Helen Burns
If you've read Jane Eyre, you may have gotten the reference, but if not, I'll fill you in. Helen Burns is a character in the book/movie Jane Eyre. Basically, as far as I can tell, she's the mentor in the story. Now, I haven't actually gotten to the part where she dies, so I can't really tell you what Jane's reaction is, but I have a feeling it isn't a good one. But I know she does die, and I'm sorry for ruining it for anyone. But this girl is a couple years older than Jane at their school and she is a good example -- everything that Jane wants to be. She's brave, intelligent, wise, and humble. Who wouldn't want to be like Helen Burns? I guess where I'm going with this is that everyone has a Helen Burns in their life at some point in time -- a mentor and counselor who eventually leaves your life.
This is something I've been struggling with since my Helen Burns left my sphere of a world. We had been to school together for two years, and in that time, I felt like she was the only person I could ever truly open up to. I lay some of the responsibility for bringing me to Christ on her. Like Helen did for Jane, she answered all my questions without hesitation about anything -- homosexual relations, what such and such a passage meant, what it really meant for a virgin to be pregnant -- all the stuff I had to convince myself of before I would even consider accepting Christ into my life. She helped me convince my intellect that it was the logical choice. And she dragged me along to the youth event where I did accept Christ. She was always there. I could expound upon any difficulties I've had at home, rely on her for some good fun in programming, and know she would have at least some sort of answer to any question I could conceive.
This year was her first year at college. She didn't die, mind you, I think, but she wasn't in my life anymore. I saw her once before she left (twice if you include the graduation ceremony and party) after school ended. After seeing her almost every day for two years, she was gone. In a small school like New Testament, that's like someone has died. And I don't mean it in a mean way, but its true. We're such a tight knit community that if one key person is missing, it feels like more; four kids are absent and you don't want to do anything because it feels like no one is there. It's just how it is.
I struggled with this for a while. The person I relied on, the person I knew I could confide in, wasn't there anymore. It was like in the Indy movies or some other film, where he's standing on the pedestal and its falling away around him. I felt like I was floundering. And it seemed to be the worst time, too. It felt as if all my sin and everything I wanted to talk about swamped me right before she left. And she wasn't there.
I take responsibility for this, really. My Helen is not a textually based person, and e-mailing her definitely is not the best way to keep in touch with her, but its one of the only medium I feel comfortable in. I get wicked anxiety when I call someone on the phone. And, I suppose, if it was that important to me, I could have called. But, of course, whenever I thought of that, a billion questions ran through my mind; what do I say? What if she doesn't pick up? What if she can't talk? What if I have the wrong number? What if? what if? what if? I. And they wouldn't leave me. It isn't her fault. So I kept to e-mail, thinking she'll eventually check it. The last e-mail I got from her was the beginning of September.
For awhile, I blamed myself. I blamed my weakness and my vulnerability and my inability to get along alone. I didn't understand what God was doing for me. And now, now I realize. He was building in me a reliance on Him. When I'm standing on that pedestal, and its wasting away beneath me, what do I do? Do I try to jump to the next one, which I know will just collapse beneath me again? Or do I jump to the dangling rope a few feet away?
If God had not done this for me, if he had not destroyed my dependence on someone else, then I would say jump to the next pillar. It'll support me for a while. But then I'll have to deal with more panic and figure something else out. It's easier. But now, understanding what He's done, and experiencing that liberation, I would cling to that rope as tight as can. It won't fail me. It won't fall. I might slip every now and then, but I can just grab hold again.
I guess I'm just thinking of this now for a couple of reasons. The first is that another of my friends that went to college came home for Easter and was at church and I was just reminded of everything. The second is that it is Easter, and I've been thinking all day of the things Christ has done for me.
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piggwidgeon) wrote,
confused
