It's My Life (13 page)

And now I've got another admission to make. I haven't been praying a whole lot lately. I guess I've been sort of afraid. Not of God, exactly. But maybe of what I think He's telling me to do. And yet, I really want to pray for Jenny. But I'm thinking, how can I go to God, begging Him to help Jenny when I'm not even going to Him to ask for help for myself.

Basically, I'm feeling just about as down as I've ever felt in the last year or so. Okay, maybe I'm not borderline suicidal (like the first time Josh broke my heart) but that was before I had God. But what worries me now is, what if I've turned my back on God (like Beanie had suggested I was doing a week or so ago)? I mean, I went to church, and I've even read my Bible a few times, but something in me is shut down. And it scares me. A lot.

So as worried as I am about my friend Jenny, I guess I'm even more worried about myself. The truth is, I don't know if I can even live without God in my life anymore. And right now, my heart feels like there's a great, big boulder sitting on it. Oh, why have I allowed myself to reach this place where I'm even asking these questions? And where do I go for the answers?

I was bummed out at school today that Beanie and Jenny both kept asking me what was wrong. To which I could not even find the words to answer. Finally, I just went home early on the pretense of being sick. (I even
called Rita and told her I wouldn't be in.) And I believe I am sick. But in my spirit. And I suppose if one is sick in her spirit for long, it can't help but affect her body. But for now it's just in my spirit. And I know it's time for Caitlin Renee O'Conner to do some honest to goodness soul-searching. So that's exactly what I plan to do. I can't keep living like this, pretending to be what I'm not, not knowing what I am, running from God, or acting like I don't care. I just can't do it anymore!

I'm feeling a little better today. This morning, Beanie grilled me on the way to school, and I finally ended up just pouring out the whole missionary story. And she was so
relieved. “Oh, Cate,” she gushed happily. “This is such a relief. I thought maybe something really serious was wrong.”

“But this is serious,” I said as I pulled into the student parking lot. “It feels as if my faith is hanging in the balance.”

“That's not how I see it.” She thought for a moment. “To me, it just seems like God is calling you to a deeper level of faith and you're struggling with it.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that's kind of how it seems. But ever since that mission thing happened, it feels like I'm pulling away from God.” I blinked back tears. “But I've just come to realize that I can't do that. I cannot live like that, Beanie. It's like there's no going back for me.”

She reached over and laid a comforting hand on my arm. “It's going to be okay, Cate. I just know it, inside my heart. Everything is going to turn out just fine.”

“I wish I felt as sure as you do.” Then it was time to head to class. But her words were encouraging. And when I saw Jenny later, she asked if I was feeling better and I said “a little,” but didn't go into any detail.

Then at lunch, Beanie came to sit with Jenny and me and she asked how my spiritual trial was going (well, not in those words, but plainly enough as to get Jenny's curiosity).

“What's that all about?” asked Jenny as she pretended to chew on a carrot stick. (And I'm thinking, Just go ahead and eat it, it's only a carrot stick for Pete's sake!)

But instead I actually answered her, surprising even myself. “You know what you've been saying about being real, Jenny? Well, I haven't been real. Not with myself or you, and worst of all to God.”

Well, she just sort of blinked, then asked me what I meant. And I tried to explain how I felt like I'd turned my back on God lately (not mentioning the missions thing, which I'm sure she would never in a million years understand!), but how I'd become progressively more miserable, and finally reached the point where I couldn't go on. “So you see, Jenny, I'm a Christian. And there's nothing more important to me than God. And if you don't want to hang with me because of that, it's fine.” I could see that last line wasn't quite making sense, so I tried to soften it a little. “What I mean is, I am going to be who I am no matter what anyone else thinks. And I'd like to still be friends, but I've figured out that I need God more than I need even the best of friends.”

She kind of laughed then said, “Gee, Cate, I never thought I was making you choose between me and God.”

I smiled. “I know. It was me who was having the problem. Actually, I think I was trying to distract myself more than anything.” Then I told her all about the trip to Mexico and how I'd really become concerned about the kids.

“I think that's cool,” she said with genuine enthusiasm.

“But the thing is,” I went on, “I even started feeling like I'd turned my back on the kids. And that was just killing me.”

“Oh, I think I'm beginning to get the picture.”

Finally Beanie jumped in. “Yeah, even Josh Miller has gotten really concerned about the kids down there.”

“Josh?” Jenny's eyes flashed.

“Yeah. He went on the mission too,” said Beanie, glancing at me nervously, as if she'd said something wrong.

“Josh had been attending our church youth group,” I quickly explained. “And he went with us to Mexico.”

Jenny frowned. “And so are you and Josh, you know, going out now?”

I laughed. “Not at all. We're just friends, and we both know it.”

“Oh.” Then she laughed. “Not that I'd care. I mean, that was a lifetime ago.”

“I know. But Josh has really changed since then.”

She kind of rolled her eyes. “I'll bet.”

We talked a little more about the Mexico trip, then Jenny said she wouldn't mind doing something like that someday. “I think it's great to help kids like that.” So I told her about my campaign to raise money for food, and she asked if she could help too.

“Of course. I'd love for you to help.”

And suddenly everything was starting to feel almost like it had before. Well, almost. I still have some things to resolve between God and me. But now I don't feel quite so anxious as I did yesterday. Somehow the things that happened today have made me feel a new confidence. Beanie claims it's because she's been really praying for me. And I'm sure that's a big part of it. But I think there's
something more going on here too. I think it's mostly up to me to figure this thing out. The best part is, now I don't feel like I'm afraid to do it!

