Day Two
Saturday, March ninth.
Last year, this day was your
Noelle Day. This day was my Levi
Day. This was the day when the
cares of the week crashlanded and
the world came to a screeching
halt. Saturday. The day when I
could see my best friend and
remember how to breathe. Remember
that things are good, the future
still exists beyond Heartland,
and God has a plan for me. A time
to look back on the week and see
the failures and victories, a
time to pray about how we could
have a better week, how we could
glorify God more in the next
people.
Saturday... alone.
This whole year I've spent my
Saturdays alone. I have never had
any idea what you do on your
Saturdays. Do you go on
visitation now? Do you get good
rest from your long week? Do you
do homework? Go out to eat dinner
or go to the caff? My Saturdays
have been so hard.
Kendon takes the car and goes to
work, and I stay stranded on
campus. Stranded. The most
suffocating feeling in the world.
Alone... with no escape...
Every once in a while I'll drop
Kendon off so I have the car and
a means to get off campus. Since
I spend the week going straight
from teaching to work from sunup
to curfew, Saturdays are the only
day for me to do anything off
campus. But I am always so tired
by 10pm that I don't want to
drive all the way up there and
get him. Plus, gas is so
expensive babe... I'm going
through so much money on gas...
it worries me but I don't know
what to do. God will supply, I
know.
I prayed a lot today. Took a long
shower, and cried through it. I
miss you. My room is cold and
empty. I couldn't bear to turn on
the lights but sat in the
darkness and just... greived. For
the best friend who is now gone.
And soon may be gone forever.
Eventually I powered up my
computer and applied to 3 banks.
I don't know what will happen but
I need a change. Panera is
burning me out and I am going
nowhere. I asked my dad what he
thought about a career at Panera
for the next year, as shift
leader/manager, and although he
said he appreciated Panera up to
now, he would much rather see me
with a different classification
of a job. Bank. Jewelry.
Something a little classier than
the food business. That stung.
But it was the direction I needed
from God. My dad even went and
talked to Mike, my district
manager (DM) and still said the
same thing. So, I'm job hunting
now.
I couldn't bear the thought of
going to dinner. I was sure that
since you have a car you might
eat out, but, I didn't want to
have to force you to spend money
to avoid me. So I just prayed
more and tried to do some
homework. The student teaching
assignments are a very heavy
weight.
My mom sent me some verses. They
really helped. From Isaiah 54. It
talked about not being afraid or
ashamed (vs 4) which is hard. I
am very afraid. Losing your love
was the biggest earthquake in my
trust life. How can I trust
anyone now? If two years of your
love confirmed and expressed and
demonstrated and promised over
and over again wasn't real...
what will ever be real? I am
afraid that I will never be able
to love again. I don't know if I
ever want to love again.
And ashamed... I am so
humiliated. How am I supposed to
go to church? Before I was in
denial but now? Seeing you
sitting with your new best
friends is not only going to cut
me alive, but humiliate me.
Because now everyone knows. They
probably knew a long time ago
seeing as how you're a frequent
flyer on FB these days. The
humiliation of being dumped,
abandoned, of not being good
enough. The censer in people's
eyes, wondering what I did, where
I cam short, why I was so stupid
to tell people about the future
when it will never be.... I am so
ashamed.
Verse 6 is really precious to me.
"For the LORD hath called thee as
a woman forsaken and grieved in
spirit."
Wow.
I cried so hard at that. A woman
forsaken. A girl abandoned. It's
right there in the Bible. Grieved
in spirit. Anguished,
heartbroken, shattered. No more
joy, no more dreams, no more hope
and happiness and bliss... just
darkness.
And still God can use me in this
state? He can call me. Somehow as
hard as it is to accept that this
valley is from God's hand, it is.
He allowed you to make the
choices that would lead you
astray, away. I guess He knew
that even though his perfect will
was for us to be together,
growing stronger for his name, he
could accomplish things
regardless with us apart. He
could still use me even broken
and abandoned and bereft. The
hard part is having any desire
left to let him do anything with
me anymore.
I still love you.
I miss my Levi. I wondered about
how your work week finished out.
You never responded to my texts.
I wonder if you see them or if I
am blocked. If you read them or
just instantly delete them now. I
may never know, but... I still
wonder.
My Levi day is over now. I feel
more exhausted than when it
began, and a new week is starting
tomorrow. One hour earlier than
ever.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Day One
Today was hard. March 8th, 2013.
I awoke for the first time and
there was no hope in my life
anymore. I rolled over, and
touched my phone's screen, and
your picture burned brightly into
the still-dark room. And for the
first time, looking at it with
burning salty eyes from crying
through my sleep, I felt the
weight of reality. "I don't love
you... You aren't the girl for
me... not ever...." The words
echoed in my head and my heart
constricted so painfully I had to
close my eyes and remember how to
breathe. I wanted to cry again,
but my body was sending signals
that I'd tortured it enough. I
was parched, weak, and throbbing
in pain. My legs trembled when I
tried to stand up and by the time
I reached my dresser, I was
panting for breath.
Pitiful, really.
But I couldn't change reality. I
couldn't bring you back if I
tried with all my might. For I
had already tried, you see, for
exactly 60 days. From January
13th when you ran away into the
darkness, for 60 excruciating
days I cried and prayed and
chased you and prayed some more
and wrote you and called you and
texted and I tried with all my
might to bring you back.
And the result was that you sat
across from me and yelled at me
when I called you mine, and
refused to even hug me goodbye.
You hate me, and nothing you will
ever say will ever change that
truth. You deliberately chose to
break my heart. And it's so
broken.
I felt numb all day. Numb, dead,
like something run over and cast
aside on the edge of the road to
die on its own. You left me and
you made sure you wouldn't be
around to watch the suffering end
as I died. You up and ran like
the coward your new wonderful
friends have made you to be.
Numb, whimpering, weak. I felt I
wouldn't make it through the day
without keeling over and faiting
but I did. It was easier because
my parents were right there
beside me. I am not alone yet.
No, that will come tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will watch them drive
off campus and I will be all
alone, abandoned in this world. I
do not know if I will live
through tomorrow night.
But today we went to Barnes&Noble
and I cried because I remembered
the summer with you there. The
kisses in the car. The journal
you bought me there. Looking at
maps of Ukraine and Washington.
Looking through books of LInex
and publishing. I found my way to
the classics and picked up a work
of Shakespeare. I couldn't afford
it, but I wanted it so badly.
Unlinke you, I was never
prividledged enough to study his
works. I only longed to know what
you know. I thought about the
festival in the park coming up,
and wondered if you would be
going. Maybe, since you seemed to
have so much more energy and
passion now with your new
friends, you would ask off work
and go. I wanted so badly to go
with you last year. Another
dream, gone with the wind,
burried in the planes of my
distorted miserable excuse of a
heart.
The teen section boasted a new
nonfiction novel: Regine's Book,
The Last Words of a Teen Girl. Of
course the title gripped me. I
carried it to a chair and spent
two hours reading the whole dang
thing. It made me cry and cry and
cry. In 2008 Regine died in
Norway at 17 years old of
MDS/AML. Basically, she had
leukemia and cancer. The book is
the published version of her blog
that she kept as soon as she was
diagnosed. It was joined with
excerpts of her mom's journals
and other records and some of
Regine's photography efforts.
