Deciding to Speak

I remember the 1st time I met him. He appeared too friendly, too kind, too nice, too funny. At that point however, I don't think anyone would have stood a chance. He introduced himself and said that he knew who I was...STRIKE ONE! (No one had any clue who I had become and I definitely didn't want anyone thinking they knew anything about me). He invited me to check out the college group on a Sunday night...STRIKE TWO! (I only had a limited amount of time that I was going to be in town this time around, why would I even try to get invested). If I couldn't make Sunday night, there was a class on Sunday mornings...STRIKE THREE (Do you know the double life I am living right now? Sunday school will definitely expose me...no thanks!)

I can't remember the 1st time I met her. It must have been at church. From a distance, I could see that she was warm and kind to those that knew her well. She was always inviting but gentle. I never felt pushed...only drawn in, in a welcoming sort of way. Eventually I was included in the invitation to come and hang out at their house. My roommate usually did all the talking and I was quite content to sit on the fireplace and listen. I smiled and occasionally talked but all very carefully.

Although my encounters with them were often marked with deception and hiding of myself, they began to be more real and open. The transparency in which they both lived their lives and the messages that they shared in Sunday school began

to hit at the core of me and I started feeling convicted.

It was Valentine's weekend in 2003. My weekend had included multiple encounters with someone from my past that began to stir up all the crap that I had worked so hard for months to push down. In the midst of the pain and shame that was swirling around in my head, I had been able to determine BY MYSELF that ALL the feeli

ngs I was experiencing that weekend were just because I was actually interested in someone in the college group and this other guy coming into town shed a light on my true feelings. My emotional reaction seemed a bit large though.

I was singing on the Praise Team that weekend and as we sang the songs, the tears streamed down my face. I couldn't hold them back...they just kept coming. She saw me. For the 1st time, I knew I wanted her to ask me what was going on for me. She did. She invited me to grab coffee with her after The Call. As we sat in the 2 fluffy, p

urple chairs at Starbuck's in the quarry, I decided to speak. At first, it felt like what I wanted to talk about was this guy that I liked...risky and yet safe. As her questions came though, the beginning pieces of my story spilled out of my mouth.