Hammer on Anvil '

 "Angel, he died years before you were even born," my sympathetic Mother soothed. I was devastated. My husband material was worm food by now! I went back to my room and wrote a poem about sadness, and then ate shortbread cookies with my stuffed bear, Betty. I checked into Heartbreak Hotel and lamented for a good 20 minutes. (Five year old hearts heal remarkably fast.)

In the following years on Valentine's Day I would swoon or mope (depending on the year) over various crushes. I did eventually meet a funny kid who liked Jesus and punk rock, and soon we were planning a wedding. But a month before the wedding, my man, panicked from my craziness, ran back to the arms of a former girlfriend. My heart was broken, my wedding was off and I had no idea who the heck Hannah was anymore. In those following days of depression and rage, I cut my arms up into hamburger meat and prayed to meet a quick demise. Luckily, those plans failed too. (I am not trying to downplay the severity of my depression, but that is another blog for another day.) I knew I was out of my mind, and at that point I was absolutely willing to try anything to heal the hurt. The next day I abruptly quit my job at the comic shop and joined what I jokingly call, "Jesus Jail."

I want to make this abundantly clear: Those were the worst consecutive nine months my life. It wasn't just the program or the time mending from a broken heart of a failed relationship. No, it was all of it, wrapped up in my suffocating vanity and blinding pride.

In Jesus Jail program we all signed this deal saying we wouldn't date. No dating? Easy Peasy. I was done with that. I resigned to becoming a quintessential old maid. I tried to get a long with this new group of peers, but my outsider nature quickly outed me as one of two freaks Bible School. The other freak was named Doug. With my piercings and his tattoos we were commonly (if not always) placed together, behind the scenes, away from the peering eyes of potential Jesus Jail recruits. We spent almost every day together doing the crap jobs the pretty people who loved Carman interpretative dance (also called "human videos") didn't have time to do. We quickly became sarcastic comrades. Honestly, Doug is easy to love. I watched him work, sometimes days without sleep, to help others -- who were terrible to him -- with their jobs and responsibilities. He never complained; He always helped. He listen to my revenge-filled ramblings and quietly brought rational words to my raging heart. His sense of humor was spot on for sparring and yet his thoughtfulness and compassion was darn near intoxicating. Simply, Doug is just an all around good guy. It wasn't long before I considered Doug one of my very best friends.

 Halfway through the program, however, our friendship became quite the scandal ... And then my angst-filled journal was found and apparently read by some of the leaders. They knew I hated the program, but to openly admit I liked Doug in my personal journal?! Surely, this meant Doug and I were in an illicit affair, right?! From that point on, daily, I was brought into rooms and asked to confess my love for Doug. It was the Spanish Inquisition of the dating realm.

After five weeks of verbal beat-downs, though, I began to think, "Maybe I do like Doug." Essentially, just being around Doug made me want to be a better person. His faithfulness and joy melted my bitterness and made be believe there were places that weren't here. So, yeah. Yeah. I guess I did like Doug. Days after this personal realization, we were both embarrassingly brought into a big room together and told by a panel of grumpy leaders that we were no longer allowed to talk each other. Not only that, we weren't even supposed to be in the same room together anymore. They said Doug and I were breaking this covenant with God and we needed to be punished. I believed they were intensely overreacting, but I obliged their insanity, and wrote him letters with the little bits of free time I had. No, I didn't sneak the letters to him, because I tend to be a rule follower, even if the rules are asinine.

The day we graduated Jesus Jail, my mother hosted a wee party to celebrate the end of my incarceration.  She knew all of Doug's family was from out of town, so she invited them for snacks and sass you can only experience at my parents' home. We ate, laughed and rejoiced. I decided to take my manila envelope of letters and finally give them to my friend. To my surprise, this handsome, kind man was holding a manila envelope of his own. Letters he had written to his friend, when we were not allowed to talk. My mind was blown. We laughed and read our letters and then we made a deal of our own that someday we would make all this hurt and crazy make sense.

Doug and I will be married 10 years this October. Our marriage and our life has not been without trials, but my goodness, what a joy to have Doug beside me through it all. Doug met me at the worst point of my life. He saw all of it, out there, fighting for myself, while fighting against a system. He saw all of it and liked me anyway.

That is how love feels. It's a friend who loves at all times. It's not Valentine's Day, or chintzy cards. It's not candy, or Elvis Presley. It's not dream weddings or perfect dates. It's someone seeing the big, the bad, and the real crazy and kindly saying, "I've been there too. Now, let's go somewhere else together."

The moment I realized Doug was the right man for me was the moment he demonstrated all of 1 Corthinians 13 by simply being my friend. Doug loves God so completely that when he loves, he shows you the unconditional love of our Heavenly Father. I pray you know people like that in your life. I pray you strive to be one of those people.

Today, on a day that is meant to celebrate all things love, I urge you to choose to show love by simply being a friend.

Read with me:

"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. 

 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 

 (1 Corinthians 13:1-7).