Chapter 9: I Held Him and Would Not Let Him Go

I couldn’t stop staring at him.

We had spent the night at David’s house last night—Danny on the couch, and I, on the loveseat that was situated perpendicular to it. Now, Danny sat, listening as David’s mom, Ms. Angelica, explained to him the spiritual significance of numbers.

But I was only half-hearing their conversation, while my dream from the previous night played over in my mind’s eye.

~

Danny and I stood in an empty airplane hangar, the floor concrete, the walls gray. We were on some kind of military base, and though I could not see him, I knew David was asleep outside, away from the protection of the hangar. We had to find him, convince him to join us inside.

[Gap.]

David was with us, and with relief, I said, “Good. Now we’re all safe.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than an airplane crashed through the side of the hangar.

When the debris had cleared, I looked to my left. David was still there. Then, I looked to my right.

Danny was gone.

David and I searched desperately, calling his name, but there was no response.

Despair sank its claws deep in my heart. It was beyond hope. It was beyond—

[Gap.]

Danny. Crouched beneath the plane, eyes wide like a startled animal. Somehow, he had managed to find some niche that saved him from being crushed by the plane.

[Gap.]

I was on my knees as Danny carefully made his way out from under the plane. When he reached me, I threw my arms around him and held on tight. “You scared me so badly.”

At first, his response was automatic—he returned the hug, but the embrace was robotic. But when I continued to cling to him, he seemed to come to his senses. His grip tightened around me.

I pulled away, eyes intent on his face. He couldn’t hold my gaze; his narrow escape from death was sending him into shock.

“Danny, look at me.”

He brought his eyes up to meet mine for a few seconds, but they quickly dropped away again. I repeated the phrase several times, my eyes never leaving his face. I considered also telling him to breathe, but instead I breathed deeply myself in the hope he’d follow my lead.

I didn’t stop until he could hold my gaze.

~

Ms. Angelica’s voice jolted me back to the waking world. “Eight is the number for new beginnings.”

(The date was 8/8.)

~

The entire morning, I kept staring. All I wanted to do was give him a hug.

~

(There are certain moments in my life which feel inevitable even as they are happening—moments in which I am moved by something beyond myself—moments in which I am deeply struck by the realization that my story has already been written—and some people call this inevitability fate, but I have come to believe it is nothing less than the hand of God.)

~

He was standing by the front door, saying his goodbyes before he left for work.

“Danny.”

The impulse that caused me to rise (Danny uses words like sprang up or bounded when he describes it) from the loveseat was beyond my control.

His eyebrows were raised in a questioning expression as I took the two steps I needed to reach him. Then I lost sight of his face as I wrapped my arms around him and held.

If he was surprised, he recovered quickly. He returned my embrace—the only hug I had ever initiated.

~

We stepped away, and said our goodbyes, like everything was normal.

But something inside me was wrecked, and I couldn’t understand it.

~

I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back, I know—that was the day I started to fall in love with Danny.

Chapter 8: Take This Sinking Boat and Point It Home; We’ve Still Got Time

We'd been planning for weeks now. When David had first suggested, one morning over donuts and coffee, a road trip to a conference in North Carolina, I had doubted very much that I’d be able to attend. I had just started a new job—a job I had been hired specifically to work weekends. During the dates of the conference, I’d still be in the middle of my training.

But God has a way of working these things out, despite my skepticism.

So here we were—David and Danny sleeping on my living room floor (Danny, please stop torturing David with the giant stuffed horse)—and I, painstakingly choosing my outfits for the next few days and cramming them in my suitcase as the hours drew nearer and nearer to morning, and a much-needed escape from Georgia.

~

Danny offered to drive, at least part of the way. I thanked him, with no intention of allowing him to.

~

Two states and a seven-hour drive later, we arrived in the sweeping, forest-bedecked embrace of Greensboro. I stepped outside and drank it in.

~

(North Carolina is a place that holds only happy memories for me. It makes me think things like I can breathe here. I once imagined calling it home, knowing even then, it would break the magic.)

~

It was time to go exploring.

We visited the cabins (the guys' and girls' were separated by a long stretch of dirt path; we actually drove to avoid a long walk hauling sleeping bags and suitcases).

~

Between the cabin areas, there was a lake, complete with paddleboats.

Danny wanted me to go on one with him, but I said no.

~

A day later, David’s little brother, James, extended the same invitation. I hesitated, since I had rejected Danny’s request, but I eventually said yes, hoping Danny, who was talking with a few people nearby, wouldn’t notice.

(He did.)

~

“You’re going to bed already?”