Today at youth group, Greg read an excerpt from “The Journals of Jim Elliot,” which is the actual journal of a man named Jim Elliot who was a missionary in Ecuador about fifty years ago or so. Anyway, it was this really cool entry about how he wanted to give his all for God and to trust Him for everything, but it was so honestly written! I couldn't believe it had been written so long ago by some pioneer missionary, because this guy sounded like someone who could be a good friend. And Greg said he wasn't really that old at the time (I think he was in his twenties).

Then Greg closes the book and tells us how not long after those words were written, Jim and his buddy were killed by some of the natives they were trying to reach for God. Now I suppose this sounds kind of gruesome and everything (and it really was a tragedy), but for some reason this story of some missionaries being literally martyred for their faith just totally got to me. But not in a sad or negative way. I mean, suddenly I'm thinking, it would be an honor to die for God.

And okay, I'll admit that just days ago I was running from God (or at least I thought I was), but maybe I was just running from myself and thinking I wasn't up to doing whatever it was that God was calling me to do. But
suddenly I'm not worried about any of that anymore. And I'm thinking that, sure, I could go serve God as a missionary, and I could even die if need be. Just like that. Pretty weird, huh?

But the truth is, I would rather live like that (sold out for God) than the way I've been living these past few weeks. I'd rather know that I totally belong to God and that He's in control of my life than to feel like I'm running or hiding or whatever. Because God's way is better. I just know it. And now that I've reached this place, I feel so free and happy and secure. And now I realize that it's the only place I want to be.

So then after telling us about this missionary, Greg reads a quote of his which I wrote down and am now going to put in my diary as well as on my wall. It goes like this:

And that just about sums it up for me. I think I was trying to hang on to something–I'm not even sure exactly what, but I was hanging on to it for dear life–
and it was killing me
! Now I feel like whatever it was (whether it was me, my life, my choices, whatever) that I have let it go. Now I'm just hanging on to God, and I feel more alive and more fulfilled and just plain happier than ever. And, ah, what a huge relief it is!

And you know what's really cool? I've started thinking
about those kids at the dump again and praying for them more than ever. I can even imagine going down there to live and to work full time. I mean, I'm dreaming up ways that I might get the funds together to have a building built with a kitchen and day care facilities and laundry and who knows what else!

Okay, I know I'm only seventeen and not even out of high school yet, but I can dream, can't I? And I can pray! Let me tell you, this is a whole lot better than running the other way!

Today at lunch, I
just couldn't stand it anymore. Try as I might, I could NOT keep my eyes off Jenny as she just picked and picked and PICKED at her tossed green salad, while casually sipping from her 32-ounce Diet Coke. And finally, to my later and extreme embarrassment, the words just blurted out of me.

“Just eat the stupid salad, Jenny!”

She looked up at me in surprise, then calmly said, “What's up with
that
little comment?” Still slightly shocked at my own unexpected outburst, I almost backed down, but then something came over me as I noticed (not for the first time) her tiny, bony wrists, and I knew I could no longer just sit by and say nothing. So I continued. “Jenny, I know what's going on with you.”

Her eyes narrowed a little. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I
know
you might have an eating disorder, okay? It's nothing to feel bad or guilty about, and you don't need to try to cover it up, but I
really
think you should get some help.”

She just stared at me for a long moment, then stood and made her move to leave the table.

“Please don't go, Jenny,” I pleaded, suddenly feeling stupid and guilty over my abrupt confrontation. “You know I'm your friend and that I really care about you.” I glanced around the noisy cafeteria, thinking
where was Beanie when you need her
? Usually she joined us for lunch these days, and I felt pretty certain she'd have something informative and helpful to say. Unfortunately, I could think of neither.

“Well, if you really do care about me, Cate, then maybe you shouldn't say mean things like that.” She sat back down.

“I'm just worried about your health, Jen. Really.”

“I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Okay, then tell me, when did you last eat?”

She looked me in the eye with defiance. “Now.”

“You haven't actually eaten one single bite.”

“So you're counting my bites now?”

“No, that's not it. I just know what's going on with you. Can't you see you're getting thinner and thinner? And I know that can't be good. Have you seen a doctor or anything?”

She looked down at her neatly rearranged salad: tomatoes and cucumbers on one side, lettuce on the other, dressing “on the side” and
still
on the side. “Don't worry so much, Caitlin, I'm fine, really I am. You're just imagining things.”

“No,” I said with fresh conviction. “I'm not imagining
anything. How much do you weight right now, Jenny?”

She shrugged.

“I know that you know. You probably weighed yourself this morning.”

She still didn't answer.

“Jenny,” I pleaded, “I'm your friend; I want to help.”

Then she looked at me evenly then said, “You can't.”

Well, as weak as it was, it did seem an admission of sorts. “Then
who
can?”

“I don't know.”

“But do you realize that if you keep this up, you could seriously harm yourself or even die?”

Her eyes looked slightly frightened now. “I know that.”

“But…” I struggled for words. “Is
that
what you want?”

Eyes downcast, she slowly shook her head.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I don't know.”

“Jenny, do your parents know what's going on?”

She kind of laughed at this. “Dad's too busy to notice much of anything, and Mom thinks I'm just fashionably thin. Did you know I can wear size one jeans now?”

I remembered the day at the lake about a month ago. Jenny had never removed her T-shirt from over her swimsuit. And even now she wore a baggy sweater over loose jeans. A great cover-up.

“You've got to let them know, Jen.”

She took in a deep breath. “I can't.”

I reached over and put my hand on her arm. “But Jenny, can you at least admit that you
do
have a problem?”