Is Jesus Really In The Modern-Day Church?

"Oh crap, here we go," I think to myself every time someone asks the inevitable question: "So where do you go to church?" And what gets me is that they assume that I am going to a church somewhere.

I feel like I need a t-shirt that says, "YES, I AM A FOLLOWER OF JESUS. NO, I DON'T GO TO CHURCH. LEAVE ME IN PEACE!"

Thing is, I've been thinking about writing this blog post for a while. I've been playing around with different ways to approach this subject. And finally I decided that I wouldn't ever get it out there if I never started. So here I am. Starting.

I know there are a lot of blogs out there on the subject of church and the fact that there seem to be quite a few people (Christians) leaving them. A lot of talk is focused on why Millennials are leaving, which is true and accurate, but there are also people of all ages who depart after being members of a certain congregation for years. I've read blogs that tell personal stories and experiences. Some could have been my own.

Not too long ago I went back to the church I left, the one that I had grown up in, from the time I was about 6 or 7 to when I left at 18. I went back for a special event to see a friend of mine perform. That was the only reason I went. I wanted to be there to support my friend.
On the drive there, as we were getting closer, I started getting physically nervous. I started to get that weird feeling  in the pit of my stomach, kind of like when you're on the way to the doctor. Sort of jittery and queasy. On average I wouldn't consider myself a very anxious person. But this was causing me some anxiety. Now, when I left this church about 4 years ago, it was not under ideal circumstances. There was a lot of hurt involved between my family and some other people and it did not get resolved.
So, needless to say, I had no desire to go back there. But I went.
I didn't plan to stay the entire time, but after the pastor spoke his piece before the intermission, I was even more ready to get the hell out of there.
See, they had apparently begun a new young adults ministry and this event was to showcase some of the gifts and talents of their own young adults. So that is what the pastor was sharing during his brief talk before the intermission. He quoted some statistic about how 3 out of 5 young people wind up leaving the church, and that if you don't believe in attending church then you're taking a huge chunk out of the bible. So basically you're Christianity, your very faith in Jesus, isn't as valid if you aren't going to church. Hmm...

I understand that it's normal for pastors to want to see their congregation grow. They want people to come to their church and get to know God. I get that. I realize that they probably have good intentions. Their hearts are probably in it. But the attitude they have towards people on the outside of their Christian walls, literally outside those four church walls, is not, in most cases, an attitude of love. They might mean it to be, but it's not. It is an attitude of condemnation and judgement. It is an attitude that instills fear in people, both Christian and otherwise, because those who hear it get the wrong idea of who God is. When our example of God is seen through those who proclaim him and preach a skewed gospel with a judgmental attitude, we don't get the true image of who God actually is. Far from it.

I finally got sick of church. I got to the point where I recognized the smiles and greetings for what they were - fake, not genuine, just meant to be polite without any real concern. People would say, "Hey! How you doing?" And just keep walking by. So many times I never replied. They never stopped.
I got tired of the cliques, both in the youth group and in the adult congregation. I got fed up with pastors playing favorites. Those who had the fattest checkbooks got the best positions and the best treatment. New members didn't stick around because they weren't made to feel truly welcome or made a part of the group, because, let's face it, they didn't belong there. There was already a set amount of people. A set way of doing things. We had our organization, our regulations, our rules. Gotta support the pastor. Gotta serve, serve, serve. All the time. All day, every day. Don't rock the boat, don't ask the tough questions, don't let anyone know you're struggling with anything you shouldn't be struggling with. Don't be a real human being - you've got to be a perfect robot who fits in with the expected criteria.
I mean, why would anyone want to leave a place like that?         

This brings me to ask a rather startling question: Is Jesus in the church? I don't mean the Church (notice the capital "C"). I mean organized religion. Denominations. Congregations. A specific group of people who typically gather on Sunday mornings and follow a specific set of standard regulations. Is Jesus there? 

Is Jesus in their monotonous opening prayer that sounds, oddly enough, just like it did last week? Is Jesus in the practiced-to-perfection standard worship service? Is Jesus in the sermon that the pastor preaches that makes people feel guilty and less-than instead of feeling encouraged and hopeful? Is Jesus in the faked community of hurting and wounded people who are too ashamed to admit that they're hurting and wounded?  

Don't misunderstand. I'm not implying that those church-goers don't ever experience God's presence or that God can't possibly be there. What I'm questioning is whether those people are truly finding the Life they're searching for in the church.