What gripped me was the fact she
was not saved. They did not
believe in heaven. Even to the
very end. She said, "The fear of
not existing never leaves me."
She feared death, because she had
no hope afterwards. She was so
young. I wish that I could die.
Would it change you? If you heard
that I was in a terrible wreck
and in the hospital with hours to
live? would you come? Would you
even care? If I were diagnosed
with cancer? If I had months to
live, would you come back? Would
you abandon your ridiculous quest
to find yourself and leave your
shallow stupid friends and come
back to live out the rest of my
short life with me? Would you
hold me like you once did, and
pray with me like you once did,
and love me like you once did? Or
would you not even care....
Worse, would you pretend to care
but not care enough to come
back.... I wish that God would
take my life. Maybe it would be
the factor needed to change you.
to help you find yourself. To
help you come back. Maybe you
would regret this semester, this
person you've become, this
walking away and leaving me all
alone, so alone. I have never
felt so alone, even when Andrea
left me.
It probably won't happen. But it
is my prayer. That God would do
anything to bring you back, even
if it meant trading long years of
my life for short ones. It would
be worth the trade if it meant
that I had you.
But it probably won't happen. But
I am willing to do anything to
bring you back. To feel you hold
me close against you, to feel
your heat through my clothes, to
smell your scent, to hear and
feel your heart beat, to dissolve
in your strength, feel your
breath on my hair and neck as you
bury your head against me, and
hear your voice say "My Noelle, I
love you." I would die if it
meant I could live that one more
time.
How many times did I live it and
take it for granted?? Too many.
Not at first... I remember that
very first hug, clinging to your
for dear life, knowing deep
inside that nothing lasts and
wanting that hug, that comfort,
that feeling of home to last
forever, refusing to pull back
and let it go. But I stepped back
and looked at you like you asked,
and forever disappeared. I should
have never ever let go of that
first hug. I should have quit
Bible school righ tthen and there
and ran away with you and gotten
married. I should have.
I read Regine's Book and it gave
me something to think about. What
would it be like if I were dead
in a year? We never know the
future. Maybe a disease is eating
away at me already. Maybe that is
why my heart hurts so strangely
at times, lurching in my chest
and constricting me so I can't
breathe. Maybe my days are much
fewer than I think. Maybe I only
have these few days left.
If that were true, if I only had
this next year, I would want you
to go back and have something to
read about each day. I don't know
when you would find the time or
if you would ever find the desire
to get through a blog like that,
but I would want that gift for
you. So you could see the
struggle I face each day, and you
could know that through the pain
and aloneness of this
abandonment, I still loved you.
Because I have no hope left.
But I love you still.
I awoke for the first time and
there was no hope in my life
anymore. I rolled over, and
touched my phone's screen, and
your picture burned brightly into
the still-dark room. And for the
first time, looking at it with
burning salty eyes from crying
through my sleep, I felt the
weight of reality. "I don't love
you... You aren't the girl for
me... not ever...." The words
echoed in my head and my heart
constricted so painfully I had to
close my eyes and remember how to
breathe. I wanted to cry again,
but my body was sending signals
that I'd tortured it enough. I
was parched, weak, and throbbing
in pain. My legs trembled when I
tried to stand up and by the time
I reached my dresser, I was
panting for breath.
Pitiful, really.
But I couldn't change reality. I
couldn't bring you back if I
tried with all my might. For I
had already tried, you see, for
exactly 60 days. From January
13th when you ran away into the
darkness, for 60 excruciating
days I cried and prayed and
chased you and prayed some more
and wrote you and called you and
texted and I tried with all my
might to bring you back.
And the result was that you sat
across from me and yelled at me
when I called you mine, and
refused to even hug me goodbye.
You hate me, and nothing you will
ever say will ever change that
truth. You deliberately chose to
break my heart. And it's so
broken.
I felt numb all day. Numb, dead,
like something run over and cast
aside on the edge of the road to
die on its own. You left me and
you made sure you wouldn't be
around to watch the suffering end
as I died. You up and ran like
the coward your new wonderful
friends have made you to be.
Numb, whimpering, weak. I felt I
wouldn't make it through the day
without keeling over and faiting
but I did. It was easier because
my parents were right there
beside me. I am not alone yet.
No, that will come tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will watch them drive
off campus and I will be all
alone, abandoned in this world. I
do not know if I will live
through tomorrow night.
But today we went to Barnes&Noble
and I cried because I remembered
the summer with you there. The
kisses in the car. The journal
you bought me there. Looking at
maps of Ukraine and Washington.
Looking through books of LInex
and publishing. I found my way to
the classics and picked up a work
of Shakespeare. I couldn't afford
it, but I wanted it so badly.
Unlinke you, I was never
prividledged enough to study his
works. I only longed to know what
you know. I thought about the
festival in the park coming up,
and wondered if you would be
going. Maybe, since you seemed to
have so much more energy and
passion now with your new
friends, you would ask off work
and go. I wanted so badly to go
with you last year. Another
dream, gone with the wind,
burried in the planes of my
distorted miserable excuse of a
heart.
The teen section boasted a new
nonfiction novel: Regine's Book,
The Last Words of a Teen Girl. Of
course the title gripped me. I
carried it to a chair and spent
two hours reading the whole dang
thing. It made me cry and cry and
cry. In 2008 Regine died in
Norway at 17 years old of
MDS/AML. Basically, she had
leukemia and cancer. The book is
the published version of her blog
that she kept as soon as she was
diagnosed. It was joined with
excerpts of her mom's journals
and other records and some of
Regine's photography efforts.
What gripped me was the fact she
was not saved. They did not
believe in heaven. Even to the
very end. She said, "The fear of
not existing never leaves me."
She feared death, because she had
no hope afterwards. She was so
young. I wish that I could die.
Would it change you? If you heard
that I was in a terrible wreck
and in the hospital with hours to
live? would you come? Would you
even care? If I were diagnosed
with cancer? If I had months to
live, would you come back? Would
you abandon your ridiculous quest
to find yourself and leave your
shallow stupid friends and come
back to live out the rest of my
short life with me? Would you
hold me like you once did, and
pray with me like you once did,
and love me like you once did? Or
would you not even care....
Worse, would you pretend to care
but not care enough to come
back.... I wish that God would
take my life. Maybe it would be
the factor needed to change you.
to help you find yourself. To
help you come back. Maybe you
would regret this semester, this
person you've become, this
walking away and leaving me all
alone, so alone. I have never
felt so alone, even when Andrea
left me.
It probably won't happen. But it
is my prayer. That God would do
anything to bring you back, even
if it meant trading long years of
my life for short ones. It would
be worth the trade if it meant
that I had you.
But it probably won't happen. But
I am willing to do anything to
bring you back. To feel you hold
me close against you, to feel
your heat through my clothes, to
smell your scent, to hear and
feel your heart beat, to dissolve
in your strength, feel your
breath on my hair and neck as you
bury your head against me, and
hear your voice say "My Noelle, I
love you." I would die if it
meant I could live that one more
time.
How many times did I live it and
take it for granted?? Too many.
Not at first... I remember that
very first hug, clinging to your
for dear life, knowing deep
inside that nothing lasts and
wanting that hug, that comfort,
that feeling of home to last
forever, refusing to pull back
and let it go. But I stepped back
and looked at you like you asked,
and forever disappeared. I should
have never ever let go of that
first hug. I should have quit
Bible school righ tthen and there
and ran away with you and gotten
married. I should have.
