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Veering off-course
Can it be nearly 40 years gone since that fateful night? For some reason, I had the house to myself. Mom and Dad were probably at Tac's, the local Chinese restaurant and lounge where Mom worked part-time after her full shift in the warehouse at a magazine distributorship. My elder sister Debi was probably out with her beau, recently released from the hospital, and for the life of me, I can't imagine where the younger children were. They probably made themselves scarce since there were dishes to be done.
I was preparing to do those dishes when the phone rang. Now, back in the day, wherever the phone was, you were, because there were no cordless phones and cell phones were relegated to the realms of Dick Tracy science fiction. We had an overlong cord on the kitchen phone, but even its reach was limited. The kitchen got an extremely generous cleaning that night while I chatted with the caller, someone I had never met, someone I never expected to meet, a hospital roomie to my sister's beau.
He was in traction, bored out of his mind, and had no one else to distract him that evening so he kept the conversational ball rolling.
I thoroughly enjoyed myself, presenting myself to be anything but the 14-year-old girl I was. After all, he was almost 19 and I didn't want him to think that Debi's little sister was anything other than cool. Because Debi was definitely cool and I wanted to be just like her.
Probably not my best plan. I have no defense except the innocence of youth, but in that phone conversation, fully believing that I would never meet this person or speak with him again, I represented myself as something completely other than who I was. Besides, I was 14. The rule had always been no dating before 15 and no car dates before 16.
So, I still wasn't worried when Debi and her beau convinced Mom that I should go with them to the hospital to meet the caller, still in traction. Apparently, after that phone call, he was anxious to put a face with the voice.
I did start to get a little concerned when Debi started lobbying Mom and Dad to bend the rules and let me go out with this fellow once he was released from the hospital. After all, I had made certain statements, thinking myself safe, that made me extremely vulnerable outside the confines of that clean and gleaming kitchen. As it turned out, Debi was successful in her lobbying efforts and my life went seriously off-course over the next several months. The former course was never regained, but by God's grace, my life was never out of his reach.
Whenever I hear of Internet romances or online stalking, I travel immediately back to that kitchen, the phone resting on my shoulder while I dried the dishes and I feel again the high cost of pretense and lies.
We can be anybody we want to be, as long as we remain anonymous. That night, as far as I was concerned, I was anonymous and untouchable.
It would be years before I fully measured the cost of my deception.
I had painted myself into a corner that night in the kitchen, with no way out. Or so I thought. It took me awhile to learn that sometimes getting out of a corner means getting paint on your feet, but if that's the worst thing to happen, you're miles ahead of the game.
Nevertheless, over the years, I've painted myself into so many corners I fear there are rainbows on the soles of my feet. The Bible speaks of men with "feet that are quick to rush into evil" in Proverbs 6:18. I think I've finally learned to rush only to the place of repentance and redemption, no matter how much paint sticks to my feet.
Most, if not all, of us may feel as though we have painted ourselves into a corner.
Whether by impersonation, misrepresentation, or by making promises we cannot hope to keep, there seems to be no graceful exit available.
It may be easier than we think. If we're willing to set pride aside, to make the phone call, write the letter, or fall on our knees, I know that there is grace sufficient for all of our sins.