One thing worth noting here is that the church, and the Church, are two very different things. Capital "C" Church is defined as the body of Christ. The bride of Christ. All the followers of Jesus Christ. The church, lower case "c," is defined as organized religion. A building. A denomination. A place where people with similar beliefs gather and take part in a set of regulations. People mess up when they use the two synonymously.

I think it is important to have relationship and community with others of similar beliefs and who share the same faith in Jesus. Community is so important. Sadly, it has been my experience that it's one of the main things lacking in the majority of modern day churches. And I think the false sense of that in most churches is because there's no room to be honest with those around you because of the fear of judgment and condemnation. And there is judgment and condemnation because we haven't concerned ourselves with truly loving others. We're more focused on what we're doing, the fact that we need to serve to be looked at as important to God, or to please God. We think we need to win his love and approval. And in that, we lose sight of those around us.

There is so much that could be said on this topic that I just don't have room for in this post. It pains me to see some of the ways in which God's people are condemning those around them, and even each other. Unfortunately, I am at a loss as to how to change anything. Churches have been established for hundreds of years and I don't know if I'll ever see one that I really feel at home in and can see Jesus clearly. Until then, I'm going to continue not going.

Thanks for reading!        

Is He/She "The One"?

This is something I've been thinking about quite a bit recently. I've been thinking about blogging it, and trying to get my thoughts organized.

So let's waste no time with pleasantries.

First, a question: Are you familiar with the concept of "The One"?

If not, I'll explain what I think of when I hear that phrase:

I think, when pertaining to myself, that "The One" is a man who is destined to be my future husband (because I'm single, if you didn't know ;)). I think it's referring to one particular man, out of the billions of men in the world, who has been created by God to fit the exact specification of my needs, my personality, my life.
You know, the whole "match made in heaven," "soul mates," "OTP" ("one true pair," as is a popular way of putting it  these days).

So that's the basics of what defines "The One" in my mind. It's something that I've grown up hearing. But not just hearing. I've been taught this concept as if it were the only "right" path to follow.

The path, as I understand it, looks something like this:

1. Make a list of alllllll the non-negotiables. That means you write down all the 500 things that you are looking for in a future husband/wife. These traits are things that, well, aren't negotiable. It means your future spouse absolutely must posses these attributes or it's a no-go. Don't even consider entering into a relationship with that person if they aren't: physically pure, attending church services weekly, spiritual leaders in the church, early risers, selfless, have a good job/work ethic, on good terms/have good relationships with his/her family, dog lovers, future father/mother material, etc.The list goes on and on. It can include any number of things you think are important in a future mate.

*Now, please understand; I do think it's important to have standards, and it's definitely not a good idea to date any random guy/girl you know nothing about, but let's be realistic here! No one is perfect, and no one person is going to posses ALL of the things you put on your list. Husbands and wives are not like Build-A-Bear - you can't create your own.

2. Pray pray pray. This one is simple, they say. You have got to pray for your future spouse because, hello! God already hand-picked them especially for you! Right? I mean, that's what they were created for - for you! But first, God has to shape them and mold them and prepare them...FOR YOU! And then, at exactly the right time and in exactly the right way God will guide him/her directly to you. Your paths will cross and you will eventually (if not immediately) fall in love with each other. In some cases God will even tell you, in a voice that sounds oddly like Morgan Freeman's, "He/she is The One." And you will stop whatever it is you're doing, *cue soft, romantic music*, you'll see that person as if for the first time, and, jaw dropping, glance Heavenward and hear the hallelujah chorus. It's as simple as that.
Oh, but make sure you pray about it often, at least 5 times a day, and if you don't have true faith, it might not work. Just so you know.

*Obviously, it is important to pray. Don't get me wrong here, I'm not saying that praying is ridiculous or pointless. Praying is a very important part of having a good relationship with God. I just think that the way some people pray for/about their future husband/wife/marriage is...well, honestly kind of funny.

3. Don't fall for Mr./Miss. Wrong. So, obviously, from what I've already described, there is only one Mr./Miss. Right, but plenty of Mr./Miss. Wrongs.
Now, you have to be extremely careful at this point, after making your list and praying, praying, praying about it. And you absolutely cannot trust your heart in this matter. Because, after all, "The human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked. Who really knows how bad it is?" (Jeremiah 17:9 - in case you were wondering.) You're heart is only going to lead you astray, make you believe that Mr./Miss Wrong is actually Mr./Miss Right. Yes, it's all very confusing, and by this time it may not seem quite as simple as everyone would have you believe, but it's proven to work as long as you follow all the steps in the correct order.

