Stalker Badge

There I am inspecting what kind of peppers I want to purchase at the Meijer on Plainfield, when I look up and see her.

She has bright red hair -- the Run Lola Run kind. Her arms are covered in sleeves of the most intricate and colorful tattoos. A few of her diamond-studded facial piercings sparkle under the fluorescent light. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look quite so out of place.

Have you been to the Plainfield Meijer? Let's just say it's not located in Grand Rapids' cultural epicenter or hipster hot spot. (A few miles north of the Lazy T Motel, I think this Meijer's zip code may house more sex offenders than anywhere else in the GR area. Just a guess from my minimal research. I, in fact, reside only a short distance away as well.)

Anyway, the girl stood out and certainly got my attention. There was something about her. I just had this strong feeling that I had to get to know her, that I wanted her as my friend. I don't quite know what it was, but I'm telling you my shopping trip suddenly took on a whole new purpose -- meet hot girl, introduce myself and make her my friend. Mission accepted.

It was one of those things where I kept saying to myself, "If she's walking in the next aisle I turn down, we're meant to meet (and be best friends!! hehehe)." I sound crazy. I'm crazy.

Well, after about 30 minutes of shopping, I kept spotting her from a distance. I wasn't stalking, I promise. I let my grocery list - not my new best friend - dictate my direction. She just kept standing out.

Toward the end of my trip, I ran into my good friend Kasey. I told her about "the girl" and how I wanted to meet her. After cracking up a bit, she told me to go for it. We looked around for her in the produce area and tracked her in the checkout lane. Oh no. This was it. Now or never. Kasey shouted, "Go, go, go!" And I did.

I hauled my loaded-down cart to the self-checkout lane (Sidenote -- I despise this lane. This shows you how committed I was.) The girl was finishing up bagging her items. I walked right up to her and said, "You are so beautiful. I love your look. I saw you and feel like I just have to be friends with you." Ahhhhhh! Looking back I realize how totally ridiculous and weird this is. I think I'm blushing as I write this. But I was caught up in a crazy moment.

She seemed a little taken aback. Rightly so! But then she said, "Thanks so much. That is so nice." We made small talk for a few seconds and then she asked me if I have a hair stylist. Turns out she works at the Aveda school. She gave me her card and told me to schedule an appointment. She offered to do my hair and added that it would give us a chance to chat more! Nicely done, Lauren.

But that's not all.

A few minutes later as I'm self scanning a ridiculous amount of items, she comes back to another self-checkout lane right in front of me. She must have forgotten something. I seized the moment again. "I hope you don't think I'm crazy," I gushed. "I just think you look like so much fun. I had to say something." And you'll never guess what she said next. Since moving here last summer, she's had a ridiculous time making friends (Something I've heard over and over again about West Michigan. But that's for another post another time!). She said it's been a lot harder than she thought it would be.

I couldn't believe it. I made a complete ass of myself. But what if I have a new friend because of it? She did give me her card, you know. I would like to insert right here that I met one of my very best friends in my doctor's office a few years ago because I thought she seemed nice and easy to talk to in the waiting room. We exchanged Facebook info via our nurses.

It just got me thinking that maybe I want to live more like this. Two things. One, I want to be intentional everywhere I go about looking for opportunities to meet people. Two, when I see someone I want to meet for who knows what reason I decide to just go for it. What in the world do I have to lose? I can handle weird looks, snobbery and rejection. It'd so be worth it in the end if I had a gaggle of new friends.

The Love Badge. He's Right (Jesus and Rob Bell). It's true. Love Wins.

I don't know where to begin.

I could start with this past weekend when I got the phone call about my Aunt Lindsey's sudden death. But that doesn't do this justice. It goes further back than that.

Maybe December 2005? That's when my Aunt Jane made the unfortunate choice to forego calling my mother to inform her about her dad's (my grandfather's) funeral. My mom found out about it after the fact from Lindsey. Big ouch. They haven't spoken since.

