Chapter 33, part 1: Family Holiday

When I got back from dropping Brad off at the airport Friday evening, I asked Mom what she thought of him.

“Hmmm… I’m not sure. I didn’t get to know him that well. What does Kirsten say?”

“She’s not around to ask, is she?” Kirsten had been spending every waking moment with Charlie, and was even spending the night at the Neals tonight. “C’mon, you must have formed some impression.”

“Well, first impressions can be misleading. Anyway, my opinion really doesn’t matter, does it? You’re an adult and I have to trust your judgment.”

“So you didn’t like him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Why is everyone in this family so judgmental? Kirsten hates him because they fought the first time they met, and now you have a grudge against him too?” I stormed up the stairs to my room and wrote a long email to Brad. I missed him so much.

Saturday morning, I came downstairs to find Mom rearranging the furniture in the living room.

“Can you give me a hand, sweetie?” she asked, gesturing to the other end of the long sofa. “I can’t have the house looking like a disaster area for the party tonight.”

“Who’s all coming?” I asked as we set the sofa down in its new location.

“The Neals, a few young couples from our Bible study, Pastor Jim and his family. He’s really looking forward to catching up with you.”

Pastor Jim? He was the last person I wanted to talk to. It was hard enough faking the super-Christian act for my family. My old youth pastor would surely see through the charade.

“I didn’t really plan on sticking around. Alicia’s been wanting me to go down to Balboa to look at Christmas lights, and I told her maybe tonight would work.”

“Of course you can do what you want, but it would mean a lot to me if you’d join us. You’re growing up so fast, and I worry this is one of the last few times we’ll spend the holidays as a family.”

“I guess Alicia and I could reschedule,” I said. I just had to find a way to avoid talking with Pastor Jim at the party.

“Thanks, sweetie. About our talk yesterday—”

“Forget about it. I overreacted.”

“That time of the month?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I said. I didn’t really keep track of that stuff.

Mom spent the rest of the morning trying to get Ruth and I to help her and Daddy clean the house. I didn’t really mean to slack off, but every time I’d start a task, I ended up getting distracted by the piano or the itch to check the computer for messages from Brad. Every time Mom found me dawdling, she got more and more worked up. She was so crabby, I started to wonder if maybe it was her time of the month.

We were all upstairs working on various projects when the meltdown happened.

“Ruth Victoria Gottlieb!” we heard Mom scream at the door to Ruth’s room.

That tone in her voice made me cringe with vivid memories of getting in trouble as a child. So much for the new and improved Mom. Dad and I stopped what we were doing and edged toward Ruth’s room as the rant continued.

“What is wrong with you? I don’t know how many times I’ve already told you to get this room cleaned up,” Mom yelled. “And look, all you’ve done is make a bigger mess.” She gestured to the floor where Ruth had apparently decided to reorganize her entire collection of toys, dolls and accessories by dumping everything out in the middle of the floor. “You’re ten years old, I shouldn’t have to babysit your every move. I’m fed up! If this room isn’t sparkling clean in the next five minutes, you’re going to get it!” She raised her hand as if to demonstrate what she meant.

Tears and terror shone in Ruth’s eyes.

Daddy put a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Millie, you need to take a break,” he said. “I’ll handle it from here.”

Mom stalked out and slammed the door to the master bedroom. I didn’t know whether to run or stay. What would Daddy do to Ruth?

“Ruth, come sit here by me on the bed,” Daddy said gently. “It looks like you really wanted your room to be clean. You wanted to reorganize all your toys, but you got overwhelmed, is that right?”

Had I heard him correctly? Where was the lecture, the threat of punishment?

Ruth nodded. “I was just trying to do my best like Mom always tells me. Why did she get so mad?” she asked.

“She’s anxious about the party tonight and feeling frustrated. She lost her temper and said things she didn’t mean. Now what are we going to do about this mess? Can you think of a solution?”

“We can shove it under the bed,” she suggested.

“We can just keep the room closed during the party,” I offered.