*I'm not saying this verse isn't true. However, I do think that, like so many other verses from the bible, it has been over-used, especially for things that benefit the user and help their opinion hold water. Context, people! Context.

4. Actually, don't date at all. Dating is, to be blunt, not of the Lord, unchristian, culturally accepted, which means that we, as christians who are called to a higher standard, should not partake in the ways of the world. Therefore, we should shun the practice of dating. Besides, what good can come of dating anyway? You're only setting yourself up for heartbreak and disappointment. So of course, the best way to avoid being hurt in life is by not dating. At all. Don't open your heart to someone who is only going to stomp on it, and who, ultimately, you probably aren't going to marry anyway. Save yourself the pain and trouble and just don't even go there. Trust me, there's a better, more superior way, (stated below in #5), and anyone who tells you otherwise is blind to the truth.

*I'm not saying that the way some people choose to date is absolutely flawless. But I don't think it's really about the actual dating itself. I think it has more to do with the maturity of the people involved and the reasons why they decide to date.

5. Just wait. After following the above steps, you've reached #5. Wait. It's as simple as it sounds. Or...is it?
See, the thing is, God already has a perfect person picked out for you. He knows who it is and how you'll meet each other. God will work out all the details. You, my friend, don't have to do a thing! That's great, right? Just kick back, relax, and wait for the delivery man to send your perfect, custom-made husband/wife right to your door! How much easier could it get?
So, instead of making an effort to get to know different people and develop unnecessary friendships, you just have to wait for God to tell you who to pursue, and then it'll be smooth sailing. You'll both become best friends, and then, since God will inform you both that you're OTPs, the guy will propose, the girl will accept, you'll have the perfect Pinterest wedding, and a hot (yet still very christian) honeymoon! And that's the way it will be forever after because this was a match made in heaven for goodness sake!

*By this time, I really hope you've noticed something -  Sarcasm. 

There was a time when I believed in "The One." I thought it was so awesome that God had a special guy hand-picked, per se, especially for me; a guy that I was destined to marry. I used to wonder what he looked like, what his name was, where he was in the world, and if he was thinking about me.
Now it seems silly. How could someone be thinking about me if he didn't know who I am? If he didn't know anything about me? And...who is this he? 

If I follow this train of thought, I begin to wonder if there really is a he at all. I mean, yes, I do hope to get married someday, so there will be a him. But I don't believe that there already is a particular, specific person who is already my him. 

I don't really think there is anywhere in the bible where God says, "I've created someone specifically for each of you to marry. Await further instructions." Or, "This is how you find Mr./Miss Right. See steps 1-5." It just doesn't work that way (though it might be easier if it did).

Of course, someone might say, "But God already knows who I'm going to marry." Yes. That's true. He does. He also knows what you're going to have for breakfast tomorrow. Does that mean he chose you and Frosted Flakes for each other?
He also knows what kind of job you're going to have in the future. Does that mean he created that job exactly to fit your personality?
God knows the kinds of friends you'll have throughout your whole life. Does that mean he created them to be your friends? Does that mean he chose them as your friends? Mm, maybe, depending on how you look at it. But I think he gives us the free will to choose. To make our own decisions. To bear responsibility for our own actions.

For me, to think that there's ONE person in the whole world, out of billions of other people, that I could have a good, healthy, fulfilling marriage with, is kind of...self-centered, selfish, and would make me feel like a jerk. I mean, think about it. We're so special that we have to have someone made for us to be able to get along with them and love them and share our life with them? It doesn't quite make sense to me anymore, now that I've thought about it logically and realistically.
And what about the christians who believed this, and truly, honestly thought that God had spoken to them, telling them that their significant other was "The One," only to get married and, years later, end up divorced. What happened? Did God lie? Obviously that isn't it. Did they hear him wrong? Maybe. But maybe the whole mentality of their being one perfect person for each of us just isn't true.
I think that there are multiple choices for who we decide to spend our life with. I think we should choose wisely, but not become so worried about it that we're actually afraid of making the wrong choice and miss out on a great relationship.  

One last point I'd like to mention is that when we become so focused on the other person being what we need, being right for us, being our Mr. or Miss Right, we sadly become more self-centered and expect that the other person is supposed to make us happy. We spend so much time thinking about our Mr./Miss. Right, that we no longer think about whether we're a good match for the other person. How can we contribute to their happiness? How can we show them that we love them? How can we meet their needs?
We spend way too much time making lists of what we're looking for in someone else and spend very little time thinking about which areas  we can grow in and how we can better love other people.            

