Chapter 3
December 22nd
“I’m sorry I’m late! I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”
“No problem, Claire. It’s only been three minutes.” Anna gave off a cool smirk as she stirred some cream into her coffee. “Have a seat. I can’t wait to hear how your week is going.”
“Well, I’m afraid I have even less to report this time around. I probably shouldn’t have even come in unless I had something worthy of therapy.” Not to mention the $120 an hour rate, I thought to myself.
“Everything we’ve been working on is worthy.”
I nodded in reply. Anna was right; I had come a long way in my emotional processing and walk with Christ since I started counseling. While I had been attending counseling less frequently over the last year since being so happy and distracted with Theo, Anna received my SOS call and immediately scheduled me for three sessions following the breakup. But every time I entered there, I was at a loss for words, and she had to manually get me talking.
“Now,” Anna sat on the couch across from me, pulling out her notes and the Bible. “What’s happened so far today?” She smiled at me coyly, ready for the waterfall of words to pour from my mouth.
It worked like a charm, and within seconds, I was replaying the mundane details of my morning routine to her, that if I hadn’t shared them, they would go undetected and forgotten from history. And every time I went through the recounting of the moments, I’d recall why I was there in the first place.
“Theo just brutally blindsided me by dumping me. I feel like a failure and like I’m starting over in life. It doesn’t help that by the time my dad was thirty, he was an Olympian. I don’t know what to do, where to start, or how to take control of my life anymore. But I know I need to do something soon. I am desperate to do something… anything… significant.” Saying it aloud to someone I was paying handsomely was simp le, but these were things that I could never share with a friend. Not that I had very many of them around those days. Since my town was being bought up piece by piece by a ski conglomerate, almost everyone had moved away to cheaper, greener pastures.
“What exactly do you feel you need to do ?”
“Either tackle something at a big level, or maybe marry someone who has? I don’t know. It’s pathetic to hear the words come out, especially since I very well know neither of those things is going to happen.” I slumped my chin into my fist and sighed.
“And why is that? You’re still young.”
“Turning thirty felt very… finite. I swear I hear a violin playing in the background music that is my life’s soundtrack, as if my life is a movie. It should be a flirty romantic comedy, but it’s shaping up to be a Shakespearean tragedy. I just feel like anything I start now is going to be lame.”
Anna took her pen to paper, rapidly scribbling down notes. “You are the only one setting that standard for yourself, Claire. It seems to me that you’re putting your father on a pedestal where no one should be except God. The idolization of man is sinful. Don’t get me wrong; we are to love one another, but not worship. I want you to pray about this immediately.”
Was I… idolizing? I reflected on her words for a moment. “I don’t know if I would call it that… I just want to be like him, date someone he likes, make life choices he will approve of…” I trailed off, then seeing that it was exactly what I’d been doing. Lord, you are so patient with me. “Yikes, you’re totally right, Anna. I’ve put my father at a god-like level. I never would’ve considered that unless you said something, so thank you.”
“Hmm. You told me once that your dad never pushed you to ski because he wanted you to find your own thing... And you didn’t exactly beg him to. What happened to that? What is your thing?”
I put my head in my hands. “That’s the problem. I don’t have my own hobbies. I just think that had I started when I was a kid, it could have been my thing.”
“Could’a, would’a, should’a, Claire. You know what I always say... It’s the devil who wants us to regret. God is in the present. What do you feel He is leading you towards? What do you think God wants for your life? ”
“I know He led me to help with the youth group at church. And that has given me so much fulfillment. I just love helping the church, and the teens are a blast.” There was something really special about being around teenagers. I connected with them on a different wavelength because, even though I was older, I felt like my emotional growth had been stunted due to not marrying or having kids of my own. Despite feeling like a teenager myself, the only difference was that I could eat cake without permission. I shrugged it off. I had felt lost for quite some time. “I know it sounds cliché, and not very ‘progressive’ of me, but I really thought I would be married by now. The fact I’m not married feels like one more disappointment.”
