Divine Plagiarism

I’ve heard a story about a man who goes to slay a dragon to find a princess, yet ends up finding himself. It is an interesting story, but I’ve never really thought about what happens after that man goes home. Samwise ends up with Rosie Cotton, but really, she was the only girl he really liked. Eowyn finds herself much happier with Faramir, but she kills the Nazgul for her father, not for Aragorn. So our dragon-slayer returns home and finds himself a nice country girl from the village. But who wants to be that girl, especially in the knowledge of the lengths he went through to fight for another? If he has poured our the depths of his heart for a woman in such a story, does not his wife have the right to expect even more from him?

So in pursuing this story, I suppose I am setting the bar pretty high. I know there are other endings to this story. I know the one I desire, and I will continue to ask for that ending as long as He gives me the strength to do so. I guess I never thought about the consequences of this story on any future stories. A friend of mine brought this consideration up. As a dumb guy, it would have escaped me, so I thank her for that. I viewed this story as training to love my future wife, whether by some miracle she is C. or whether she is not. And I believe that is true, that my wife will get a better husband out of this story. But the story adds complications that I had not considered.

I have learned to love more than I ever knew how. Does not my wife have the right to all of that love? There is something in this story that draws love out of me, and drives me to God for more love. I believe with all my heart that He calls me here. It is only He that teaches me to love this way, and under these circumstances. Totally bereft of any reasonable hope, I remember that early in this story, I asked Him to teach me to love C. the way that He does. He has answered that prayer more than I thought possible. I pray simpler prayers for her than I ever have before, beautiful prayers that she would be blessed and kept safe, that He would tell her who she is, that she would fall more and more in love with Him. If I can love this way under these circumstances, then I desire to love my wife all the more under better circumstances. My heart is fully engaged and fully His. This is not a story where I find the depths of my heart, but it is not one I can manufacture.

When I knew I knew. This is the second time. I remember the first time. I was twenty years old. I saw her and I knew. Well, really, the second time I saw her I knew. The first time I met her I made a fool of myself (which might mean that I made a fool of myself the second and subsequent times, which is another question entirely. Hey, I‘m a guy.) But I remember, clear as day, sitting in an Ukrainian church, looking at this brown haired, tall, beautiful girl, I knew. I knew how it would play out. I saw the day before I left, telling her how I felt about her, I saw that day on that Sunday three months before it happened. I knew it was only for then, not for forever. But I knew. I loved to think about her, my toes curled when I thought about her, she was absolutely beautiful to me. That year, my eyes were blinded to every other girl (and if you’ve ever been to Ukraine, you know how significant that is.) We spent most evenings together. I still remember watching the sun go down from on top of a hill, sitting next to her on a broken wall. The joy of finding a new restaurant or hillside or sunset was in having something new to share with her. I knew that I was in love. But I also knew it had to end, and I knew when it had to end. It ended there, but I was richer for it, richer for knowing her. I thank her for those times, and I thank her for her friendship. In the time that God gave us, He calibrated my understanding of love. He set my bar high. I knew what it felt like to be in love, and I would wait for Him to provide it again.

The second story is harder. And different. Not that the first story did not have its twists and turns. Not that we did not manage to hurt each other. But there was always a mourning to that hurt, not a rage. Not accusations. Still, I felt it with C. Stronger than before. But I never saw how it would play out. I never had a finish line. I cannot explain this. I wanted to find an ending, some blessing that would say ‘lesson complete’ and release me. No endings of my own manufacture worked. As unyielding as Sheol, the verse goes. So I yield to whatever ending the Author of all things will write, and I yield to Him my heart. I will no longer bury it. No matter the cost. Still, I pray that I will feel what I feel but all the more for my future wife. Which means that I will wait on God, for I cannot manufacture these feelings.

So the bar is set high. So be it. I will gladly slay dragons for my wife, now that I know how. Even better, perhaps we will slay dragons together. And if this is not His story, then I believe He has a better story, even more amazing than this one. (Better is not the same as happier, though. The best story was excruciatingly painful.) I still believe this is His story, though. I will fight accordingly.