Hello Again

Edward closes his eyes and reflects for a couple of minutes on recent events. Then, reaching down to give Mytra—snoozing beside him there in the family room this evening—a pat, says to his pup: “Ya know fella, I wonder if we’re getting more than we had a right to expect from our invitation to ‘do lunch.’ Not that I’m complaining, and admittedly I may be adding two and two and coming up with eight in my thinking. But still, I wonder if maybe we shouldn’t take another look at what seems to be going on; not only what we’ve accomplished, just possibly what we might even have set in motion here.” He turns down the already soft music from the stereo and reviews in his mind the success (and ease) of the run-up to their get-together (couldn’t have been more flexible or cooperative); their meeting for lunch (most congenial and warm), and now this brief but seemingly compressed burst of correspondence between them. He concedes he may be over-thinking all this. What began as his quest to meet Mrs. Beaufort for a one-off event to satisfy that curiosity as to whatever became of her has been achieved. These circumstances considered, and with nothing else seemingly at stake here, it seems reasonable therefore for both of them to simply close the door on their past—to move on. Or does it? He picks up her latest note to him again. If she felt that their meeting was a reciprocal one-time event to catch-up with each other, for old times’ sake, and that’s that, one might have expected her latest note enclosing the pictures to be a clear thanks, it was fun, and farewell. But, that’s not quite what her latest seems to imply: signing off, “Bye for now” seemed to Edward she left further near-term contact between them a possibility; actually, in his mind, to be expected. Why? To what avail? Is it possible there is a mutually sympathetic notion that there could be more at stake here than meets the eye, given the opportunity? They both had quite obviously enjoyed seeing each other again. Neither was chafing or impatient for their get-together to end. In actual fact, it now occurred to Edward that Linda may have been as eager for their meeting as he had been. Maybe even more so. Interesting, he thought—a good example, probably, of this two plus two equaling eight. Well, all this assessing of what might be going on was, Edward conceded, simple conjecture; probably just wishful thinking. However, one thing had possibly moved the goal posts since he began his quest to meet Mrs. Beaufort: she was now a widow, an attractive, unmarried woman, and their predecessors had shared a serious romantic past. But did that fact mean they might now be able to pick up where they left off? At this point, Edward shook off such daydreaming. After all, they lived half a continent apart. Still, he finally decided he’d not discourage any pen-pal idea she may have for the next couple of months anyway. He was planning a trip out to California in August. It offered another “casual” opportunity to see her again, if conditions still warranted. Keeping in touch in the meantime seemed a good idea. And what about Linda’s thoughts, now that their luncheon get-together is yesterday’s news? She couldn’t be sure there was to be anything further between them now. Privately she sincerely hopes there will be. In her mind his reappearance in her life is nothing less than miraculous—an obvious act of God. But, likewise in her mind, it’s out of her hands. Yes, she can try and maintain contact with him. However, her life is in God’s hands. If Edward is part of God’s plan for her, it will happen. If not, then it won’t. All she can really do is wait and see, trust in the Lord, and tactfully pray to encourage it. Many would consider that an overly fatalistic attitude. But trust in God and doing the Lord’s will is what her adult life has been given over to. She had not been led to the altar by words of faith, but by demonstrable experience of God’s intervention in her life. This in turn led to her personal commitment and subordination to the will of her Lord. Growing up, she hadn’t been particularly inclined toward religion, although raised within a family of Baptists. Her epiphany began when there came a point of sadness, extreme personal anguish, and great uncertainty in her young adult life; where it was simply impossible for her to make a choice between two who had declared their love for her. One she knew well and loved deeply; for the other—a newcomer—she recognized a rapidly growing serious romantic affection for and attraction to. How was she to make a choice? It pained her and seemed impossible under the circumstances. It was then that God intervened. In effect, God negated the need for her making that impossible choice, or so it seemed. God simply arranged a set of circumstances that promptly removed one of the suitors from contention. Given those changed circumstances, it seemed clearly God’s will that Linda marry the newcomer, “Don,” and so she had—out of love, and the Lord’s will. Over time, this dependence on God’s “plan” for her life was strengthened by what she considered further interventions by the Lord during difficult occasions and times, even if not always in her favor. You do not question the will of the Lord. Well, what can we take away from both Linda’s and Edward’s thoughts at this point? It sure appears they both want to get closer together. But, as we seem to have both a passively active and a submissively passive player—with no less than God in the middle—of what surely now appears to be an unadmitted attempt to rekindle a love surviving time, will it, even can it, happen?