A Girl At Every Port

Julian stood on the deck in his bright white uniform,  a matching smile glowing on his face. He waved to the girl on the pier, calling out sweet words and giving full attention to her beautiful face. As the boat moved away from the shore, Julian smiled. One more. She was one more girl to fall under his charms. It was all so perfect, his moving around like this. None would be the wiser, except him.
The girl he left behind was not as fortunate as he. She loved Julian... at least, she thought she did. Now he had left and she didn't know what to do, what to say. She felt the loss dearly, and would have loved to have expressed her feelings to another, but no one would understand. Instead, she simply wept, her beautiful face filled with a deep sadness, her eyes sparkling with the wash of tears. It was too much, simply too much.
If only she had known! If only someone had told her, when she met him, that he did not care for her as it seemed, that he only wanted to add a tally to his list. Then she would have stood a safe distance away as he tried to capture her. She hadn't known, though, and there he was, with his riveting blue eyes... it was too much for her to resist. Now he was gone, and she was left to deal with the aftermath alone. It would be a long and hard road for her courage to climb once again.
He couldn't have cared less. He had taken what he wanted, and was gone forever.

(This isn't an exact narration, only my somewhat exaggerated feelings, about something that happened to me...)

Becoming a One Only

I was walking along a pier at Lake Michigan yesterday as the sun was setting. I had brought a blanket and a book, the water was calm, the sky was gorgeous, and I was alone.
Yes, it sounds like a fantastic opportunity, and yet something was bugging me. It was that last part: the aloneness.
You know, I used to be the type who had to be around other people. Loneliness was my greatest fear. If I spent even a day by myself, I felt like I was going stir crazy. About 3 and a half years ago, that changed, as I began taking jobs where I worked alone. I eventually got used to my own company. After a time, I found that I loved being alone. So much so, in fact, that I would neglect others in order to be with myself. I had successfully swung from one end of the spectrum to the other.
It was only a matter of time before I realized that, as there are problems with neediness, there are problems with independence. I have now come to the point where I feel that I have few close friends, and I have so separated myself from others that I no longer know how to build a healthy relationship. Beyond this, I have become lonely. So lonely. I fear jumping into a friendship because I feel I may go about it the wrong way, and I want to be level-headed about the whole thing, and yet I just want closeness with someone. What a tough feeling. What a hard situation.
The book I was reading on the pier is called "Tales of the Restoration". It is an allegory about the Kingdom. I specifically chose to read a chapter called "Safe Places". In that chapter, there are "Rules of Protection (from the Enemy)", as follows:
1. Whenever you live as a One Only, you are in danger.
2. Whenever the hum of the hatchet (the Word of God) becomes foolishness, you are in danger.
3. When you forget to keep watch for the King, you are in danger.
4. When you begin to keep secrets from your closest friends, when you find that you love darkness more than light, then you are in great danger.
Without going into deep detail as to the rest of these, the first mentions being a "One Only". The story defines this as "one who is often lonely".
I fear I have become a One Only.
I wanted to share these thoughts and feelings with you for a few reasons. First, you may relate. Second, you may have an urging to pray for me. Third, you are my closest friends (as mentioned in Rule 4) and I want you to know. Lastly, Father may give you some encouragement for yourself, others, or me through these words.
Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for your love. I'm still seeking Him...

A Psalm of Trust (inspired by David)

Walk with me in the darkness, O God.

In the night, when no one comes to my aid

be the one in whom I place my trust.

When I am unsure of where to go,

place yourself before me.

Allow me to see the path that you have laid,

before the foundations of the earth

before you gave me life.

Let me find the place you have created for me.

O Lord, when I am lost,

be a light in the dark places.

Guide my footsteps in your way,

give me assurance for each step.

Lead me, O Lord,

and I will praise your name.

I will lift your name on high.

I will praise you in the darkness,

I will exalt you when I cannot see.

Father of Nations,

you are my father as well.

Grant me knowledge

so that I may know the depths of your heart.

Open my eyes to your works,

so that I may know your plans.

Show me the love that you have for me,

bring me to know the loveliness of your character.

Forgive me, Lord,

for sinning against your heart.

Forgive me for walking in my ways,

and not in yours.

I confess, Father,

that I have not always sought your way.

I have not given myself entirely to your plan.

Forgive me, O God, for the times I have strayed.

Give me your wisdom to walk in your ways,

so that I may do as you ask.

Accept the love offering of my heart, O God.

I have little to give, but what I have I offer you.

I bless your name, Jehovah Jireh,

I trust in your provision.

You are good, as you always have been

and as you always will be.

Praise be to you, O God.

Honor and Glory are yours.

Love defines you;

help me to know your love.

A Difficult Task

I dug a deep grave.

It was actually kind of strange, because at first I wasn't going to bury her at all. I wanted to keep her. Is that weird?