“That’s not true. You still have plenty of time for that. I didn’t get married until I was thirty-seven. I know the struggles of waiting. But I promise you, it’s worth the wait if it means you find the right partner— someone who adds to your life and brings you joy, not someone who takes joy away.”
I took a deep breath, believing her as my eyes moved over to the wedding picture on her desk. I picked it up, analyzing it for the secrets of finding someone. “I also want a family. I thought I’d have the perfect family by now: a boy and a girl, both with flaming red hair like my mother. We’d have a golden retriever named Scout. But most of all, there would be love. And I would love them no matter what they did.”
“That sounds familiar.” Anna put down her pen.
“How so?” I scrunched my forehead in confusion, putting the wedding picture back on her desk with no more answers than I had to start with.
“Your father never forced you into his sport, encouraging you to find your own ‘thing,’ and now it’s easily one of your biggest grudges in life.”
I released my expression. Anna was right. I held that against him, putting the blame on everyone else but me. If I was honest with myself, I would have never committed to lessons or formal solo attempts at skiing either. I consistently directed all of my blame away from myself for as far back as I could remember. “I know he loves me, and I love him. I love both of my parents. They are the best.”
Anna wrote a note to herself. I was about to ask her for a copy of her notes, when I remembered something else. “And, they loved Theo. I’m just sick about breaking the news to them that Theo dumped me… I have been avoiding having that conversation at all.” I hid my face in my hands .
“So, you haven’t told them yet? Okay. But what’s the worst thing that could happen when you do?”
My mind raced with possibilities. I had a visual of my father adopting Theo legally as his son. “I feel like they will just think I am a loser, because that’s how I feel.”
“No. That’s how Theo made you feel. There’s a difference, Claire.”
Her words hit me like a stray arrow. I played with them in my mind for a moment. “Hmm. Well, getting dumped is pretty brutal, I suppose. It makes me feel… unworthy in life.”
Anna nodded. “I know, but that’s the devil playing his hand once again. Let me put it this way…” Anna set her notepad and pen down, using her hands to speak. “God is love. Anything that isn’t love, hurt, anger, fear— that’s the devil playing into our emotions. God will never make you feel those things, so if you are, you know who is.”
“That’s beautiful.” I gave that some retrospection. “Regardless, it still hurts a lot considering I spent fourteen months with this person and really saw myself marrying him. So, part of me doesn’t know how I should feel. I just wish that God would spell it out for me. Lord, please show me what to do, tell me how to feel, and lead me to the right path.”
“Did you want to marry him for the optics, or did every fiber in your being speak the language that only you and him know? When God sends us love, we know. There’s a difference. The right guy vs. the right now guy is not the same. And I’m not saying every love story is a long-winded dramatic affair that could grace the pages of a romance novel, but in your heart, it might feel that way.”
“Being with Theo made me feel so special. I was over the moon for him, and it felt like a love story. Except because it clearly wasn’t mutual, that is. Sure, he dropped a few hints that he wasn’t settled in life. I think he is reaching for a level of perfection that doesn’t exist, at least not in my mind. However, I hoped that would eventually change.”
“So, you thought you could fix him.” Anna put the end of her pen to her mouth.
“Well, no. Not that. I just thought—” She cut me off.
“That wasn’t a question, Claire. You felt special because someone like this ‘chose you,’ but he wasn’t satisfied with what you offered because he’s seeking something else entirely. And I’m sorry that happened. And you may not feel this way yet, but believe me, Claire… Your future husband is out there right now, waiting to meet you.”
“No, you’re right. It does not feel that way right now. Despite understanding what you’re saying, I can’t control it. I miss him. I really think he is the one for me. That he is my future husband.”
“Claire, everything is out of our hands. You are not in control, but God is. And that’s why we pray.”
Anna looked at me for a long time before changing the subject. I could tell she just wanted to knock some sense into me and shake me like a rag doll, but thankfully for me, she was far too kind and patient for that.
