The Long and Short of It

While he was gone, it was easy for me to say, "I can do this". When he wasn't there to pass in the tunnels at school, and to walk with me places at night when no one else could, it was easy to say "Its finally over". When he was thousands of miles away in China, I thought I could resist. Now I am thinking "There is no way". I thought that he wasn't what I really wanted. I thought that there were things about him that I just couldn't reconcile myself to. I thought I wanted someone who was passionate about the things I was passionate about, who shared my interests as well. I thought I wanted someone older, more mature. I still think these things sometimes. But now, when he is here, and making me laugh, and saying all the right things at all the right times- I think that he is really what I wanted all along. Yes, there are things that we both need to change, but isn't it possible that we can do this growing and changing together. I mean, aren't we going to have to learn to balance 'us' and God while we are still 'us'?

Dating and marrying Andrew wouldn't be a sin, would it? I know that there is idolatry in our relationship, a worship of each other and of the relationship itself. I know that that has to change. I know that I need him to learn how to step up and be a leader. I know that it would be foolish to get married now, as we are.

But every person I talk to gives me different advice! To some its apparently been obvious for a while now. To others, they don't understand why we can't just be together. We love each other. We do want to be together. So why not?

Why was I feeling so convicted that this was right, but I now feel like its all wrong? The past month that he was my ex-boyfriend I was miserable and confused. Now I'm happy and confused. I know that I was grown and stretched while he was gone, and I know there is a lot more room for improvement...

I know breaking up is not impossible. I feel like getting him out of my life is impossible. I have a ring he gave me on my finger, a bracelet he made for me on my wrist. I am using a computer he bought me that I owe him for. Next to me is the huge stuffed dog he wasted too much money on at a King's Island. The journals I write in are from him. Some of the clothes I wear were bought by him or his parents. My promise ring is still in a puzzle box he brought me from Florida... He is in my thoughts consistently. He was the man I was planning to marry next summer. We had even picked out a dog that we wanted... I still want him to be the man that I marry. I don't want to try to run from everything that represents him in my life. I want to be his. I don't know what to do with my doubts.

I wish God could just give me a call and let me know what the hell I am supposed to be doing right now.
Because I sure don't know. I love him. But I know we aren't where we are supposed to be right now. I just don't know how to fix it. I don't know what I want. I am twenty years old with my whole life ahead of me. I just want to please God, grow up, have it all together, and someday be his wife.

Maybe I should just suck it up and work as hard as I can to keep him at a distance and see what happens. Maybe I should just screw it and be his girlfriend again and pray that God would change both of our hearts. It is our hearts that are the issue, after all.

Oi.

I do not know.

But I do need to make a decision.

Four hour train ride, here I come.

Please, God, give me some direction. Open my eyes, open my heart.

Home

As the hand on the sign stopped flashing and indicated that it was no longer safe to cross I turned to him. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly as tears filled my eyes. I have never been so happy and anxious to see a person as I was to see Andrew last night. I didn't want to let go. He told me he missed me and I quietly agreed.

Later as we sat side by side in the plaza, I realized there was no one like Andrew to make me feel completely at ease and satisfied, free to be myself at all times, whether happy, grumpy, sad, angry, or silly. He loved me in all of my moods- somehow. I don't have to have any pretenses with him, I can just be myself and enjoy it, and enjoy him.

Maybe it is true-

You never know what you have, until it is gone.

Maybe he isn't gone for good.

Sliding in the Rain...

I found myself in a crowd of people, raindrops on my face, Kirk Franklin and a full Gospel choir singing in the background. It took me a minute to fall into step with the people all around me, and every now and then I was nudged in the right direction by a man beside me. But soon we were all in sync, laughing and singing as the heavens above us broke open with flashes of lightning and peals of thunder. I saw beside me a few girls I had just met that day, earlier in church, from Arkansas. I had just had Thai potstickers and a strawberry smoothie. I felt completely at ease and happy in a crowd of predominantly African American men and women dancing and singing around me, and grateful that I could share in such a meaningful moment with these worshipping people. Even as Kirk Franklin stopped singing, the crowd continued, women singing one part, with the men echoing. It was utterly beautiful. Those moments of worship with a crowd of thousands dancing and singing their hearts out, laughing and crying out a heartfelt 'Amen!' will not be soon forgotten. I hope to never forget what it feels like to do the electric slide in the rain with good friends and a crowd of brothers and sisters of all different colors.

Simply

"I want to be free, free to dance and free to sing. Free to live and love and free to be me."

I do not want to think that this season is a season of my life going to waste. I don't want to think that the tears that I am shedding for him are tears wasted. I don't want to think of the nights without sleep as senseless and foolish. I can't help that when I dream this is what I see:

I stare at him for a moment dumbfounded. I see a smile on his face that is not a smile that the real Andrew Michael Smith would have on his lips. It is a cruel smile, a plotting smile. Suddenly I find words again, and my voice is at a full shout. "How could you do this to us? Why would you ruin everything? Why would you throw it away?" I am hysterical. I want to grab him and shake him, shake that smirk off of his face. Instead he calmly allows the police to lead him away- for good. I cannot bear the thought of it. This was my fiancee, the one who I loved more than anyone else.

