It’s nine thirty on Halloween night, and I am sitting in room 534 of Cleveland Regional Hospital. The lights are off; my computer screen is providing the light for me to type with. The curtains are drawn, the door closed. Get-well balloons and flowers are silhouetted against the beige walls (the shade of beige that seems to adorn every other hospital in the country). My typing is slow and deliberate- not only because I still hunt-and-peck at eighteen years old (quickly at least), but also to keep the noise down. It’s been a long couple of days, and finally some much needed peace and quiet time has come. The only sound in the room is the methodical click-click-click-click-click-whirr of the IV dispenser over my shoulder, which, after spending about an hour with it, I can say with confidence whirs every ten seconds.
Why am I here? The answer is lying an arm’s length away from me and in the middle of some much-needed and well-deserved rest. My girlfriend of six weeks had her appendix removed last night and is slowly recovering. Being anemic and a petit 5’3’’ hardly makes her an ideal candidate for such a procedure. She stirs intermittently, unaware that she is soon to be the topic of a little-read blog post before she wakens. Her mother is stretched out on the couch, exhausted after being a caring and vigilant support for her daughter for more than 24 hours straight now.
When Alexandra Hollifield called me around eight this morning and told me that her recovery was not going as quickly as she had hoped, there was a plaintive strand in her tone. She would never admit it on her own, but she wanted me there. So I did what any good boyfriend would do: ask her if she wanted me to come until she said yes. An Italian quiz and politics recitation later, I was headed home to Winston to retrieve my car and then on the highway to Shelby.
Missing my first Halloween at UNC on Franklin Street was the easiest decision I have ever made. I methodically called friends to change plans, began listing in my head the things I should pack. The question was never if I would leave, but when. Sitting here in this surprisingly comfortable reclining chair, I feel overwhelmingly content and calm. Drunken revelry in costumes seems more and more like a tradition that isn’t exactly heartbreaking to miss.
I write this not to flaunt my actions or ability as a boyfriend, but rather as a tribute to the things God blesses us with when we need them most. For me, it was the almost-unconscious reaction within me that made my priorities clear and evident in my mind. I have been blessed beyond belief with friends, community , happiness, and joy in my life since getting to college, the latter two of which Alex has played no small part in. It still feels surreal to have found someone so incredibly compatible, compassionate, beautiful, and smart at such a young age. She is eight months younger than me, a fact I usually struggle to recall correctly because it is never evident when we are together. If you had told me that I would be dating a high-school senior who lived three hours from campus upon my arrival there, I would have laughed.
She has been one of the greatest and most undeserved blessings I have ever received, and coming to be with her instead of staying for Halloween was almost a reflex rather than a decision. Even though I may not always utilize them, I know the Lord has instilled clarity and perspective in my mind- and doubtlessly, the minds of countless others as well. I write in tribute and thanks to Him for this, and also to remind myself the next time such a choice arises.
A girl reading poetry in the quad earlier this week asked her audience what beauty was. I smiled as I walked past her, thinking to myself that she would never successfully find a complete answer. However, only days later I have an answer for her rhetorical musing. For me, beauty lies in a hospital bed with half-braided pigtails and a perfect smile that flashed as soon as I entered the room. Beauty rolls its eyes when I say it has never looked more gorgeous or prefect than it does right now. Beauty softly slips its IV-free hand in mine and intertwines its fingers. Beauty, currently, sleeps fitfully, the unknowing muse of a college boy who occasionally mistakes himself for a writer.
But in a larger sense, beauty is not only Alex but everything else in my life. My roommate and our two best friends. The amazing campus. My mother, who is just returned from a trip to Kenya to give aid to orphanages sponsored by the charity she works for. My brother, who is just old enough to be my role model and just young enough to be my friend. My father, who has led me to this point and still guides from home. Beauty is the gifts and abilities that the Lord has given me.
Most importantly, the truest beauty of all lies in the fact that I have done nothing to deserve any of it.
And I never will.
We have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.
Acts 5:2