I know there a lot of people out there who honestly believe some of these things, so if I've offended anyone, that isn't my purpose in writing this. It's meant to be funny, yet also cause you to question why we've believed these things. So, I hope it makes you think, and maybe laugh a little as well.  



     
              
       

A Series of Events Part 10 (Conclusion)

This whole series of events led us to our beginning. Or, as I've considered many times, maybe it wasn't the beginning, but rather, a beginning.

After "The Christmas Eve Kiss," as I like to call it, Matthew and I fell slowly and gently in love with each other more and more as time drifted past. Anne, needless to say, was thrilled when I told her. She squealed with delight to the point of annoyance. For over a week, everything that came out of her mouth consisted of either, "I told you so." "I knew it." "You guys are so great together." Or "Do you think you'll get married'?" And lots of other inquiries, exclamations, and speculations.

The three of us, sometimes along with Jake, (who did actually get around to asking her out) still hung out lots, and did some double dates every now and then. Life felt better than ever. For once I was hopeful about the future. I envisioned myself happy and optimistic, with Matthew next to me, holding my hand, and the two of us discovering the world together. It was a great vision.

And it was almost shattered.

A year and half after "The Christmas Eve Kiss" something pretty big happened. You see, my dad was the head manager-guy at a bank. Real exciting, I know. The owner, some big-wig, wanted to expand, open more fancy-pants banks in other areas, and since my dad was known for his diligence and trustworthiness, he was selected to oversee and basically run this new bank. Which meant moving. I repeat: moving.

Obviously, I did not want to move. I finally had friends, a job, a fantastic boyfriend. I tried to explain this to my parents. I felt selfish for even mentioning it. This job was something my dad had been hoping for, and though it was a difficult decision to make, he couldn't turn it down. They understood my perspective, and even considered rethinking their decision, but I couldn't stand the thought of holding them back. Especially my dad. This was something he really wanted.

So I had to come up with a different solution.

I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of staying here while my parents moved to a different state, but that was the only logical solution. I was definitely old enough to live on my own, but I only had a part-time job at Beck's Bakery and wasn't making enough to pay for rent and groceries and other bills and living expenses. I thought about trying to find a full-time job, and even started looking for one, until Matthew mentioned something he'd been considering.

We sat across from each other at the picnic table in the park, the one next to the lake where we got caught in the rain that time on Thanksgiving. He held my hand, looking at it with such focus, as if he were examining it for who knows what reason. Finally, after a long silence, he broke eye contact with my hand and looked up.
"What do you think about moving into my apartment?"
"What?" I asked, startled at this sudden question. He nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "Yeah. It's the perfect solution. Okay, maybe not the most ideal situation, but it could work," he added, seeing the look I gave him. I considered his proposal. Would that really work?
"I don't know... I don't think my father would be too keen on that idea. I mean, he can't exactly tell me not to, but I wouldn't really feel right about doing something he doesn't approve of..."
"I know what you mean, and I respect your father's opinion. I just think we have to be realistic here. There aren't many other solutions. I mean, we talked about a long-distance relationship if you were to move with your parents. Neither of us really want that, though if it came down to it, you know I'd do anything for you." He smiled and kissed the back of my hand, which he was still holding. "But if we can come up with something where we can avoid that, I think we should look into it. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. Not at all. But just consider this: I've got a pull-out couch. I could sleep on that. We wouldn't need to sleep in the same room or anything. Your dad might be alright with that arrangement. What do you think?" He looked at me with those shining green eyes; the eyes I loved so much. The eyes that threatened to swallow me, to drown me in their deep green pools. And I knew I'd do anything to stay with them.

Admittedly, my parents weren't thrilled with the idea of my moving in with Matthew, but, all things considered, they didn't protest. Very much.
The week before they were scheduled to move, I was all settled in my new home. It felt different, for sure, living apart from my parents, and they didn't exactly like the idea of leaving me behind, as they called it, but after a while we all settled into a new normal.
Matthew slept on the couch-bed and I slept in the bedroom. Some nights we would fall asleep in the living room watching movies until the wee hours of the morning, but I would always wake up every morning back in my bed and Matthew on the couch. He carried me. I sometimes secretly pretended to be asleep, just so he'd carry me to the other room and I wouldn't have to walk. I shared that secret with him later.

After another six months or so, Christmas found it's way to us once more. On Christmas Eve it would be two years since that first kiss under the mistletoe.

Kate decided to have another party. She and Thomas had gotten married back in the spring, so this would be their first Christmas together. My parents were coming to visit, and both Anne and Jake were coming this year.

