Callings of the Heart
Photo David Andrew Hamilton © 2007 * * *
Seven years ago today, an invisible wand was swung and I was propelled into an unexpected Journey of small miracles.
On a bright, pink and blue day just like this, I boarded an aircraft, filled with youthful anticipation of my upcoming discoveries in a new part of the world. But my anticipation went beyond the simple attraction of unexplored geography. Indeed I was considerably more intrigued by the man I was about to meet, whom I only knew through his voice and written words.
Despite my best disposition, the flight was tedious. My mind kept wandering in too many directions and I was unable to read, eat or rest. For what seemed endless hours through my window, vast expanses of unknown land and mountains unfolded only too slowly while useless speculations added to my weariness. Finally, a crimson, blurry sun began to set on the high horizon and the sky darkened. Sometime later it filled with stars, then, quite suddenly, a maze of reassuring city lights finally appeared below. By then, not only was I exhausted and worn, but I was concerned I looked nothing like that carefully chosen snapshot I had sent through the mail. Would he even recognize me?
After a safe touch down, I started unfolding my stiffened legs, proceeded to adjust my prim navy jacket, and smeared a dash of lipstick on my dry mouth. Among the usual hustle, I gathered my hand luggage, took a deep breath and said a prayer. The cabin gradually emptied and as I followed the long line of passengers up the gangway, I remember being taken over by a strange thought: ‘I am about to meet the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with!’ And where did that come from, I wondered? At no time during our lengthy correspondence and numerous conversations had such an inconceivable notion entered my mind. At least my head certainly had not been there, but could my tricky heart already have, without warning? At that same moment, a current of uncontrollable excitement ran through my body, so intense I had to ease my pace to catch my breath. What was happening to me? Was this really possible?
Contrary to the dire predictions of some, the man soon did appear: he was neither a figment of my mind nor some insubstantial soul with a dark purpose. Not only was he quite real, but from the instant I glimpsed him I also knew that, if not even more endearing, my best presentiments were uncannily accurate.
That moment of our meeting remains as vivid and fresh as this morning’s rose. Standing motionless behind the small crowd, he waited for me to see him. When I did, his hands were tucked in the front pockets of his jeans while a pair of eager, lake-blue eyes already took me in. There was no mistake. I fought not to run and, with as ladylike a pace as I could muster, I advanced toward him. The next instant we smiled, and we smiled again. Then I put my bags down and we hugged for a very long time. It was like coming home.
True, it was very late and this peregrine was an emotional wreck, yet our Journey was only beginning.
* * *
Some months later after a second, lengthier visit, he proposed. Naturally we anticipated the most challenging phase of our plan only lay ahead, and we were not wrong. The challenge came with formidable proportions. During our long, endless months of waiting, the so-called system provided numerous — if despairingly silent — reminders that there would be no special treatment, no kindly allowance to expedite our wish to be together. In that passionless and overly zealous establishment responsible for the processing of aliens, True Love and the ultimate dose of bona fide would earn us no privilege. Like thousands of others like us, time and patience were our only assets.
But I believed in something. Whatever was in store for me, my new calling was my creed. Patience, prayers, resilience in the face of false and devastating assumptions and especially our faith, all finally paid off. We have been married for five years — seven years since that initial, momentous flight —, and I proudly bear witness to the principle that love conquers all.
Many times I have spoken or written the following, but I seem to have good reason to repeat it here. When all is said and done, I would rather be sorry for what I did, than regret holding back when fear might have stood in the way. But then, this Journey is something I will never regret. For who in their right mind could be sorry for growing new wings, for coming upon a new creative voice and a new love, all in the same package?
You may not know me, but I am of an age where I feel entitled to impart small pieces of advice. So here it is: however many or few seasons you have treaded this earth, if a sparkling chance to follow your Spirit knocks at your door, if ever you should feel something tugging at your heart and pointing in some unknown and preferably frightening direction, I suggest you pay dear and close attention.
Chances are, a priceless treasure of your own only waits to be unearthed.
