Silent Cry (7 page)

“I don't want to smoke either,” he said after we had passed a few miles in silence.
“You believe me, don't you, Dorothy? You have always been such a good girl — like
your mother . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Just stop drinking,” I heard myself say, surprised at my own courage. “You can be
so kind,” I said. “I remember all the times you gave me money for sports and school
activities, and you used to come to my softball games. Why can't you just be that
person?”

“I wish I could,” he sighed, and the silence returned.

Back at school, I immersed myself in the campus ministry. I hosted Bible studies
and planned activities, all the while drawing in more and more people to meet Jesus.
I looked forward to each opportunity and found myself inviting people daily. Within
a few weeks, attendance had grown significantly. I was planting spiritual seeds and
seeing fruit so quickly that it was exhilarating. I was excited, and my enthusiasm
was contagious. I felt like a bright light had been turned on inside of me, and people
were attracted to the warm glow.

There he was: “Kenny J.” I had met him before Thanksgiving. He was handsome! I gave
him a flyer and invited him to Bible study, and he came! I introduced him to the
campus minister, and before long, Kenny accepted Christ as his Savior. Kenny was
a persuasive communicator, and when he shared his
testimony about accepting Jesus
with the group, my heart filled to the brim. By the end of that first semester, we
were head over heels in love.

At spring break, I took Kenny home to meet my family, and they all fell in love with
him too. He fit right in, and I found myself beginning to trust him. I shared things
with him I had never told anyone else. I told him about how abusive our lives had
been as I was growing up and how scared and alone I had felt. Kenny shared his own
challenges with me, and this drew us even closer together.

The time I spent with Kenny was magical. He loved God with all his heart. We spent
lots of time together — talking, praying, studying the Word, and just being close.
Our feelings for each other intensified, and it was the best time in my life.

When we returned to school in the fall, Kenny was a senior and already looking ahead
to his future. When he began to talk of marriage, I found myself suddenly shy. I
wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. I was still bruised from my past and from
the betrayal I had experienced time and again. I wanted to give myself completely
to Kenny, but part of me held back. I was deeply in love but not ready to commit.

“Seek first his kingdom” was etched on my heart.
How can I seek God if I am so involved
in a relationship?
I thought to myself. I was starting my second year of college.
I was back on a volleyball scholarship and had plans to play for the next three years.
What about my family?
I promised my mother I would finish school and be the first
college graduate in the family.
What about the ministry?
People were coming to know
Christ because of my involvement.
If I marry Kenny, what will happen to those people?
I fought with myself. One day, I could imagine leaving school to join Kenny in “happily
ever after” wedded bliss. The next day, I was certain I had to focus on my goals
or
I would always be filled with regret that would ultimately spoil my marriage.

Up and down I went, riding on an emotional roller coaster. Beneath it all was the
legacy of my troubled childhood. I was determined that what happened to my mother
would never happen to me. I wanted to be able to survive on my own — to be independent,
well educated, and strong. Although I wasn't willing or able to acknowledge it, I
was also afraid of yet another betrayal. This fear had built a self-protective fortress
around my heart. No one could come in, and I couldn't come out. Fear imprisoned the
part of me that wanted to love and trust another human being. I didn't realize it,
but the prison was there as surely as if there were real iron bars and a lock encasing
my heart.

During this time, my auntie Dee Dee wrote me letters, encouraging me to stay in school
and finish my degree — there would be time for marriage later. Years ago, she had
made plans to finish high school and then go to college, but instead she got married
and moved away with her husband, Uncle Bubbie, who worked for the government. The
responsibilities of being a wife and mother complicated things, and it was many years
before she had the opportunity to return to school for her bachelor's degree. She
spoke from personal experience about the limitations I would experience without that
cherished college degree. I clung to her words as a source of encouragement and guidance.
I was thankful for her wisdom, and this helped me to realize God had a plan for my
life. I was thoroughly convinced that scholarships were his provision for my education.
Why would he have provided the money for me to go to school if I wasn't supposed
to finish?
It would be wrong of me to waste this opportunity. I also thought about
my siblings — I didn't want to be a dropout they couldn't look up to. Troubled by
my past,
absorbed in my present, and confused about my future, I pulled back from
Kenny.

My relationship with Kenny had made me the envy of many girls in our campus fellowship.
Kenny was a fine catch — handsome, well built, patient, well-spoken, kind, and sincerely
good. Every young woman in our ministry wanted Kenny, but I was the lucky one he
chose. Throughout our relationship, I was proud to be with him, and I felt special
that he wanted to be with me.

But as Kenny's senior year progressed and he became increasingly insistent about
wanting deeper commitment and more of my time, I had less time to give. In addition
to the campus ministry, I was focused on my studies and took my position with the
volleyball team very seriously. I needed time to keep my grades up and perform well
on the team. As a result, we spent much less time together, and our relationship
grew shaky.

