A Rush of Summer

Beat Seven

Summer:

It's been a week.

A week of horrid coddling from my mother. A week of numerous occasions where my brother would feel the need to ask me if I'm absolutely sure that I'm all right. It has been a week, otherwise known as depression, where I have seen nothing but blindingly white walls, cheesy daytime television, atrocious cafeteria food and felt nothing, but a deep ache in my chest every time Dr. Timble walks into my hospital room without good news.

No heart for me.

In a week's time I have had more than enough time to think over Henry's conversation with me, and glare at his card for hours . In a week's time I have had more than enough time to sort out all of my thoughts and realize how irrational I have been about this entire problem. And while I am undeniably confused on why of all people God chose me to take this burden, I shouldn't have jumped to such hasty conclusions.

With seven full days behind me,  I was able to understand that not all things are supposed to mean what we think they do, and even though people sometimes feel extremely vulnerable; God intended for them to be that way.

I was blinded by uncertainty, anger, confusion, and lastly doubt. I let my emotions take complete control rather than do what I've always done. Trust completely in the Lord, and know that everything will be okay. And now, replaying my behavior in my mind, all I feel is continuous shame for my actions. I can only hope that Mallory, Henry, Mom, Drew, and most of all God can forgive me for the things I've said.

Over the last one-hundred and sixty-eight hours I have had more than enough time to ponder about the most recent events in my life. Like how Nathan Hall mysteriously appeared, and in a few short minutes abruptly disappeared without ever showing his face since then. Or, no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about his words, those words slipping from his lips and flying to my eardrums. I cannot exterminate his opinion of me, compared to who I was just a few weeks ago. I cannot with all of my being, stop thinking about his description of me, his thoughts about me, his recollection of my words to him that day in his school, of the stitched up gash on his head that did not lessen his beauty in any way.

Our encounter together is like a broken record. Our words are spin, spin, spinning, mix, mix, mixing in my brain and I can't delete them. Forget them. Erase them. For some reason,  I cannot get rid of him.

And even though our encounter was like a millisecond compared to most, I wouldn't destroy it even if I could.

My mother is currently in the hospital gift shop stocking up on lifesavers and trashy middle-aged gossip magazines. She's been hooked on the two for the last three days, and after the fourth bag me and Drew just let it go. If shoving her face full of rainbow colored rings and reading about Brad and Angelina's newest adoption is a satisfying way to cope, who are we to judge?

Drew has been sleeping over in the corner, trying his best to find a comfortable spot in the awfully worn-down lounger. I know he must have chiropractic problems by now, but he refuses to leave. Every time Dr. Timble or a nurse comes strolling through the door, he's bouncing out of that chair faster than a lightning bolt can strike a metal pole. It's truly scary.

I press the up-button on my bed and the back slowly rises forward, putting me in a comfortable sitting position. My eyes take in every inch of the room until they finally meet Drew's in the corner. He's openly staring at me; watching me. The thoughts flooding through my mind are embarrassing, and I'm not sure if I should even say them aloud.

"What are you thinking about, Sunshine?"

His voice is like freezing rain drops shattering against my skin. I want to shield myself from the pain, but at the same time succumb to the simplicity that it brings. I could easily answer his question and rid myself of the burden.

"I'm thinking about how awful I've been. I'm trying to understand how I could turn my back on God so easily. I'm wondering how I'm even still alive given the behavior that I've displayed."

"Hey now, Sunshine, don't do this. Don't throw yourself a pity party. I'm pretty sure everyone has had a rough patch every now and then. No ones perfect, and no one can be an exemplary Christian all the time, no matter what people think. You've just been told some pretty heavy news in a short amount of time, and no one expects you to take it lightly. You were confused, it doesn't make you a bad person."

"Drew, I literally blamed, God, and then shut him out all at once. Henry had to sit by and witness it. I feel so ashamed right now."

"No one is shunning you, Summer. Stop beating yourself up about it. Tonight, when you say your prayers just ask God for forgiveness. Everything is going to be all right."

While I feel undeniably hollow for the things I said, Drew's words are fighting so hard to fill me up again. I want to believe him. I know that things could be that easy with just a few words, but at the same time I feel mortified by my actions. It's funny how one person can feel so many things at once. Is it even possible?

"So, the hospital started this new program a couple months back. They partnered up with the Police Department, and they're letting troubled juveniles read or converse with ICU patients to brighten their day; just mix things up. They asked if you would like a visit and since you're not really allowing Mallory to entertain you, I figured it would be nice. Is that okay?"

It would be Drew to anxiously await my approval of a kind gesture. It makes me wonder if you can love someone too much, because some days my love for Drew is endlessly overflowing.

"Yeah, Drew. I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Good,"-he says mischievously-"because he'll be here in ten minutes."

I chuckle. It's the only thing I know to do.

"Of course he is."

"I was hoping you'd say yes and if by some chance you didn't. well at least he'd already be here. I didn't think you would kick him out."

 And then, right as I'm about to respond, a familiar face waltzes into my hospital room.