I read Regine's Book and it gave
me something to think about. What
would it be like if I were dead
in a year? We never know the
future. Maybe a disease is eating
away at me already. Maybe that is
why my heart hurts so strangely
at times, lurching in my chest
and constricting me so I can't
breathe. Maybe my days are much
fewer than I think. Maybe I only
have these few days left.
If that were true, if I only had
this next year, I would want you
to go back and have something to
read about each day. I don't know
when you would find the time or
if you would ever find the desire
to get through a blog like that,
but I would want that gift for
you. So you could see the
struggle I face each day, and you
could know that through the pain
and aloneness of this
abandonment, I still loved you.
Because I have no hope left.
But I love you still.
The Log
I used to have a notebook and pen I would grab whenever you would call. Story time! I loved your stories. Learning about you was so intriguing to me. Did you stop loving me because I lost my mystery to you? Just a thought. I was reading our first letters and that word kept reappearing. It is what drew you to me, in your words. Mystery and intruigue. While it is highly possible that familiarity loses some of that intruigue, I felt the familiarity drawing my heart fonder and fonder to yours. I love you so much now I awoke again in tears. Saturday, March 9th. A whole 48 hours after you declared you no longer loved me and never would again. I love you so much and I can't think that you will never be there again. Not even for my graduation? How will I bear to smile on that day? Knowing that I won a stupid diploma paper and lost my best friend, my love, my Levi? It will not be okay.
I digress. Pen and paper. Because my memory is very dysfunctional. At times it works amazing. At times it doesn't work at all. Sometimes it's like the joy or the sadness, whichever the case, blurs out the details and I forget when people say things to me what they said. So after lunch on Thursday, I sat down and wrote down everything that transpired in those bitter, excruciating two hours. I may have forgotten some things. It's not word for word. But maybe it will help us remember what was said, what happened, what we felt, if we can look back and see.
The Log:
I don't love you anymore. We made
a mistake last year, and I don't
think you are the girl for me in
the future.
He talked a lot at first. He
seemed quiet, direct, but he knew
what he was doing. The distnce of
any emotion - in his eyes, voice,
posture - was so hard to handle.
He was simply so content with
where he was at.
One of the few times I say any real emotion,
any inkling of that hate that I know must be
boiling behind the surface, is when he said
Stop telling people I'm running
from God. That's not true. And
it's no one's business. It's
between me and God.
Again when he said,
These people aren't shallow. You
can't judge them and call them
that. THat's denying that they
have any relationship with God.
They may not all be perfect, but
they are souls created in God's
image and need to be ministered
to.
Don't you remmeber Christmas banquet?
When you tried so hard for weeks to reach
out to them? How they took pictures for hours
without ever once including me? Who was
being shallow then? Remember how they raced off
and left us? Even when you broke down? Remember
how you pulled on to campus and cried
and cried and I couldn't even hold you?
You told me I was your best friend because everyone
left you but I never would.
My friends are the result of
broken relationships. If I hadn't
let the strings be broken, then
they wouldn't have left me like
they did. That was my fault, not
thiers, because they were always
there for me before.
Do you miss it?
I won't answer that. Because if I
say yes your emotions will go a
hundred miles an hour, and if I
say no your emotions will go a
hundred miles an hour.
And if you say nothing, they will
too.
That's not my problem. I'm not
going to answer that. There's no
benefit to this conversation.
When he kept ignoring me and
looking at the TV- please look at
me. Plus, his eyes are so
beautfiul.. I've missed them. So
gentle a caramel. I've told you
before. It bothers me to zone out
on something that is moving. Your
eyes are moving. I would rather
look at the TV screen or down at
the table... I don't even know
why I have to explain this to
you.. *bitter, annoyed*
Do you love me?
No.
Are you sorry?
I"m sorry that I hurt you,
because you were not mine to
hurt. I am sorry that I am
hurting you. It's why I didn't
want to meet because I knew it
would hurt you.
The 50 days avoiding me hurt.
That's what your dad says.
He's right.
We are weak. I'm speaking
generally. We need to figure out
GOd in our lives and be strong.
Then we will be ready for
relationships... with whomever
God sends...
What is she like, this girl that
I wasn't good enough to be for
you?
She doesn't exist. Her name is
THE BIBLE. I don't want anyone
else. I only want to be close to
God right now. I want to focus on
my feet and stop looking on the
right and on the left but just
right before me. I"m not going to
be looking at other girls.
I haven't decided if I want you
to give me back my stuff or not.
It's up to you.
Just promise me you will never
hold another girl wearing my coat
I bought you.
It'll be a very long time-
Just promise!
Okay.
How can you recitfy the past two
years?
We weren't good for each other.
We were too young.
TOO YOUNG?!
We are too young. We are just
kids.
Just kids. You used to hate that
term. It used to light a fire in
your whenever people tried to pin
that label on you. When did you
give up and settle? When?
It was too soon after I broke up
with Nikii, and you with Brandon,
granted it was a semester but it
was too soon. It was all based
off emotion and not off prayer.
That's not true. I rmemeber you
told me the difference between
Nikki and me was that you prayed
about me and not about her. In
fact you told me that is why you
told your aunt and grandma about
me, but not about her. Because
you HAD prayed. And I remembered
you prayed.
But I was a worse Christian. I am
a better Christian now.
I don't believe that. I believe
you were a much better Christian
back then. The way you have been
acting for 50 days is not the way
that God acts.
I missed church, failed classe,s
slept all the times, didn't do my
best.
Do you know why the righteous man
falls 7 times? because Satan is
opposing him! DO you know why you
have no struggle? because you are
no longer a threat to Satan now.
You are nothing but status quo.
Are you leaving or did you just
say that?
I am praying about it. Why do you
want to know.
I hate to see someone come so
close and not finish.
You need to fill the void in your
heart Noelle that I know I am
causing. You are very tangible
and it will be so hard without me
there every day.... you need to
do something for you, that's what
I told my mom...
I did do something for me. That
was YOU.
Well that's no longer an option.
I know.
I miss taking care of you.
Are you eating? sleeping? taking
care of yoruself? *he shrugs*
Can I see your hands? *no new
scars*
Don't do that I'm a heartland
student!
When have you ever cared.
I care now.
What did you put on your pass?
I didn't put this restaurant.
See. You are a hypocrite with me.
You hold one standard to me but
another to yourself.
I don't agree.
Okay.
I feel that I can't talk to you.
Whoever influenced you - whoever
they are - they are in your head
and they are ALL you can hear
now. You can't hear me anymore.
There is a movie called Signs and
this woman is pinned and her
husband comes to see her and asks
the sheriff is This the last
time that I will ever get to talk
to my wife? How am I supposed to
know what to say when it's the
last time I will ever talk to
you??
You need to pray for Justiny and
Forrest. Forrest arrested after
taking a knife to mom. Mom
disappeared can't get in contact
with her. Davina not answering
his calls anymore.
Facebook, that he deleted them. I
did that for me and not for them.
Plus I told you that I don't have
control over my FB right now.
Which is why you post every
day.... sure....
Noelle you need to say what you
need to say whether it makes me
mad or not. if it is said in the
right spirit than I need to be in
that spirit...
Babe, I ....
You can't call me that anymore.
Call me Levi.
*I bawl.*
I still love you.
