(please read the preface if you have not yet.)

It was an unseasonably warm morning for early November in Iowa.  I sat in an uncomfortable black plastic chair designed for someone with a much girthier frame, the lumbar support always hit the wrong spot on my back.  The whole setup always gave me a cramp.

It was 9:55 – chapel was about to start.  I was in my (first) senior year at a small, extremely conservative Bible college, smack dab in the middle of sweet corn country.  I glanced up and noticed my friend Jamie smile and wave, she was making her way over to sit by me.

Fifth row from the front.  Stage right.  Four seats in.

That is where I sat almost every chapel service when I sat with Jamie.  When I wasn’t sitting with her I was usually sitting with my brother Andrew.  (Fifth row from the back, stage left, three seats in.)  I very rarely sat with X regardless of the fact that he was, more often than not, my boyfriend and had been for the last two years.  He didn’t really like to sit with me any more than I liked to sit with him, and we were currently in an “off again” month.  We had been together for so long that I felt obligated to glance around to see where he was.  I noticed him sitting about six rows behind me and I gave him a weak smile.  He barely acknowledged me with a nod.

During the X perusal I saw an RA looking my way.  I glanced down at my black polyester-blend skirt and frantically began tugging it even further down on my hipbones to make sure that it was covering my entire kneecap.  The last thing I needed was a violation.  (Or, as we called it when the administration wasn’t around “getting violated”.)  You could “get violated” for showing your kneecaps, your calves minus stockings, or the wrong part of your shoulder.  I’m not even kidding.  I cannot tell you how many pairs of stockings I went through every semester.

The chapel service started and, if you’ve ever been to a Baptist church, it was conducted pretty much exactly like your stereotypical memory.  Piano, organ, song leader, hymnal, special music (yes, every single chapel service), and four guys sitting on chairs, two on each side flanking the pulpit.

To the left of the pulpit was a guy I’d seen in class before, he had on a white shirt, dark blue tie, and navy suit jacket.  His hair was parted down the side and he was so far in between haircuts that he was constantly tossing his head to keep that hair out of his eyes.  I was surprised he hadn’t gotten violated for that, men’s hair wasn’t supposed to touch the tops of their ears.

The song leader directed us to the opening hymn and, since I had forgotten to grab a hymnal, Jamie shared hers with me.  I sang halfheartedly, my mind more on if/why X was mad at me again than concentrating on the words of the song.  I yanked my skirt a little bit lower as we sat down, ensuring that my entire kneecap was invisible, and tried to get comfortable in my black plastic chair.

The shaggy-haired guy sitting on the podium was starting to look really, really nervous.  I wasn’t sure why until Dr. Bob, our preaching professor and part-time groundskeeper, introduced him as the Homiletics (that means “preaching”) student elected by his classmates to preach once this semester.

Dr. Bob always had a warm, joyful, easy spirit about him.  He was the kind of guy who was just as happy on a John Deere lawnmower cutting grass in the summer as he was on that same John Deere plowing sidewalks with a blade on a brisk,    -15 degree morning without the benefit of a heated cab.  Dr. Bob stood at the podium smiling at all us students, giving a little bit of background on the nervous guy, who was getting pale by this time, before saying, “Joey Woestman, please come up here and open the Word for us.”

He preached on Noah.

I will always remember that.

I don’t really remember what about Noah (I’m pretty sure it was how Noah was faithful in adversity, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on it) but I remember thinking, “Wow…there is a godly guy.  He’s attractive…and he’s funny, too.”

He was.  He was very funny.

And then I remembered something awful.  Dangit…I’m off again with X right now, but there is no guarantee that we won’t get back together again.  I cannot be attracted to Joey…it’s not faithful.  Do not think nice thoughts about Joey.  Stop it.  Now.

I left chapel that day feeling extremely weird.  I knew X was somewhere behind me, but I didn’t even wait for him.  I ran straight back to my dorm room and threw myself into my desk chair.

In a moment of “I’m single right now and I don’t have to do what X wants me to do” rebellion, I added Joey to my MSN buddy list.

He was online.

I was feeling forward, which was very unlike the “scared of my own shadow” personality I had developed recently, so I sent him a message.

Your sermon was really great.

It didn’t take him long to reply.

And I missed my next class because of it…we chatted for, like, an hour.  At the end of which I had discovered that my earlier attraction to him while he was preaching had the capability of blowing into a full-fledged crush.

I had to be careful.  For both of us.

But then, suddenly, my phone rang.  It was the kind of jarring ring that shakes you back to your senses: it was X.  I quickly closed the chat window I had going with Joey, probably leaving him hanging in the middle of the conversation.  I felt so rude.

“Can I see you tonight?” X asked me without preamble.

My heart sank.

“Sure,” I said, lying through my teeth; my voice sounded so happy and chipper while my stomach was tossing and turning.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30,” he said.

That was the end of the conversation, but I knew it was just the beginning of another rollercoaster.

I knew it meant we were “on again”.

I kicked myself in the shins repeatedly (mentally, of course), leaned back in my desk chair and tried to figure out why, exactly, I couldn’t say no to X, especially when I knew we were both so miserable together.  After about twenty minutes of staring at the drab cream wall I still couldn’t figure it out.  Glancing at my watch, I got out of the chair and headed to my closet to change out of my stockings and stretchy black skirt which was, by this time, quite a bit above my kneecaps.

To Be Continued…