“When was the last time you had a change of scenery? Maybe that could help you get out of this funk. Even if only for a few days. With the ski season just getting ramped up and this unusually cold winter we are having, it could really change the game for you to see what else is out there before the chaos of the busy season.”
I snorted and laughed. “Like a vacation?” I hadn’t considered one for quite some time but mostly because for the last year, my life revolved around Theo. “I don’t know if I can afford one. But it does sound intriguing. I’ve always wanted to go to an island somewhere and see what it’s like to be too hot for a change.”
“So, we have a goal to write in our journal. Take a vacation.”
She motioned to the pretty pen and paper I brought to all of my sessions, at her request, but this was the first time I realized what they were for. I wrote the three words and waited, seeing if they would make me feel better.
“Having something to look forward to is a game changer, Claire. Vacations don’t have to break the bank, either. Some of the best trips I’ve ever taken were on a shoestring budget.”
I considered renting a place a few hours away in a bigger town that had no ties to skiing or snow, but immediately felt filled with dread. It was almost like I wanted to be here and wanted to be miserable. I was about to share my self-analysis with Anna before she interjected my thoughts.
“While we’re at it, let’s add ‘accomplish a goal’ to that list. Any goal you set, of your choosing. Like you said, you feel you need to set out and do something. Claire, I believe that is God steering you towards something, and I want you to explore it.”
My hands felt shaky at the idea as I wrote it down. I think I knew what that goal was, but it was far too scary to admit it out loud…yet.
“There’s also a pattern I’ve noticed with you. You deflect some, not all, but a substantial amount of responsibility for your life onto others. We all do it, but I want you to consider it from now on. You need to take charge of your life by giving Jesus the reins. Let Him direct your steps. Let Him guide you in your day-to-day choices, not the weight of other people’s opinions. Can you do that, Claire?”
I considered the question and saw she was again correct. Despite being emotionally wounded by my breakup, I had been playing the victim in many other aspects of my life, missing out on the countless opportunities I could have taken. “Giving up control is a very scary thing, Anna. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“I know it seems scary. But we must submit to God’s will for our lives. Think of it this way: I want less of me—my choices, my decisions, my skewed logic—because I am an imperfect sinner, living in a fallen world. And I want more of Jesus with His perfect plan for my life. Because what could be better than that?”
I shed a tear as she spoke. “I never thought of it that way before.”
She jotted some notes down before flipping over to a new page. “When was the last time you spoke to your father?”
“It’s been a little over a week, when my parents stopped by on my birthday, after I fell asleep in the tub.” I sheepishly smiled, still feeling awkward about that encounter. A week was a long time to go without talking to family, and I knew it. “I’ve spoken to my mother a handful of times since, over text message, so they know I’m okay and all.”
“It sounds like you owe him a phone call.” Anna crossed her legs, putting the ball back in my court. “Add that to your list, too.”
After I wrote it down, I felt like the wind had been sucked out of my sails. “I just want to put it off until I have something to tell him.”
“Here we go with the people pleasing again. Where does this need to please him come from? Do you feel the same way about anyone else? ”
“For the people pleasing aspect, no, I really don’t feel the need for anyone else but my dad. Why do I feel like I need to? That’s why I’m here.” I flashed a smile and winked at Anna, knowing I was being very unhelpful. I certainly didn’t want to shatter what hope remained for me by confessing that Theo had dumped me.
“Do you think it’s that you admire him so much that you aim to be at his level?”
“Yes, but I’m not capable of achieving anything like that now. Even if I tried to do something like taking up skiing, for instance… I’m getting too late of a start.”
“Do you want to start?”
Do I? Is that what I want ? I felt relief drain from my body; someone else spoke into existence the goal that I was too afraid to write moments ago. “Yes.” I felt the lump in my throat as I explored this desire that I’d avoided for years. It wasn’t just that I wanted to, but the feelings of others’ expectations of my implied ability mixed with my own feelings of inadequacy were a lethal combo to my mental health. With Theo, there had been so much pressure to ski that I couldn’t start. With my father, he never really offered the chance .