I will always be the constant for
you. I will always love you. I
will never ever break the pinky
promise we made. I will always
always be here for you.
I know what I promised before...
Work called me in at 1230.
Thank you for coming.
Thank you, Noelle, for talking.
Really?
Yes.
I don't think it helped any.
I don't understand your dad. It
is all riddles with him.
I am counseling with Bro. O-
something, my favorite
pastor/evangelist in Ponca and
other places. I might sit out
next year to be with my family.
My car was locked.
No.
Why did you check the door?
Because you left my stuff on the
floor with the trash.
Because you were watching me!
I didn't realize it was a crime.
Don't like being watched,
Why do you glare at me?
I look at you with pain.
Why?
Because I know I am hurting you.
Okay but that is not the look I am
talking about. I am talking about that
horrible glare. You made very girl next
to me turn and ask why you hated me
because of that look.
Because I just wanted to get my lunch
and leave!
I hate being cornered, and you had
cornered me.
I'm sorry I got in the way of your dinner, Levi.
*grief and irony*
He wanted to badly to be independent of
any connection to me. Through friends on
Facebook, through calling him any special
name, through any responsibility of how I would
feel or cope afterwards. Even his stupid trash,
suddenly became a matter of possessive territory.
My receipts are mine!
I didn't think you'd mind.....???!
I am keeping this *he takes our journal and
pulls it to his side of the table.*
Why?
If it had been any motive such as I miss it, I
don't want to forget, these were the best days and
I don't want them to make you sad, etc., I would
have gladly given it.
But his motives were so selfish.
I don't want it to be another Andrea box.
Which I take to mean, he doesn't want me
sitting with anyone else in a field crying my heart
out over a pain that will never leave, and the notes that
flutter through the grass be in his handwriting.
What about Patrick? It is his birthday next week.
I don't think I will ever be able to care for him again...
Not EVER?!?! *heartbreak*
No.....
What will I do with him!?
Give him to one of your kids!
*the smile in his eyes almost real*
I felt my heart snapping as I looked at him.
There IS a kid I want to give him to....
*infering Levi*
He looked disappointed. I know.
We went around and around about the fact that he
truly seems convinced that last year he wasn't
walking with God, and this year he is. It's so ludicrous
I feel I may go insane trying to understand it in my head.
How can you look at the blog, our journals, even the own
memories in your head and think that?!?! It's just not true.
And regardless, you are not walking closer with God now.
You may be trying to get closer to God than ever before,
but he would never had have you abandon me. God doesn't
do that. I know that.
Because he seemed so arrogant about being so
spiritual now, I took out my Bible and challeneged him.
If this is really God, show me one verse where he led you
to this.
He refused, for a very long time. Flipping back and forth,
saying he couldn't find anything in the Bible.
He looked at some of my markers and I wondered why.
Finally I had to defy him.
I won't do this.
God says be ready ALWAYS to give an answer to
ANY man who wasks according to the hope that is
within you. If they was really of God, I am asking you
now and God commands you to show me.
He turned to Amos 5.
I don't think I will ever read that chapter the same way
for the rest of my life, whether I die this year or when I
am old and grey.
He read it over and over again.
It was his first sermon.
*my heart broke*
His first.... I had wanted to hear it so bad, and now I
never never would.
It was 5 minutes over, so yeah, my grade wasn't that great.
But I know you will be an amazing preacher. I know it.
He explained that he felt that he had built
vineyards and houses but he would never eat out of.
Because he felt that he had built his time with me and
his time at heartland hadn't been focused on building a
relationship with God.
The verse about Bethel and Gilgal, all the things in the past
that had never been intended to become idolds.
It was really hard for me to follow. I think by this point in
the conversation my body was weak and I was growing
cold and numb... dead. I think by then I gave up.
He had to go to work.
He said he was invited here, and didn't know if he could
just leave. He said that it was for ME, bitterly, as if he
hated doing anything for me anymore, spending the gas,
the time, any effort at being honest...
I suppose it is true. He hates me now and the smallest
memory of me must be like acid.
He tried to keep the journal. I wouldn't let him.
Because I'm afraid if you did, you would destroy it.
False! he was mad, but he was walking out and I didn't
have a chance to say anything. He was the one who
was walking out. If he didn't destory the journal, why
would he destroy us? It makes no sense to me.
If we are truly over forever, if there is no love for you
for me forever, tehn why not destroy it.
I asked him for a hug. Begged him. He used the heartland
excuse again, and I couldn't help but fall into his arms and
cling to him like I had clung that day in the airport.
For dear life.
Knowing the minute I let go, you would be gone forever
from my grasp and my arms would always be empty now.
Knowing as soon as I looked up, the reality of you and
your love would dissolve into the reality of who you
are now.
You told me to let go. I couldn't, I couldn't.
My dad even yelld at me.
It just made it worse, but I held on until I counted to 17.
17. The day we became official in November.
17. The day I would always grieve.
Then I let go.
You had kept your arms off me and denyed me even the
slightest pressure of your body against me for the goodbye.
Even the slightest effort... you refused.
I had never believed such coldness and cruelty to be possible
from my best friend.
I am still in shock.
We left. I watched you go, and I couldn't stop watching.
You drove away... like you said, not looking
right or left. Purposed with your anger and your mistakes,
rather than the great spiritual clause you tried to pretend.
I knew I was probably seeing you, the real you and not the
fake mask at heartland, for the last time for the rest of my
life. I had those few fleeting seconds to sear those images
on my brain to last forever, for the next fifty years.
I will never forget that feeling when you disappeared.
Abandoned.
My best friend, my love, my Levi, my husband, my sweet prince,
has abandoned me.
Friday, March 8, 2013
A Conglamerate of Broken Promises
You promised you would always be there. You promised you would never, ever leave. You promised you would always love me. That you would be different than everyone else....
And you left.
January 13th, 2013 you walked away and didn't look back. On March 7th, 2013 at the order of my father you sat across from me at the West and told me to my face that you didn't love me anymore and you would never love me again. Maybe you really stopped loving me long ago, however. Maybe it was over Christmas break when you went back to the world you called "suffocating" and spent a month surrounded by other influences. Maybe it was before that when we were fighting so badly you wouldn't even wish me goodbye when I flew out to Arizona. Maybe it was long, long ago and I just never saw it. Maybe all I've seen is love when love didn't really exist.
All I know is that you promised.
Over, and over, and over again. I read back through the blog posts. Especially the first ones? They were litterally exploding with your love and excitement. For God. For me. For us. In that order, too.
Where did it go? you asked.
I ask the same question.
You hurt me, Levi, that night you took your car and zoomed off campus and left me standing there in the cold, essentially stranded. I felt my heart constrict in surprise and fear, and it has never been okay since. You hurt me when you ruined my coat with hot chocolate. You hurt me that you are so convinced I was going to throw it on you, when I was just trying to get you warm because I was frustrated and trying to show I still cared. You hurt me so badly when you ran away, away, into the dark where I couldn't follow. You hurt me when you ignored me for weeks. The silence, hot and angry and confused. You hurt me when I cried and you didn't even reach out to apologize. You hurt me with the next silence, cold and stony and smug. I watched you petrify into a cold, hard heart of someone I don't recognize anymore and it hurts like hell. You hurt me so baldy. With each agonizing day, not knowing, not knowing, crying and wondering and wrestling from feeling you are at fault and should fix it, to I miss you so much I don't care I just want to fix this mess. You hurt me those few days I couldn't handle the silence anymore and ran to find you. At church, on campus. Just a few times, so few, for so many days. Each time, I was trying and you were not. Although talked to you even so briefly was like a salve for a huge wound, I walked away with the bitter gall of knowledge that I had tried, and you hadn't. I was chasing you and you didn't care to pursue me any more.