“But I wanted the kids to come play in here with me.” She sighed. “So ... this all has to be put away. Can you help?” she said.

“We’d be glad to help you,” Daddy said. “Let’s start by finding all the doll clothes.”

The three of us working together quickly got the room back in order.

Mom came back just as we finished. “Everyone, I need to apologize for getting out of control like that. Having a clean house is not more important than treating my family kindly. Can you all forgive me?”

“I forgive you, Mom,” Ruth said.

“Thanks, sweetie. Frank, you were amazing. I know you were so skeptical of changing our style at first and even after you saw how it worked, it was a struggle to break old habits. And look at you now, putting me to shame.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Daddy said as he embraced Mom. “Aren’t you always telling me grace is for parents too?”

“Gigi?” Mom asked. “You haven’t said anything. What are you thinking?”

My swirl of thoughts seemed better left unsaid. The scenes from my childhood evoked by Mom’s rage were still replaying in my mind. The pain of punishment had faded, but the anger at feeling misunderstood and helpless to defend myself sprung back to life. Why did Ruth get better parents than me? No wonder I had such a guilt complex.

“There’s still a lot of cleaning to do,” I said. “How about we get back to work?”

Chapter 33, part 2: Old Friends

The Neals were the first to arrive at the party that night, Kirsten in tow. She and Charlie disappeared up into her room, the door cracked just enough for propriety. I successfully avoided meaningful conversation with Pastor Jim by hanging out with Ruth and her friends, playing the part of cool big sister, or sitting on the patio listening to Mom and her friends chit chat.

My ears perked up when their conversation turned political.

“I can’t believe those Evangelical Lutherans are actually ordaining homosexuals,” Mom said. “It’s so sad to see them turn away from God’s word that way.”

“My brother is gay,” Mrs. Neal said. “I think it’s great that some Lutherans are willing to open their minds.”

“Well, whatever your beliefs, it’s just terrible to see so many congregations torn apart,” Pastor Jim’s wife said.

Apparently adults weren’t any better than college kids at hearing God’s will. They were all just making it up as they went along based on their own prejudices.

The next night Alicia picked me up. “Bet you’re so glad to get away from the snow,” she said as we wound our way down the hill to the freeway. “Or would you rather have a white Christmas?”

“I kind of get the best of both worlds. Since decorations seem to go up earlier and earlier every year, I got my fill of twinkling lights reflecting on the snow before the semester ended.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

“Yeah, it can be pretty the first day it falls, but after that it’s a headache. What I really miss is my boyfriend.”

“What? You didn’t tell me about any boyfriend. I want all the details.”

I filled her in on the whole on again off again on again saga with Brad.

“A former surfer huh? He sounds like a hunk. Quan’s not going to be happy to hear about this.”

“Quan? You still keep in touch with him?”

“Yeah, we kind of hung out by default the first few weeks of school freshman year and we’ve become good friends. Didn’t I tell you?”

“I guess you did mention it last year.”

“He asks about you all the time. I’m pretty sure he never got over you.”

“That’s so sweet.” And maybe a little sad. In the same amount of time I’d dated Brad, had feelings for Ian. I certainly hadn’t been pining for Quan.

“I always thought you guys were such a cute couple. Why did you break up anyway?”

“His parents made him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s told me they want him to marry an Asian girl.”

“Yeah, and well, I never told him this, but I figured we break up eventually because we were going to different schools in the fall.”

“It’s never too late to change your mind. I’d love it if you would transfer to UCLA!”

“What, and miss out on all that snow?”

Our laughter stilled as we crossed the scene of our accident at the intersection of PCH.

“I still flinch every time I drive through here,” Alicia said.

“That was a scary night.”

We drove in silence until we reached the ferry to Balboa.

Alicia turned to me as the ferry pulled away from shore. “I’ll never forget the way your mom handled everything that night,” she said. “It made me wonder for like the hundredth time what was different about your family and how I could get it.”

“I don’t think we’re all that different,” I said.