“Claire, I give you permission to start anything you feel you need to explore. Write that down for your accomplishment: ‘learn to ski.’ I will even comp today to go towards your first lift ticket.”
I let out a laugh and felt choked up. My emotions were always very close together, and that day, I felt one sneeze away from a nervous breakdown. “What if I can’t?” I whispered.
Anna sat in silence, letting me wallow in my pity for a few seconds, before a friendly but defiant rebuttal. “What if you can?”
*****
Out in the parking lot of Anna’s riverfront office building, there was a sampling of luxury cars. This was a very wealthy community, though it didn’t use to be. Because of their wealth, the residents had every choice under the sun for services, so a person had to be pretty good at making it there. Anna was the lone Christian counselor who practiced in the town of Sage Mountain, Wyoming, and just being a half of a mile from the ski resort, I knew she was a skier herself, though she hadn’t revealed that to me… yet. She probably didn’t want to rub it in. But the roof rack of her car was a dead giveaway.
My car might as well have been neon yellow amongst the flashy assortment for as much as it stuck out. It was from the 1900s, after all—one of the few remaining relics of what used to be the normal occurrence here, not that I cared. I sighed as I climbed into my Ford Explorer; it used to be a very different place. Growing up in Sage Mountain brought many warm memories that accompanied an idyllic small-town life: ice skating on a frozen lake; sledding down steep hills and warming huts filled to the brim with neighborly warmth; and sharing wishes for the new year over cups of hot cocoa. So much had changed in Sage Mountain.
It all happened so fast. First, it was the developers who showed up like thieves in the night. They went around town, spreading the word of their fancy Town Hall meeting, where they offered huge dollar amounts for land and homes near the ski hill that promised financial security for a lifetime. Nearly half the town disappeared after that; the ones left behind called them “sell outs” and tried to fight against what was happening to our home .
There was only one problem: money. The residents didn’t have it, and the developers did, meaning they had fancy lawyers and contracts waiting just in case someone wanted to say something. “I dare you to do something about it,” I overheard one developer say harshly one night to a third-generation family who had homesteaded near the mountain.
Since the mine shut down, our economy took a hit, and things had been strained there. The goal for our town had been to transition into tourism, but with such slim margins to do so, the future had seemed bleak. For some, myself included, the developers were an answer to prayer, a way to keep living in Sage Mountain since they brought hundreds of new jobs in virtually all industries.
Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the change that happened before my eyes. In a matter of weeks, numerous houses were demolished. It didn’t take long before they started breaking ground on new luxury hotels. Within two years, the ski place had quadrupled in size with a promise to make Sage Mountain the top resort in North America. A promise they followed through on.
The shadowy figure in all of this was one man whom I’d never met, but only knew that his name was James Walker. While I didn’t vilify him, as I knew change was inevitable, many of our locals did. He was the brains behind the development. It was a single stroke of his pen that essentially bought our entire town and rolled it into his ski town monopoly. He was the CEO of the company who now owned the town of Sage Mountain, its resort, and its new state-of-the-art regional airport that was currently being built. Because of that man, many of our town’s families had to move because of crippling property taxes. My friends moved away, and my hometown was unrecognizable. But also because of that man, I had new job opportunities that never would have been possible otherwise. They held opening ceremonies to honor my father, recognizing him as a Sage Mountain Olympian athlete, and I found great enjoyment in some of the new amenities in town.
The only reason I could still afford to live there was because I inherited my grandmother’s condo in one of the two buildings that weren’t torn down, since the property was next to an “undesirable” train station. Though it had been out of service since the coal mine fire over twenty-five years ago, it was owned by a corporation that was even bigger than the ski resort developers and wisely, they knew they couldn’t win that fight.