You hurt me, Levi, with every day you broke your word. When you didn't text me to sleep. When you didn't write the letters back in answer to mine. When you started up your Facebook agian and posted, posted, posted... without me. When you deleted my friend request and blocked me. When you blocked my family, my relatives... the people who only wanted to offer you a home and family that you've been without your whole life. You hurt me so deeply when you rejected them. What did they ever do to you? They did nothing, and yet they received the blunt end of your anger and coldness.You hurt me so badly be that. You hurt me on Valentines Day. I don't think I cried so much in my whole life. I held onto Fevraal and my old roses from last year, read the blog post from last year, and cried my heart out. When I texted you... you rejected me. You hurt me deep inside. And you hurt me again on the ice skating activity. When you didnt' come. Didn't care. Just didn't care. You hurt me when you glared at me and walked out of the cafeteria. You hurt me when you walk around laughing with your shallow new friends - too busy for me, but obviously not too busy for them. You hurt me when you'd wear your mask at church and pretend to be a great CHristian when I know the last few months have been the evidence of a weak Christian. It hurt me so badly every time you said "you need to go" and the resentment at my very presence, my utter existence, glinted in your eyes. That hurt me so badly.
I miss your eyes, the old ones. The ones warm and gentle and tender. The ones who cared. Not about being "Status quo." Not about being on the "heartland page." Not about being "just like everyone else." Not about "being a kid" and "blending in" and caring only for yourself. Not those eyes, the cold caramel eyes so alien and terrifying to me. I miss the old ones. Warm, like butterscotch, and glowing. Glowing from within. Your passion that lit your soul and animated your spirit, glowing out of your beautiful eyes. But your passion was always tender, gentle... precious. So precious. Tempered by cautioun, tempered by wisdom, tempered by humility. I miss those eyes. I could get lost in them, staring all day and feeling the awe of the amazing soul that God created in you.
I miss my Levi.
It cut the hardest, I think, during our talk at The West when in mid sentence, you cut me off because I called you an endearment. It hadn't even registered to me; it was just how I feel towards you; I love you, and I've been in the habit of demonstrating my love thorugh my speech for the past two years. It cut because you have become so distant, so cold, that it must have grated against your heart and bounced right off. You instantly repelled it. You despised and resented my love. That cut so deep. That you were already so far past the "break up point." and you had never told me. I was just facing it for the first time, and you were already three months (or more??) down the road from it, glaring at me across the table, rebuking me. That hurt so badly I felt my physical heart lurch in my chest, straining so badly I was afraid I would need to get up and walk away so I didnt' have a heart attack. Choking back the pain, refusing to allow it to register, groping so hard for self control and denying my body and mind any reaction to it, I couldn't help the tears that leapt from my soul and down my face. I wanted to break down and weep, to feel the pain flow through me, to give release to a heart that was so restricted with stress and pressure that I was afraid it was going to burst. But I tried to be strong. I tried so hard to be strong for you, the whole time. To push aside who I felt about everything you said, and only focus on saving us, if at all possible, in any way. I was strong that day at that table and you called me weak. The truth is, I was strong enough to fight the pain in trying to fight for us, and you were weak. Weak enough to give up your responisbilities, commitments, and promises, and walk away without remorse. You have become so weak.
But I miss my Levi.
The little one, you know? The one who didn't have a mom or a dad. The one who was always strong because he had to be. Who wasn't a kid, who was a grownp, because he grew up so very long ago. I miss him. I loved him, and I wanted to spend my life with him. I still do.
I miss your stories. About the stone house, where you would play outside an dyour dad would walk you down the road to school. About the big house, where you would wait ouside the bus for school and lived with your mom. About your dad's yellow car coming to get you. About the cool things your dad helped you build. About the places where he took you, places I wanted to see, about the places you loved. Strawberry Island. Sandra's house. Your Grandma's. The original Starbucks in Seattle. So many places... will we never see them? Will we never spend a day a week a month a year chasing each other around Puget Sound and the wine valley seeing the places, holding hands, living? Will you go back and find it suffociating you again, and I'm not there. Your boat, your dad's car... a little cabin in the woods? So many dreams. So deep a love. This love these dreams still burn within me, but they are dreams that may never see the light. I say "may" because I am still in denial.... or maybe because my hope is that strong.... somehow against all these decisions you have made, against months of running from God and your responsibilities and now I'm facing many many more.... I still hope that at the end of it, you will come back to me.
Although, since my dad told you not to bother me, I doubt it will happen the way I see it in my mind. Sometimes, when I lie down adn can't sleep, because the tears slipping down my face and soggying my pillow and I'm cold, I think about what it would feel like to have you come back. My big dream was Valentines Day. That you would be there with roses, and a letter, and we'd share lunch and talk about the painful weeks and you would be courageous enough to try to fix them. My next dream was the ice skating activity. You could have been there, waiting to see which bus I got on. Right there in the dark like you used to be two years ago, when you were different than everyone else instead of in love with being just like them all. We could have skated, and maybe cried, and sat down on the bleachers and started all over again in the place where we began two years ago. My next big dream was when my parents came. Surely, if outside stimulus would help influence change, it would have to be this one. They came and you worked... and then you agreed to see me at The West and even though I knew was it was about, that it was the end and not the beginning, I spent all night on my knees beside my bed and prayed. and prayed. and cried and prayed. And when I woke up my body felt so weak but I knew that God could do it if He wanted. He could create a miracle. I prayed that He would give you something in the preachign that morning, some kind of fire, some kind of conviction... something. And that you would surprise not only me but also my family and you would be there with big flowers and a tight hug and tears in your eyes and we could talk and pray and figure things out. And you could talk to my dad. And be honest with how you feel about him (riddles) and he could try to help you not feel so confused. And you could apologize to my little brother and to my mom.... and we could hug on you and it would be family again, the family I dreamed of.
But I walked in and it was such a little thing, but the minute you rejected the water sitting on the table, refused to touch it, it was like I knew. You didn't want to touch anything. You wanted to walk away without a trace of dust on your shoes from having been in my life, been near my family, been in front of my parents. You were so distant, so closed, so.... changed. I looked into your eyes and I felt something break inside, and the next two hours I listened to your words that hammered the break into a shatter of a million fragments. A heart that was once broken to the point of suicidal pain, that God had stitched back together using your gentle, precious and strong hands... and now I was watching the world end all over again.
It is so hard to wrap my head around the knowledge that you held me two years ago when I cried over Andrea and Chicago. It is so hard to wrap my head around the day that we sat in Santanna in Nichols Hills Plaza and I had the courage to finally tell someone about the person I had lost and who walked away from me. About the day in the park behind the trees when I opened my Andrea box for the first time and wept at the memories of a love that was as real and active as ours. It is so hard for me to understand that years of promising you'd never do that, years of promising you would nver, ever leave, you would never be like the others, that you were different... and you chose to be just like them. Knowing the consequences. Knowing that it would do to me. Knowing, and still proceeding.
