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It was a balmy night at the end of a long, hot summer. There
was a cool breeze wafting from the ocean and through the
park at Jacksonville Beach, Florida. The music was loud from
the pavillion, as rock band after rock band played and
battled for prizes. I tuned out the sounds, as I carried my
books from the car into the small library, nearby. My mind
was not on books, yet I stayed to find something to read to
distract me from my troubled heart. I ended up combing the
pocket books near the entrance of the library, but my mind
could not focus on reading, my only escape.
All at
once, I felt my personal space disrupted by the presence of
a grinning man dressed in a white leisure suit and a yellow
shirt, open at the throat. I could feel his breath upon my
hair ??“ an intimate invasion. I looked up into a red face
leering down at me.
???So??¦divorced???? He inquired, with a wiggle of his eyebrow. I
felt assaulted by his breath, which reeked of beer.
???So??¦stupid???? I hissed back at him, through clenched teeth.
He
continued to press me, and I continued to glare at him.
Finally I escaped from him, through the library entrance,
just as it was turning dark. I disappeared from his view,
hastening into the crowd. It was a strange feeling, to be
alone, amongst so many celebrating people. I walked, even
strolled through the ever lengthening shadows, making
certain that I wasn??™t followed, as I shut out the crowds and
the noise.
I had
been quite ill through the summer, but an unexpected cool
front had brought me early relief from the Florida heat, and
the sea breezes cooled my skin and washed across my soul. I
knew that I had to leave my husband. It was past time to
escape. With my three children, growing up in a loveless,
violent marriage, I was preparing to leave ten years too
late. I had been making plans. I was writing for a small
newspaper, and I had begun to teach sewing and craft
classes, at the local Naval base, and I was enrolled at a
local community college. I would be ready to take my girls
and escape to our own apartment, by the following spring.
At
thirty-four, I was certain that I was way past hope for a
one true love. It was not in me to cheat on my husband, no
matter how awful my marriage. It, simply, wasn??™t something I
could do, and I knew that kind of life would be a total lie.
And I was sick to death of lies. So, from now on, it would
just be my daughters, my God, and me. I would work to give
them a better life and finish my necessary education,
forgetting my own dreams.
Yet, as
I walked, deep in thought, I couldn??™t resist whispering to
an ever present, merciful God who had become my only
confidant.
???Will I
spend my life alone, Lord???? I asked, feeling so very alone
and separate from the celebrating crowd. ???Will there never
be a great love for me????
Never mind. I
will keep God as my first love. With that thought, I
felt a warmth steal through me, like a soft caress; yet I
wondered, occasionally glancing at a male face, if here
amidst this very crowd, packed nearly shoulder to shoulder,
could be found the love of my life.
???What
if he is here, and I walk right by him, Lord???? I whispered.
???I could miss him and never know it.??? My heart hurt with the
realization that I might live my life without fulfillment.
But I will keep You, Lord, in my heart always. As
always, that thought gave me comfort.
God had
crept into my heart from early childhood. In my darkest
moments, He had always shown me the light of His presence.
He had given me clear choices??¦to love or to hate; to heal or
to hurt??¦and when I chose the light, instead of the dark, His
warmth would fill me with an overflowing of joy and
intimacy. So, I spoke to Him, that night, of all my dreams
and disappointments, and I pledged my heart to Him, above
all others. I walked through the crowd until late that
night, not leaving the beach until long after dark.
In the
middle of January, barely four months later, out of
necessity, I fled with my children to a women??™s shelter. We
were taken into the home of a wonderful couple, Roger and
Barbara Kinghorn, who opened their hearts to all of us. It
was in the Kinghorn??™s living room that I became friends with
the man who would become the love of my life, my husband,
Louie.
Just a
few years ago, Louie and I were talking about the night the
bands had gathered on the town green, and he told me this
story. That night, feeling very much alone, Louie had
decided to head down to Jacksonville Beach, to watch the
battle of the bands. He walked through the crowd, feeling
very detached from the people around him. He walked alone,
tuning out the music, and disappearing into the crowd. The
sun was down, and twilight had just set in. He had been
divorced two years, and he wondered, perhaps even directing
his questions towards the God who heals all hearts, about
the direction his life was taking. He dared not even think
of that one great love, that he had never had, but he
wondered if there could ever be a love like that for him.
Perhaps
we brushed past one another. Perhaps I had glanced at his
face, unknowing. Perhaps he??™d seen a pretty red-haired
woman, perhaps not. But the God who listens with
compassionate understanding??¦He knew, as He always knew??¦that
Louie and I would meet, that we would become friends. That
we would fall in love. That we would marry, and raise our
children, never forgetting, that the life we dreamed of,
that we could not attain for ourselves, would be given to
us, by a loving God, who never sleeps, and who always hears
the cry of the heart.
?© 2003
by Jaye Lewis
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Jaye
Lewis is an award winning writer and poet, who celebrates
life from a unique perspective. Jaye is a Christian, who is
quite certain that she would not be where she is, were it
not for a loving God, who forgives sin, and who always
answers the cry of the hearts of those who seek Him. Jaye is
writing a book, entitled Entertaining Angels, of
which this story is a small part. Email Jaye at jlewis @
smyth.net
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blessings to you.
Bob Johnston
Minneapolis
Starfish @ Ripplemaker.com
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