#chimneytop, et. al.

Chimney Top Rock. This is where I planned on proposing to her. I had it all planned out, and I'd even gone over all the details with one of her friends who would be putting it together. I would surprise her on this very spot, and I would ask her to marry me and she would say Yes. "The only thing I'd be mad about," she said, "is if I didn't get to marry you soon!" and "I knew the moment I got on the bus that you are the man I'm going to marry." Friday I stood there feeling it all slipping through my fingers yet again, and though my first inclination was to leave, I decided to stay and just really do some hard thinking (and praying) about everything that's transpired.

I want so much to know how she's doing.

To hear her voice, even just a word...

Not a day passes that I don't think about her.

Not a moment passes that I don't miss her.

This really is the Death of an Era. She's held my heart for five years. It was a good story, the sort that convinces you it wasn't all for naught after all, the sort of story that convinces you that there IS a good ending to the story. The ending of that friendship, of that intimacy, of the promise of more, has been eviscerating to say the least. To love one person and only one person for years, and to have that one person tell you the things she told me, and then to have that one person change her mind in the course of a day and throw you away like you were just an accessory to her life she didn't have room for, to tell you that the words she spoke were absent meaning... Yes, this is still so very hard for me; but I'm still standing. She's decided she didn't want that story, our story, and in one fell swoop she put a Dead End on everything we shared and hoped for.

The story is over.

This time, it's really over.

She's not coming back, no matter how much I long (and pray) for that.

Grace in the face of stupidity. I'll have it written on my tombstone.

I need to turn my back on all that.

Yes, it could've been, and it would've been wonderful.

But it's not going to be.

Dwelling on what-ifs is a life-sucking art of self-sabotage.

(I've mastered the art quite well; she's given me lots of practice)

I can't keep looking back. I can't keep asking "What if?" What if she chose to fight for us? What if she chose to fight against the fear that overwhelmed her yet again? What if she had chosen to put to action all the things she said? What if she had chosen not just to say that she loved me but to actually ACT like it? I don't understand why something going so beautiful, so God-centered, so Christ-honoring, would be torn apart and dismembered in a moment, so suddenly that the only thing I could feel was shock. I don't understand how someone can say the things she said and then do what she did. I don't understand how anything we shared can have meaning in light of her decision. I just don't understand. I grieve over losing her, but this life isn't about me, and I have work that I have been called to do. Life goes on and new stories are written, some even better than the last, and I need to be ready to embrace the gifts and opportunities God gives me rather than holding myself back, waiting on a resolution that will never come.

One day I may understand why life is so damned unforgiving. One day I may understand why you can never REALLY trust someone. One day I may understand how people can be so fickle. One day I may understand how you can love someone and then toss them aside, pretend they don't exist, and go about your life. But I suspect that I'll never understand this. Other things, yes. This? Not so much.

Do I think God will use this for my good? Yes.

Do I think I've learned things that are helpful? Yes.

But that doesn't mean I understand it.

That doesn't mean I don't wish it weren't so.

It only means that God can bring good out of life's ugliness.

I know what I want out of life, and I'm not going to let insecurities, doubts, or fears hold me back. I'm running after it as hard as I can, asking God to bless my efforts and open doors. I'm praying that God will take my love for her, a love that refuses to die, and that He will destroy it. I'm praying that He will turn my heart from her so that my heart towards her conforms to her heart towards me. I'm praying that He will show me that He has something else for me, something better. I'm praying that He will give me strength, and wisdom, and courage to keep going, to keep risking, to keep trusting, even to keep loving, when every experience teaches me that people can't be trusted and love can't help but fail. I'm praying that He will help me let her go; besides, she let me go three months ago. Why would I still be holding on? The answer is easy, of course: this is what love does. It doesn't let go. But she doesn't want my love, she spurned my love, and so she won't have my love.

Leaving Chimney Top Rock, I imagined myself turning my back on her, on that life we'd dreamed together, on all our hopes and dreams. I imagined myself seeing her standing there and my back turned towards her, just walking away, leaving her behind despite the love boiling in my heart. And on that triumphal march back to the car, I ran into a wedding party going to get their pictures taken. Damn it. And as I drove back to the motel, a song came on the radio that I haven't heard in months. It's rather appropriate:

say something, I'm giving up on you

i'll be the one, if you want me to

anywhere i would've followed you

say something, i'm giving up on you

and i will stumble and fall

i'm still learning to love

just starting to crawl

say something, i'm giving up on you

i'm sorry that i couldn't get to you

anywhere i would've followed you

say something, i'm giving up on you

and i will swallow my pride

you're the one that i love

and i'm saying goodbye