It was the second night, and something was wrong. Danny was never the first to leave (the first to sleep, yes, but he never actually detached himself from the group in order to do so).

He wasn’t himself. At least, not the self I had become accustomed to.

(It’s the first time I remember seeing him sad.)

~

I felt heavy as he walked away into the dark. It felt a little like abandonment. Also, like fear.

~

Hours later, my mood not alleviated, I walked to my cabin alone.

~

The next day, Danny (somehow) found out. He tried to make me agree not to walk back by myself in the dark (he was going to bed early again), and when I wouldn’t, he enlisted James to ensure I’d have someone with me that night.

~

(Side note: Months later, I went to see The Hunger Games: Catching Fire in theaters. There was a quote—“You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know.”

And as I sat next to Danny, his hand in mine, I thought to myself—I know.)

~

The final night of the conference, I was in the back of the sanctuary, on my knees—lost (but found) in the invisible, secret place, where my God meets with me.

Suddenly, someone knelt beside me, and began to speak. I opened my eyes to see Hannah, one of the young adults who belonged to the church hosting the conference.

“I think God wants me to tell you something,” she said. “If it’s completely off, let me know, but I believe this is from Him.” She paused, and I readied my heart.

“There’s this part of your heart that’s closed off from Him. It’s like it’s encased in ice. But God is gonna take that ice and turn it into a snow-cone.” 

Danny. I felt my heart resist as soon as the thought entered my mind, but I reminded myself of my promise—not my will, but Yours.

~

Still, I wasn’t ready to admit that the word was about Danny specifically. As I pondered it over the next few hours, I could admit the possibility. But it was more likely that God was referring to my suspicious attitude toward men and relationships in general.

(That was the best my still-cold heart could do.)

~

I never did ride with Danny in a paddleboat.

But our last afternoon, I joined him and James in the canoe that had been beckoning me since our arrival. Danny sat in front, and I, just behind. The summer sun shone, bright and warm on our exposed skin, the water parting silently before the boat’s metallic prow—our laughter, the loudest sound.

And even though I didn’t love him, it sure was good to see him smile again.

Chapter 7: Oh, Please Be Done. How Much Longer Can This Drama Afford to Run?

I felt a surge of relief when I received a text from Danny that announced he was considering talking to David (one of the few friends on whom Danny had yet to pour out his undying love for me).

David was one of the most straight-forward, no-nonsense people I knew. He was unafraid to speak his mind, and I was confident that he would come to my aid and be quick to inform Danny that he had clearly misheard God and should drop this whole Alyssa-obsession, ASAP.

My response to Danny was immediate: I think that’s a good idea.

~

As soon as Danny and David had a moment alone together, I texted Danny, inquiring how it went.

From what I gathered, David had done nothing whatsoever to deter Danny.

But Danny said I was welcome to talk to David if I liked (I had avoided discussing the situation with any of our friends thus far—I didn’t want to share what had transpired without his permission.)

So I texted David, and informed him we needed to talk.

~

That Wednesday, I picked up David for church. A few minutes into the drive, after the necessary small-talk, I finally burst.

I ranted for at least a full ten minutes about not being in love with Danny, and how the timing was all wrong, and why marrying Danny was a terrible idea, and how David should have told Danny that he was crazy and needed to move on rather than allowing him to maintain his impossible hope.

 

When I paused to take a breath, David took the opportunity to ask a question.

“Did God tell you that you aren’t going to marry Danny?”

I sighed, frustrated. “I don’t know. I never trust myself when it comes to guys. I get too emotionally involved.” Memories formed and dissolved in my mind in rapid sequence. “There are times in the past when I’ve thought I’ve heard from God, but it was really just my own desires.” I gripped the steering wheel more tightly.

“So no, I can’t say it’s from God. I just know what I feel.”

~

I’ve had people tell me that God wouldn’t tell you to marry someone you weren’t in love with. Over the course of the week, I had tried to comfort myself with this idea.

The trouble was, I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe it.

Because when I read the Bible, I saw God telling people to do a lot of things that didn’t seem to make any sense by human standards.

~

I thought of God telling the prophet Hosea to marry a prostitute. (Imagine explaining that one to your mother—here comes the sermon on being unequally yoked!)

The Bible doesn’t say whether or not Hosea loved Gomer initially. We only know that he was obedient.

~

I also thought of God telling Abraham to slaughter his only son—the son God had promised would be used to make Abraham’s descendants so numerous, they’d rival the stars in the sky.

How do you think the conversation would go if he had told anyone else what God had commanded? “Well, Abraham, if God told you to kill Isaac, you’d better follow His leading! Want me to help you hold him down?”