I truly wanted to be Kenny's wife. I believed he was the man God had for me. I even
dreamed about it, but I also firmly believed it had to be after college. Then and
only then could I allow myself to become an adoring and wonderful wife. Looking back,
I know that fear played a much larger role in my reluctance to commit than I realized
at the time. I had known the harshness of anger and abuse. I had felt the sting of
betrayal by people I loved and trusted — and I still suffered from that pain. I wasn't
willing to hand Kenny an opportunity to hurt me in that way. I pursued my goals and
pushed him farther and farther away until one day, he stopped trying to get close.

Kenny moved on.

CHAPTER 7

Home away from Home

It is not so much our friends' help that helps us as the confidence of their help.

Epicurus

I
knew Kenny was seeing someone else. We never officially broke up, but we drifted
apart
until
I knew the relationship had died. I knew he would bring his new girl to a meeting
one day, and I dreaded it. Even though I genuinely wished him the best and wanted
him to be happy, the thought of seeing him happy with someone else was painful.
Oh,
if only he was willing to wait!

When my reluctance to commit became evident, one girl in the group who had never
been fond of me (at least in my mind) quickly encouraged Kenny to move on. “Pursuing
Dot is a waste of time,” she told him. She introduced him to a friend of hers and
encouraged him to ask her out. Real or imagined, it seemed as though she celebrated
my loss — perhaps I had gotten what I deserved. Each time I went to a meeting, I
could feel her eyes on me and imagine what she whispered to others: “Good for him!”
“It's about time he moved on!” I wanted to escape.

The dreaded day finally came. He brought her to a meeting, and I was hurt. The old
feelings of betrayal surfaced, and it was difficult to push them aside and focus
on God and my goals. A wrestling match was taking place inside my soul. I argued
with myself, gave myself pep talks, and sometimes cried out to God in desperation.
I questioned if I had done the right thing in rejecting Kenny's offer for a future
together, and I struggled to keep my focus on my studies.

To further complicate matters, our campus ministry group naturally fostered deep
relationships, and people began pairing
off. Fifteen couples who met in our group
ultimately went all the way to the altar. I was truly happy for each and every one
of them, but something inside me felt empty and hollow.
Will I ever know that kind
of happiness? Will I ever trust someone enough to walk down the aisle? Will he treat
me well? Will he hurt me?
These thoughts tormented me in moments of quietness, and
I turned them over to God, trusting him to bring me peace.

Kenny was very kind to me during this time, and he placed some distance between us
before involving his new girlfriend in campus ministry. I appreciated his sensitivity,
but just being in the same room with this girl was enough to drive me to distraction.
The disappointment in my soul was intense. I felt neglected as I never had before
and had to grapple with my emotions privately so I could find the strength and maturity
to be gracious and kindhearted in social situations.

Unwilling to lose face or let anyone know how deeply hurt I was, I continued to study
with the group and participate in all the activities. I even encouraged other members
of the group to reach out to Kenny's new girlfriend and love her. After all, that's
what Christ would have done, and I genuinely wanted to be a follower of Christ. I
was quick to assure anyone who expressed concern for me that I was fine. With a forced
but convincing smile, I explained that the breakup with Kenny was not his fault —
someone else was able to give him what he needed now, and I wasn't that person. He
deserved to be happy.

Many times I was tempted to go to Kenny, apologize, and tell him how I really felt
— that I loved and needed him. When I imagined the scene in my mind, it always ended
with him asking me to marry him (again), but this time I would look into his eyes
and say, “Yes, Kenny!” Sometimes I even picked up the phone, but then I always put
it back down again. I just couldn't
bring myself to do it. It would be a lie. I wasn't
ready to love like that — or to be loved like that.

Something on the inside of me was deeply wounded. I had never shared my traumatic
childhood with anyone other than Kenny, so no one knew the depth of fear and inability
to trust I experienced. I was simply not capable of accepting Kenny's goodness, kindness,
and genuine love for me. My emotional defenses were fortress strong, and I felt powerless
to tear them down and let him inside.

The remainder of my sophomore and junior years was difficult and lonely. However,
it was during this time that I met Wayne and Jane Nance through a “home away from
home” program at our church. Mrs. Nance became my mentor, and oh, what divine providence
it was that brought her into my life! She pointed out the good she saw in me and
challenged me to reach for God's best in every area of my life. She helped me see
my failures as stepping-stones to success and use these for growth and development,
not as anchors to weigh me down. She encouraged me to honor Christ with all my actions
and to seek his guidance in every decision. I wanted to be like her, and in a very
short time I had grown remarkably close to her.

Her wisdom and gentleness disarmed me. I soon found myself venting my closely guarded
fears and feelings. My defenses fell away, and I felt safe enough to share my pain.
Her calm demeanor and willingness to listen wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
She gently navigated the storms in my soul and helped me chart a course into calm
waters — a place where God's love was all-encompassing. It was the first time I experienced
inner healing, and I knew I was on my way to a new beginning.