Turning over my ignition, I thought about what Anna said about my first ski ticket. “Everyone can ski but you.” The voice of Theo rang through my mind, inflicting doubt and shame. “Look at those kids. They don’t even need poles!” I shut down the memories of his painful words, putting my head in my hands.
God, are You there? It’s Claire. Anna says I’m better off without Theo. I want nothing that isn’t in Your plan, Lord. I don’t want a man who doesn’t love me. But please take the pain away. In your name, Amen.
After several minutes of silence in my prayer, I looked up to see that my window had been defrosted. I backed out of my spot and mentally returned to my workday.
Working from home gave me more flexibility than going into an office, such as the ability to attend therapy in the middle of the day, but it seemed to only add to my loneliness at that time. Upon arriving home, I checked my inbox and found three new messages from my boss .
“Can we have a phone meeting in an hour? I need to go over this design proof for the Sage Mountain airport faux beams you put in.”
“Hello? Are you working today?”
“Where are you, Claire?”
Yikes . All of them transpired over the course of an hour, and I was only absent for ninety minutes. I swiftly replied. “Hello Patricia. Forgive me for missing your email. I had an appointment, but I’m back and ready to help you. Please let me know how, at your convenience.”
In what seemed like an instant later, she replied, “Seems like you have a lot of those these days. Never mind; I got it handled.”
Double yikes. After Theo dumped me, and I called out for a full week, I had realized I was on thin ice, especially because it was during our finalization of the airport plans. Suddenly, the ice seemed to be fracturing. It wasn’t like I had planned for this to happen.
I hesitantly replied to her email in the most respective fashion I could. “Yes, I had a personal crisis this month, and I apologize for letting that impede my ability to work. I have reflected on the absence on my timecard, and I do not expect compensation for those days or the hours I have missed since.”
A handful of minutes passed, and her reply dinged out of my computer speakers. “I’ve taken it out of your vacation time for the year. Once your vacation time is exhausted, any days missed without a doctor’s note and hospital admission slip will result in your not being welcomed back. You have one remaining day left for the fiscal year that just started October 1st, since we go with the mountain operating timeline. That means for the next 11 months, you will not be allowed paid time off, past one day.”
Triple yikes. The ice was caving in. I was about to fall through and drown. How was I supposed to make it through the rest of the fiscal year with no… rest? The thoughts of my therapist suggesting a vacation were laughable now. I closed my email and logged onto my bank.
Checking account: $6,279.78
Savings account: $9,246.35
Average monthly spend: $1,788.9 2
I was in better shape than I thought, but only because of my summer bonus for all the work I did on the new Sage Mountain airport design. The design that, when approved and put into motion, would wipe out anything that remained of my once muted town in the mountains—a town that used to be so remote, the rest of our state forgot it. Even residents who only lived an hour or two away would travel to larger ski hills in opposite directions. Everything changed when the lords of snow bought our Sage Mountain Resort.
Long gone were the days the mountain functioned only Friday–Sunday, operated by volunteers who relied on a rope tow that tore up their gloves. Taking their place and deciding for our town were conglomerates who had no prior skiing knowledge. Gondolas and bubble chairs, resort-owned shops and restaurants filled the base, and with my help, a new airport would soon expand access to the masses.
I sighed, knowing my part in wiping out the last of the locals would eventually send me packing, too. I looked around. At the time, covering the taxes on my condo required half a year’s wages. In my building of four units, I was the last one who hadn’t sold to the highest bidder who remodeled and made them into a nightly rental. Though I had hoped to stay in Sage Mountain, the only home I’d ever known, that apartment was my safety net because I knew one day I could sell it and make enough to buy a house somewhere else if I lost my job. I just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. It wasn’t time for me to let go of it. I pulled myself out of my work funk and walked over to the window that overlooked the newly constructed tram.
