That brave thing I did . . .

Last week was one of high drama and emotion in my usually quiet, ordinary world. To make an incredibly long story a bit shorter, over a year ago I developed a crush of enormous size on a police officer I met and worked with on a case at court. Keep in mind until I saw him again last week, I had only met him once in my entire life. But once was enough for me! So when he walked into the Loughborough court house and back into my life last Tuesday afternoon, needless to say, I was elated! My elation only increased when he remembered me (woohoo!) and talked with me for over half an hour. My feet barely touched the ground on the walk home.

Of course I related this whole tale to Angie, Joanne, Andy, Beth and even my boss at court, Julie. Their excitement for me quickly led them to all ask, "But did you get his phone number? Did he get yours?"

Um . . . unfortunately, no. How can I ask a police officer at court for his phone number, or even discreetly pass him mine without looking completely unprofessional?

All of "my girls" said that I must make some sort of move. After all, I see him on an average of .85 times a year! I couldn't let this opportunity slip away, because I may not have another one until . . . next June!

So, I did it. Because I value my life (I seriously think my housemate and sister might have killed me if I did not act in some way), and because I am so interested in this police officer, I acted. I made a move. I sent him a card. Nothing soppy, just breezy, light, funny . . . and by the way, here's my phone number if you ever want to meet up with your American friend again.

What have I done?!?!

It's been two-and-a-half days since that fateful drop in the postbox. The phone hasn't rung once. Not even a telemarketer! I think the phone is mocking me ("Ha, ha, not only is your police officer never going to call you, but NO ONE is ever going to call you again!). For someone who daily lives in utter fear of rejection, it's bizarre that I have opened myself up to be rejected in such a humiliating way!

I feel like such an idiot!

Angie is surely exhausted with hearing me try to pretend that I could care less if the good officer calls me or not. She's been encouraging, telling all the people at church that I did something incredibly brave this past week. And while I'm thankful for this gesture of goodwill, I can't help but feel silly having to say "no" to the dozens of people who now ask me everytime they see me if HE'S called yet.

It's tough. A part of me is proud of my usually timid, scared, anxious self for taking a huge risk and doing something I've never ever done in all my 26 1/2 years. A part of me is glad I did it, because when I'm 80, I won't have to wonder if that nice young police officer was just flirting to pass his day in court, or if there was more there.

But a part of me is scared. If he never calls, it will hurt. I'll wonder what's wrong with me. I'll be terribly disappointed. I'll live in fear of running into him again at court and having to hold my head high and act like I'm not the weird stalker he may believe me to be now. I'll be sad.

I'll be okay.

A Latin proverbs says, "Fortune follows courage." I suppose this is true. Nothing is gained unless that first step is taken. As John Ortberg says, "If you want to walk on water, you've got to get out of the boat." He's right. And I kind of hate that. It's hard. Courage is kind of like jumping off a cliff, not knowing what you're going to land on: your bum, or a trampoline that shoots you to even greater heights. You just won't know until you take that leap.

So, this week, I lept. And I kind of feel like I'm still falling. The results may not be what I'm hoping for, and I know that will be hard. But at the same time, I believe that all courage is rewarded somehow, that I'll gain some sort of treasure from this risk I've taken.

And I pray that even if it's rejection that I face, I will use it as the trampoline at the bottom of the cliff and soar!

I'll keep you updated!

Fear

I'm scared. No, really, I'm terrified. In the pit of my stomach, is a feeling so heavy and dark and sickly, it can only be fear. I don't know who reads my blog. Maybe no one, or just one or two people. Even if no one ever reads it, maybe it's still good to give words to what's frightening me most these days.

The silly thing -- and the annoying thing -- is that the answer is so obvious: TRUST GOD. I know this. I want to do this. I'm trying to do this. But a little part of me is saying, "I've been praying about this for months, yet He doesn't seem to be listening. But He must be, so why isn't He doing something?" I'm even scared to admit that a part of me believes there's no point praying about it anymore. It won't make any difference.