“You are though, you just can’t see it. It wasn’t until I started going with Quan to church this semester that I figured out what it was that made you different.”

Alicia going to church? I’d been her best friend all through high school and never even tried to talk to her about God, figuring she could care less. “So you’re Catholic now?”

“No. We go to a small student congregation on campus. Just a bunch of kids that are passionate about Jesus.”

In that moment, she reminded me of Ian or even Lacey, so serenely spiritual and secure in their salvation. Part of me was jealous that Alicia seemed to have found the secret that had been eluding me for so long.

But another part of me wanted to tell her to run far away before she got hit by the bait and switch of “churchianity,” as Brad called it. How long would it be before she found out the promise of grace at the front end was just a pleasant disguise for the guilt, hypocrisy and shame of never being good enough?  

Chapter 34, part 1: Winter Worries

“Giselle, I am so proud of you,” Mom said on December 23 as we wrapped presents together. “You are turning into such a godly young woman.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

I put my finger on the ribbon she had just wound around the last Christmas present in Santa’s workshop, our family name for the gift wrapping assembly line that we set up in my parents’ bedroom every year. Mom wouldn’t be proud much longer if she knew the dark thoughts I’d been having, or what Brad and I had been doing. Well, she wouldn’t find out unless … oh no, what if we had left evidence in the car?

Mom squeezed my shoulder. “That kind of humility is just one of the many fruits of the Spirit I’ve noticed developing in you.” She stood up from the edge of the bed. “There, that’s done. Let’s get these presents under the tree."

I hardly slept that night. It was Christmas, supposedly a time of joy. But all I felt was emptiness. Maybe it was because the whole Christmas story seemed like a ridiculous fairy tale this year. Or maybe it was just that time of the month like Mom had said the other day?

Wait, when was the last time I’d had my period? I never was very good at keeping track of those things, and I was irregular most of the time anyway. It always managed to sneak up on me.

But this month was different. I’d been sexually active. Could I be pregnant?

A welter of emotion overcame me. Fear of course, but also a surprising joy and affection for the potential life. What if I were really pregnant? Would Brad and I keep the baby? Could I stay in school? What would Mom and Daddy think? Fear began to rise in my heart again.

Stop it, you’re being silly, I told myself. Why was I laying awake fretting about this when I didn’t even know if I was really late?

Still, during the Christmas Eve service the next day, I felt a special kinship with Mary, the unwed mother.

In the week between Christmas and New Years, my stomach that had always bothered me intermittently got much worse. I fought nausea and diarrhea every day. That combined with exhaustion that didn’t seem to go away no matter how much I slept kept me wondering if I might be pregnant. I obsessively checked my panties, but they stayed terrifyingly white. Buying a home test or going to a clinic while I was at home on break felt too risky. What if someone saw me, or worse, if the test were negative but someone found it? I’d be humiliated for no reason.

As I obsessed and analyzed every detail of my body’s functioning for possible symptoms, I alternated between terror and excitement at the prospect that a new life might be growing inside me. I could hardly fathom that I could love someone so much.

Chapter 34, part 2: Repentance Impossible?

The Kirsten who flew back to Ohio with me the Wednesday after New Years might as well have been a different person from the one who had traveled with Brad and I three weeks before. She talked almost non-stop about her love for Charlie, her excitement at transferring to a different school in the fall, her hope that she’d get along better with the new roommate she’d be getting this semester.

It wasn’t until Brad picked us up from the airport that she fell silent. “See you at CSF on Tuesday I guess,” she said when we dropped her off.

I felt like a zombie the first few days back on campus. My digestive problems woke me up in the middle of the night, and worries about my potential pregnancy kept me from falling back asleep. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to buy a test. Not yet.

I yawned my way through classes, and worked out calculations of how far along I might be instead of taking notes on the lectures. At meals, Brad steered us to empty tables instead of joining our friends. That was fine with me, I wasn’t in a mood to talk to anyone. I just let Brad do the talking while my worries swirled endlessly.