The mine fire in the 90s caused the shutdown of Sage Mountain which had started as a coal town in the early 1900s and remained our sole industry. Prior to that, the town was alive with miners and the blaring of train horns. My grandparents had moved there in the forties when they were first wed. My grandfather initially started working for the railroad, but the coal industry brought him on at a much higher wage. The labor was demanding and filthy, and my grandparents had always pushed my father to pursue his genuine passion beyond the mines.
In his youth, my father went to play with a classmate over a weekend, and that’s when he first experienced skiing. A Norwegian instructor taught lessons, and my grandparents complied. My father took every chance to ski from then on until he was drafted into the military. But fate had other ideas, and after basic training, the right person saw his name and assigned him to be a ski instructor for the military recreation camp. It was more than fate; it was my father’s destiny to ski. And he did, soon after reaching the peak where he was the instructor for the US Ski team. From there, he won championships in downhill racing, and he had the fame and glory of a prime athlete of his day when he won the Gold Medal in the Olympics.
This was all before he met my mother, who had been decades his junior, and I came very late in his life—just the one child, which my therapist would point out that it made me put more undue pressure on myself for success, but I felt less. I knew if I had an ultra-successful sibling, I’d feel even worse about my stagnant course.
Having surpassed my thirtieth birthday, work troubles, and being single again, I felt overwhelmed. The year before at the same time, before Theo dumped me, I had hoped by my next birthday that I’d be married, or, at the very least, have a ring on my finger. Instead, I found myself back to square one with the dreaded soon-to-be realities of starting over in the dating world, sprinkled with the loneliness of the impending winter season without a plus one. But just the thought of that made my stomach churn. I had already met the perfect guy, or so I thought. Theo was handsome and athletic… And the exact guy I wanted my father to see me with. I stopped myself with the thought, Wait a minute. Did I really just think that?
The revelation of my subconscious sent me down a spiral for the rest of the evening. Had I even liked Theo? Sure, he was astonishingly good-looking… much more so compared to realistic standards. I felt like the lucky one when we were out in public. But he knew it, too. He’d spend hours at the gym lifting weights in front of a mirror. He’d wear clothing that was just a little too fitted, and I’d often joke he was the inventor of the selfie. His cologne was overpowering, and I despised its scent. But I was always very complimentary to Theo because that was his love language. In retrospect, I assumed that’s why we made it as long as we did. I was very communicative. I told people how much I adored them—the things that made them special—and I expected nothing in return, which was a good thing, because Theo was a man of few words.
I thought back to how we met: at a ribbon cutting for the newest bubble lift at the ski resort. They asked my father to cut the ribbon, which pleased me to no end that he continued to get recognition for his Olympian status. Part of me thought that’s why the firm chose me to help design the airport—so they could then use my dad for promotional needs. I was far from being the top designer at the firm, but I was the only one who was local to the area and had a famous skier for a father. Sigh. I thought back to the ribbon cutting, replaying the scene in my mind for the one hundredth time that month.
Theo had attended, hoping to meet my dad, and afterward when my parents and I were trying to settle on a place for lunch, Theo came stumbling over and interrupted our conversation. My father, who always had enough time to meet a fan, shook his hand and let Theo pour it on thick. “My first memory was watching you at the National Championship in 1999. When you tore it up against those young kids—wow. I knew then that I wanted to focus my efforts on skiing as a sport that I could really do for life.”
My father appeared deeply touched by that man’s words, and I took it as a green light to introduce myself. As Theo lingered, and I had hearts in my eyes, my mother suggested Theo join us for lunch, and the rest was history, or it would’ve been, had he not dumped me fourteen months later.
My mother didn’t ski, and my father loved her. I thought of the definition of love; does it have the bounds of hobbies? If two people don’t share every interest or passion, are they incompatible? So, if I wasn’t sure that I even liked Theo… If I was pretty sure he was unavailable and only with me out of convenience to get to my father… Did I genuinely love Theo? If I took away his looks, his charm, and the idea of him, what remained? Was any part of our lives ever truly entwined that would make his absence this painful?