"Hey guys! Come on in!" Kate says when she answers the door. Matthew and I have just arrived. We hurry inside to get out of the cold. Kate and Thomas have put up all the usual decorations and then some. As I look around inside, everything has more lights, more tinsel, more holiday cheer than the last Christmas party my aunt hosted.
Knowing there will be some special goodies waiting especially for me, I make a B-line for the kitchen. Sure enough, there's the snack table with a "Gluten-Free" label on the plates holding my very own desserts. Oh how I love Kate.

"Ah. I thought this is where I'd find you." It's Matthew. He offers me his one-of-a-kind, signature smile. I smile back, and, pausing for just a second, I take that time to think to myself just how attractive he is. His hair is parted slightly to the side, longer on the top and shorter on the sides. It falls gently across his forehead, swooping perfectly to the side. It's true I'm jealous of his hair; it's so soft and shiny. My fingers itch every time I look at it, wanting to touch it.
Today, for this special occasion, he's wearing a light blue dress shirt underneath a grey vest with dark grey trousers and black ankle-high boots. He looks rather dashing, if I do say so myself.
"Well, you were right," I say. "You found me." He touches my shoulder and moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder, so his cheek is nestled against mine. I breathe a slow, contented sigh. He kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, "I love you." I close my eyes. Warmth spreads throughout every part of me. I turn around to face him, his arms still around me, and, looking deeply into his eyes, I say, "Matthew...I love you."

A couple hours later everyone is in the den playing games, watching Christmas movies, or just sitting around drinking hot chocolate or eggnog. I've just finished a game of UNO with my cousins and Anne. Jake and Matthew seem to be having some kind of discussion about who won their dart game. He catches my eye and nods his head toward the door to the living room. I look back at Anne to tell her that Matthew wants something, but when I turn to her, she's looking at me, a slight smile playing on her overly-glossed lips. What's up with that? I'm about to ask when she winks at me and walks away, toward where Jake is playing darts with himself. I just shake my head. There's no telling with her.
When I get into the living room Matthew is sitting by the fireplace, holding two cups of hot chocolate.
"Come sit by me?" he asks. I chuckle a little. He's so sweet. I sit down beside him as close as possible, so our legs touch from hip to knee. He hands me the paper cup filled with light brown liquid. We sit together in silence for a little while, drinking our hot beverages.
When I'm finished he takes my cup and tosses it into the nearby trash basket, which is next to the recliner. I'm beginning to wonder why he wanted me to come in here, wondering if he has something to tell me, or if he just wanted a moment alone for the purpose of being alone. Or maybe he wanted me to sit under the mistletoe (which is exactly where it was the first time) so he'd have an excuse to kiss me. (Not that he needs one.) But he hasn't said anything and he hasn't kissed me. Just as I'm getting a bit impatient waiting for him to say or do something, about to ask what's on his mind, he stands up rather abruptly. With a confused look on my face, I watch him as he stands there for a second, his back to me. I see his shoulders rise as if he's taking a deep breath. Turning back around, he reaches for my hand. I smile. He smiles back, big and real and eyes gleaming in the firelight. He kneels down in front of me and says, "Bailey, I know I've said this many times, but I love you more than words can express. I don't think any word ever invented could fully explain it. So I want to demonstrate my love for you. I want to show you, to prove to you, and everyone else, that I love and cherish and treasure you, every day, for as long as I live.
"I know life will sometimes throw storms in our faces, and times will be hard, but I promise to always be there to walk through it with you, together.
So, will you, Bailey Evers, do me the incredible honor of marrying me?" As he says this last part, he reaches inside his front shirt-pocket and pulls out a ring. A gorgeous ring. An engagement ring. Throughout his declaration of unending love and devotion to me, and his promise to prove it to the world, I have sat in silent astonishment. Now, as he holds out the ring, offering me everything I could ever hope for, my emotions spill over along with the tears that run down my face.
I nod my head quickly, remembering that I haven't given an answer, and manage to squeak out a barely audible, "Yes!"
He sighs with obvious relief and smiles that brilliant smile that I love so much. And it's all for me. He takes my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. A perfect fit. He stands and pulls me up with him. Wrapping both arms around his neck, I hug him and cry some more and breathe in the scent of him. He smells like soap and woodsy scented cologne and skin.                            
He pulls back and places his hands behind my neck and, slowly, he leans forward and kisses me.
"The Christmas Eve Engagement Kiss."