You see, dear readers, who ever you may be, my financial situation is dismal. I don't have enough to stay in England much more than a couple of months. My monthly support is covering my bills -- but there's not much left over, not enough to live on. This week I got some surprise bills -- big ones -- final bills from my flat that I had no clue would be coming. I called the companies; I've got to pay them. I have a small savings account that was supposed to be for emergencies or extras. This is an emergency, and my account is dwindling rapidly.

In situations like these, I know God must be trying to teach me something. But what? Is He telling me that maybe I should leave, that I've overstayed my welcome? I have a difficult time believing that. Is He trying to teach me to be like Paul, to live on nothing and to rejoice all the way through it? I'm sure that's part of it. Or is He begging me to trust Him, to seek His kingdom first and to believe that He'll provide the rest? As ashamed as I am to admit it, and as annoyed as I am to admit it, that's probably it. He wants me to trust Him. Great.

It's so hard. I'm looking at the bills I've got to pay this afternoon and my bank balance, and I'm frightened. I feel like I've asked, practically begged everyone I know to consider supporting me. Angie has contacted people for me. The church here has given me everything they can afford and then some. I feel stuck and hopeless . . . and I don't know what else to do.

Please pray with me and for me that I'll trust God without wavering right now, that He'll honor my requests and raise some support for me. It's embarrassing asking for money, but if you know anyone -- yourself, friends, family members, a singles' ministry or a Bible study group that could help me, it would be hugely appreciated.

Thanks for reading! Have a great day!

A post V-Day update

I feel bad that my first blog was semi-depressing. So, in order to cheer this blog up a bit, I'll tell you that Valentine's Day wasn't so bad after all. Angie and I put on dresses and heels, set our new table with our best "company" dishes, and enjoyed a gourmet dinner of chicken pot pie, sweetcorn and tiramisu. Then we watched "Little Women" and cried ourselves silly (not due to V Day depression, but because it's a classic tear-jerker). I went to bed feeling satisfied, thankful for a day well-spent.

What did I learn from this? Although not a new lesson, it's certainly one that needs repeating in my life: your attitude will make or break you! I have a quote hanging in my bedroom, and part of it says, "Your attitude is your best friend or your worst enemy . . . It is the librarian of your past, the speaker of your present, and the prophet of your future." How wise and true those words are! It's something I need reminded of daily, especially on days like yesterday when I wake up feeling like life is unfair and a big, black cloud is sitting on my head!

So, today is a brand new day. I went to court, but was sent home because the scheduled trial went down (why they couldn't let me know this yesterday is beyond me). Tonight is the Young Adult Bible study, followed by a sleepover with the girls. The girls love sleepovers, and I love sleepovers . . . although they remind me that I'm no longer a freshman at university! I can't stay awake all night like I used to without paying for it the rest of the week. Lord, please give me strength!!

I think Elvis might live in my loo . . .

Hooray! I have a blog! No promises that I'll be a faithful contributor, but at least I feel I have advanced into the modern world of Internet communication.

Now, about my Blog title: Elvis in the Loo. Just so you know, Angie and I believe that Elvis lives in our bathroom. We also believe there are gypsies in our attic, gnomes under our kitchen sink, and Pakistanis inhabiting our pantry. This is the only way we can make any sense of the odd noises and smells we have encountered in our new home (for example, our pantry smells strongly of stale curry). All the oddities aside, we do love our new house!

So, Happy Valentine's Day! As a spinster with absolutely no prospects, quite honestly, I find this day difficult. As I walked through the town center this afternoon, the millions of rose bouquets, helium-filled balloons and lovey-dovey couples holding hands really bugged me! And the fact that that bugged me, also bugged me! I mean, I should be used to this by now. I shouldn't care that no one sent me a dozen roses or gave me an expensive box of chocolates. I should be secure in the knowledge that I am God's child, and I am well loved. But, deep down inside, I know that I loathe Valentine's Day, and I know exactly why.

And yet, the Bible tells me that God made this day, and I am to rejoice and be glad in it. So, all day I've tried to be extra thankful. This is what I've come up with:

We got a new table and chairs today . . . for free!
Flowers were on sale today . . . so I bought some to decorate our new table.
Valentine's Day is the perfect excuse to buy chocolate . . . so I did.
And now, it's time for dinner. Angie and I are putting on dresses and heels and eating our chicken pot pie in style!

Hope your V Day is just as grand!