I wake up, in anguish from the reality of the pain I felt in my dream. In reality, its not Andrew throwing away the future. Its me.
I couldn't sleep last night. He is coming home tomorrow and all that I can think about is how good it will feel to hold him again. I can't hold him, though. He is no longer mine to hold. I think of all the moments we've shared together. I can feel the pain of the harder moments, our struggles that we shared together, or supported one another through. I remember moments of joy, of laughter. I remember sitting out on a dock almost three years ago...

I sat on the dock, looking into the water, kicking my feet back and forth. I couldn't believe this was happening. The boy next to me was almost painfully quiet. This is what I had hoped for all summer. I turned shyly to him and waited for him to speak. It was perhaps the most awkward silence I had ever endured, but I didn't mind waiting, because I knew once we started the conversation, it would be good. I remembered all the times over the summer I had tried to catch his eye, being ridiculously loud and obnoxious during swim time. Kat and Sasha would mention me to him, without any interest on his part. Now he was sitting beside me, telling me he liked me. I remember, as swim time ended and I jumped into the water to swim back, I was incredibly excited but apprehensive. I didn't have a boyfriend yet, but I finally had the assurance that he was interested in pursuing a relationship.

Now I sit here, alone in my dorm room, contemplating what ending this relationship was going to look like, feel like. And there is only one word that comes to mind:
Hell.

I don't want to spend my summer moping, or constantly torn up over the loss of this love, but I can't escape the feelings. I have invited tragedy to my door, and I can't turn it away now. I have to face the decision I made and still try to enjoy life even as I tear it apart. I must learn and find peace in the fact that God still loves me. He made me with complexity, and it is my complexity that calls me to make decisions like this. I can only hope that I am making my Savior proud, and not continuing to mess things up. I feel like nothing that I do is right, that there is no good that will come from this, but I am comforted that despite all this, He loves me for me. He created me to be Sanyelle. Simply, Sanyelle. Hopefully, I can grow and learn from this, and continue to be me, pursuing holiness and maturity, honoring Andrew in whatever way I can through this. Perhaps he will grow as well. I can only pray...

Intense Moments for a Moody Student...

The loud crunch of one car smashing into another set my heart racing in my chest. I couldn't see past the side of the bus stop, but I instinctively jumped backwards. The car right in front of us sped away, through the intersection, with a large dark SUV on its tail. The SUV pulled alongside the car. The window was down, and a hand holding a gun emerged.

I sat on a rooftop with three of my friends, enjoying a removed view of the city. It was a clear night and the skyline shone beauitfully. The moon glowed above us intensely, and the Big Dipper twinkled dimly above my head. I enjoyed the various conversations of my friends, the guitar playing and singing Ruth provided. It was chilly, but not too cold. It felt so good to be in the open, up on a roof, four stories above the streets below. The skyscrapers stood magnificently in the distance, and a random firework sparkled on the opposite horizon. I loved standing up there, my arms spread, enjoying freedom from the imposing buildings and having nothing between me and the sky.
We left late. Later than we planned. By the time we reached the bus stop not far from Rachel's apartment is was 12:45. There were people out and about, and I didn't feel particularly unsafe. There was a cozy bar on the corner, windows and doors open, showing people within enjoying drinks and good company. Ruth called the CTA- 20 minutes before our bus would come. I suggested we start walking, in hopes of finding a place to eat along the way. Chuck protested, saying it was safer to stay where we were. Ruth, Rebekah and myself decided walking would be better, so we set off. We came upon a Burger King a few blocks down and Ruth and I decided to run in and grab something to eat. Unfortunately, only the drive thru is open all night. So, driven by our hunger, we decided to go through the drive thru. We stood at the intercom with no luck. I thought perhaps we could just walk up to the window. There were three cars ahead of us, so we decided to return to where Rebekah and Chuck were waiting at the intersection.
We crossed back over to the bus stop and decided to wait there. Chuck suddenly suggested that we step back closer to the building behind us. I was momentarily confused until he pointed out that a car that had just passed seemed to notice us and had specifically turned around to approach us. At this point I began to get a little nervous. The car pulled up and two men asked how to get to club Excalibur. Ruth and I decided to go ahead and give them directions from where we stood a safe distance back on the sidewalk. Just as we finished explaining, I heard the smash of another car hitting the one right in front of us. I couldn't see the other car at first, but the guys asking directions wasted no time trying to get away. As they accelerated through the intersection, the SUV came alongside them. The passenger in the SUV pulled out a gun and leaned out the window.
I felt sick with terror and turned. I did not want to witness this. I didn't want to give the gunman any reason to turn the car around and come get the four of us, witnesses to the hit and run and now for some act of violence. As the first car got away, the SUV turned around. I thought to myself a lot of things that can't be repeated here, but I also took the moment to let God know I would prefer not to be shot down outside of Burger King on Chicago Avenue. We began to turn and walk quickly the other way, my heart racing and my body trembling. The SUV didn't pass us again, and we decided to stay at a bus stop about a block away from the one we had just been at.
I must admit, I was terrified, and I have never been so scared before. I have never been so close to a gun in the hands of someone who meant it for ill, or at least been aware of such. I have never felt the need to bolt like I did in that moment, to get away from these two cars and the feud that was escalating between them. It took a few minutes for my shaking to stop, for my heart rate to slow, for me to feel secure and not worried about a gunman in a dark SUV.

