Sweet Eugene's

This morning I'm at the local coffee establishment in College Station, Texas, Sweet Eugene's. Growing up in a town like this, if you don't drink, you drink coffee, so "Sweets" was like a second home to me. Being at home, traipsing through my dusty old haunts, always gets me thinking about the might-have-beens. Especially somewhere like here, where half of my high school graduating class stayed to attend either Texas A&M or the local community college, it's easy to feel like the oddball for leaving.

It's good to see the people, though. This week, I got my girls together--there are four of us, whom the guys we ran with called the "Gruesome Foursome." I like to think of us as the College Station version of the Sex and the City girls. Though the sexual part of it really doesn't compare, I'd argue that our conversations are just as delightful. True to form, when we get together, the topic eventually turns to relationships. With each of us 21, three years into college, Sallie's engaged, Cat dating someone and Mitzi and I are up in the air. The stats are actually really surprising, but easy to explain. Two of us left College Station, so that's why we may not have four weddings to attend next summer. Of course I say "may" because there's no telling what could happen in the next year.

Thankfully, since our lives went in so many directions, we talk about more than just wedding plans (although it's funny to hear Sallie muse about her future as a pastor's wife and the difficulties of registering). Among our discussions were the problems with abstinence-only education, Texas education in general, the upcoming election, breast exams, local beers, ministry, and so forth. At one point we started to rag on "those guys" who join some of the more extreme Christian groups on campus, like the Christian fraternity BUC's (Brother's Under Christ) or some of the larger churches (ie: mine, Grace Bible). For many reasons, I hesitate to jump on the bandwagon against any of these poor souls, but it's easy to make fun of the quite dramatic version of courtship that takes place between a boy of that caliber and his chosen. It goes something like this:

Boy sees girl across the room at some church or Christian group function. Boy quietly and carefully observes girl for a semester or so. Sometimes this involves actually talking to the girl, but only in the most friendly, casual manner, perhaps at a Bible study meeting or game of Ultimate Frisbee. All the while, he prays, asking God to reveal to him whether this beauty is indeed the woman that God has chosen for him to pursue as a wife. Once he feels confidant that God is telling him to initiate a relationship with her, he begins some research. If she's local (like me), it won't be hard for him to contact her father in person, otherwise email will have to do. If he can snag Papa's permission, he approaches the girl for a DMI--a conversation in which he will "define my intentions." Provided she accepts, they begin a period of courtship, entailing some upright and moral date activities (that means in large groups or very public places, no rated-R movies or "pagan" concerts, etc) and a sufficiently lengthy list of physical limitations (no interdigitating fingers until after six weeks, never being alone together at either person's apartment after dark...you know, the basic stuff). The courtship phase continues as such until some point within the couple's last year of school, sooner if the parent's permit, when he proposes and they marry.

We all laugh. "How dramatic!" And, "Who would ever do something like that?" "It puts too much pressure on things." All heads nod in agreement. As enlightened college women, such conservative ideals are more faded than the found-on-the-side-of-the-road coffee house couches upon which we used to sit, back when we believed them. More condescending laughter, when I speak up: "Let's be honest, if I had stayed, I'd probably be dating one of those guys." We all laugh and agree.

Let's be honest, if I had stayed, I'd be sporting my own left-hand diamond. Because in this town, if you are cute and love Jesus, they don't let you out alive...er, alone. And every time I come back, I have to ask myself that same question: am I really happy that I left? Yeah yeah, we rag on the idea of courtship and how seriously people take relationships, but if it had been my story, I'm sure it would seem quite romantic and very, very normal. But, since, in Cali, that's not how we do, making fun of the system staves off the jealousy.

Last Saturday, I ran into my 1st grade teacher, who asked if I "had a beau in my life." She followed up to my negative reply with, "What's the problem?" She may have added, sensing my awkwardness, an afterthought, "...with the boys in California?" but by that point, my eyes had already glazed over as I tried to compensate with some garble about how things are different out there. I don't see why archaic ideas about marrying young or others' choices to do so have to demean my own successes. It's dumb that I feel like there's only so much happiness to go around--as if people getting married here somehow takes away my ability to be happy. And do I really want that story? There's no way I would have found my voice, my self, if I had stayed. I think God directed me outward because He knew my happiness required a different route. I'm the other kind of cliche--the one who has to leap, full-force, out of the nest, crossing my fingers that I can figure out my wings on the way down, before it's too late.