“Giselle? Giselle? I asked you a question.”

“Sorry, I spaced out there for a second.”

“A second? You’ve been a million miles away all week. What’s going on?”

Could I tell him? No, not yet. Not until I was sure. “My stomach’s been bothering me.”

“It’s stress, isn’t it? All that crap with CSF? I still think you should quit.”

“Maybe that’s part of it.”

“Not maybe, definitely. So Jay from my photography class wants us to go to Columbus with him and his girlfriend. I told him we’d meet up with him after dinner. Don’t take too long to pack. ”

“Sorry, I just don’t feel up to it. I think I’m just going to lay low this weekend.” Brad gave me a hard time, but I insisted he go without me. He finally agreed as long as I was staying in my room, “so he’d know where I was.”

I slept in late Saturday morning, and decided to spend the day unpacking and giving my room a long overdue cleaning. I turned on the radio and for some reason settled on the Christian music station. Brad always changed the channel when I tried to listen to that kind of music with him, and I enjoyed hearing some of my old favorites. A hymn hour came on, stirring memories of childhood Sundays.

The next morning after another night of little sleep, I decided I’d go to church since I was awake anyway. Not knowing where else to go, I walked down to Main Street Pentecostal.

Lacey looked surprised when I slipped into the pew next to her just as the sermon got started. Brother Thomas preached on Hebrews 6:4-6. He opened by reading the passage aloud:

“For it is impossible to bring back to repentance those who were once enlightened—those who have experienced the good things of heaven and shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the power of the age to come—and who then turn away from God. It is impossible to bring such people back to repentance; by rejecting the Son of God, they themselves are nailing him to the cross once again and holding him up to public shame.”

Was I “such people”? Even though I’d never been sure I was the right kind of Christian, it seemed certain that I’d been once enlightened. Infant baptism, asking Jesus into my heart, responding to an altar call … at least one of those had to have counted. And now I was openly defying God. Wasn’t that the very essence of turning away from Him? Maybe that’s why I’d lost the old joy of Christmas. The phrase “it is impossible to bring back to repentance,” rang in my ears all day.

Chapter 35, part 1: True Colors

I didn’t even try to resist Brad’s advances when he came back to town that night. If it were too late for me to repent, might as well enjoy my sin as much as I could, right?

“I’ll be right back,” I told Brad afterward as I slid out from the sheets.

In the bathroom, I checked the tissue out of habit. Blood soaked the toilet paper.

My period? Relief and disappointment hit me all at once. I started to cry. Once I started I couldn’t stop. There wasn’t a baby, probably had never been one. This was crazy. I was only 19, supposedly a Christian, and definitely not married. I shouldn’t even be worrying if there might be a baby.

“Giselle? What’s going on in there? Are you all right?”

I was crying too hard to answer.

“You’re scaring me, babe.” He tried the handle, but I had locked it. “C’mon. Tell me what’s wrong. Or at least come out of there.”

Finally I didn’t have energy to cry anymore. I splashed water on my face and opened the door. I had one thought: I needed to get out of there.

“I have to go home.” I repeated the phrase twice more as I went to the living room and started pulling on my clothes. “Where are my glasses?”

“It’s past midnight, babe,” he said, handing them to me. “Why don’t you sit down. Just calm down. You’re not thinking straight.” He grabbed my arm and whirled me around to face him. “C’mon, stay? We could fall asleep in each other’s arms … In the morning, we could have a little bit of wake-up action, and I’ll drive you over to breakfast—”

I wrenched myself from his grasp and started fumbling with my shoes.

“You need to leave. I get it. Just tell me before you go. Why were you crying?”

How could I tell him? How could he ever understand the feelings brought up by the idea of a baby that never was?

"I was trying to find the right time to tell you. My period, I thought it might have been late.” My voice broke. “Now … I’m bleeding.”

“Oh, now I get it.” Disdain tinged his voice. “This flood of tears is just because you’re PMS-ing.”