I open my eyes to flashing camera lights. For a second I'm confused, but then I understand. Everyone knew. Except me. And apparently they all wanted a picture of this memorable moment. Of "The Christmas Eve Engagement Kiss" under the mistletoe.
As realization dawns on my face, I quickly find Anne in the applauding crowd of my relatives and friends. She wears a smug smile and I glare at her. She sticks her tongue out. We both laugh. Everyone comes rushing forward to hug and congratulate me and Matthew, my parents being first in line.
I'm glad I'd chosen the water-proof mascara.

This is not the end of our story. No, it is merely another beginning. A beautiful beginning. Matthew and I have many, though this is the last one to be shared.

I wanted to tell these stories, these beginnings, because it demonstrates something I think is important. You see, when I first met Matthew, I was very reserved and skeptical, and I didn't want to let anyone in because I was afraid. I'd been hurt before by someone I trusted; someone who was supposed to have loved me. From that experience I learned not to open up. To stay far away from potential dangers. Don't trust. Don't reveal your heart. Don't love. Because in the end, love is dangerous. Love will only lead to pain. That's what I believed.

Matthew taught me differently. He patiently proved to me through his actions that to really live, you have to open your heart and let love venture forth; let love be what guides you, not fear. He showed me that real love is extraordinarily profound, more than feelings and emotions; love is built and grown.


      
 

       

       

A Series of Events Part 8

"Can we talk about this?" Matt asks. By "this" I'm assuming he means our almost-kiss. We're still sitting in his jeep. He just parked in front of my house.
"You know, I-I'd rather not," I say. I know I'm being selfish, but I can't dredge up my past right now. It's not the right time. He deserves the truth, but I can't talk about it. At least not today.
"Bailey, I'm sure you've got your reasons, and I'm sure they're good ones, but...we almost kissed. I mean, that's kind of a big deal." He pauses, taking in a deep breath. Letting it out, he continues. "You know, sooner or later you're going to have to face your heart. You might not want to, but it's inevitable. And just so you know, I'm still going to be here when you do." I expect him to turn and smile at me. He doesn't. He opens the door of the jeep and steps out into the cold night air. I follow.

Needless to say dinner was pretty awkward that night. I think my mom sensed that something was amiss between Matt and me, but she didn't ask about it. She did, however, make a big fuss over the fact that we were soaked to the skin. She kept going on and on about how we were going to "catch our death" from being out in the rain in November. She insisted on Matt changing into a pair of my dad's sweats and a flannel shirt. He complied, mainly just to soothe her, I think.

It hasn't been very long since Matt went home, maybe a couple hours. I'm lying on my bed staring at the ceiling when my phone rings. It's him. Confused, I answer. Maybe he forgot something.
"Hello?"
"Hey. Are you doing anything tomorrow?" he says.
"Umm, not that I know of. Why?"
"I was hoping you'd say that. Do you want to go shopping with me?" he asks.
"Shopping? Are you crazy? On Black Friday?" He must be insane. People act mad on Black Friday. He laughs. "Yes, shopping. No, I'm not crazy. And yes, I know tomorrow is Black Friday. That's the point. Massive sales, great deals, and we can get a super early start on Christmas shopping." He sounds perfectly happy and excited. It's impossible for him to stay down for long. I hesitate briefly. I'm not very fond of crowds.
"I don't know. All the stores are going to be packed. It'll be a madhouse out there," I say, trying to use reason with him.
"Please come with me." Apparently reasoning doesn't work. I groan and say, "Don't you have other friends you can ask?" He laughs a little and says, "No. All my guy friends hate shopping. Anne would jump at the offer, but as you know, she's not in the state. If you come with me I'll buy you a gluten-free cupcake and we can have lunch at that new cafe," he says, working his persuasive magic.
"Alright, geez. I'll go. Besides, you had me at cupcake."

We head out really early the next morning, although I don't know how much good it will do. I heard on the news that people have been waiting in line outside of stores the entire night. That's ridiculous to me. I wouldn't even be going out right now if it weren't for Matt. I look over at him as he drives. "So, Captain, where to first?"
"I thought we'd hit the mall first, since that will probably be the busiest. There's an art supplies store in there I wanted to check out."
"What do you need to get in there?" I ask as we pull into the shopping center where the mall is located.
"I'm looking for an easel," he says, circling the parking lot. I don't even see an empty space. After circling again, I spot one and point it out.
"So you're really getting into the art thing, huh?"
"Yeah, I think so. I really like it," he tells me. I smile at him. Maybe that will be it. Art. Maybe that's his passion.

Inside the mall there are people everywhere. I've never seen it this crowded. I follow close behind Matt as he leads the way to the art store, weaving in and out of groups of people. The noise in here is practically deafening. People bump into me without even a backward glance. They just keep walking, so concerned are they with their own affairs.
I grab Matt's sleeve before I end up getting lost in the crowd. He looks back at me and laughs. It's like he's enjoying this. I'm not enjoying this at all. I feel claustrophobic. Too many people. Way too many people.

