"just a picture in my head"

Karen and I went to Newport on the Levee this afternoon to talk about things. We were there for about four hours. Things were going really well, and I was getting excited: we were both flirtatious, holding hands, cuddling, watching the snaking Ohio River. And then she told me that she doesn’t love me, that she doesn’t want to get married, that she doesn’t think she ever wants kids. I was mind-blown. She was the one who professed love first. She was the one who practically begged me to get married with her during her time in Minnesota. She was the one who was infatuated with having a boy and a girl, named Tristan and Kira. And then she comes out and says that. Her words led to quite the discussion, and it didn’t end up well. I apologize that I cannot be more specific about everything going on with the relationship and breakup, but trust that the decision to break up with her if she refused to make sacrifices was a noble and honorable decision. But as I’ve said, that doesn’t make it easier.

I returned home and crawled into bed. I stared up at the ceiling for quite a long time, and I couldn’t help but think, “Why does my life have to be like this?” For the past eight years of my life, I have searched and searched and searched to love and be loved. I have been cheated on twice, and numerous times I have been backstabbed, betrayed, and abandoned—often without any reason given. And then I find this girl. This fantastic, beautiful, wonderful girl named Karen. A girl who is pretty much perfect for me. But I can’t be with her, because if I stayed with her, it would make God unhappy. The psalmist says, “Delight in the LORD, and He will grant you the desires of your heart.” Is it not ironic that my delight in God has forced me to walk away from the desires of my heart?

Is Karen better off without me? I’m not trying to be egotistical, but we had something marvelous, something beautiful. It was undeniably spectacular up to the bitter end. Maybe she is better off without me. But I’m not better off without her. I love her. I want to marry her. I’m incomplete—as corny as that sounds—without her. I find myself dwelling on our memories together: feeding the ducks at the pond, trying to feed the frightened turtle at Mount Echo, fishing on the lake, playing chess in the dining room (and me missing an excellent checkmate). These memories pain me, because they are the most precious memories I’ve ever had. I’ve been near the point of tears with losing all my other girlfriends, but only with the loss of Karen have I truly cried. I’m not talking about a few tears here and there, but horrendous, choking sobs. The kind that makes your throat clench up and your face contort and your body shake. Only with Karen have I experienced such sadness and loss. A year ago, I never could have imagined Karen being such a big part of my life, and now I cannot imagine the world without her. She came into my life, and she changed everything. Everything. I was happy. I was content. I felt sure of my future, and excited about the times we had ahead of us.

One of my favorite Spill Canvas songs goes, “When you walk away, you take everything you own for granted.” Although I broke up with Karen, she is the one who walked away from me. She has taken what she had for granted. What she experienced with me—security, peace, the joy of holding one another and feeling safe and at harmony with the world, the love we had for one another… When she walked away, she took all of this for granted. The same song continues, “Although everything I said was just a picture in my head, I think we can make it.” I told her that there comes a time when a relationship must die or be reborn. There comes a time when the couple must ask themselves, “Do I care enough about this relationship to do whatever it takes to make it what it should be?” When I think about Karen and me being together, I see something beautiful. I see us living in a godly relationship, reading the Bible together, praying together, working side-by-side to advance the kingdom of God. But this isn’t what she wants.

Mel, a good friend from Minnesota whom I went fishing with nearly every week, told me one day as we were unhooking a Northern from the line, “If you’re in an ungodly relationship, the best way to be in a godly relationship is to find someone else to be in a relationship with.” The first and obvious route to take is to make that ungodly relationship godly. While Karen and I did honor God in our relationship, abstaining from sexual immorality and treating one another with respect, there was one aspect of our relationship that needed to change. Only one of us was willing to make that change. Maybe it’s too much to ask, in this world of fallen creatures, to experience a godly relationship, where the couple’s lives individually and corporately reflect the love of Christ that overflows in their hearts. Maybe this dream of mine—a godly relationship that is healthy, a godly relationship where love is shared and experienced—is too much to ask… Not just of Karen, but of anyone—even of myself. Maybe this dream of mine is, as Spill Canvas puts it, “just a picture in my head.”