A Valentine in the Solitude

DateLine (2/8/06 – Ponce, Puerto Rico)

The spring semester of my second year of college was coming to an end. I had just withdrew from Organic which was required for my Chemistry major. It was beginning to sink in that I might fall short of my vocational objective based on academic track record. I enrolled in summer school to retake Organic. The strategy was to reduce my load down to one course at a time to focus; an attempt to get back on track academically. Four hours of lecture in the morning, four hours of lab in the afternoon; Monday through Friday. A test every Monday morning. Six weeks of Organic 201 then six weeks of Organic 202.

There was an unintentional side effect of the strategy; solitude. I was the only occupant on my floor of the dormitory for the summer. Other than class time and meal time I had no scheduled interaction with other students. There was the occasional impulsive trek to Bacon’s Bridge on the Ashley River in Summerville to do a little river swimming with some of the other summer students, a welcome communal activity. My summer job working in the registrar’s office also provided needed interaction with people. Several registration sessions were scheduled during the summer for transfers and matriculating freshmen to come on campus, register for courses, and make final arrangements for the coming fall semester. My job was to receive that little stack of computer cards that the registrants had collected as they had visited tables representing the various departments. I would do a cursory inspection and file them away so that they could be translated into a final class schedule at a later date.

The remainder of my time that summer was sitting in my yellow chair which had been rescued from the garbage heap, tossed there by some student who had fled the dormitory at the conclusion of the previous spring semester. The chair had long lost its two back legs which meant that it was in a permanent reclining position; a perfect posture as far as I was concerned. I pushed the chair over next to the single window in the dorm and enjoyed many an hour soaking up the low country sunshine and moonlight; sometimes conscious and many times not. Many of the times in the chair started with a serious dialog with God which covered the range of topics that were forefront on my mind; school work, my future which seemed to be slipping away, the money that I didn’t have, the girlfriend that I didn’t have, and many other similar life or death issues.

During one of those registration sessions not one but two young ladies who were traveling together lined up at my station to present their card decks. The first young lady never met a stranger, conversed effortlessly and talked a mile a minute. The second young lady was partially hidden behind the first, did not say more than a handful of words, smiled a lot and had blonde hair down to her waist.

Where’s this going? That summer I was at a crossroads; spiritually, academically, and psychologically. I was loosing my way; I was reaching out to God. As the summer wore on it because very obvious to me that God was hanging out with me as I lounged in the yellow chair. Now I fully understand that this is not a conventional posture for prayer. But I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God knew my heart, He knew my respect for Him, He knew my need and He heard my pleas. That summer of personal solitude was a pivotal period of my life. My relationship with God reached solid footings. Here’s the neat part. Right in the middle of this spiritual breakthrough God sent me a Valentine, and it wasn’t even February. That shy young lady that I mentioned earlier; a little over one year later we were married. 31 years, 3 children and 2 grandchildren later I can honestly say that God sends the most awesome Valentines.

By the way, I aced both Organic classes and Harriett and I occasionally get phone calls from her ex college roommate who talks a mile a minute for an hour at a time.