After what seems like forever we finally make it to the art store. I've never been in here before. It's much larger than I thought. And thankfully there are less people.
Matt seems to know where he's going so I tag along behind him, admiring some paintings as we pass by. I try to search for a restroom while we walk, but I don't see one.
"Do you know where the bathroom is in here?" I ask Matt once we've found the easels.
"Hm, I think it's upstairs. There's a different store up there and I think that's where the bathroom is. Do you want me to help you find it?"
"No, that's okay. I'm sure I can manage. You just stay here and look at these cool...artsy things." He chuckles as I turn and walk away.
Finding the restroom is harder than I anticipated. For one, this is a pretty big store; for another, I'm not even sure where the escalator is to get upstairs. This must be the third time I've walked around the entire ground floor. Becoming desperate for a bathroom, I've just decided to go look for an employee when I see the escalator out of the corner of my eye.
Once I reach the top level I immediately notice the sign hanging from the ceiling with an arrow indicating the direction of the restroom. Now why couldn't the escalator have been that simple to find?

"Matthew! Where the hell are you?" I mutter under my breath, not that he can hear me. I've looked all over the art store and am convinced he's not here. But where else could he be? I'm starting to get worried. Maybe he went upstairs to look for me. Making my way back to the escalator, I ride it up to the top level again. Nope. No sign of him. After another ten minutes of searching without success, I give up and call his cell phone. It only rings twice before he answers.
"Where are you?!" I say, not attempting to hide my frustration.
"Didn't you get my text? I said I'd meet you in Game Buster's once you were finished. I'm sorry. I should have called instead." Agitation still presides inside me, but I try to let it go. Shoving my glasses up and making my way to the exit, I say, "Okay. I'll be there in a minute."

"So you decided not to get an easel?" I ask Matt. We're sitting on a bench outside Beck's Bakery. He kept his word about the cupcake.
"No, I bought one. They put it on hold for me. It would have been slightly difficult to carry it through the mall and across the parking lot. I'll come back and pick it up next week."
"Oh. That makes sense," I say. I laugh when I look up at him. "You've got chocolate frosting on your face. Here."
"Thanks," he replies, taking the napkin from me.
It actually turned out to be a nice day, despite yesterday's downpour. The sun is shining, no clouds in sight, and I'm eating a double chocolate cupcake with my best friend. Not bad.
             

A Series of Events Part 5

I find myself, more and more, reminiscing over past events. Some days I sit for hours at a time replaying conversations and other memories in my mind. At times it seems hard to grasp them, as if they are lost in a thick fog and I'm stumbling around trying to find them and pull them out.

But I remember this one clearly.

It was the day we were supposed to leave for our beach trip. I was the last one to be picked up. My anticipation had been building up all week and I'd gotten up early that morning to double check my bags, wanting to make sure I had everything.
I was watching by the window for Matt's jeep to pull into my driveway, and as soon as I saw it, I said goodbye to my parents, grabbed my bags, and headed out the door. I went straight around to the back and opened the hatch to toss my bags inside. A boy came around from the side of the jeep to help me. I didn't recognize him. This boy had dark hair. It was buzzed. I stared, a confused, uncomprehending look on my face, I'm sure. But then the boy smiled and I looked carefully into his face. Glittering green eyes.

"What the heck happened to your hair?" I exclaim in astonishment. I would have never guessed that Matt would buzz all his hair off. He laughs at me.
"It was too hot. Not very practical beach hair." I laugh then, too. He looks so different.
"So this is your natural color?" I ask. I'm sure it must have been there underneath the blond, but this is the first time I've actually seen it.
"Yeah, I figured I'd go natural for a change," he says. We're done loading up my bags. Anne and Rock are in the backseat. Of course Anne would make sure I ride up front with Matt.

I keep glancing over at him as we make our way to the beach. No more hippie hair. I can't help but wonder if he's telling the whole truth about why he cut it. Did Anne mention something to him about my not being attracted to blonds? Would Matt really cut off all his hair for that sole reason? Instead of feeling good that he would do something like that for me, I feel sort of guilty. Matt is a really good guy and I don't want him to feel like he has to change for me. I may never return his feelings. I may never see him as anything other than a friend. I want to be fair to him. He deserves that. 
I decide that, if it comes up and he broaches the subject, I'll be straightforward with him about how I feel.

