Love One: the Saga Continues

I continue to reach out on some kind of regular basis to my “one.” Every contact brings a fresh opportunity to be hurt, to give up, to react in unloving ways. But I am getting better at not only quelling to urge to throttle this mean and judgmental immature person, but to stop the reaction much sooner. Almost sometimes as soon as it comes. But I am about to encounter another test.

In my summer travels, I will be near where my one lives. If I alter my driving schedule and take a two hour detour each way, I could actually visit her. I know deep inside that I must do this. With great trepidation, I broach the idea with her. She seems amenable to the idea, and so we make our plans. On an agreed upon afternoon, I will come to her house and we will have a face-to-face visit. Seems pretty straight forward.

Ah, but I should know better by now. I follow my GPS instructions and pull up in front of her house at the designated time. It is a small, older home of no particular style. I knock on her door. No answer. I peek in the window. The lights are off. No sound. No one seems to be home. I go back to the car to sit and wait. Minutes tick by. No one comes. I text her to let her know I am waiting, No response. An hour goes by. I fight the urge to get angry, to lash out. I have gone out of my way at considerable effort to meet with her. Remember who you are dealing with. See her from God’s point of view. Assume nothing. So I decide the best use of my time, the time I should be spending with her, is to pray for her. I spend time quietly, sitting in my car outside her house, seeking God on both of our behalves.

Two hours after our appointed meeting time, she drives up, unconcerned. Asks me what I am doing. I say I have come to visit (and managed to say it with true calmness). She says she is busy but she can fit me in! I help her carry groceries inside. I am tired. I have more traveling to do. My allotted time is over. I try to be gracious. We are greeted by four sniffing and tail wagging dogs and a three legged cat. Her house is crammed full of stuff. It reminds me of a miniature golf course. Stuff is everywhere, mostly in containers or boxes. There is more stuff in the kitchen than the Veggie Tales’ proverbial StuffMart.

She shows me various projects she is working on. They seem like unusual and fairly useless projects to me, but she has spent much time perfecting them. Many are miniature models with no particular use for them identified. Just careful pride in her workmanship. Most of her “skills” were learned in some online tutorial. I nod and smile and remark over them. She talks non stop, flittering about here and there, upstairs, outside, in the garage.

Suddenly she tells me I need to leave now. She has things to do. I swallow my shock and head back to my car. I turn the key and open my window to wave goodbye. She is no where in sight. Huh. OK, Lord. What was that all about? I drive into the darkness, reflecting on this unexpected glimpse into her life. I am not sure I could live like that. I wonder if that is truly what she prefers. Lord, this is your daughter. She seems to be in some sort of strange place. I know you love her. I am trying to understand her. Help me.

And the whisper comes back. “You do not need to understand her. Just love her. I will do the rest. Same as with you.” I realize that love does not mean making her fit my version of normal. For now, it just means keeping a connection going. And the onus for that is totally on me. Lord help me be faithful.