After a few exchanges we agreed on a time to meet. As I walked out of my building to cross the courtyard, the lines out of the building reached almost to mine. How would I find her? And I was already a little late...I'd been on the phone with Catharine and just didn't want to say goodbye. Even though I was really looking forward to my time with this young woman.
Just when my guilt at being a couple of minutes late was exacerbated by having to deal with these long lines, out came my friend. I pray my smile at seeing her matched hers at seeing me. Don't you just love those people who make you feel special just because you are in their presence? She has that gift. She is focused. She is intentional and intense. And I am smitten.
We found our table. Amid the craziness of Saga. It's the early days of the semester and so everyone is still coming to Saga straight from Chapel, not realizing that waiting just 8 minutes would allow things to clear out and no one would have to wait in line. Lots of freshmen who still need to learn the ropes. :)
We found our table and then headed off to get lunch. It's always awkward...that parting when you get up to the food service area. Most students who have done this know that we'll part our ways, get our stuff, and then meet back at the table. I always worry that they don't know that and feel responsible for making sure they don't think I'm deserting them...funny, I know.
We sat down and I started asking questions...that's my way. Mostly because I'm really interested in hearing what's happening in the other person's life. In part because I don't really like talking about what's going on in mine. I just have this insatiable curiosity about others. My family calls it nosy at best or meddlesome at worst. Whatever, students seem to appreciate my interest in their lives, so that's the approach I've decide works best for me. Today was no different. I asked my host about her summer...what had been so impactful about it, and she was happy to share.
I first learned about her time at home. She was able to spend about five weeks with her family out of the country where they live. And it was a wonderful time of being in community with parents she adores. They loved on her, spent a lot of time with her, including a week-long family vacation with just the three of them at the end of her time there. She had good time with her boyfriend...deepening their affection for each other and talking about the future. Even putting into motion intentional efforts to determine if their futures are to be permanently intertwined. A relaxing, joy-filled, productive time.
She shared with me that previous summers hadn't had the same impact. The first summer at home was marked by discord with her parents because she had experienced nine months of independence and wasn't anxious to give that up. Her rebellious young self wasn't yet able to make that adjustment smoothly.
And the following summer was even worse. She had spend a semester abroad where the foundations of her faith were rocked. She had encountered sinful behavior, temptation, and Christians who didn't appear to be living as such. These were hard times. Full of doubt. Self-examination. Filled with questions like why bother with this Jesus thing? And if they say they're Christians and do that, why can't I? She really wrestled with her belief in God and whether it was worth it.
The summer after, while at home, she hesitated to explain this struggle to her parents. She didn't want them to worry. And as a result, the time at home was not what it could have been. There was a wall between them. It was hard. And she came back to school that next year not feeling rested or refreshed from her time at home.
Oh, but this summer was just right. Her time with her parents was edifying. They enjoyed each other. They loved on each other. And she came back to Wheaton ready...ready for what the Lord had planned for her. Little did she know what that would be.
As I listened to her talk...and ate my lunch while her's went untouched and got cold, I was captivated by her excitement. By her storytelling. By the maturity I saw in her. I was in awe. I had so much to learn from this young woman. About honoring family. About Sabbath time. About living life fully!
Then we got to the heart of the conversation...her time working as part of a summer program here at Wheaton. A program that caused you to get real...real fast! I was about to put a forkful of salad in my mouth when I saw it happen...her nose got red first. Then that crimson color spread across her pale, freckled cheeks. Water pooled in her eyes. And she bit on her lower lip. I knew something hard was coming. I set my fork down and waited. Looking at her intently and, I hope, with compassion.
As she told me about sharing the story of her childhood abuse, my own heart was breaking. Here we were sitting in a room where we could hardly hear each other. Several hundred people surrounding us. And she is telling me of the biggest hurt of her life. She told me how she had shared this news, news she thought she would die without uttering to another human being, with peers she had known for only a few days. Virtual strangers heard the deepest wound of her heart. As both of us fought back tears, she told me how freeing it had been to finally say the words. To release them from the dark corner of her soul and say them out loud.
I let her talk. I listened to her recount the telling to the other program participants. To how they reacted with love and acceptance. To how she is still processing what she has finally shown a light on. And I was in awe once again. Here she was...20 or 21 years old...and she is already beginning the process of healing. She is seeing that God can use even this awful time in her life...He can make something good out of something so awful. And she knows it...she believes it! Praise Him! She can lose the shame. She can leave the hurt behind because she knows that God will make something good out of it.
I asked her if she had told her parents. She said no. We talked about that a bit. About how mysteriously the perpetrator had disappeared from her life...surely her parents protection of her. About how telling them now might not serve any purpose. After letting her speak through her experience, I told my own story of not telling my parents because I believe it would do nothing except wound my mother. And so while I have shared my story with some, my mother will never know. It's different for me...there was no protection for me. She just kept sending me back for more.
We talked about forgiveness. About how forgiving can take the walls down between us and our parents. So even if the role they played in the incident wasn't right, our forgiveness allows us to continue to have a relationship with them.
We talked about counseling. About God's healing powers. About His words of love and affirmation for us...even though we have been soiled through no fault of our own.
We taught each other. How to talk about this terrible thing that we had both experienced. That God will use our stories to help other girls with a similar experience. We talked about telling her boyfriend. About how he might react. About her fears.
She shared that in their relationship they had committed to working to make each other more Christ-like. That was the goal of their union. They were taking steps to ensure purity. They trusted each other.
And I learned so much. The student became the teacher. Do Eric and I work to make each other more Christ-like. Do I strive to make him a better man? Do we have that intentionality as a couple?
Thank you for teaching me, precious girl. Next time, lunch is on me!
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