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!