Where Do I Begin... The Art of Giving Myself Over.

I sit on the El with my backpack between my feet, leaving the seat next to me empty. I leave my ipod at a moderately low volume in order to be able to hear the automated voice announcing the stops. A woman sits down beside me, so close that our shoulders brush. I continue to stare out the window with my headphones in my ears. She pulls out a book. The walls are up. I look out the window at the platform and see countless businessmen and women on their blackberries, with bluetooth devices in their ears or headphones connected to their ipods. Walls. Everywhere. Those without a phone to their ear or an earbud in hold books. There are millions of us in the city. Some are lonely, some are socialites. Some of us just can't bear to be exposed as disconnected, whether our connection is to a friend on the other line, the author of our book, or the voice singing sweetly in our ears. What would happen if we actually had to face the people rubbing shoulders with us? The woman sitting close beside me, the person jostling against me as we lurch around a corner?
I wonder what life would look like if we weren't surrounded by our walls of ipods, books, newspapers, and blackberries. I wonder what life would look like if looked the stranger across from me in the eye instead of staring at a blank cell phone screen.
He doesn't have a wall as he steps on to the El. He holds a can of diet Sierra Mist in his hand. I glance up at him as he steps through the door and sits across from me in a single seat. He places his backpack between his feet. This young man makes quick work of the can of soda and sits it on the ledge beside him. I silently disapprove. Perhaps he'll throw it away when he leaves. I continue to watch him (its hard not to as he is sitting three feet across from me, and its him or the rear end of the man standing close beside me). He looks up to catch me looking at him. We hold eye contact for a split second and I look away. He pulls out a phone and connects some headphones. I watch as he drops the phone down the front of his shirt and then pulls it down and into his jacket pocket. He then pulls out a journal. I am officially intrigued. I too like to write while I'm on the El. I silently approve. He soon gives me no reason to be ashamed of my people watching. The young man begins to crane his neck to see around the people standing around him. Focusing more towards the ground, he seems to be searching for something, looking left and right with such intensity I have to restrain following his eyes where they roam. He does this for a few moments and then quickly jots something down in his planner. I can't imagine what he could possibly be writing and searching for in the crowded El. I continue to stare, probably in a rather rude manner, as this man searches and scribbles. I wish I could ask him what it is he is writing. If he himself is a writer. He looks down at the ground between our feet. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. I hate for people to look at my feet. I uncross and cross my legs while watching him jot something down in his planner, silently hoping he is not making note of my feet... I prepare for my stop and stand, taking one last long look at this curious gentleman and his inquisitive gaze.
I ended up in Lavazza, sipping an Italian-esque chocolate milkshake, talking to Ruth as she bustles around behind the counter preparing an interesting concoction of gelato, chocolate, whipped cream, and peaches.
I leave Lavazza as the sun sets in the west, leaving the city in a cool, dusky shadow. My headphones are back in and Jimmy Eat World blares in my ears. Its a bit chilly, but not unpleasant. I take some obscure side street that I had never walked down before and enjoyed the trees with the street lights shining in their leaves, giving them a pretty yellow glow. Instead of my usually brisk pace, I slow to a stroll and, for once, enjoy being alone. I pass an old Scottish church that has scaffolding built up all around it and notice that behind all of the platforms built up around it there is a rather quaint old building. The scaffolding intersects with the branches of a tree. It looks like some elaborate, out-of-control tree house. I smile at the thought. I walk past Washington Square Park and smile at a man walking his dog. He smiles back. It is pleasant to come across a person who isn't disturbed by the thought of making eye contact with a stranger.
I think as I walk...
I hate the idea of someone making guesswork of the matters of my heart. I don't like to be looked in the eye and told how fucked up I am. So, please don't.
But I know I have to hear it.
I lay in bed that night and my mind races, as usual. I can't stop thinking of Andrew. And when I face the facts and know that it is only going to get worse, I toss and turn. How on earth do I get to the point where I am ever going to be okay? Its more than I don't want to lose him. Its more than me losing the security that he gave me. Its more than me fearing for my future. Its more than I have an issue with surrender, with faith, with loving, with having joy. Its an insurmountable barrier of all things I need to 'fix' in my life, in my heart. I feel so far from okay.
This is the part of me speaking that is dreadfully far from a 'spiritual' perspective. I know I need to learn to give myself over to the healing hands of my Father. I need to submit my broken heart to Him and let Him do a redeeming work. It will take time, and at this moment I still feel fairly shattered.