My Anniversary

Yesterday, I celebrated my five-year anniversary. He had waited years for me to get this far but would wait no longer. But this was not a decision to be taken lightly. He insisted, "You cannot wait any longer." But every argument I raised was met and dismissed - not a flippant dismissal like the ones we receive when someone is simply too tired to argue - no, my arguments simply became lame in the light of such intelligence.

"Okay, okay, I surrender. Now please stop talking in my head," I begged. He was appeased, silent at last.

Sunday came, April 22, 2001. As I showered and carefully planned my outfit, I was determined to make this commitment even if it killed me and, I mused, it very well might. Okay, that was an exaggeration but still something inside of me was reluctant. I had wrestled with this vague unsettled feeling all week long. "What is it?" I asked in frustration. It felt like one of those frustration dreams where you almost can see the thing you are chasing but you can never quite get there - so close but yet so elusive.

"Tell me please?" I asked. "I know it's not the pride thing. I got over that and I am willing to humiliate myself in front of several hundred people," I proudly exclaimed.

He wrapped me in love before answering and simply said, "Because you know what out-of-control looks like."

Memories flooded my entire being and I could no longer stand up under their weight. On the floor sobbing, tears poured out in rivers of painful memories. "Oh yes, I do know what out-of-control looks like and it is terrifying," the 14-year old in me cried.

Where had I stored all those tears from so long ago? They had been safely locked up in my heart rarely to be seen by others while I fought hard to carefully control my surroundings so I could never be hurt or disappointed again. But salt water rusts and, I must admit, my heart had become like the Tin Man rusted shut from lack of use.

He held the key to my broken heart in one hand and I had a choice to make. I could take the key back or, relinquishing control, grab His other hand - the one that was being held out - the one with the nail prints. You see, five years ago yesterday, responding to an altar call at my church, I walked down the aisle and gave control over my life to One I cannot see but One who loved me enough to break down the rusted door to my heart.

How I would love to tell you that it was an easy choice. But I would be lying. It was not easy then and it is not easy now, five years later.

However, what I can tell five years later is this: There has not been one day, not one moment, that I have regretted my decision. And why, you may wonder, was God so insistent that day five years ago? He alone knew how my year would unfold. It was a year like no other but that is another story.