You said you wanted to take our journal. I would have given it to you in a heartbeat if you wanted it because it mattered to you. Because you treasured those days, those letters, those dreams and memories. But you don't. You could care less. You left them rotting among the garbage in your car, too proud and bitter to even pick them up and put them back in the box for safeskeeping. I was afraid you'd burn them, or throw them away. Ultimately, you only wanted the book because you don't want the guilt. You don't want to accept the fact that you're the one who is on the other side of that story now. The one who walked away. The one who stopped caring, stopped loving, the one who lied and broke every promise and every piece of my heart. You wanted the journal because you didn't want the pain for me - but you were denying reality. Book or no book, you walked away and the pain would always be there. The story would always read that way.
I didn't want this for our story.
Our story was better.
Our story deserved better.
Our story deserved to live, to continue, to perserve, to survive. Our story deserved it. Because God was writing our story. He was writing about two people with faults and weaknesses, and painful pasts, who came together during tough times and formed an alliance so strong they spent almost two years without a single day apart. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually. They wanted to make each other strong Christians, and they did. They wanted to help tohers, and they did. They wanted to reflect God in thier lives and I think that they did. Satan opposed.. thier flesh opposed... circumstances opposed... doubt and fear and exhaustion and anger and resentment all crept in to oppose... and our story failed. It failed when I said I love you still and you said I don't love you any more and never will again.
Levi deserved better. He deserved to make his dad proud. He deserved to live up to a promise for the first time in his life and feel that accomplishemnt, feel that peace in his heart and soul.
I know I made mistakes. I know I have a sin nature and weaknesses. But I know I have a love for you that is genuine. I don't bounce from person to person. I wait until God brings them in and then I love them with all of my soul. And that is you, was you, will always be you..... I love you and it is not enough.
I don't know what else to say.
I think you are a coward. I know you hate it when I call you anything negative, but I really feel without any malice intended, that you are running from being brave. That you are taking the easy way out. Emotionally, spiritually, financially, in every way. You said it yourself when you said I'm just a kid, I'm just too young. The biggest cop outs in history. Did you ever hear David whining about being a kid when he took out a bear and a lion? No. Did you ever hear Danial whining about being too young when God took his whole family and put him in front of the king? No. Do you ever hear Jospeh bewailing his lack of experience when he was put in the Egyptian's house and demanded to work? No. No one in the Bible ever used their youth as an excuse who did anything spectacular. You could be so spectacular. I know it! I know it because I've seen the potential. God created something special in you. He created such perserverence, such gentleness, such clarity of thought and purpose, such compassion. And for the first time since I've known you, you are rejecting that and refusing God to use that potential. You feel weak. You feel young. You feel inexperienced and immature. I understand that.... I really do.... life is so big and huge and scary. But who would put those thoughts in your head but the Devil? He would love to have you hiding at HEartland Baptist Bible College or Yakima Bible Baptist Church or at some internship somewhere or anywhere you may run and hide. The sad part, the tragic part, is being able to look and see that you think you are doing such great things for God but your own words as well as your actions prove that you are not. You took the great things for God and threw them in the trash, and you are trying with all your might to substitute for something less. I'm not surprised it is easier for you to be in church every service, to make your ministries, to need less sleep. Why would Satan oppose you now? He has you so convinced you're a great Christian doing nothing for God that it is of no strategic point to try to bother you. Let you sleep. Let you get good grades. Let you bounce in to church and bounce out. He just has to keep that influence whispering in your ear so that you forget who you were, what God once asked of you, and you blindly shuffle on. Maybe even bounding on. Trying to convince me and the little Levi that I know is deep within you that everyone else is just fine and so you can be just like them, too. Because it's easier. Of course it is.... and that is why you are a coward.
But I love you still. Because I saw the hero in you. I saw the courageous young man who would make every other Christian at Heartland look like a child. Who loved God so fiercely, and was opposed by Satan on every side... and who fell.... so hard.... I love you. I see glimpses of you. The fact you even came to see me at The West. Even though you were still taking the easy way out, you at least put some effort into it. And when you said that you found out why you always listen to music? running from yourself? I'm not sure what to thnk of that. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not, all I know is that you really do want to be all you can for Christ...... the sad part is that you have swallowed a lie, hook line and sinker, and you won't listen to anyone tell you otherwise.
It breaks my heart.
My heart is so broken, I don't even know what else to write. What about learning calculus on the floor? teaching your Russian? chinese and dr. pepper? what about Patrick? what about our blog? what about meeting your cousins? the lake? the hugs and soft soft kisses? what about them? where did they all go, Levi? Only you know. Only you can fix it. Only you can bring them back.
You have broken my heart. I am trying so hard to respond differently than I did two years ago but I'm not going to lie... I don't want to live with this anguish. I don't want to wake up every day in tears, asking myself Is it over yet today? knowing that you are waking up and making the conscious decision, I won't do it today. I won't go back to her. I won't go back to when I knew Satan opposed me. I won't love her today.
But I love you today.
Lonely, broken Rigel.
All alone in the night sky.
All all alone.
And you left.
January 13th, 2013 you walked away and didn't look back. On March 7th, 2013 at the order of my father you sat across from me at the West and told me to my face that you didn't love me anymore and you would never love me again. Maybe you really stopped loving me long ago, however. Maybe it was over Christmas break when you went back to the world you called "suffocating" and spent a month surrounded by other influences. Maybe it was before that when we were fighting so badly you wouldn't even wish me goodbye when I flew out to Arizona. Maybe it was long, long ago and I just never saw it. Maybe all I've seen is love when love didn't really exist.
All I know is that you promised.
Over, and over, and over again. I read back through the blog posts. Especially the first ones? They were litterally exploding with your love and excitement. For God. For me. For us. In that order, too.
Where did it go? you asked.
I ask the same question.
You hurt me, Levi, that night you took your car and zoomed off campus and left me standing there in the cold, essentially stranded. I felt my heart constrict in surprise and fear, and it has never been okay since. You hurt me when you ruined my coat with hot chocolate. You hurt me that you are so convinced I was going to throw it on you, when I was just trying to get you warm because I was frustrated and trying to show I still cared. You hurt me so badly when you ran away, away, into the dark where I couldn't follow. You hurt me when you ignored me for weeks. The silence, hot and angry and confused. You hurt me when I cried and you didn't even reach out to apologize. You hurt me with the next silence, cold and stony and smug. I watched you petrify into a cold, hard heart of someone I don't recognize anymore and it hurts like hell. You hurt me so baldy. With each agonizing day, not knowing, not knowing, crying and wondering and wrestling from feeling you are at fault and should fix it, to I miss you so much I don't care I just want to fix this mess. You hurt me those few days I couldn't handle the silence anymore and ran to find you. At church, on campus. Just a few times, so few, for so many days. Each time, I was trying and you were not. Although talked to you even so briefly was like a salve for a huge wound, I walked away with the bitter gall of knowledge that I had tried, and you hadn't. I was chasing you and you didn't care to pursue me any more.