“It’s not just that. You don’t understand. When I thought I might be — that there might be — a baby, it opened my eyes.”

“So what’s your big revelation, Giselle?” he sneered. “Wait, don’t tell me, another one of your guilt trips. You know how irrational you’re being, Giselle? You probably weren’t even late. You’re not the greatest at keeping track of stuff like that you know.”

“That’s not the point.” I covered my face with my hands and sank to the floor, fresh tears spilling from my eyes. My shoulders shook as I hugged knees to chest and buried my face in my arms. Sex was like a drug, an irresistible poisonous drug. More than a drug. It was sin. We’d been sinning. We needed to stop, but how?

Who was I kidding? I had no self-control left. It was probably too late anyway. The verses from Hebrews said it was impossible for me to come to repentance.

No. I love you. It’s not too late to come back.

Before I could register that still small voice, Brad knelt beside me and brushed hair back from my forehead. “Babe, I get it. You were scared about there maybe being a baby. We’re not ready for that, I agree. We’ll just be more careful from now on.”

“You don’t get it at all. It’s not just fear or a guilt trip. It’s conviction of sin.”

“You didn’t seem to think it was sin earlier tonight. C’mon, how many times are we going to go back over this.” Contempt dripped from his voice.

Suddenly I saw him in a new light, cold and calculating. “You seduced me.”

“Seduced you? If I remember correctly, you begged me for it.” He smirked. “I always knew you’d be a tiger in the sack—“

I glared at him. “That’s right. You always did know didn’t you? You whittled at my boundaries from day one.”

He jumped to his feet and swore. “Listen to yourself. Just listen to how ridiculous you sound. I’ve never met anyone as paranoid and neurotic as you.”

I stood too. "Stop talking to me like that.”

“I won’t. You opened this can of worms, so you’re going to hear every last word I have to say. You’re lucky that I didn’t dump your butt as soon as I got you in the sack and you freaked out. Do you think other guys would have been so patient? For some reason I was deluded enough to think that I could rescue you, that if I could just help you get over your massive guilt complex, maybe we could be happy. But I see now that you’re totally beyond help.”

He stood fuming for a moment, then hit the wall above my head with his fist. I cowered away, then sank to the floor again.

“What really gets me riled is that you’re acting like I tricked you into this. We both know that I didn’t force you to do anything. This was your decision Giselle, plain and simple. Don’t pin responsibility of this on me. You weren’t so pure and innocent as you wanted everyone to believe.”

I looked up. “Maybe not. You’re right. You didn’t trick me into this. I don’t know where that came from. It was a willful act, a conscious decision.”

“Okay, that’s more like it. If you’re going to be calm like that, maybe we can talk this through like reasonable people.” He helped me to my feet and led me to the sofa.

“Ian talks about the conviction of the Holy Spirit – maybe this is it. It’s not too late, don’t you see? We can admit to God we made a mistake. We can start fresh, get back on course and wait until marriage as if this never happened.” I reached toward him.

He shrunk from my touch. “Where is this coming from? I thought you agreed with me that God could care less about sex. Why are you going back on your guilt trip?”

“Brad, don’t you see? These feelings, this guilt, it means something. God’s trying to call us back.”

“Yeah right. You know what I think? I think you just enjoy punishing yourself. You want to be miserable. All this self-flagellation gives you some kind of perverse pleasure. But don’t think you can drag me down with you. No freakin’ way.” He slammed his fist against the wall again. “Why did I waste so much time on you? You’re so screwed up Giselle, do you know that? At first your neuroses were kind of cute, but I’m sick and tired of this. Frankly, I don’t see why I should have to put up with you another second.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, trying in vain pull his hand so he would sit down again with me.

“I’m saying it. I said it.” He shook off my hands. “I’m through with you and your insufferable neediness. I give and give and give, and all you do is waffle and whine and make me out to be the bad guy. No wonder that high school guy made up some lame story about his parents to get away from you. You make it impossible for anyone to love you.”

