An unlikely pen pal...

Justin's wife and I have been e-mailing each other a little bit lately. Do you know how surreal it is for me to say that? How did I wind up here? I don’t ask that question in a bad way, but in a way that makes me appreciate the way life moves.

As many of you know, Justin was the first boy I ever loved and it was a long time ago. For any of you who don’t know anything about him, I was 17 when I met him (he transferred to my high school). I stopped loving him “that way” when I was 20 or so. The last time I saw him was when I was 26, I think, not long before Eric and I started dating. When I was dating Eric (let’s say this was in 2000 or early 2001), I saw in the newspaper that Justin was getting married (he was still living down south, where he went to college). I was really happy for him and hoped he was marrying a good woman.

Fast forward several years to December 2005. I am at church in the sacristy before mass because I was going to serve as an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion that night. This woman walked in and asked me if I was me. I told her I was. She told me she was “Justin’s wife.” I asked her what her name was. She told me. She said she recognized me from pictures.

It does one's heart immeasurable good to know that they actually meant something to someone even if they no longer mean what they once did. I realized what it meant to me that he had kept his pictures of me somewhere, that he showed them to the woman that he married, that she knew who I was and what I had been. I am sure she heard both the good and the bad (there was plenty of both), but she had heard it all because I was someone who had mattered. Even all those years later, it could still be said that our knowing one another meant something (whether it be formative or whatever), and I was grateful to know it was so. We always hope that’s the case when a relationship ends, but how often can we say we know for sure?

She informed me at that time that Justin was in Iraq. I don’t think I even knew he had entered the Army (he was a bit of a late “vocation” to the Army in comparison to other men, I'd say). She said that her mother-in-law and her baby were in the church if I wanted to see them. I went and saw Justin’s mother for the first time in many years and laid eyes on Justin’s baby. When we were younger, I had always imagined in my mind’s eye what Justin’s babies would look like, and although this baby was precious, he didn’t “look” the way I thought he would. It was such a crazy experience. How many of us get to see the babies of the first boy we ever loved?

Justin’s wife was at my church that night because she was living with her in-laws while Justin was in Iraq and she was in the RCIA program at my parish (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) to enter the Roman Catholic Church. Months later, I was there with her at the Easter Vigil mass to watch this kind woman enter the Church. It was a great moment; I was her only friend or family in attendance. I felt very blessed that night--that the Lord had orchestrated this very unique union between her and I that Justin was completely absent from.

She once told a story of the way he reacted to something and said to me, “Well, you know him! You know exactly what I mean!” and I had such respect for her in that moment. Think about it. She was willing to admit and acknowledge the fact that someone else in the world also really “knew” her husband’s quirks and behaviors. I don’t know too many women with the confidence in herself and her relationship to freely admit out loud that another woman might know many of the things she knows about her husband (especially to that other woman directly!).

After she left our town and Justin returned from Iraq, she and I exchanged Christmas cards. I received the birth announcement for their second baby a year ago.

I didn’t hear from her this Christmas, and I recently asked my friend Terry from my parish (who helped teach RCIA) if she had heard from her. She passed my e-mail on and I heard from her immediately. They are well.

She reports that Justin is really succeeding in the military (he currently is a sergeant and is going to warrant officer school). I see pictures of him and I see that he actually looks like a 35-year-old man. I take time and realize that he is a completely different person than I once knew and that is OK, and in fact, a good thing. Then his wife mentions that he talks in his sleep and I realize he is likely also in many ways exactly the same as the boy I once loved all those years ago. It's emotional for me to try to wrap my brain around it all and how you have to sit sometimes and see that you are as old as you are and where did the time go and what have we done with all of this time?

Oh, and I wanted to say—I saw a picture of their second baby boy, who just turned 1, and let me tell you, he looks exactly the way I had always imagined Justin’s babies would look. Exactly.

Or, maybe, it is the best of the times?

Have you ever truly surprised yourself in the way you reacted to something?

My friend has been gone for over a week and I am ashamed to admit that I am not reacting in the way I imagined I would. I really amaze myself sometimes—and not because I’m amazing, but because I think I’m crazy. I had been crying for over a year at the mere possibility that he might leave someday and now that’s he’s actually gone I have to honestly admit that, if anything, I feel like the overall quality of my life has improved.

