Sometimes stories are permanently in Heart Language, and while you can get them out into English, it’s just not the same. I don’t even know where to start. It was April 2012. I hurt and I was learning to feel all over again. My best laid plans had fallen into dusty shambles. Everything came out in ink and keyboard clicks and tears.
Letters flowed from Seattle to Kentucky and back as regularly as time would allow. He was my best person – even my journal says so. Feelings were slow, though. No switches were really tripped, but I did notice him. I flipped through an old children’s poetry book, found this, and couldn’t put down the fact that it reminded me of him.
“O, there were lights and laughter
And motions to and fro
Of people as they enter
And people as they go…
And there were many voices
Vying at the feast,
But mostly I remember
Yours-who spoke the least.”
Soon, it was May – more letters, more feelings. By this time, the switch was tripped. Cue the all-at-once. Facebook messages were rapid fire, and at some point around here, in early June, our first Skype (in over a year) took place. He says that’s when he really noticed me. I remember that the first words he spoke were, “Wow! You sound really southern.” We continued on, chatted a little bit, and had our business meeting. I journaled briefly about it, and, reading back, I can tell that I was bursting. I got to Skype Eric Novak.
Early May was the first time I had ever written about my feelings for Eric. Ever. And it was scary. I was shocked at my own words and at what I felt. I knew it was all true, so I kept on writing, but it confused me and here’s why: Most of my head told me that we were just friends, that nothing romantic was going to happen, but you see, this is Hannah Braboy, this is me, and my heart was made cinched to my head. So, the confusing part was that I thought we were just friends, but more and more, I was being moved into the direction of more-than-friends. I have had absolutely no doubts that the moving and changing was done by God who has crazy and outlandish plans.
Four days passed after our first Skype… I’m still surprised that my brand new Macbook Pro didn’t die from being soaked with tears. The brokenness that once rattled around inside of me was healing. I could feel again. I scribed journal entry after journal entry full of lines about just wanting to be his best friend, his best person. I remember journal entries turning into prayers and hours worth of tears.
A picture of the Seattle skyline flashed onto the 15 inch screen. “Eric,” I thought. I passed dressy clothes and events to wear dressy clothes to. “Eric,” again. All of life reminded me again and again: “Eric.” That name was spoken at the supper table every single night, too. You can bet that.
The first of July rolled around. The most foreign feeling I have felt up to this point in my life was one that hit around June and that hot, early July. That most foreign feeling was commitment to Eric – a commitment to wait, spoken through whispers I know only God could have breathed. If you’ve felt commitment to wait for another person like this, you are probably nodding your head right now, agreeing that it is one of the hardest, sweetest, most foreign things a human can feel, and feel it I did.