…Um, no. It’s more likely that DFCS would be breaking down Abraham’s front door to take Isaac away, with the cops close behind.

~

The thing is, God is God, and we are not. We can try to restrain Him in the manmade boxes of our preconceived notions, formulaic thinking, limited logic and experiences, fallible interpretations of Scripture, and our darkened-mirror theologies—but I believe it’s to our own detriment.

However much I wanted to, I could not put a limit on a God who demanded that I give up everything to follow Him. Who commanded that I pick up my cross daily. Who said that the only way to live, was to die.

~

“Alyssa, I don’t know if Danny is right, or if he’s not. But I do know that, unless God tells you specifically that you’re not supposed to marry Danny, you need to be open to whatever He has for you.”

~

I continued to argue with David for the remainder of the drive, and for a long while after we reached the church parking lot.

But I knew, in the depths of my Spirit, his words were true.

~

I had to accept the possibility of God telling me to marry a man I didn’t love.

The only real question was: If that was indeed what He would require of me,

Would I obey Him?

~

Alone in my bedroom that night, in another moment of profound and merciful surrender, I told God yes.

Even if it means marrying a man I don’t love, God. Not my will, but Yours be done.

~

I’d had a lot of beautiful ideas stored up in my mind of how my love story would unfold, and it broke my heart to release those futures for one that was unknown, with a plotline that was perhaps much more fractured and less picturesque than my romantic imaginings had always aspired to.

But after that release, I felt the guilt and anger and fear of the previous week slipping to the outskirts of my memory, like the muted colors of a bad dream.

Amen. I closed my eyes, and slept in peace.

Chapter 6: Humans Plan Their Way, but the LORD Determines Their Steps

(Rewind: Five months.)

In February, Mom and I had escaped the house for a few hours to enjoy a walk along the beach. On the drive home, with no provocation whatsoever, she asked:

“What’s the most important thing to you in a man? I know it’s random, but I’m just curious.”

My response was automatic. “That he loves God more than he’ll ever love me, and lives like it.”

She hadn’t quite heard. “And what?”

“Lives like it.” I repeated. When she hesitated, I explained further. “Not just someone who says he believes in God, but someone whose actions prove that it’s true.”

Mom paused for a moment, considering.

Then: “God’s waiting for him to be obedient.”

She stated it so simply, so matter-of-factly. I knew deep in my Spirit that this was important.

Searching for more, I prompted, “Yeah?

She took the bait, continuing in the same sure, steady tone. “It’s not an easy thing for a man. To put God first. Above his car, above his tools. And especially above a woman.” She smiled cheekily. “Because women are so awesome.”

I laughed. “We are pretty awesome.”

She grew serious again. “But once he’s obedient, God will bring him into your life. It’s not that he’s rebelling against God—like, he’s already saved and everything. He just needs to be obedient.”

“Well, he should hurry up and be obedient then!” I joked.

Another pause. Suddenly, Mom said, “Wouldn’t it be great if God brought a prophet into your life to tell you about your future husband?”

I laughed again, this time at the irony of her statement. I hadn’t grown up immersed in the prophetic, but I had learned enough to know that her words were prophecy.

And she had no idea.

She misunderstood my laughter and tried to defend herself. “No, I mean like—”

“I think you’re the prophet,” I interrupted, trying to keep the mood light, though her words weighed heavy on me. “You sound pretty prophetic to me!”

Mom laughed with something not entirely disbelieving. “I guess we’ll find out when you meet him.”

~

In March, I sat with Danny and a few others in our first small group meeting. We were going around the circle, each offering a prayer request for ourselves.

When it was Danny’s turn, the first word from his mouth: “Obedience.”

The word transported me immediately to the conversation Mom and I had that previous month.

The words I had written down, even told a few of my friends.

The words that I knew to be prophecy.

But, after the half-second it took my heart to recover after hearing Danny say that word, I dismissed it.

I, who didn’t believe in coincidence. I, who believed the words my mother had spoken to be absolutely true.

Because there was no way her words could have been about Danny.

I did not love him. I never could.

Never, never, never.

~

Five months later, that conversation haunted me.

~

I have often warned my friends about God’s sense of humor. “Don’t tell God that something will never happen,” I’d say. “It’s a guarantee that it will.”

My mom once said she’d never have boys. (She had four.)

My friend Kayla once said she was never getting married. (Two years ago, I was a bridesmaid in her wedding.)

~

But my situation was different. Danny was one man out of a couple billion. The odds were in my favor.

It was safe to think it. Say it, even. Out loud. To my friends. To God.

I’ll never fall in love with Danny.

~

(I can hear it now: the sound of God laughing.)