Monday, December 10, 2007


You know, overall, life is getting better for me. I was thinking about this last week and I envisioned myself being in the tail end of the storm. Rain might still be falling, but it's no longer a gale, and in the distance, the first fingers of sunlight can be seen fighting to break through. Clouds are still over head, but the worst of it is over. The storm hasn't passed, but it's moving on.

Today however, was one where I felt the absence of Meg in my life quite poignantly, coupled with a rekindled sense of the profound feeling of rejection that I have been dealing with since she said no to me. It's an aftershock, a rumbling tremor that went right through me. The good news though is that it's not as strong or as biting as similar moments were a month ago, but it still stings. The wound isn't completely healed yet.

But then on other days, I see more sunlight than clouds. I finally feel a sense of closure which resulted in one final plea to her to tell me what happened. I needed an answer, a way to say, "OK...I get it." I wrote her a long email and about a week later I got a reply back that helped me find the closure I was so desperately lacking. The job of truly moving on could begin at that point, and honestly, I felt as if a weight had been lifted from me. It still stung, but I could begin to move forward.

I don't think about Meg as much as if she is "the only one" who I could be happy with. It still saddens me that things didn't work out between us, but I'm at least reaching the point where I can believe that there are other possibilities for me. It's amazing--when you're in the midst of being rejected by someone you love so deeply, it just doesn't matter what your rational mind comprehends--you are guided primarily by your emotional attachment to that person and you can see no other possibilities. It really is living in a place of despair, and the good news is that I'm beginning to get out of that trench.

Here's the reality that dawned on me not so long ago: I won't marry anyone unless upon marrying her, I say, "I'm so thankful that things didn't work out with Meg." I know that those are the words I will be saying, otherwise I wouldn't be marrying that person. And I trust and know that this person is out there. It's just a matter of finding her, and in that, I must trust God.

Today was a hard one, but the truly tough days are becoming more and more rare. There isn't a day that passes where I don't think of Meg many times, but it's not as all consuming as it was a few months ago. I was thinking the other day that at some point, and hopefully soon, I will be out of this morass and indeed will have found my wife. Despite my deepest desire to find my wife, and to find her quickly, and despite the fact that I've been single for so many years, I think there are still things I can learn that can only be learned while I'm in this place of being alone. Ironically, in some bizarre sense, I feel that the time is short for me. It hardly makes sense, but these past few months have stretched me so profoundly that I want to make sure I learn whatever it is that I'm supposed to learn through all of this. (Otherwise, I'll have to learn it some other hard way, right?) Elisabeth Elliot's writing has been so helpful to me that I picked up another book of hers, called The Path Through Loneliness. I began reading it the other day and it's just fantastic. She's a woman who knows what it's like to feel alone, having lost both of her husbands. I think it's going to be very helpful to me. I realize that all of this that I've gone through is helping to make me a better man, which hopefully in turn will make me a better husband. I'm reminded of William Wordsworth's words: "A deep distress hath humanized my soul." Amen, brother!

I know that eventually the pain of losing Meg will be gone. I'll have a scar from this experience and indeed, when I recall Meg, it will not be our relationship that comes to mind, but rather the aftermath of her rejecting me. I know this time in my life will always be a pivotal moment for me. This is no adolescent break up. It has rocked me to my very core, but I'm a better man for it and each day that passes brings with it less clouds and more sunlight. In Michigan in the middle of December, that gives one hope, and that's a very good thing.

Here's another Joshua Radin song that I think is absolutely beautiful. This is where my heart is today.

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