the truth about forever

I just finished an amazing book by Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever. It's funny: when we first got it in at the store, I immediately dismissed it. It gave me a foreboding, pit-of-your-stomach feeling, because from the cover and the title I could tell that it dealt with a subject that, at the time, I was putting a heck of a lot of subconscious energy into avoiding. In a word: romantic relationships. More specifically: the permanence (or lack thereof) of romantic relationships. Every time I saw the cover I felt drawn to it, and at the same time, incredibly repulsed by the shallowness and teeniebopperishness of it all. I think there was also some terror involved - terror that if I read it, I might have to come to terms with a truth that I’d been repressing and denying for some time, but that I knew was true in that deep place that’s beyond smiles and reasonable explanations. Most people call it your gut.

Now, one-and-a-half years later, I am surprised by how right I was. Not about the subject matter of the book – I was actually way off in my suppositions about that – but about how completely and congruently it applied to my life. It actually wasn’t about boys or romance: it was about truth. Transparency. Being true to the person God made you to be. Being upfront with people about what is going on in your life. Not hiding behind the “fine” mask (as in, “how are you?” “fine.”). Taking the risk of letting someone see who you really are, and banking everything on the chance that they will accept you anyway.

I had one such revelatory moment during Sunday School a week back. We were talking about consciences and knowing how God directs us, and all of a sudden I knew that I had a story to tell. Oh no, you don’t, that voice said. You tell that story and you’re done for. Who on earth will take you seriously after that?. But I took a deep breath, and I told a story about a pen. To Greg and a bunch of high schoolers. Partway through Greg started laughing; I shot him a look, and he responded with, “No, no… I’m laughing because I know exactly what you mean.” Then he proceeded to tell a story about a rock. And as I sat there listening, it slowly sunk in: I wasn’t crazy. I hadn’t been judged or made fun of. I had been accepted, affirmed. And this was only one tiny piece of my shell that I had offered up for examination.

Thanks to a handful of friends, I have made great strides in the last year. I’ve gotten less and less afraid of being myself when I’m with other people. But I’m fast approaching a cliff, and strides just won’t cut it anymore. I’m going to have to jump: to leave the safe, familiar ground, and (very literally) pray to God that He will protect me, give me courage, and guide me. I’m not big on hyperbole, and I know this all sounds rather dramatic, but trust me: when your mouth has been shut and your heart has been closed, it feels like a great leap to open it even a crack.

Which is why I "clicked" so well with this book: that's exactly the sort of fear that Macy (the main character) had to overcome. She had to realize how important it is to be the person that you were created to be instead of hiding behind a mask for fear of rejection. And with the help of some very colorful, likeable characters and some rather humorous situations, she succeeded. Definitely one worth reading.