Today’s post marks a bonus chapter in my series of posts centering around a fictional character in a contrived scenario while he tries to cope with the reality of life’s disappointments. The following post & eventual future posts are in no way autobiographical & the scenarios discussed simply create a backdrop for reflection on general topics like processing grief & remaining motivated through adversity.
This past Sunday, I was supposed to meet with a casual female friend at Sunday service. Although I am a social person & enjoy meeting & greeting before & after service, I prefer to sit through the service alone. However, I ran into a casual friend from the same church while working out at our local gym earlier in the week. She hadn’t been to service in a while. I told her that she had been missing out because the sermons have been dead on & then mentioned where I normally sit. She volunteered that she would come sit with me. At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about bringing someone else—even a friend–into my sacred square. Once I get my mind to “guard” something, I really hunker down like a German Shepherd. But soon I warmed up to the idea of having someone to share the message with on this day.
That morning, I had a difficult time getting out of bed. I was in danger of sleeping through Sunday service which, if nothing else, throws my entire Sunday–my only day off during the week–into a tailspin & I end up trying to play catch-up all day. Seriously, there’s no reason anyone should need that much sleep! Plus, I knew there would be someone waiting for me & that she would be disappointed if I didn’t show. So dutifully, I soldiered up, hopped out of bed, & made my hasty preparations for departure.
Well, we were already into the sermon & there was still no sign of her. It was no big deal. I wasn’t angry with her; she was just a casual friend who had a husband & family but expected to attend service alone on this particular morning. The gesture was more akin to inviting a co-worker or neighbor to Thanksgiving dinner when they had no one to share the holiday with. I wasn’t disappointed with my friend; but I was disappointed. My lips mouthed in silence the private lament that had already formed in my head: “L-O-R-R-A-I-N-E!” It was my friend who had stood me up, but it was Lorraine who I missed. It was Lorraine’s tall, slender form & long flowing hair that I scanned the congregation in vain to catch a glimpse of. It was Lorraine who had discarded me; who had discredited me; who deserted me. It was Lorraine who had ABANDONED me. And so, it was her name that I spoke meekly in my mind, like a haunting echo pleading for help lost amid a cloudy sky of expansive nothing. It was Lorraine’s absence that made me suddenly feel so isolated.
All the same, the service was stellar as usual. The message from the sermon was difficult to hear but necessary to receive. The preacher asked us what it was that we treasured the most in our lives? Then he challenged us to assess whether or not that thing that we treasured so greatly meant more to us than our commitment to God? He inquired, “What is it that you’re holding onto–that you’re clinging to so obsessively as to reduce your commitment to God?” Before he even asked the question, my answer had already formed silently in my mind. “Lorraine.”
No matter who disappointed me or who let me down, the blame would always fall on Lorraine. No matter who stood me up or broke a promise, so long as she were female, my mind would register it as yet another failure of Lorraine to recognize my value. It probably sounds unfair, but understand this: No female on earth has ever made me feel such enthusiasm for even the simplest moments in life. But by the same token, no other female on earth has ever disappointed me in so devastating a manner. After service, I walked over to my fellow congregant & close confidant, Michael. He had known about my fascination with Lorraine from the beginning. I told him what happened & that I blamed Lorraine. He chuckled. But then I asked him in earnest, “How long will it be like this?” And then, this long-time Protestant & true student of the Bible answered me in an almost parable-like fashion: “Well, that’s up to you. How long are you going to hold on to your disappointment?”
I mourned an inescapable awareness that the chains of heartbreak that I carried over Lorraine would burden me indefinitely. I looked up to the morning sky, searching for answers; but all I saw was that rain from a sudden storm had begun to come down.
Every time it rains, I always seem to think of her.