Week of Love: A Love Story
I am not much of a lovey-dovey, cry-in-every-Hallmark-commercial kind of girl. Valentine's Day is not my favorite holiday. It's not even in my top 5. I guess I am a bit to cynical to see past the commercialism of card, chocolate, stuffed animal, and flower companies to really get caught up in buying or receiving silly things (though if you are reading this dear husband, I do love notes or cards confessing your love for me, chocolate, and flowers and Valentine's day is a fine reason to get them for me. Sorry, Husband, apparently my cynism doesn't quite let you off the hook. HA!). That being said... I love literature with a hero or heroine who get their loved one in the end. I love love stories. I love love poems. Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy, Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe, or is anyone else dying to see Mary and Matthew Crawley on Downton Abbey end up together (I know not classic literature...but still!)?! There's just something about LOVE that I love... well a whole lot of somethings for that matter. And so my blog is dedicated to LOVE this week. Today is extra special: It's my all time favorite love story. The rest of the week will have a favorite love poem of mine each day.
And SO...
To Start the Week of Love...
A Love Story
L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
As a girl, I had this quote written and pinned on my wall. I would pray just about every night that this would be my love story. I wanted to marry a friend. I wanted a story similar to Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe. I remember the many tears I cried, through the many times my heart was broken.
I also remember the moment the pages to my story were "flung athwart." I guess I didn't realize that in praying for it to "[creep] to one's side like an old friend..." would mean I wouldn't recognize him or see it happening. My handsome lover, Michael, started out my friend. Not my best friend. Not my good friend. More than an acquaintance. I respected him, though I admittedly refused to get in a car he was driving (when he first got his license he drove like an over-testroned male with something to prove... he probably was). He was 2 grades lower than me (our 1 1/2 age difference didn't phase me at 22; but it certainly did when I first met him... at 17. As a senior in high school, I had my standards!). He was one of the best friends to my ex-fiance... not going near that again. He was one of my brother's best friends... awkward. He was my best friend's long time crush... off limits. God had a couple layers of bandana fabric placed over my eyes so that I couldn't spoil His surprise.
I remember deciding to move out of the small town I grew up in to the big city. I had a job opportunity, ministry opportunity, and a place to move into with some amazing girl friends of mine. I didn't quite feel peace about it though. Like something told me to wait just a minute. I reasoned that there was nothing for me in my small town. No jobs, no ministry, and no guys. And then...
And then... my church had the very first worship-only service on a Sunday night. We called it "Going Deeper." I worshiped. I prayed. I cried out to God. It was awesome, and, when it was over, I was HUNGRY. I was standing amongst my friends, expressing the growlings of my stomach, when Michael looks at me, tilts his head to the side, and says, "You want to grab a burger or something?" The wind began to stir against the pages of my story.
That week, I went into my pastor's office—for what reason I can't remember, I was his administrative assistant—and ended up pouring out my heart about the woes of still being single at the late age of 22 (I may never marry! I shall die an old maid! So dramatic!). He thought for a moment and then asked me, "What about Michael?" My response, I don't remember it exactly but it went something like this: "What about his calling? (when you are a young woman in ministry everything is about “calling”) He's not called to be a pastor. What about the fact that he's okay with drinking alcohol and I am not? (I grew up with the religious mentality, 'if you are sipping, you're slipping.' I have since let go of legalism and embraced the freedom I have in Christ.) What about...? what about...?"
I had a list... no, really, I did, written out on paper my list of standards for a husband... and I didn't see the match in Michael. The list was long, but the list had been great. It kept me from getting too serious with the similarly long list of losers I'd dated or let's be honest, lusted, after.
Then my pastor said something that "flung athwart" the pages...
"Amanda, you need to lower your standards."
What?! Yep, he totally said THAT, just like THAT. (It is one of the long running jokes we have with our pastors. And my pastor loves to retell it. At Michael's expense. Poor Mike. Ha!) Those words haunted me. I couldn't shake them. I didn't want lower my standards. It sounded like a bad thing.
Right?!
But I did, just long enough to see what God wanted to show me.
My standards protected me. They kept me in control. I thought I knew what "the one" would look like, and I had a list to prove it. But God doesn't look at appearances, God looks at the heart. God knew Michael was the answer to my prayers even though I couldn't see it.
One time my sister and I redid my mom's bathroom for her for Mother's Day. We cleaned it, painted it, and turned it into a relaxing, shabby-chic spa retreat for her complete with African violets, bubble bath solution, and candles. We made sure everything was perfect. Then, we had her cover her eyes and we led her into her transformed bathroom. We made sure she was standing in just the right spot, the lighting was just right, and then uncovered her eyes and let her take in her surprise. We were like kindergartners with our Crayola masterpiece in our excitement to show our mom what we had done for her. "Surprise, Mom! We hope you like it! We love you, Mom!"
God had Michael perfectly hidden from me in plain sight like the sunglasses you frantically search the whole house for only to find that they are on your head. I couldn't see him. God had my eyes covered. He waited for just the right moment. My ex-fiance and I had been broken up for over 2 years. My best friend had lost her love interest in Michael. My brother, well, he was just going to have to get over it... and he did... eventually. God kept revealing Michael's shining qualities as I kept asking Him, "Well, what about...?" "Yes, Amanda, but look at this." He lead me to that perfect moment, sitting out in front of the church with Michael, talking from 7 pm to 2 am in the morning talking about our hopes and dreams and thoughts on life. And the reveal: Michael, my seemingly serious and very stable man, grabs my hand and leads me into the street and begins to dance, steps unknown, twirling me to our own private song. And I knew, this was the man for me. My prayers for a man that would dance with me, share a life with me, hope and dream with me had been answered.
“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him."
1 Corinthians 2:9
My pastor might have thought he told me to lower my standards, but he really told me was that I wasn't going to be able to imagine up what God had in store for my life.
"Surprise, Amanda! I hope you like it! I love you, Amanda!"
And while this may seem like a love story between me and my husband, truly the greater love story is the way Jesus has pursued me and loved me and lavished good things on me. This story is just an excerpt from my greatest love story: the love of God for me.
So, as Valentine's Day approaches, know that if you find yourself single or full of relational complications: God is working to write you a beautiful love story. His hands might just be over your eyes waiting for the right moment for the perfect reveal. No need to rush out and find someone to cure the loneliness or the worry of growing old alone, no need to muddy the plot of your story. Also know that God is a great author; He can use all the missteps of our lives and use them in the story He wants to write for you, but perhaps our life is a little better when we let Him do all the writing. My final and most important plea: make sure you aren't missing the greatest relationship and romance you could have... with Christ!
Come back later this week (or each day this week...wink wink) to see some more LOVE.
Oh and by the way, in case you are wondering... I am doing much better since my "survival mode" post. I have started implementing the stuff on that list, and it is helping. Biggest help though: the love I got from many of you! Thank you for your encouragement. My husband's dear granma even wrote me an email about her life in the 40's when her husband was away in the war and she was raising babies. SO Special! Thank you Granma! AND Thank you friends!