In Awaiting “The One”
I had it all planned out. The day that I would meet “the one”, as I might have said. In fact, it was as if I had convinced myself that God, Himself, had divinely bestowed upon me the wonderfully exhilarating scene that would, in time, come to pass. Needless to say, all I had to do now was patiently await the precise instant that the life-changing scene would occur.
I can vividly recollect on numerous occasions finding myself strolling around my college campus enamored with the overwhelming sentiments of joy and elation that had been aroused by this impending knowledge. It was as if I had been entranced, carrying on within the contraption of a daydream. Don’t worry though; this was no evil spell, or anything of the sort, that could have been conjured up by a witch. However, it was I who had willingly been entranced by the reverie, of which I had so elaborately constructed. You see, it gifted me an invigorating sense of hope and joy that soon awaited. For all I knew, I was destined any moment to cross paths with my long awaited love.
So there I was, strolling around campus on my way to Theology class. Following the cement path, I quickly turned the corner where the pathway meets the lawn, and boom, there she was. It was just as I had imagined. Suddenly, it was as if the reverie that I had been possessed with, was now playing out in real-time. I immediately slowed my pace. At that precise instant, I began to feel my heartbeat consciously pound at an exceedingly rapid pace, as if I had just been electrocuted with ten thousand volts of electricity.
I know, I know, ten thousand volts of electricity might be a little exaggerative, but hey, bear with me; I’m the one telling the story here.
So, there she was, casually sitting ever so elegantly up against a pleasant autumn tree. The sun’s luminance penetrated the branches in such a way that she was left radiantly portrayed, complimenting the captivating scene that she had been the culmination of. Tolstoy was right when he scripted his famous line, “He stepped down, trying not to look at her as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, without even looking”. In that moment, for me, it was this exact scene that Tolstoy had intended to capture with this intoxicating line. Her faultless beauty was truly enchanting.
As the exhilarating moment carried on, I had become desperately intuitive to every occurring thing. Like I had imagined, she was reading a book. The intensity of her devotion to her reading and the elegance at which she went about turning the page allured my heart. It was then that she began to smirk, revealing the cutest dimples that complimented her impeccably smooth complexion. Such a wondrously enchanting scene could not have been captured by any artist, novelist, nor poet the like. It was as if the entire world had been exceedingly fading away leaving only her and I to soon meet. Although she had not yet discovered me, the confidence of knowing the transpiring scene encouraged me to pursue her love.
Suddenly, her eyes evaded the pages of her book, while directly greeting my own. Her piercingly blue eyes instantaneously enamored a hope for love within my desperately pursuing heart. She than greeted our eyes union with a subtle smirk, that again revealed her ever so charming dimples. She was the one. She had to be. She was everything I could have hoped for. Light brown hair, piercing blue eyes the color of the Adriatic, not your typical Hollywood princess, but yet she captured a subtle cuteness that defined true beauty itself. In that precise moment, for me, it was as if our spirits had coalesced reciprocating the affection that I had increasingly discovered.
As I drew near, she continued in her reading, yet in the same, it seemed as though she was acknowledging my presence. Soon it came to the point of decision. Do I continue on due course to my scheduled theology class? Or, do I choose to pursue the hope of love that my reverie had provided me with? The dueling emotions overwhelmed my thoughts as I was left to meet my fate.
Reflection
The abrupt conclusion of this short story might leave its readers frustrated and discontent. However, I am here to say that this is the purpose of the story itself.
It might be appropriate for the reader to ask, “Why on earth would the author not finish such an enamoring story?” To the reader’s displeasure, the author would respond, “Why is it that I should finish such an inspiringly beautiful story?”
Allow me to explicate the intent of this particular story. In every person lies the desire and hope to one day fall desperately and madly in love with another person. We dream of and imagine the most splendidly thought out scene that will leave us forever entranced by love. Whether we acknowledge it or not, in some way or another each of us can resonate with this simple truth. We are captivated, yet perplexed by love. The hope of love entices our devotion, yet, in the same, evokes a fear of rejection.
Let me revert back to the frustrating conclusion to the story. Is not the conclusion the climax the reader had anticipated? The thrill and elation induced by the transpiring scene construes a feeling of hope and love for its reader. It is this precise moment that we all dream of and await for, because if we were to act upon our desire for love we run the risk of rejection, which inevitably fills our hearts with undulating trepidation. Although our hope for love is enamoring and exhilarating we soon allow the fear of rejection to weigh heavy on our decision to act. However, if we were to act upon our emotions we might be subsequently greeted by love.
In its conclusion, I venture to note that this anecdote captures with immensity the truthfulness of our attempt to know love. The transpired scene provides the reader with a sentiment of love imbued in their hearts, yet to be polluted by the fear of rejection and disinterest. Is this not a beautiful moment? Unfortunately, however, our minds and hearts are limited, while unable to understand love in its purest form, because of the infections produced by our fears and brokenness. Therefore, I am convinced that the purest form of love that we can experience is the immediate desire and hope for it.
This could also be correlated to our desperate attempt and desire to know God in the context of His perfect love. First, we must admit that we, ourselves, cannot fully grasp, nor comprehend the fullness of His magnificent love. Regrettably, we live and inhabit a broken and bent world. I believe T.S. Eliot captured this with immensity in his poem The Wasteland, “You cannot say, or guess, for you know only a heap of broken images”. Eliot was biblically convinced, due to the fall, that humanity has been subsequently blinded, as we can now only see through fragmented images. We may perhaps receive or grasp reflections of Truth, love in purity and flawless joy, however, we will never fully comprehend the immensity of these divine attributes due to our brokenness.
Therefore, I am convinced that love in its purest form remains in a perpetual state of hopefulness and intimate desire. In our present physical state, we lack the ability and capacity to experience such deeply regarded sentiments. Consequently, in our immediate interaction with the divinely inspired elements, we are instantaneously enamored, yet left perpetually discontent drowned in a puddle of fragmented emotions. We may be inspired by the gift of God’s love throughout numerous accounts in our life. However, we will inevitably ceaselessly crave and desire to know the immensity of God’s love in its eternal state.