You hurt me, Levi, with every day you broke your word. When you didn't text me to sleep. When you didn't write the letters back in answer to mine. When you started up your Facebook agian and posted, posted, posted... without me. When you deleted my friend request and blocked me. When you blocked my family, my relatives... the people who only wanted to offer you a home and family that you've been without your whole life. You hurt me so deeply when you rejected them. What did they ever do to you? They did nothing, and yet they received the blunt end of your anger and coldness.You hurt me so badly be that. You hurt me on Valentines Day. I don't think I cried so much in my whole life. I held onto Fevraal and my old roses from last year, read the blog post from last year, and cried my heart out. When I texted you... you rejected me. You hurt me deep inside. And you hurt me again on the ice skating activity. When you didnt' come. Didn't care. Just didn't care. You hurt me when you glared at me and walked out of the cafeteria. You hurt me when you walk around laughing with your shallow new friends - too busy for me, but obviously not too busy for them. You hurt me when you'd wear your mask at church and pretend to be a great CHristian when I know the last few months have been the evidence of a weak Christian. It hurt me so badly every time you said "you need to go" and the resentment at my very presence, my utter existence, glinted in your eyes. That hurt me so badly.
I miss your eyes, the old ones. The ones warm and gentle and tender. The ones who cared. Not about being "Status quo." Not about being on the "heartland page." Not about being "just like everyone else." Not about "being a kid" and "blending in" and caring only for yourself. Not those eyes, the cold caramel eyes so alien and terrifying to me. I miss the old ones. Warm, like butterscotch, and glowing. Glowing from within. Your passion that lit your soul and animated your spirit, glowing out of your beautiful eyes. But your passion was always tender, gentle... precious. So precious. Tempered by cautioun, tempered by wisdom, tempered by humility. I miss those eyes. I could get lost in them, staring all day and feeling the awe of the amazing soul that God created in you.
I miss my Levi.
It cut the hardest, I think, during our talk at The West when in mid sentence, you cut me off because I called you an endearment. It hadn't even registered to me; it was just how I feel towards you; I love you, and I've been in the habit of demonstrating my love thorugh my speech for the past two years. It cut because you have become so distant, so cold, that it must have grated against your heart and bounced right off. You instantly repelled it. You despised and resented my love. That cut so deep. That you were already so far past the "break up point." and you had never told me. I was just facing it for the first time, and you were already three months (or more??) down the road from it, glaring at me across the table, rebuking me. That hurt so badly I felt my physical heart lurch in my chest, straining so badly I was afraid I would need to get up and walk away so I didnt' have a heart attack. Choking back the pain, refusing to allow it to register, groping so hard for self control and denying my body and mind any reaction to it, I couldn't help the tears that leapt from my soul and down my face. I wanted to break down and weep, to feel the pain flow through me, to give release to a heart that was so restricted with stress and pressure that I was afraid it was going to burst. But I tried to be strong. I tried so hard to be strong for you, the whole time. To push aside who I felt about everything you said, and only focus on saving us, if at all possible, in any way. I was strong that day at that table and you called me weak. The truth is, I was strong enough to fight the pain in trying to fight for us, and you were weak. Weak enough to give up your responisbilities, commitments, and promises, and walk away without remorse. You have become so weak.
But I miss my Levi.
The little one, you know? The one who didn't have a mom or a dad. The one who was always strong because he had to be. Who wasn't a kid, who was a grownp, because he grew up so very long ago. I miss him. I loved him, and I wanted to spend my life with him. I still do.
I miss your stories. About the stone house, where you would play outside an dyour dad would walk you down the road to school. About the big house, where you would wait ouside the bus for school and lived with your mom. About your dad's yellow car coming to get you. About the cool things your dad helped you build. About the places where he took you, places I wanted to see, about the places you loved. Strawberry Island. Sandra's house. Your Grandma's. The original Starbucks in Seattle. So many places... will we never see them? Will we never spend a day a week a month a year chasing each other around Puget Sound and the wine valley seeing the places, holding hands, living? Will you go back and find it suffociating you again, and I'm not there. Your boat, your dad's car... a little cabin in the woods? So many dreams. So deep a love. This love these dreams still burn within me, but they are dreams that may never see the light. I say "may" because I am still in denial.... or maybe because my hope is that strong.... somehow against all these decisions you have made, against months of running from God and your responsibilities and now I'm facing many many more.... I still hope that at the end of it, you will come back to me.
Although, since my dad told you not to bother me, I doubt it will happen the way I see it in my mind. Sometimes, when I lie down adn can't sleep, because the tears slipping down my face and soggying my pillow and I'm cold, I think about what it would feel like to have you come back. My big dream was Valentines Day. That you would be there with roses, and a letter, and we'd share lunch and talk about the painful weeks and you would be courageous enough to try to fix them. My next dream was the ice skating activity. You could have been there, waiting to see which bus I got on. Right there in the dark like you used to be two years ago, when you were different than everyone else instead of in love with being just like them all. We could have skated, and maybe cried, and sat down on the bleachers and started all over again in the place where we began two years ago. My next big dream was when my parents came. Surely, if outside stimulus would help influence change, it would have to be this one. They came and you worked... and then you agreed to see me at The West and even though I knew was it was about, that it was the end and not the beginning, I spent all night on my knees beside my bed and prayed. and prayed. and cried and prayed. And when I woke up my body felt so weak but I knew that God could do it if He wanted. He could create a miracle. I prayed that He would give you something in the preachign that morning, some kind of fire, some kind of conviction... something. And that you would surprise not only me but also my family and you would be there with big flowers and a tight hug and tears in your eyes and we could talk and pray and figure things out. And you could talk to my dad. And be honest with how you feel about him (riddles) and he could try to help you not feel so confused. And you could apologize to my little brother and to my mom.... and we could hug on you and it would be family again, the family I dreamed of.
But I walked in and it was such a little thing, but the minute you rejected the water sitting on the table, refused to touch it, it was like I knew. You didn't want to touch anything. You wanted to walk away without a trace of dust on your shoes from having been in my life, been near my family, been in front of my parents. You were so distant, so closed, so.... changed. I looked into your eyes and I felt something break inside, and the next two hours I listened to your words that hammered the break into a shatter of a million fragments. A heart that was once broken to the point of suicidal pain, that God had stitched back together using your gentle, precious and strong hands... and now I was watching the world end all over again.
It is so hard to wrap my head around the knowledge that you held me two years ago when I cried over Andrea and Chicago. It is so hard to wrap my head around the day that we sat in Santanna in Nichols Hills Plaza and I had the courage to finally tell someone about the person I had lost and who walked away from me. About the day in the park behind the trees when I opened my Andrea box for the first time and wept at the memories of a love that was as real and active as ours. It is so hard for me to understand that years of promising you'd never do that, years of promising you would nver, ever leave, you would never be like the others, that you were different... and you chose to be just like them. Knowing the consequences. Knowing that it would do to me. Knowing, and still proceeding.
You said you wanted to take our journal. I would have given it to you in a heartbeat if you wanted it because it mattered to you. Because you treasured those days, those letters, those dreams and memories. But you don't. You could care less. You left them rotting among the garbage in your car, too proud and bitter to even pick them up and put them back in the box for safeskeeping. I was afraid you'd burn them, or throw them away. Ultimately, you only wanted the book because you don't want the guilt. You don't want to accept the fact that you're the one who is on the other side of that story now. The one who walked away. The one who stopped caring, stopped loving, the one who lied and broke every promise and every piece of my heart. You wanted the journal because you didn't want the pain for me - but you were denying reality. Book or no book, you walked away and the pain would always be there. The story would always read that way.
I didn't want this for our story.
Our story was better.
Our story deserved better.
