Most people don't want to remember a break up, but this is one that I most certainly don't want to forget. Not because the break up itself was anything to tuck away in a hope chest or put in a locket of course, but because of the multitude of moments that followed, which, if I could, I would tuck away forever in the pages of a book that I would title "Tender Mercies."
Sunday afternoon as I walked home from church I had the
thought to stop by a former roommate. We hadn’t talked since January, and my
first instinct was to ignore the impression. But, having little else to do, and
it being a gorgeous day, I meandered over to my old apartment and knocked.
Moments later we were out on the lawn, lying on a blanket eating juicy watermelon
and talking as though no time had passed between now and that blessed time two
years and forever ago when we shared the pleasure of being roommates.
It was the perfect cushioning for what came next. As far as
breakups go, it was certainly not the worst--he was good and fair--but it was still hard.
Later that night I texted my friend Rachel. Only she would
be up at that hour. Almost immediately, my phone rang and it was she on the
other end making sure I was okay. Now that’s a friend.
The following day was most miraculous. After an early morning
chemistry class followed by an hour of work, I biked home, grabbed a bowl of
ice cream (I know, a great lunch), and then laid on my bed for the next couple
hours, doing nothing in particular. At some point I fell asleep and woke up
just before I had to leave for my second job of the day. I had seriously
considered asking if I could come in another day—my schedule is relatively
flexible—but I figured work would be a good way to get me up. I had woken up
from my nap more groggy than when I had first laid down and my headache was
none the better. As I biked through campus on my way to work I said a silent
prayer that I might run into a friend on my way. Just then I looked to my left
to see a friend I had served with on my mission, Katherine Nuttall. Not
coincidentally, she had often been the one to be there for me then too, when I
was feeling alone or struggling. Our talk made me a little late for work, but
it was worth it. And if nothing else, it was proof to me that God knows who our friends are, and when we need them.
Work was well enough,
but soon after arriving home, I was back in the same slumps. So I called a girl
I had come to know recently from one of my classes. Her name is Hannah, which
means “the grace of God.” A fitting name. I went over to her apartment and it
didn’t take her long to discover how poorly I had eaten that day (apparently
ice cream is not real food). So we walked to Wendy’s to get some chicken
strips. Hot and sweaty, we arrived at Wendy’s to discover that the main lobby
was closed. There was a little paper sign that said that only the drive through
was open. We walked up to the drive through and were told that it would be
illegal for them to serve us without a car. What?! So we did the only natural
thing: we waited for a car. And when one came we hopped in and placed our
order. Then came the second bit of satiric spit-fire: apparently, you can only
have one bill per car. So this kind, saintly stranger who allowed us in his car also paid for our dinner.
Dinner was followed by naps and then a two-hour game of
ultimate Frisbee that was a complete blast. After ultimate Frisbee, my friend
called and we talked for some time while I walked around beautiful south ProvoThe next morning, I woke up at 5:45am to hike the Y with a
girl from my chemistry class. I run part way up the mountain a couple times a
week, but the view that morning was spectacular, and this time, I had someone
to share it with.
Coming back from the hike, I found I still had plenty of time before work at 8:30, and so took a longer bike ride to work, parking my bike below the stairs on the west side of campus. As I was loitering about the top of the stairs I ran into none other but Hannah, whose exuberant spirit never fails to put a smile in my day. She hadn’t been gone for long when Rachel came walking my direction toward her morning class. We talked as we walked the short distance, stopping outside the elevator in her class building. I knew her class started any moment—she had already pressed the elevator call button—and I turned to leave. “Don’t you want a hug?” she asked. That was exactly what I needed.
And that's how it has been for seemingly every moment since: nearly every moment has been exactly what I needed. But perhaps what I needed most was to realize that everything I needed then were things I already had: a fun former roommate who lives only three blocks away, companions from the mission whose ability and willingness to counsel and comfort didn't end when we came home, a girl I only barely met who takes me on an adventure of food and laughter and then takes the time to sit and talk and listen, an utter stranger who buys us dinner, a ward family that puts together one of the most exhilarating games of Ultimate Frisbee I've ever played, a good friend who drops everything to make sure I'm okay and who knows when a hug is needed, and an overseeing God who most undoubtedly loves me and knows exactly what I need.
Candidly,
Cookie