“Brad, just listen—”

“No you listen.” He let out a string of profanity. “Get my point? I want you out of here. Go home and cry to your mommy or your little do-gooder friends about what a big bad man I am if you want. Just don’t bother waiting for me in the dining hall or after class. I can’t believe you turned out to be just another psycho after all. I’m so done with you.”

Chapter 35, part 2: Take it Back?

The next morning I groaned with the awful realization. I’d lost Brad. Somehow in the few short months I’d known him, he had become my whole world.

Where had all that crazy talk about him seducing me and God punishing us come from? He’d only taken what I’d offered. The verses that seemed to condemn sex didn’t, couldn’t, apply to us. Sure, I still sometimes felt a little guilty after we messed around, but Brad had always been patient, saying years of Puritan conditioning took a long time to break. I loved him, he loved me, and that was what was supposed to matter. Sex with Brad had been beautiful and perfect, a way to seal our commitment to each other. But if that were true, how could he discard me so easily?

I gave him my whole self, and he rejected me utterly. Now I was left with nothing. If someone who knew me that intimately said I was impossible to love, who ever would? The hateful words rang in my ears, and I believed them. I was crazy, neurotic. Impossible to love. I pictured him laughing at me with his next girlfriend. “I’ve dated some real psychos, but let me tell you, Giselle was the worst.”

I shook my head to clear the painful fantasy, but the accusing voices persisted.

You wasted what little purity you had left on a guy you just met mere months ago, and now he wants nothing to do with you. Not that you didn’t deserve it. Forget ever getting married. You’re doomed to live your life alone. You tried to ignore God’s law, and this is your punishment. Who’s going to love you now? You’re trash, damaged goods. Even if you try to repent, you’ll never recover from this. You’ll always be a second-class citizen.

Maybe Brad was right—the voices in my head did sound insane. Looking back at my “relationships,” if you could call them that, with Quan and Ian, I could make an argument that I did push men away. Brad always said the problem was in me. Could it be that he really did love me, and all he wanted was to keep me from hurting myself?

I dialed his number and left a message when he didn’t pick up. “About last night. I don’t know what got into me, but I was way overreacting. I love you, and no matter what I said last night, I don’t believe that anything we did was a mistake. I don’t want to lose you. Can we meet to talk about it? I’ll be in the Student Center this afternoon, studying. It would mean a lot to me if you would stop by.”

There, now it was in his court. If it was meant to be, if he really loved me, he would show.

That afternoon, I sat at a table blanketed with books and papers, nursing a cup of hot cocoa. Unable to concentrate on my studies, I began to fantasize about what Brad and I would say to each other when he got there.

The bell on the door jingles. I heave a sigh of relief. He walks toward me. I stand, and all at once he’s by my side, wrapping his long arms around me tighter than ever…

In reality, I’d been in the student center for three hours, and still no sign of Brad. I couldn’t quell the rising panic at the thought of life without him.

At the same time, the thought that I had sinned and needed to repent wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried hard to push it away, telling myself “God’s law” and “repentance” were just meaningless words held over my head by a repressive church.

It was no use though. Deep down I knew that that line of argument was ridiculous. No matter how I tried to twist the definitions and call my fornication with Brad innocent fun, it was still wrong.

Brad was right about one thing – I should quit CSF once and for all. Of course, they would want to know why, and I’d tell them … what? The truth?

To my surprise, a weight lifted off my shoulders at the thought. The loss of reputation and position seemed inevitable, a just judgment for my many failings. I deserved to be stripped of my title and good girl image.

Chapter 36, part 1: Back to the Woods

The bell on the door jingled for the hundredth time that afternoon, but instead of Brad, it was Sylvie.

“Hi, Giselle, long time no see,” Sylvie chirped as she approached the table. “Oh, my … you look awful. What’s wrong?” She pulled a chair around the table and put an arm around me.

The kind touch let loose a flood of tears. “Brad. It’s all over,” I choked out.

“Oh, honey. What happened?”

You can tell her. I sent her for you.

