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¡°He did what?¡±
My voice echoed in a narrow dorm room enclosed by brick walls painted white and a gray cemented floor. As I talked to my mom on the phone, I found out that my dad had told my boyfriend, Mahavir, not to contact me.
I moved to the states from India in my junior year of high school to pursue my dream of becoming a physician. I kept in touch with Mahavir for three years after I moved. We used to be in the same class in high school in India. Although we were never together alone due to our culture, we shared many fond memories in the same group of friends. We walked through a busy street of markets to go see a concert. We were squeezed in a jam-packed bus to go home after a full day of shopping at a mall. He would lend me some books that he liked. I went to go see him acting in a school play. We took pictures together during a class trip to a beach. He was my first love.
My dad advised me of things to consider when I date the next time. I was asked to date someone who was in the states pursuing a similar field of career, preferably in the same caste and even better if he has a job.
Our young hearts were crushed. We tried to rebel and argue with him a couple times, but after all he was a poor boy in India and I was a pre-med student in America.
I met my second boyfriend, Vijay, in English class in college. He had recently moved to the states from India to study electrical engineering. Meeting someone from India in a small college town was comforting. We went out to eat Indian food, watched movies, played tennis and went skiing. He would bring me flowers, buy me clothes, and didn¡¯t miss a single day calling me during summer break when we were apart.
Although my parents gave him a passing grade, they were apprehensive. My mom was concerned of his age being seven years older than I was. My dad wished he was more Americanized and studied in a similar field as I did. After I got into a medical school in a different state, my heart slowly drifted away from him.
I met my third boyfriend, Dave, at a church while I was attending medical school. He looked like an Abercombie model. He had dirty-blonde hair with a glowing tanned skin. He was tall with broad shoulders and muscular arms. His face was expressionless. Later I learned that he used to be a quarterback player in college and came to medical school. He was way out of my league.
The unthinkable happened like a fairy tale. We studied together for med school exams, snowboarded, watched broadway shows, went on a church canoe trip and cheered for our football team. He would give me notes of bible verses on stressful days. He knelt down to pray with me at a church retreat. His expressionless face slowly added smile and then laughter.
Unfortunately, he miserably failed our parents¡¯ test and we broke up.
I had throbbing pain in my chest when everything between us was over. I realized then Dave had replaced my God. Dave was my Isaac and God wanted me to lay him down at the altar.
Dave stopped coming to church. In couple months, he started a new relationship. Some at church told me he is like King Saul, hoping that would help me forget him. I was devastated. I was mad at my parents. I was mad at him. I was mad at myself. I was mad at God.
God showed me an image of blind Saul lying face down on a dirt road with His bright light shining upon him. ¡°The world may say he is King Saul, but he will be a prepared servant of mine, Paul. Your job is to be Ananias.¡±
So I started praying for Dave. Three years passed and the pain was diminishing as my memories of Dave faded away. I prayed what I thought was my last prayer for Dave. ¡°God, I am forgetting to pray for Dave because I am a lowly human influenced by time. Please bring him another Christian friend who can pray for him so he can return to you.¡±
And God answered my prayer.
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