Sunday, April 18, 2010

Out From Under the Table

His name is Michael.

Friday night, after a rousing afternoon of discussion, a rompus viewing of Sherlock Holmes with my sister and her roomie, and a rapid sprint (on my part) around a building to get warm, he walked me home and asked that I text him my dad's phone number.

I did so, with anticipatory excitement.

Then I cleaned the bathroom because my roomie's mom was coming over the next morning before ten. While I cleaned the bathroom, I worshiped. Turns out he was turning to our Father in prayer and worship as well. O, how sweet it is to know that that was foremost in both our minds that night.

Saturday morning went by quickly. It was traumatizing, because I fully expected a call from my dad at any moment. Saturday afternoon was less traumatizing because I found out that Michael had had a staring contest with his phone Saturday morning and lost, and decided to play things like Ultimate Frisbee, Dodgeball and other activities for most of the day with his friends. I can't fault him. I was nervous too. Saturday evening he called my dad. I knew when he did, he told me. And then my dad forgot to call me after his talk with Michael.

My roommate's mom told my roomie to call my dad when they came home later that night to take me to dinner with them and found me flipping out because Dad hadn't called. Needless to say, my dad called shortly after that. We talked briefly, me dancing about crazily outside the restaurant in the cold and expressing my crazy interesting.

Dad called Michael back and told him that he could, in fact, date me. Michael and I texted back and forth while I tried to carry on a semi-normal conversation with my dinner-mates who were more than just my roomie and her mom, and by the time we got back to the apartment, we had finally kinda come to the realization that we were, in fact, now dating.

Our text conversation went something like this:

Me: I've got a feeling about tomorrow [tomorrow being Sunday]... How in depth am I allowed to go tomorrow when Martha asks what went down tonight? She kinda cottoned on to what might be happening. How are you okay with me defining us?

Michael: However you like. Two redeemed sinners seeking God's will together? In a relationship with a purpose? I don't really like semantics, just truth. Who is Martha?

Me: Martha is a girl friend of mine from RUF. And Jill [roomie] shouted from the front of Los [restaurant we were at Saturday night] tonight "Hana has a boyfriend!" I agree with both your descriptions of what we're doing right now, but I think for the sake of being concise, are you okay with me defining it the way Jill did?

Michael: Yes. :-P

And yes, this morning after church, Martha did pounce, and I went through the traditional girl rituals of squealing and giggling. But over all, while I'm giddy and excited, I'm also very aware that I'm not obsessed with Michael. This is a very, very good thing.

This evening for the first time I was introduced as "Michael's girlfriend" twice, in the span of three minutes. Michael and I had taken in a guitar ensemble concert and were waiting for a friend of ours who was in it, who Michael had told this afternoon about the change in relationship. Brian's family had come to the concert, and since Michael's rooming with Brian next year, he wanted to meet Brian's family.

First Brian's dad showed up with Brian's younger brother in tow. Brian went around the circle introducing everyone there to his dad, and he was like, "and this is Michael, and this is Michael's girlfriend, Hana." And then he flashed me this really big grin as if he'd been waiting to do that for a long time, and then asked me, laughingly if it was okay to introduce me that way. I laughingly told him that yeah, it was okay, because it was true. And then his mom shows up. Brian told his mom, "this is my friend Michael, and this is my friend Hana ... who is actually Michael's girlfriend." Michael, consternated by this time, gave Brian this look, and was like, "Brian! Stop! Really!" even though you could tell he was pleased, if a little unused to the introduction. I had to turn to Brian's mom and explain that it was all very new for the two of us, so would she please pardon any awkwardness.

It was kind of weird, and yet, it was a great type of weird.

I could get used to this. God is good, and I don't just say this because He has brought Michael and I together. God is good all the time, and this is the one thing I need to remember.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Here's to you Inigo...

Being patient is not a strong trait of mine. I'm just going to say that. As stated before (in the previous post) I'm the do-stuff type of person. Waiting is awful. To quote Inigo from Princess Bride, when Westley is climbing the Cliff of Insanity, "I hate waiting." (Thank you KB for that one.)

