each other truly and deeply, she would not be opposed to it.


    So there is where we stand. We are friends, and I promised, swore that a friend is all I will be for her for now. I just truly hope this isn’t a case of the “let’s just be friends” and then she avoids me for the rest of her life. I’ve been there before and it is so painful. But I don’t think Laura is like that. We will be friends, and I told her not to feel like she needs to run from me any more.


    When she brought me back to my dorm room I realized that both of us had some growing to do before we would be ready for even the possibility of being together. God had broken the both of us so we could start new, start right, so He could heal and reshape us into what He wants us to be. Maybe in a month, a year, several years we will end up together. Maybe during our friendship we will realize that we aren’t meant for each other, but we are also very happy in just being friends. Either way, she is still a part of my life and for that great gift, I am eternally grateful.


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