Tears slowed to a trickle as I regained composure. Still, I hesitated to obey the voice.

Talk to her. Tell her everything. Not just Brad, but everything you’ve been hiding for so long. She’s safe.

There was that prompting again, more urgent than I’d ever felt it before. I had ignored it so many times, and where had it gotten me? I worked up my courage and spoke. “Sylvie, I really need someone to talk to about this, but maybe here isn’t the best place – can we go for a walk or something?”

“Fine by me. I was here looking for a reason to procrastinate, and you just gave me one. There’s actually a great place in the woods I know of where we can stop and chat. I love hiking in winter, don’t you?”

“Sounds fun but a little chilly – do you mind if we go back to my room first so I can get a heavier coat?” I squeezed Sylvie’s hand. “Thanks. I really need a friend right now.”

The storm from the night before had covered the muddy melting snows on Elk River’s hills with a fresh blanket of clean white. Even through my worries and fears, I couldn’t help but marvel at the change in landscape. Though this was my second year experiencing the change of seasons, the wonder of it all was still fresh, and the beautiful surroundings immediately lifted my spirits. After the brief stop to add extra layers and grab a blanket, Sylvie led the way down to the Hollow and up through the thicket of stark black trees, stopping in a familiar clearing.

“Is this the spot?” I asked. “I think Ian brought me out here once.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it – I think it’s his favorite place on the whole campus. He and I have been coming out here a lot lately. It’s like a little chapel, isn’t it? Let’s sit on that log over there.”

So they’d been coming out here a lot had they? I had been so wrapped up with Brad that I hadn’t even noticed Ian and Sylvie’s developing relationship. We worked together to lay the blanket over the icy log and settled in to talk.

“So what happened with Brad?” Sylvie asked. “I don’t know either of you very well, but you seemed pretty happy together.”

“Did we? I guess we were, at least sometimes. But looking back on it, I wonder if it was all fake.”

“How so?”

“Everything about it was fast. We didn’t even meet until late last year. We fooled around in his room. But then there was this whole weird thing with him and Zoey when we were in Europe this summer…. Never mind, I’m supposed to have forgotten about it. When he wanted to get back together, I jumped at the chance and who wouldn’t, coming from a guy like him?”

“Okay, so then what happened? Why did Brad dump you?”

Tell her, the voice said. Somehow, I made the words come out. “We’ve been having sex. I thought my period was late.”

Sylvie’s eyes widened.

"But yesterday it finally started, I think. But it hit me, how wrong I was. I wasn’t ready to be a parent, for one thing, and worse it was plain defiance against God. So I told Brad I thought we should repent and he basically kicked me to the curb.”

“Whoa.”

“I can hardly believe it either. I always thought I would wait until marriage. Why did I just waste myself like that?” I twisted the end of the borrowed scarf in my hands, waiting for Sylvie to contradict me. When no response came, a wave of bitterness welled up.

I thought you said she’s safe? Or was that my wishful thinking again?

Safe or not, now that I had started talking about it I couldn’t stop. I went on. “You should have seen me, it was so pathetic. I couldn’t stop crying and started babbling about the Holy Spirit of all things. Brad got angry, and suddenly he’s telling me he never wants to see me again. And I’m pretty sure God hates me and I’m going to hell.” I ground my toe against the frozen leaves, feeling a sort of twisted satisfaction as they disintegrated.

Finally Sylvie spoke. “Oh, Giselle. I’m so sorry. It sounds like you really regret what happened, and I can tell you’re very angry with yourself. But why are you so sure God is angry with you too?”

“I don’t know. Actually, it’s kind of funny, but I thought I heard God talking to me last night. Dumb, I know.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, Brad said it was all in my head, just my neurotic mind inventing new ways to torture me.”

“Could be, but it depends. What did the voice say?”

“To come back. That it wasn’t too late to come back.”

Sylvie smiled. “Now that sounds like the sort of thing God would say.”

I relaxed a bit, enjoying the companionable silence that fell between us. Maybe Sylvie was safe after all.

