How furious is the bullet from a gun/1997

There was a cashier at Vons named Steven Holden, I had a crush on him, but was extremely shy.

I was no good at flirting with men. Instead I used to send notes to men.

Whenever I went with momma grocery shopping I used to go just to see Steven. Steven was only a few years older than I was, he was short, “5,6” and thin. He was half Asian and half white, that’s what gave him his exotic looks. He used to wear white Vons t-shirts and black slacks.

I used to preach to the baggers at Vons, I had a few baggers I preached to. This was the period of my evangelism. I used to preach to the ladies at the 7-11. Coco was the young woman I preached to most. Because I bought a Double Gulp every day I began to develop a friendship with her.

My infatuation for Steve didn’t go away, it only grew deeper I only knew his name because of the name tag he wore.

I began to pray fervently. “Lord, let me stay with this one.” I sent him a copy of Charles Haddon Spurgeon’s book, “The Power of the Blood of Christ” in case he wasn’t a Christian.

I used to believe that the “look” meant that God had sent him, the look that accompanied that strong attraction, the look that felt familiar like “Déjà vu.” But they were only my feelings, and the feeling grew more painful with his continued indifference. Looking at him was like a bullet to the skull though I had never been shot ever. It was a dull pain to the head, a headache that didn’t end, that’s what looking at Steven was like, knowing I would never have him. Knowing I would never have the checker in the supermarket, I watched for years. My eyes have become voyeurs my lonely heart spying has become a hunter his barren eyes always renounced me. Soon I discovered how furious is the bullet from a gun and how deep a hole unresponsive eyes can make. As usual I struggled in letting go as scrutinizing him had become like chemo-therapy and nothing more. Everyday my self-esteem was balding away.

I began memorizing Romans 6 and 7 Pastor Adrian Rogers from the radio show “Love Worth Finding” was doing a study on that.

I was home a lot. Scrubbing the floors, there were the bodies of dead cockroaches on the floor. But I began to praise the Lord, despite that. Studying and listening to sermons helped me to see beyond my situation of living with momma and Mia. I was like the house wife, I would carry four loads out to the wash, I would clean the apartment for the apartment inspections since momma was working in the IRS. It was not a glamorous life, but I got to stay home and study my bible, and write. I wrestled a lot with the Lord in prayer, praying that I would get married. Loneliness was a monster scratching at my heart, and taunting me.

It was four years since Gary left me. I prayed he would return but he didn’t. I became infatuated with Bill Bartholomew shortly after he left, but God didn’t work that out. I had to get over my infatuation for Bill Bartholomew. It was that look, of familiarity, “déjà vu”, but he preferred another woman named Carol.

I remembered my infatuation for Pastor James Capo. Pastor Capo was about 35. I used to call him every day when he first came to be our Pastor in 1995 after Pastor MacColm retired. He was nothing like Pastor MacColm. He worked from home, and I could call him every day, even though he was married with two little girls. I used to tell myself, we were just friends, but I would have ripped off my clothes with my teeth, had he looked at me in that way.

“Lord, it seems, I never stay with anyone I love. I’ve prayed endless hours to stay with those I have loved, to no avail. It feels futile, desiring love, needing love, and feeling my heart empty, my arms longing to hold this phantom. Every day every f----g day I know the loneliness of being separated from love, from romantic and physical love. Instead I continually find myself in the middle of convolution and complication. I feel myself torn in its jagged embrace. There is nothing but desert ahead, nothing but desert behind. I’ve thirsted for water, I’ve felt mirages I’ve lived in its fire. True trials are blessings, but they feel like hell, being purified in its fire, being baptized in its waters."

Its days like these that faith is like an old flag in the storm. Tattered and burned its image barely visible to the eye. My faith is constantly undermined by a heart that can hold on no longer, a heart that has forgotten how to hope. Gethsemane, every night a heart betrayed by it its loved ones. A heart betrayed and turned over to its enemies. Yes, when a man makes love to a woman and then walks away. I’d call that betrayal, a stake through the heart. When a man promises to marry a woman and then rescinds. Yes, I’d call that betrayal too.

Literally, I have felt my skin removed. I have carved my arms like pieces of meat. That is how desperate and how injured my heart had become. Yes, I have been the man in the desert, circled by vultures who were waiting for my most vulnerable moments. The devil has tempted me many times and has won. My fasting has made me hungry for affection. I’d scrape the little bit of affection as crumbs off of the floor. I was a loveless pauper, holding my empty cup out, barely able to keep my heart warm with the bits of tattered clothing. Every day was winter, the sun barely a distraction. Every night was a play, pretending to have a husband or lover nearby, pretending that God had filled my entire universe up. On more honest nights, I’d admit my guilt and my torment. I’d confess my covetous nature to God, and I’d ask Him to control these feelings that had gone mad. These feelings locked away in a mad house, struggling, struggling to escape. It was sin tearing an exit through my soul.

“Oh God, bind up my injuries, bind up my failures, bind up my heart pecked to death by savage loneliness!” With an ice pick, my heart had been cut away, and my love had been mutilated.

Yes, I haven’t felt love, and every bit of hope sends me searching through the deep canyons and precipices of my heart. But the only conclusion I can come to is a journey to difficult to complete alone. I’ve suffered, and I’ve wept, I’ve bled, and I’ve felt the deep scars of heartbreak, loneliness and rejection.

Constantly I’ve wondered if marriage is a possibility for me. I pray that someday God answers, “YES!” But today I have to bear the wilderness and this hour. I have to bear the cross God has constructed uniquely for my heart for His glory.”

“Oh Lord, You have searched me and known me.

You know my sitting down and my rising up;

You understand my thought afar off,

You comprehend my path, and my lying down

And are acquainted with all of my ways.”

(Psalm 139:1-3)