I can say that since the last blog and this one, not much has changed on the waiting and I-have-no-control front. But things have changed. Over the past weekend, in one way or another (I promise I'll get it all out when it's been resolved), when Sam and I were hanging out, his feelings (positive) for me and my feelings (also positive) for him came out.

Considering I am a year above him, and getting ready to graduate next year, and because he had kinda recently realized that he had more feelings for me than as a brother, we've decided to evaluate our relationship. Also, neither of us want to date frivolously. There would be no point in doing that. If we were to date, we'd want it to be leading, eventually towards something. As scary as the word "marriage" sounds, I can honestly say that after about five days of wrestling with myself, with God, with questions my parents have proposed, I am willing to take a step forward into a dating relationship with Sam (whose real name will possibly come out if this all resolves itself in the dating direction) with the intent towards possible marriage later on.

Now all I have to do is wait on Sam. Yay waiting.

"I hate waiting."

When I say things haven't changed at all, I still mean that while he says his feelings for me go deeper than as a friend, or brother, I am still terrified that he isn't going to think that I'm worth pursuing further. During the summer I live at home three hours away from him, and neither of us have a car. When I student teach two semesters from now, I'll be living at home. If we were to date, we'd have one more semester together on campus, and then it would be a long distance relationship for three semesters at least, unless he came and student taught in my home town.

And he's always taken his time in deciding. Even when it comes to crossing the street, he takes his time deciding when to go without getting both of us killed, while I often make a split second decision on crossing the street that has him sometimes worried for both our lives.

Right now, all I can do is pray and wait. Pray that God leads Sam in the right direction and that my heart would be okay with it no matter which decision it is. And then wait for him to tell me, or call my dad. Which ever his decision is. Waiting is agony. Torture. God is stretching me for all I'm worth. And yet, I know that, like the merciful God He is, He won't stretch me past my breaking point.

If you're reading this, please pray that I am given unlimited supplies of patience and the ability to use all of it. Without stomach pains, or ulcers.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Civil War

How many times have I posted about trust, about love, about God's sovereignty?

In my last post, (remember the one on trust?), I made a public declaration that I would not pursue a romantic relationship with the young man, who for privacy's sake, I'm still going to call Sam. I made a public declaration that I wouldn't pursue any type of relationship like that with anyone.

I lied.

I quickly started falling back into the old habit of texting him constantly, of almost stalking him, trying to find out where he was at all times, of looking for him between classes, of asking him to go to lunch with me a couple of times. In essence, I was pursuing him. I love hanging out with him, and his friendship is important to me, but I want something more too, and it's kinda driving me up the wall.

As much as I let a guy know my feelings for him, I will never tell him outright that I like him. I know that I need to have him say it first. He needs to be the one to take that first step. And with him taking that first step, I also want to feel pursued.

Sam is so quiet and laid back that he wasn't (isn't) going fast enough for my high spiritedness, my eagerness to jump into everything. I was trying to hurry things along.

And then I went home for Easter Break this past weekend. I had good talks with both my mom and with my best friend. Both said the same thing: "Stop initiating." I worried, I fretted, I bit my nails (okay, so I didn't bite my nails, but if I had a nervous habit, I would have been doing that). I knew they were right. I hadn't been sitting back and letting God take care of everything. It's just so hard. As an oldest child, I am the one that normally gets out there and starts bushwhacking. It's hard to sit back and let someone else take their own speed, if they're taking any speed at all.

So, I stopped texting Sam. I would let him text me first before texting him. I stopped initiating. So far it's really only the third day, but already, I've broken down twice (that happened last night), and I'm not going to invite him to have lunch or dinner or do anything with me. If he wishes, I'm going to let him pursue me. I'm scared though, that he's not going to want to pursue me. I'm terrified that he won't want to pursue me. I have trouble figuring out why I'd want to pursue me. If I don't want to pursue me, why would he even bother?

But again, God has been gracious, more-so than I deserve. Over and over again, I've been overwhelmed by His all consuming love for me. Each time it makes me want to cry, or it does make me cry. I am no more deserving of God's love than the serial killer on the street corner, and yet for some reason He does love me. I don't know why, but hopefully, His grace will be enough to sustain me in this battle I am fighting with myself.