Tell her about the rest of it. What you’re most scared to talk about.

Did I dare? I wasn’t even sure I should have told her the first part.

“So, is there anything else you need to talk to me about?” Sylvie prompted. “I’m so glad you felt safe enough to talk to me about you and Brad. I’ve been asking God for a girl friend I can really walk through life with. And, well, Ian’s been telling me I should get to know you better. While you were talking, I wondered if this could be God answering my prayer, so I asked Him.”

It was now or never. What did I really have to lose? “Yes, I do have something else I want to talk to you about. Well, I don’t want to exactly, but I have to.”

“I can relate,” Sylvie said with a smile.

“I’ve always been so confused about sex and everything around it. What’s wrong, what’s okay? Am I evil just for thinking about what it would be like to kiss a cute guy? Is it a sin to get turned on watching a movie or reading a book?”

Sylvie shocked me by saying, “I struggle with that too … I mean, who doesn’t? We’re all human. I think God understands that. He’s the one who created our bodies and minds to work that way. The important thing is to not let it turn to lust. Isn’t there a saying like that? Something like, it’s impossible to stop birds from flying by, but you don’t have to let them build a nest in your attic.”

“That’s Martin Luther. So does that mean it’s a problem if you go beyond just getting turned on, if you catch my drift? What does God think about that?”

“I’ve wondered about that too. I do know it’s not specifically addressed in the Bible, so this is just my opinion. Don’t take my word for it or anything, but I tend to think there are some times when that is innocent and natural, but there’s also a point where it turns to lust.”

“If that’s true, then what’s the difference? How can a person know if they’ve crossed the line?”

“I’m not sure. I think it’s something you have to talk to God about, and listen to the leading of the Spirit. Sometimes it just seems like it would be safest to decide to not do it at all, but…” She cleared her throat but didn’t continue.

I could hardly believe it. Did someone who seemed as holy as Sylvie really struggle with the same feelings and secrets I did?

“What I learned from Ian is that Satan wants nothing more than to keep us from truly receiving and experiencing God’s love. You know that one of his names is Accuser, right?”

I folded my arms. “I’ve heard people say that,” I said skeptically.

“Well, that’s just what he does. He tries and tries to convince us that if we break one rule or another, that God stops loving us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Satan knows you belong to God and he can’t change that. The most he can do is get you to focus on following rules instead of following Jesus. That way, he can keep you and me so bogged down with guilt that we never make a difference in the world.”

“I thought it was good to feel guilty when you do something wrong. Isn’t that called a conscience?”

“There’s a difference between your conscience or the Holy Spirit convicting you and the type of shame and guilt you’ve been telling me about, Giselle. You belong to Jesus, so you can rejoice in knowing that He already dealt with each mistake for you on the cross. You don’t have to cower in fear or wallow in guilt each time you sin. We’re God’s beloved children. Think about it. What does a toddler do when he falls down and scrapes his knee?”

“Look for his Mom or Daddy to comfort him.”

“But what if his Daddy just finished telling him not to run because the ground was slippery?”

“Kids don’t care about things like that.”

“Exactly, and in my child development classes they teach us that good parents don’t punish in moments like that either. They just sweep them into their arms and kiss the hurt away.”

The vision of the child getting a bear hug flickered anew on my mind’s eye, triggering a smile. Maybe that could be God and me one day, after I worked hard to make things right again.

Sylvie continued. “I think that’s part of what Jesus meant when he said we have to enter the Kingdom like little children. When we scrape our knees, we should immediately run right back to the Father’s arms.”

My face fell. Immediately? Surely God wasn’t so ready to sweep me up in His arms right this second. My violation was a lot more serious than running instead of walking or a scrape on the knee – it was more like when I took Daddy’s Miata. How long had it been before Daddy started speaking to me again? Heck, he still reminded me about it every once in a while, half-joking that he should make me pay him back for it. No, it was too soon. I’d let God cool off a little before I dared go near Him.