Happily Ever After

Today my thoughts were off – I just couldn’t quite get a grasp on my emotions. I felt trapped and alone. Things just became too much for me to handle. I started freaking out on the people I love. I got through most of the day – made lunches, cleaned the house, fixed dinner and then drove over to see my mom. I was a disaster the entire time I was at Sentara. I had had enough – I got up and walked out. I didn’t tell anybody where I was going. I didn’t even really know. I just drove. I drove and I drove…sometimes in circles. I just listened to the radio, cried and drove. I started thinking about my mom and how she always drove me wherever I needed to go. Sometimes when Michael was a baby he would drive her crazy. She would come into my room and say “you coming”? I would put some shoes on and climb into the passenger seat of our Kia.  We would drive around the neighborhood blasting the radio and singing at the top of our lungs. My mom drove to release the stress my brother caused her…I rode because she asked me to. When we would pull back into the driveway the world was a better place…things were calm again and everyone was filled with positive endorphins.

Unfortunately, I had no positive endorphins tonight. Thinking about riding shotgun with my mom just made me more upset. I ended up at my old middle school – a place I hated more than anything. My mom hated it too. I threw up in the nurse’s office because she didn’t believe I had cramps. I got bullied in almost every hallway of the building. And my mom got a speeding ticket right outside on the way to bring me a book I “needed” for one of my history classes. I sat there with my headlights shining on the tennis courts. My mom and I played tennis there several times – they’re one of the only tennis courts with lights that you don’t need a membership for. I remember hitting ball after ball – horrible shots and winners. I could hear my mom’s voice saying “one more” as she hit a horrible feed ball to me…we’d laugh and of course she’d hit me “one more”. We never went home until I hit a winner or we felt good enough to call it quits. I always left the court happy and that was her goal. I guess that’s why I subconsciously ended up there tonight.

All of a sudden I saw headlights in my rear view mirror. A cop car had pulled up beside me. It was a young cop with brown hair and a scruffy face. He rolled down his passenger window. I rolled down my driver side window. This was our conversation:

Cop: Hey there, what’re you doing?

Me: I’m just sitting here, thinking.

Cop: Thinking huh? What’re you thinking about?

Me: My life.

Cop: Life can be hard. Can I sit here and think with you?

At this point I don’t even think it fazed me how weird this whole situation was. I was talking to a police officer. He was young. I was confused.  I just knew it was late and I was glad to have the company. He sat there in his cop car with the passenger window rolled down. I sat in my car with the drivers window down and our headlights shining on those tennis courts where my mom and I used to play. Before I could stop myself I turned to the cop and word vomited. I said “my mom has cancer and I’m really overwhelmed”.  He looked up from his paperwork and asked about the type of cancer and how long it’s been going on. For whatever reason I told the cop everything and a little bit more. He was silent for a while. Then he asked “why’re you here”. I smirked and told him about how I’d been driving for a while and this is where I ended up. He proceeded to tell me that this parking lot was special to him because it’s where his dad taught him to drive. He said they’d drive until he ran over or hit something and then they’d go home. He explained to me that his dad passed away a couple days ago…from cancer. He said that this was where he’d drive when he felt overwhelmed too. The silence that followed his confession was painful. I was trying to think of something to say to comfort him, but clearly I was lacking in the whole comfort department. He looked over at me and said “God has a plan, Katie. Trust in him. Take care.” He then put his car in reverse and drove out of the parking lot. I sat there for a couple minutes thinking about this really weird encounter. I played it over again in my head and then I felt really strange. I felt a really weird feeling in my gut – the kind where you know something just happened and you can’t explain it. He knew my name. I know I heard my name. I’ve never met this guy before in my whole life. But something about him made me feel like I’ve known him all my life.

Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’ve actually lost my mind. But something tells me this police officer was more than just a young guy on patrol. I usually panic when I see a cop and either get really nervous or upset…but for some reason I was calm and vulnerable with this man. I was sitting in my car, in the dark, in an empty parking lot…a recipe for disaster and I’m sure he was relieved when I wasn’t trying to harm anyone, anything or myself. If he wasn’t Jesus himself, he was definitely someone God sent to be with me tonight. He could have easily been a jerk and told me to quit loitering, but he just sat in the parking lot with me. He didn’t have to volunteer his life story – I certainly didn’t ask…but he told me like he’d tell a friend. I drove home tonight a little more mindful of my words and actions. I didn’t have a smile on my face or positive endorphins swarming my brain, but I had a glow in my heart. If nothing else, this police officer was a kind man that solidified the harsh reality that amidst tragedy, life goes on. He highlighted the fact that God’s aware of what’s going on and He’s got a plan.

Speaking of having a plan – the devotion for February 16 is from 2 Samuel 12:1-7, 13. Ironically enough, the passage highlights stories that catch us off guard. Stories have a way of breaking through our best defense mechanisms. I wasn’t prepared for this officer’s story – I didn’t expect to encounter anyone tonight. I didn’t expect to end up in an empty parking lot with someone who was hurting like I was. Stories help us relate to one another. They allow us to share joy, sorrow and laughter with those we love and those we don’t know very well. Stories remind us that we’re all human - living in a world of sin, with harsh consequences and adversities. The best kind of stories are the ones that involve a hero or a plot twist where things end positively and the phrase “happily ever after” is written across the final pages. Even through the adversity I face every day and the tragedies that take place worldwide, I still maintain that “happily ever after” pages exist for everyone. Our stories may not be the ones we’ve been dreaming or wanting to hear. Our stories may not end the way we thought they would. But God is the author of all our stories and He only wants what’s best for us. He died for all our sins so that we could join Him in heaven when He asks us to. If that doesn’t guarantee a “happily ever after”, I’m not sure anything will.