My First Love Broke My Heart
It changed my life
Her name was Karen.
As King Herod, she smiled at me as she danced on an elevated stage.
That smile felled me. Life bifurcated. Before Karen. After Karen. All that remained was to learn something more than her name.
I was baptized in a tent. The Methodists planted a church in the direction of the city's growth. They cleared forested land seven miles east of the Mississippi River to create a baby boom subdivision called Broadmoor. By the time I was confirmed, it was one of the largest Methodist churches in Louisiana.
Karen lived north of the railroad tracks in a subdivision cleared decades later to handle Baton Rouge's continued boom. The parish built a state-of-the-art high school that opened just in time for her to attend. So we belonged to the same church but rival high schools.
Even decades later, I remember how time passed differently after we met. Karen took me to her prom and went with me to mine. I'd "shop" at Winn-Dixie when she cashiered and stopped by to see her after my work at The Fox and Glove Restaurant. I adored her mom, befriended her brothers, and met her Dad.
She beat me at Battleship, an embarrassing admission given my future naval career. We served as camp counselors together. Led youth worship together. She got me to join a clown ministry that brought moments of joy to folks at assisted living facilities.
Time passed differently because it was infused with something new and glorious.
All of that happened in just five months.
Kissed her goodbye on a Friday night and left for a week-long leadership camp in Mississippi. That was our last date. Never learned why.
We can only see the ultimate meanings of our first loves from distant perspectives. The lovesickness seemed important then. But it was merely the setting for the drama just beginning.
Before Karen, I didn't do youth group. After Karen, youth group became my oxygen. She was there, so I was there. Pining.
She understood.
I was cringe-worthily pathetic.
She was gentle, kind, loving. Let me heal. Stayed close enough for me, distant enough for her.
She was a means of grace. Just as I couldn't give up on her, God never gave up on me.
Youth group dominated my senior year social life. Bowling, volleyballing, caroling, retreating, and worshiping. Most importantly, seminar-like reflections led by our pastors, John and Marie Williams. They got me while my guard was down. After Karen.
Asked Mom, "What makes Methodists Methodist?" She struggled to answer. Then, one word: tolerance. Didn't know what to do with that.
Our pastor couple did. Every Sunday evening, we'd tackle teenage questions, followed by some fun spiced with pizza or spaghetti.
Reverend Marie and Reverend John didn't invest time in terms like "saved," "hell," or "heaven." They took our relationship with God for granted and focused instead on what's next. How should we live? How should we discern our way forward when faced with young adult challenges?
Can't remember the questions, but two John Wesley quotes stuck with me.
Because we're all God's dysfunctional children seeking the path to flourishing, Wesley counseled tolerance. "Think and let think." Sounds like tolerance! Mom was right.
More importantly, something crucial as I sought my purpose in life: "Shed love abroad." Wesley said there is no need to search far and wide for life's purpose because God's already given us that holy mission.
Shedding love abroad demands resilience.
My first love taught me how and why God heals broken hearts. Love is a gift. It turns out that God gives us the gift so that we might become the gift. Love frees, and freedom is the capacity to love.
Didn't know that at seventeen. I was blind while I pined.
About one year after getting hooked on Herod, Karen and I joined our pastors and other youth on a balcony at Shreveport's Centenary College. Watched the bishop ordain that year's crop of ministers.
The hymn was a Methodist chestnut based on Isaiah's call to prophecy. God asks, "Whom shall I send?" The chorus answers, "Here I am, Lord."
Second time with Karen I felt my heart strangely warmed. Not by the girl. By something in the air.
This time, I let the moment pass.