And man does it feel good to fly.

For the Love of the Game

Conveniently enough, I get Chrissie's blog in my inbox any time she writes something new and fabulous, and she recently turned me on to this post. (it's short, go check it out) In it, the author talks about how love is a choice, describing the metaphor of God's pursuit of Israel as seen in the book of Hosea. Hosea (and God) continued to pursue his prostitute, not because she "made him happy" or "completed him," but because he made a covenant choice to love her.

Not really new stuff for me, but something in the article triggered a conversation I had a while back with a friend of mine (a churchie, at that). He argued on behalf of his crew of Christian guys, saying that they didn't want to feel pressured by the women in their lives to date--that they, frankly, wanted to be "allowed to fall in love." What's with that?

My mind starts breaking things down. Taken as fact:
1. Love is a choice.
2. Marriage is a choice.
But the problem is that we want the storybook stuff. Dating and marriage can't be like buying socks: you scan your options, checking things like price--and don't for a minute think that girls don't come with different prices--, color, softness, and so forth, then grab a pair (pun?) and head for the check out. (Or for the more simple, snag the first pack you see and get out of there) Shouldn't love tug at your heartstrings a little more than that? When it comes to analyzing Biblical ideas, I feel forced to be so black and white. Godly: picking an appropriate mate. Sinful: getting all mushy about it. I hate that we so often associate emotions with sin. True, those little boogers (emotions) can be tricky, but I know for a fact that stoicism isn't godly either. God himself has emotions, and he likely created emotion in us to reflect it in Him. So where do we draw the line?

Which brings me to my next point: why am I so obsessed with drawing lines? I feel like most of my posts are me trying to analyze and define all the areas of my life (ok, maybe just those parts that deal with relationships--are we seeing a theme?), asking a lot of questions and never really getting anywhere. And no, this post isn't leading to my vow to make a change--I'll probably continue as the same nut job I've always been--but it might explain why I haven't written as much lately. Because it's hard to write about life when you're busy living it.

Tangent aside, I feel like people know by now--because our culture is obsessed with psychoanalysis--that it's common to fall in love with the idea of love. We realize the benefit of couples' counseling and always cede to the relationship advice of Dr. Phil-types. In the church, we do sermon series on love and intimacy just so that we make sure to get it right. And of course we read and blog about it to cover our bases, so love doesn't sneak up and bite us while we are off guard.

On my more pessimistic days, I think that all men should, at a certain, marriageable age, sit down with a book about how to choose a woman--or better yet, with an older couple who can choose one for him--then pick and get hitched. (Of course if that were the norm, I'd probably be blogging my complaints about that system.) Still, I'm pretty old fashioned about the promises we make "for better or worse," and hope that if I marry, I won't break that covenant without a fight. On the other hand, I'm a dreamer, a self-proclaimed princess/damsel in distress type who is easily captivated by the sweep-her-off-her-feet fairy tale. Somehow I think that marriage for me will be super-easy because I'll be "in love," because I'll do everything right, because I was bred and raised to be wife and mom. How do those two worlds coexist within one tiny me? Well, they do, and I don't really feel like figuring out how it works exactly, except to assume that there must be some sort of balance and meshing.

Now it seems that I've run myself into so many circles that I don't know how to end this thing. God forbid I save it so that I can go back later and fix the structural lack-of-integrity. Why thoughtfully consider, when I could rant? How else could I secure myself humbling (or frightening and inappropriate) correction via the comments section?

A friend's recent wise words come to mind. It doesn't take any faith to earnestly desire things like health and happiness...because it is natural to hope for those. When prayers for health aren't answered, it's not because we just didn't believe hard enough (or have enough faith) that God could heal. It's not that we didn't want it enough--who are we to manipulate God by our petty desires, anyway? What takes faith is believing that the way God wants to orchestrate things is actually the best way...that whether or not I understand it, He does. So I guess the wisest way to handle this love stuff comes back around to a choice: however He plans to work it all out for me, I'm game.