Or what about when my Grandma died? I was in elementary school and didn't really understand the dynamics of funerals and the seemingly inevitable family dysfunction that accompanies them. All I knew was that my mom and Jane were furious that Lindsey had taken some prized keepsakes from my Grandma's home without asking them about it first. Years passed before Jane and Lindsey could be in the same room together.

Are you seeing a pattern emerge here?

So when that call -- ugh, I hate that call -- came Saturday afternoon, I was filled with sadness and dread. Here we go again.

It had been 5 1/2 years since my mother and I had spoken to my Aunt Jane. Weird, I know. Childish, maybe a little. Sometimes it's just hard to let go of an egregious act like that. I wasn't as personally tormented by it as my mom. More so for me, I was pissed because someone had so deeply wounded her.

Needless to say, I boarded the plane to North Carolina with a lot more baggage than my cute Bath and Body Works carry-on. I honestly felt like I was walking into a hornet's nest. It was the first time in my life I felt like I couldn't face something alone. I begged Michael to come with me and being the sweet and sensitive guy that he is, he did.

The whole trip down I just kept thinking I wanted this time to be different. Could it be? Could I dare hope for anything more? What could break this cycle? We're talking decades-old patterns of anger and hurt and unforgiveness and bitterness.

Michael and I along with my parents arrived late Sunday evening to our hotel in Wallace, North Carolina. Ever heard of it? Me neither. We weren't needed at the house until Monday afternoon. Ugh. The anticipation was driving me mad. I couldn't eat. I couldn't not think about what the day would bring.

The more I thought and thought and talked and talked and prayed and prayed about it, the more I felt clear about one thing. I wanted to shock my aunt. (Well, at first I didn't. But then Michael convinced me otherwise.) I knew she would be expecting the worst from us. After all, didn't we have every right to loathe her? Who does what she did? Yet despite all that, I felt this strong desire to overwhelm her with love.

Say what?!

Let's be clear here. This thought couldn't have been my thought. I think I'm a pretty loving person. It's just that I have this little bitty issue with justice. Oh, how I love it when people get what's coming to them. It feels so good and right. This "overwhelming with love" thing didn't really jive with my justice loving. Love her when she deserves anything but my love. Ew.

I had all these scenarios running in my head that I'd walk in and just pretend that I didn't notice her. I'd make her come to me. She'd have to feel and confront and bathe in the awkwardness. OK. I retract the "I'm a pretty loving person" description. I'm gross!

Going against everything that felt natural and safe, I committed to God and to myself that I would greet her extravagantly, that I would let go of all the "righteous" anger and annoyance I'd been holding onto. Once I decided this was the plan of action, the feelings followed. I suddenly, immediately wanted to shower her with love and kindness. I wanted to see her. I wanted her to know things could be different, that there's another, better way to live. Isn't that strange? I usually wait for feelings to come first before I act. Unfortunately it seems like that rarely happens with forgiveness.

Moment of truth -- we walked into the large plantation home. She's not in the kitchen. Phew. It gave me a minute to get my bearings and to have a cry with my uncle. She's not in the dining room or the den. Hmmm. And then, I see her. It's go time. I run over to her and wrap my arms around her and tell her how much I've missed her, how I'm so sad it's been so long, how I think about her so often. Oh my...the look on her face. Pure, utter shock. She barely hugged me back or said a word for several minutes. I don't think she knew what to do. And the most amazing part? My mom followed suit and hugged her and told her how much she loved her.

By the end of the night they were googling together and trying on each other's perfume. My mom told me today that they spent two hours talking about what happened and how they had hurt one another. Seriously, is this for real? This doesn't happen. This isn't natural. I've never seen this on an episode of Real Housewives or Jersey Shore or The Practice. You've hurt me. You've betrayed me. But I'm going to love you despite all that. Love. Love. Love.

Mr. Bell, and I guess more significantly, Jesus, are so right on. Love wins. It won this weekend. It always wins. I can't ever think of a time it hasn't and won't continue to.

There's this song I've been listening to obsessively lately and I just love the lyrics...

His love is deep, His love is wide

And it covers us

His love is fierce, His love is strong

It is furious

His love is sweet, His love is wild

And it's waking hearts to life

My heart was most certainly awakened this weekend.