a surrender - 39

(Continuing "a surrender," chapter five, "who are my mother and my brothers?")

I didn’t think I would ever have a family of my own. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it was just that I didn’t think anyone would want to marry me. I had nothing, and thought I would probably always have nothing. And my life seemed so unstable and uncertain, I just couldn’t imagine any woman wanting to start a family in those circumstances. So I just accepted that. And I enjoyed my relationships with people in the community, including my new friendship with Heather. I felt like we were in God’s family together.

In the weeks that followed, there were more long talks with Heather. One evening, we came back to the house after a walk together, just in time for supper. But as we climbed the steps to the big porch, we were so deeply engaged that we just kept talking. I noticed through the window that the meal was starting, but still we talked. Occasionally someone from the table peered questioningly at us. By the time I finally said goodbye to her and came into the house, supper was over. 

Heather wasn’t put off by my life choices, not even the walking. She had actually imagined doing something similar herself once, but had reluctantly decided against it because of the dangers for a woman traveling that way alone. She had a strong sense of the corrupting influence of wealth. She liked what Jesus said about money and power, like I did. And our long conversations about how Jesus lived didn’t leave her feeling scared or guilty, like they seemed to with most other people. They left her feeling refreshed and excited. They left me feeling the same way.

I remember the day she told me to keep her teacups. She liked to serve tea to friends, and had a simple but elegant tea set, hand-painted with blue dragonflies. One day, after sharing tea in my tiny room, the only single room in the house, she left two of her tea cups behind. The next day, when I asked her if I should bring them to her, she said no, I could hold onto them. “I’m sure we’ll be having tea again soon,” she said.

And I remember kissing her, on a wooden bench in the corner of a small city park in the spring. With a tree for our canopy, filled with tender blossoms, occasionally casting their soft, pink petals into our laps.

Soon we were wondering if there was a way we could have a life together, and a family. We didn’t know if it was possible, but we wanted to try to find a way.

And we wanted to try to make a difference in the world. We were young and eager to confront the wrongs we saw around us in society. Wasn’t that what Jesus did? We thought his followers should do the same. I remember during that time copying down a quote by Leon Bloy: “Any Christian who is not a hero is a pig.”

So we left the community and set out to be heroes.

Continued...