I shook the thought from my mind and laughed. The small release of emotion triggered a hysteric fit of humor over Theo’s behavior that I never understood, like how he changed his name from Thomas to Theo because he thought it sounded more attractive. Or how he could chat with my father or his friends for hours on end about his ski-jumping, but the moment I wanted to share something close to my heart, it seemed unimportant to him. My sense of humor disappeared, and I realized the darkness of the past several months. The last year of my life was dedicated to the effort of proving I was the perfect woman to a man I wasn’t even sure I liked, let alone loved . These revelations were earth shattering as I rejoiced to God for not answering the very prayers I’d been pleading for that entire time. Theo was not the one for me!
As I took a deep breath, I understood it was actually completely over. I could wear my comfortable sweatpants on the weekends without worrying that he might stop by. I could go a day without makeup, styled hair, or fancy clothes. Food was no longer off limits. While I wasn’t planning on giving up or letting myself go, I could finally breathe.
After a hot shower, a little self-care in the way of a face mask, peppermint tea, and my softest pajamas, I curled up on the couch with my hair still up in a towel. Yes... I felt relieved to be away from Theo. Anything I thought I felt for him was my imagination. After much reflection, I saw that I actually settled with Theo because I thought he was what my father wanted for my life.
What a revelation that was. I thought about my therapist, Anna, and just how right she’d been that whole time; how she had asked me where my need to appease my father came from. As I sorted through my feelings in silence, I prayed that I could let that desire go. Despite the crucial importance of maintaining a close bond with my life-giving parents, I no longer wanted to make life-altering decisions based on perceived notions of their desires for me. And Anna was right about my skirting the blame in situations. I’d been so hurt at Theo for not wanting a relationship that I had been tiptoeing around that entire time… I wasn’t even behaving like myself. If I hadn’t encouraged our relationship as hard as I did, would we ever have even started one? I doubted it.
Dear Lord, Please direct my path. I’m surrendering the sense of control I desperately want to cling to, but I can’t anymore. Only You know the plan You have for my life, and I trust You, Lord. Amen.
From then on, I decided to forge my own path in life and love while giving God full control. When I was ready, I would look for the partner that God had planned for me, not who I thought my father would want as a son-in-law.
My father… I needed to call him soon. I got up from the couch and moved to where his poster from his cover of the box of Wheaties hung up in my living room; the one he had just razzed me about being the focal point of my living room. I thought about what he said, but I had always kept it hanging up in my bedroom when I was young, so when my grandmother left me her condo in her will, it just seemed natural to have it on my main wall. I looked over at him, realizing that despite my personal breakthrough in the wrong relationship I had just gotten out of, I was still not ready to tell my dad what had transpired. He had just been so successful that I felt like a dud, stunted in my growth compared to his long list of accomplishments. Oh well, I thought. Those feelings weren’t real nor were they valid.
My phone dinged and pulled me out of my daydream. I reached for it in my pajama pocket and saw a text from the youth group leader, Mickey, at Sage Creek Church, reminding me of my night to bring the treats.
Hello, Claire! I’m sending you a short list of what to bring for Float Night tomorrow. You’ll need to go to Baxter’s store in order to find the Dairy-Free for Coleen. Let me know the total, and we will Venmo you. Thx!
(typing..)
(typing.. )
2-Liter of Root Beer
2-Liter of Orange Soda
2-Liter of Sprite
Ice Creams:
Rainbow Sherbet
Strawberry
Vanilla
Dairy-Free Vanilla
As I skimmed over the list, the distraction it brought pleased me. Nothing made me happier than working with teenagers. According to them, I was cool because I hadn’t conformed to the lifestyle around there— a backwards way of looking at the fact I didn’t ski, but I thought, I’ll take it.
I had little involvement at the youth group other than serving as a glorified errands gal those days. But when Mickey had asked me to help last year, it had been out of the blue and yet just what I needed. Spending time with the youth in my community at that level was fulfilling. And at that time, it provided a much-needed mental escape from the recent devastation in my life.