Why has it improved? My stress level has decreased. My outlook on things that I wouldn’t have even thought he would have affected has changed. It's weird, but I must admit I'd rather have it be this way than cry and miss someone who is starting off on a new life adventure not crying about me.

I still feel terrible that this is so. And also relieved.

I can’t explain it to you. I tried to explain it all to Wyndee last night after the kids were put to bed and we sat in her kitchen and talked. What I was saying made sense, but there’s one question that I don’t have the answer to. If he's slipped away without any action or reaction then what the heck was this all for? How do you invest in a person and love them and have them sometimes return that love and sometimes not return that love and then have them leave and you wind up breathing a sigh of relief even though there's a real possibility you will never lay eyes on them again?

This is one of the things that I don’t know the answer to right now and I don’t think I will know for a while. But, I am certain that one day, somehow, by God, it will be revealed it me what its purpose was, and what, in fact, it was all for.

The best of times, the worst of times

I once read a line in a book by T.H. White called the The Once and Future King that affected me very deeply. It was just one line in a very long book. I read it my senior year of high school when I was knee-deep in love with Justin.

The line was, “Perhaps we all give the best of our hearts uncritically, to those who hardly think about us in return.” That line resonated in me because it was true with Justin at that time (he would come to love me more completely years later, after I had stopped loving him “that way.” The timing of things in life can sometimes be cruel.)

This line resonates in me because at the end of the day it’s true of my friend who is going to be moving away shortly as well. I did my very best with him and always gave him my very best in every facet of our friendship. Sometimes it was cherished and appreciated other times it was unceremoniously thrown back in my face.

Will it be out of sight, out of mind, or do I occupy a slot on his short list of real friends?

I used to cry whenever I thought too much about his leaving, and that includes even up to almost a year ago before his leaving was even a possibility! I went to bed last night feeling one way and I woke up this morning feeling another. Sweet surrender.

I woke up this morning not dwelling on what might or might not happen when this one friend leaves, but instead I woke up truly knowing how loved I am by so many people that if this one character in the play of my life doesn’t have room for me or forgets me once geography separates us that that simply means I wasn't as important as I thought I was (or wanted to be) and I should recast the role.

I discussed a lot of these feelings on the phone with Mike Day yesterday after I had texted him to tell him I was feeling down and I got a text message from him this morning reminding me that he’s always here for me. I took time this morning to "out of the blue" thank Matty for how well he treats me all the time and that I appreciate how good he is to me all of the time. This is what matters in our lives.

It’s called reciprocity. I think I’ve cried my last tear. My friend who is leaving would tell me I’m full of it because he always listened to me blather on about this and that whenever I asked him to and he helped me answer questions and seek resolution in my life and he’s right that he did always listen and do those things. He did. But, given the cirumstances, he was also in a way "trapped" in my audience. What happens when he’s set free with many places to see and lots to do? Have I given the best of my heart uncritically to someone who, when push comes to shove, hardly thinks about me in return?

I hope not. I’ll let you know.

Operating from an excellent spirit...

A dear member of my parish family died in her sleep in December 23. She was only 60 years old (and looked like she was in her 40s, God love her!). She was one of those women in our parish who was a great example of what a servant of the Lord is. She was always around--praying in the adoration chapel for hours (and I mean hours), serving as an Extraordinary Minister at masses, smiling at everyone, praying for those she barely new, and so on.

I knew Gwen in passing, mostly from spending time sitting with her in the adoration chapel (although I am in there a mere blip of the time she used to be). She had the peace that comes with really knowing Jesus. I admired that in her--I manage to have it at times but at other times I lose it the second things go awry. She had it about her all of the time and I admired that constant peace that comes in really knowing what you know.

At her wake service, some of her friends and siblings spoke about her and one of her sisters said something that struck me very deeply. She said that her sister Gwen always "operated from an excellent spirit." I want that. I want it to someday be said of me that I operate from an excellent spirit.

Now if that isn't something that should be on everyone's list of new years resolutions, I don't know what is.

May this year be the year that we all begin to more completely and consistently operate from an excellent spirit.

Rest in peace Gwen--and pray for us that we will love, serve, and trust God like you did.