It's just that she had kept me company for so long, attracting compliments from friends and family, making life interesting, and I had never been without her. For a while, in my formative years, I had kept her hidden, afraid that she would be mocked or injured. I wanted to save her, but my over-protectiveness sort of ruined her. Then, when I was a little more confident in her positive qualities, I let everyone see her. They were excited for me, and glad to be let in on the secret, but I knew her too well. She was just putting on a show. I hated her for putting on that plastic shell, but I couldn't figure out how to take it off. So I just let her parade around, making a fool of herself. I couldn't stop her.

Some time passed until I found a solution to the problem. Television. I could distract her with the TV, and then she didn't have time to go out and make an idiot of herself on the streets. Every day, I let her just soak in hours of television. She was losing all sense of herself, which was wonderful, because she had nothing to show off anymore. No one looked for her, either. They just figured she was with me, and I had the situation under control.

Something happened, though, during all that time she spent in front of the TV. She started to get sick.

What was I supposed to do? I couldn't stop her from watching her favorite shows, because she would go back to strutting her (fake) stuff for the world to see. Besides, she was addicted, and I didn't want to see what would happen. So I let her sit there. Call me irresponsible, call me what you will, but I felt it was my only choice.

One day, I went in to check on her, and I was startled to find her slumped in her chair. I ran to her, checked her pulse, shook her fearfully... she was dead. DEAD.

I can't say I was completely surprised. After all, she had been looking pretty pallid and sickly lately. I couldn't help feeling, though, that it was my fault. I probably should have taken drastic measures. I probably should have thrown the television out the window and made her go outside, even if she did go through withdrawals. But I didn't, and indubitably, I had killed her.

What do you think I did then? If you think I buried her, you prove yourself sane, and me the opposite. For I didn't dig the grave then, I didn't put her in the ground until much later. I couldn't bear to part with her. It's sick, I know. I have to admit it, though. I have to tell you. I carried her around with me. I used her. I flaunted her to my friends and family.

Unfortunately, even those closest to me were completely disgusted and refused to interact with me. They began to ignore me. I was frustrated, but I wouldn't give her up. She was all I had... my only friend. I actually stayed up at night talking to her, just waiting for a response. I left the TV on all the time, hoping that she would somehow be revived by her favorite drug. Nothing worked. She was completely, utterly, hopelessly dead.

Finally, one rainy day, I could no longer stand the smell. She was beginning to disgust even me. I had to get rid of her.

That night, at approximately 11:30pm, I found myself in the garage, looking for a box and a shovel. I made sure the night was moonless; I didn't want the neighbors to see. Carefully, I dug a deep hole. It was deeper than necessary. Actually, I couldn't stop digging. I kept envisioning the thing coming up out of it's hole and giving away my secret. I dug and dug, until I was startled to see light beginning to break the horizon. Hurriedly, I climbed up and out. I grabbed the box and ran inside. She was lying there on the floor, and she looked horrible. How could I have waited so long to do this? Eager to see her gone, I threw her in the box with no ceremony whatsoever. I actually used duct tape to close the lid. She would never know.

I ran out the door and over to the hole. Suddenly, I was in a mad rush. The sun was rising and it would only be a matter of minutes before my actions would be known. I threw the box in the hole and began to shove the dirt in after it. I was on my hands and knees, filling in that hole as if my life depended on it.

Then, sooner than I thought, the deed was done. She was gone. The ordeal was over. I had successfully killed and buried my character.

A strange story, to say the least. What does it mean, you ask? You may even be laughing, thinking, "Wow, the wool was sure pulled on that one." Would it shock you if I told you that it was a true story?

Yes, it's true. Maybe a bit exaggerated, but that's what happened. I killed my character - my beliefs, my values, my skills - with a television, and then I buried it to hide it's hideousness from myself and my friends. People still ask about it, though. They want to know where it went. Sometimes I ignore their question, and sometimes I just do my best imitation, hoping they'll fall for it. Unfortunately, it usually works. They believe me.

Until yesterday, I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure how to function without my character; like I said, it's been a constant companion almost all my life.

But then... yesterday. Yesterday I found out that a character - even one that has died from neglect - has the capability for resurrection. In fact, that's just what God has in mind for mine. When I think back on it, God was the one who kept telling me to turn off the television and let Him do his best surgery on my character. Now that I've killed it, I find Him calling me constantly, trying to get a hold of me. He's been leaving message after message, telling me, "It can be saved! Don't give up hope!"

Yesterday, I finally gave God a call back, and He prescribed some extreme measures. Basically, I need to turn off the television (apparently it is doing exactly the opposite as I hoped) and abandon mindless entertainment. He tells me that those are the things that put my character12 feet under. Along with that, I am supposed to begin to water the ground containing my character. I am supposed to read scripture to it, pray over it, and give it room to grow again.

He promises, if I do all these things, I'll find myself almost as I used to be. In fact, better than I used to be. A better version of myself, with character intact. I'm pretty excited about this new experiment. He claims that the prescription really works, and I guess we'll see...