Our story deserved to live, to continue, to perserve, to survive. Our story deserved it. Because God was writing our story. He was writing about two people with faults and weaknesses, and painful pasts, who came together during tough times and formed an alliance so strong they spent almost two years without a single day apart. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually. They wanted to make each other strong Christians, and they did. They wanted to help tohers, and they did. They wanted to reflect God in thier lives and I think that they did. Satan opposed.. thier flesh opposed... circumstances opposed... doubt and fear and exhaustion and anger and resentment all crept in to oppose... and our story failed. It failed when I said I love you still and you said I don't love you any more and never will again.
Levi deserved better. He deserved to make his dad proud. He deserved to live up to a promise for the first time in his life and feel that accomplishemnt, feel that peace in his heart and soul.
I know I made mistakes. I know I have a sin nature and weaknesses. But I know I have a love for you that is genuine. I don't bounce from person to person. I wait until God brings them in and then I love them with all of my soul. And that is you, was you, will always be you..... I love you and it is not enough.
I don't know what else to say.
I think you are a coward. I know you hate it when I call you anything negative, but I really feel without any malice intended, that you are running from being brave. That you are taking the easy way out. Emotionally, spiritually, financially, in every way. You said it yourself when you said I'm just a kid, I'm just too young. The biggest cop outs in history. Did you ever hear David whining about being a kid when he took out a bear and a lion? No. Did you ever hear Danial whining about being too young when God took his whole family and put him in front of the king? No. Do you ever hear Jospeh bewailing his lack of experience when he was put in the Egyptian's house and demanded to work? No. No one in the Bible ever used their youth as an excuse who did anything spectacular. You could be so spectacular. I know it! I know it because I've seen the potential. God created something special in you. He created such perserverence, such gentleness, such clarity of thought and purpose, such compassion. And for the first time since I've known you, you are rejecting that and refusing God to use that potential. You feel weak. You feel young. You feel inexperienced and immature. I understand that.... I really do.... life is so big and huge and scary. But who would put those thoughts in your head but the Devil? He would love to have you hiding at HEartland Baptist Bible College or Yakima Bible Baptist Church or at some internship somewhere or anywhere you may run and hide. The sad part, the tragic part, is being able to look and see that you think you are doing such great things for God but your own words as well as your actions prove that you are not. You took the great things for God and threw them in the trash, and you are trying with all your might to substitute for something less. I'm not surprised it is easier for you to be in church every service, to make your ministries, to need less sleep. Why would Satan oppose you now? He has you so convinced you're a great Christian doing nothing for God that it is of no strategic point to try to bother you. Let you sleep. Let you get good grades. Let you bounce in to church and bounce out. He just has to keep that influence whispering in your ear so that you forget who you were, what God once asked of you, and you blindly shuffle on. Maybe even bounding on. Trying to convince me and the little Levi that I know is deep within you that everyone else is just fine and so you can be just like them, too. Because it's easier. Of course it is.... and that is why you are a coward.
But I love you still. Because I saw the hero in you. I saw the courageous young man who would make every other Christian at Heartland look like a child. Who loved God so fiercely, and was opposed by Satan on every side... and who fell.... so hard.... I love you. I see glimpses of you. The fact you even came to see me at The West. Even though you were still taking the easy way out, you at least put some effort into it. And when you said that you found out why you always listen to music? running from yourself? I'm not sure what to thnk of that. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not, all I know is that you really do want to be all you can for Christ...... the sad part is that you have swallowed a lie, hook line and sinker, and you won't listen to anyone tell you otherwise.
It breaks my heart.
My heart is so broken, I don't even know what else to write. What about learning calculus on the floor? teaching your Russian? chinese and dr. pepper? what about Patrick? what about our blog? what about meeting your cousins? the lake? the hugs and soft soft kisses? what about them? where did they all go, Levi? Only you know. Only you can fix it. Only you can bring them back.
You have broken my heart. I am trying so hard to respond differently than I did two years ago but I'm not going to lie... I don't want to live with this anguish. I don't want to wake up every day in tears, asking myself Is it over yet today? knowing that you are waking up and making the conscious decision, I won't do it today. I won't go back to her. I won't go back to when I knew Satan opposed me. I won't love her today.
But I love you today.
Lonely, broken Rigel.
All alone in the night sky.
All all alone.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Where did everything go
Where did everything go... the laughter. The joy... the trust... the care... the sunlight..
I miss you... I always will and always do miss u... idk where the joy went my heart is bleeding and I am hurting.... I screwed up this life. I screwed up everything and I'm ashamed... I will always love you
Friday, January 4, 2013
Snowed In at Dallas FW Airport
You haven't posted on this blog in months! Literally. =( I miss this blog, our letters, all the tangible bonds that we formed last winter to keep our little relationship tied together. I am so grateful for each day we shared this last semester. The year came, and went, and now it's 2013! Break has been too long. I am impatient to get back to OKC so I can see you again. I miss you, Levi. You're my best friend. I love you with all my heart.
Right now I'm sitting in a little lounge outside of Starbucks (God bless) using their powerport and comfy leather chair to type this to you! Soon we have to go check on our standby flight. Fingers crossed! Trying not to get my hopes up too high. Reality is pretty harsh the past couple of days.
Our little slideshow at the top of this blog doesn't show any new pictures but I wanted to post the ones we took in Norman. =)))))))))))) The canvas looks AMAZING, by the way =D Can't wait to show you!
I love you.
I love you very, very much! =)
Your star,
Rigel
Right now I'm sitting in a little lounge outside of Starbucks (God bless) using their powerport and comfy leather chair to type this to you! Soon we have to go check on our standby flight. Fingers crossed! Trying not to get my hopes up too high. Reality is pretty harsh the past couple of days.
Our little slideshow at the top of this blog doesn't show any new pictures but I wanted to post the ones we took in Norman. =)))))))))))) The canvas looks AMAZING, by the way =D Can't wait to show you!
I love you.
I love you very, very much! =)
Your star,
Rigel
Thursday, November 1, 2012
From the Tower
Dear prince,
Your princess is missing you far away in her castle, where she's locked in a dusky tower overlooking a barren field of windswept grass and deadened trees. She knows her prince is far away on his noble white steed, slaying the dragons with his unending dedication, and she is praying for him.... worried about his safety, his health.... She loves him and misses him. She longs to leave her tower and find her sweet prince and gaze into his mystical caramel eyes, for she loves him with all her heart. But the fairytale is not in her hands, but the plot of the great Author who loves to draw out the story with all kinds of twists and turns, tragedies and thrills. So she sighs a great sigh and leans her tired brow against the window pane and looks longingly at the horizon, where she saw him last.....
Come back to me soon, sweet prince, for I grow pale and weary of longing for you......
Your princess, your star
Your princess is missing you far away in her castle, where she's locked in a dusky tower overlooking a barren field of windswept grass and deadened trees. She knows her prince is far away on his noble white steed, slaying the dragons with his unending dedication, and she is praying for him.... worried about his safety, his health.... She loves him and misses him. She longs to leave her tower and find her sweet prince and gaze into his mystical caramel eyes, for she loves him with all her heart. But the fairytale is not in her hands, but the plot of the great Author who loves to draw out the story with all kinds of twists and turns, tragedies and thrills. So she sighs a great sigh and leans her tired brow against the window pane and looks longingly at the horizon, where she saw him last.....
Come back to me soon, sweet prince, for I grow pale and weary of longing for you......
Your princess, your star
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