As we travel we all talk about our plans for the weekend. The guys want to buy boogie boards. Anne and I both agree that the Aquarium is a must. Rock groans, but Matt seems interested.
"Why don't you want to go to the Aquarium, Rock?" Anne asks, sounding annoyed. "They've got sharks!"
"Really?" He seems to think about this for a second. "Well, I guess we can check it out for a little while." Guys and sharks. I don't get it.

As soon as we arrive we go straight to the hotel to check in and take all the bags up to our room. I notice the balcony right away. The view is beautiful; it looks out over the beach. Sand and sea and sky. I breathe deeply, welcoming the salty scent that floats on the ocean breeze.
"Isn't it gorgeous?" Anne says, coming up beside me. She leans against the railing, her arms crossed.
"It is," I say. "It's beautiful. I bet the sunrise is magnificent out here." She laughs a little and says, "Well you can get up at the crack of dawn if you want to, but this is a vacation and I plan on sleeping in. Because, you know, that's what you're supposed to do while on vacation."
"So, what do you guys want to do first?" Matt asks, coming out onto the balcony and sitting in one of the deck chairs arranged next to a small table in one corner.
"Get some lunch," Rock says. He's standing just inside the doorway. He's not exactly the friendliest guy on the planet.
"Okay, that's one option. Anyone else?" Matt asks. A warm breeze blows against him, making his red long-sleeve t-shirt tighten around his upper body. I'm struck again with the thought that he's been working out. I can see the outline of muscles that definitely weren't there before.
Anne nudges me with her elbow. "Huh?" I mumble, glancing at her. She grins. "Where have you been? I asked if you wanted to go out on the beach now or eat lunch first." I didn't even hear her.
"Oh. Um... Actually I am kind of hungry."
"Lunch it is!" Matt announces, jumping up and leading the way.

Out here on the beach, with the sound of the ocean waves crashing onto the shore, all the things that seemed so important back home don't really hold that much weight anymore. My worries appear so much smaller somehow. Maybe it's the vastness of the ocean or the way the sky looks so much bigger. Either way, the beach is a great place to relax and recharge.
Strangely, there aren't as many people as I was expecting. Anne lies on a giant beach towel, tanning. She insisted on going back to the hotel after lunch to change into her bikini. She told me I should try to tan also, to do something about how pasty I look, but I just laughed and walked off.
Matt brought a frisbee which he and Rock are tossing back and forth near the water. I can hear them hollering to each other and laughing loudly.
I decide to go for a walk up the beach. Matt sees me and waves. I smile and wave back.
I haven't walked very far when he comes jogging up alongside me. He slows to match my pace.
"Where did you leave Rock?" I ask.
"He wanted to go get the boogie boards, so I gave him my keys." We're both quiet as we walk, enjoying the atmosphere.
"I love it here," Matt says after a few minutes.
"Me too. I wish I could live here. It's lovely." We walk farther down the beach a little ways and then I feel his hand gently wrap around mine.
I stop. He takes a few more steps and then he stops too. I'm not sure what to say exactly. I ease my hand away from him. I don't want to injure him with my words, but I already made a decision to be fair to him.
"Matt," I say, wanting it to come out right. "I like you, but...as a friend. I value our friendship and it is very important to me. But I...I just can't offer you anything other than that. I don't have those kinds of feelings for you." I try to smile a little, to lighten the weight of what I've just said. As if that will help somehow. For a second I'm not sure what he'll say. He looks at me and his eyes are the only things that betray him. I can see the slightest bit of pain in those mesmerizing green pools. And deep inside of me, I feel that pain too.
Then he breaks the silence. He says, "You might not feel anything for me now, but do you think it's possible that later on, after some time, you could feel something for me?" That pain stabs more fiercely. Why is he doing this to me? Why? I swallow hard and work to remain composed. I say, "I don't know. It wouldn't be fair for you to hold out hope if it's not ever going to happen. I don't want you to be even more disappointed. And I also don't want to jeopardize our friendship by putting unnecessary pressure on it to be something other than what it is." I hate saying these things because I know it's not what he wants to hear, but I have to get it all out in the open now. I'm worried that I've crushed him, but he surprises me and smiles.
"You're right, Bay. I don't want to put any pressure on you or our friendship. I have the highest respect for you as a person and as my friend. But it's impossible for me to stop hoping that your feelings will change. I won't bring it up again, but I need you to know that I'm not giving up." He smiles brightly at me, his eyes hopeful. I shake my head and smile back at him. When I look into his eyes again I can still see traces of pain mixed with hope, and my heart aches.