Stained Glass

          The wonder of stained glass is that it’s impure and broken, yet Light shines through it all the same and moves people to stare in awe.  I don’t go near the temple very often�"they don’t have room for people like me�"but some days, even I am drawn to the sight of the sun shining on those tinted windows.  I often wonder how lovely it must look on the inside, with the colors richly mixed and bathing the place in vibrant hues.  Then I realize that I’ve gotten ahead of myself, and that I have no business going inside.  The temple is a holy place, and I am everything but. 

          Plenty of men say that I’m beautiful, that I’m gorgeous, that they love me.  But I know better.  I don’t know when I stopped believing those words, but it was better once I did.  There’s not much in the way of love for me in this life, but I can settle for pleasure well enough.  With no commitment and no risk, it’s a far easier lifestyle than working so hard to be rewarded with so little in return.  Why not get what you can, when you can?  Death comes for everyone, most of the time unannounced.  When it’s my time to go, I’ll want to have had the best times that I could.  Why wait around for death when you can meet it head on?  You might get low sometimes, but that’s when you have to carry yourself on your own.  No one else will do it for you.

          There was a man who almost changed my mind about that.  He wasn’t like the others�"I could tell that much right when he walked in.  Most men have a hunger in their eyes, searching for excitement in their existence.  This man looked determined, which is worse in my opinion.  Have you ever seen a determined man’s eyes?  There’s no changing his mind once it’s been made up.  He walked over to me and asked if we could speak outside.  I had no intention of agreeing.  I don’t go along with that kind of thing when determined men are involved, much less determined men who haven’t made an agreement beforehand, but I did that day. 

          He told me he loved me.  I think my lack of response threw him off a bit, because he started to stammer a bit.  He was so flustered, shifting his weight and sighing so much that it was pitiful.  I really felt sorry for him; he really didn’t know what he was doing.  I tried to offer suggestions.  Did he want me for an hour or two?  Did he want a whole night?  A quick show was fine too and even easier on the wallet, if that’s what he was worried about.  All the while he kept shaking his head, face twisted in a frown.  He kept moving his lips, shifting his gaze between me and then the sky.  I told him that if he thought it was going to rain, he could think again.  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

          I have to say that it freaked me out.  I’d dealt with crazy customers before, but he wasn’t anything like them.  Normal crazy babbles and looks around with vacant eyes.  This crazy was speaking silent words as kept looking at me straight in the eye between glances to the sky.  Finally, I let out an exasperated sigh.  I told him unless he told me what he wanted, I was going back inside because work didn’t get done by itself.  He stopped his silent speaking for a moment and took a long look up at the sky.  I turned to go, leaving him to stare at the birds. 

          “You.”

          The word came out little more than a squeak, but it was enough for me to turn halfway.  I wanted to tell him to go home, to get some rest.  Part of me felt sorry for him, but most of me was indignant that he would address me so rudely. Instead I said nothing, shook my head, and let out a long sigh.  Some types of crazy just couldn’t be helped.  I was about to leave again, but his eyes stopped me.  He still had that determined look.  Crazy doesn’t look that determined, that decisive.  The thought that this could get out of hand gave me pause, so I held tightly to the doorframe and asked him what he meant.

          “I want you.”

          I told him a lot of people wanted me, and asked how much time he wanted.

          “All of it.”

          That earned him a laugh, because a lot of people wanted that too.  I asked him instead how much time he was willing to pay for.

          “As much as you want.  Whatever the price, it doesn’t matter.  I want you.  Forever.”

          Now, this took me aback.  This man wasn’t wearing fine robes or any rings.  There was no horse or mule nearby, so he’d obviously come on foot.  What did he have to give?  What could he pay that would make me quit my job and be with him?  Well, that was a question even I didn’t know the answer to.  He took a step forward, and I one back.  His eyes were getting to me again.  He was still as determined and decisive as before, and I had a feeling he wasn’t going to change his mind.  But he seemed to be pleading with me as well, although not desperately.  I asked him again what he wanted me to do if he paid all that money.

          “Marry me.”

          He said it as if it made perfect sense.  He said it with a smile.  He said it to me.  This man must have had some unseen treasure, if he was being completely serious.  I felt that he was, but I took a moment to consider anyway.  Was this a trick?  If he was trying to lure me away with promises of prosperity, he was doing a terrible.  Sincerity of his measure couldn’t be feigned.  But what did he have to gain?  I was a prostitute�"not exactly the virtuous girl every good man dreams of.  Besides, I had no great family history or social connections.  I was a lonely woman trying to make ends meet the only way she could, with no time for interruptions like this.  But if I agreed, I wouldn’t have to make ends meet.  I wouldn’t be scraping by.  I might even be able to live comfortably.  I guess it did make perfect sense, in a way.

          He talked to the king and went to the temple a lot, and would often return troubled and distressed.  I didn’t really understand why it was all such a big deal.  If they didn’t like what he had to say, then hadn’t he at least done them the favor of giving a fair warning?  Marriage wasn’t anything like I expected in other ways too.  You can ignore a compliment when the person giving it wants something in return, and it’s even easier when the person is different every time.  How do you ignore a compliment from someone who thinks they aren’t just flattering you?  How do you tell them to stop without making it seem like you’re rejecting their love�"even if that’s what you’re doing?  Despite this, he always was happy to see me when he returned from the palace or the temple.  It was as if there was nothing he wanted more than to make me feel special. 

          Just when I was getting used to dealing with the way he treated me, I got pregnant.  If you’re already not good with affection, try getting pregnant and being married at the same time.  Talk about inadequacy!  Emotions started coming at me from everywhere.  My husband doted on me constantly, and went around prophesying about how this child would be a symbol to the whole nation.  My own heart betrayed me, believing what he said and coming up with all sorts of ideas on who this person inside me would turn out to be.  And if that still wasn’t enough, I went through all of that three times�"two sons with a daughter in the middle. 

          I think it was my daughter who caused me to finally snap.  Sometimes you realize that you are way in over your head, and you have to get out as soon as you can. Unfortunately, it would be another year and a half before I was able to leave.  Have you ever watched children sleep?  You’re amazed at first, at these precious little bundles that are destined for greatness.  I knew they had a wonderful father and the whole world at their tiny fingertips, but then the terrible realization came.  I had nothing to give, to offer, but a bad reputation and an unhealthy lifestyle.  I couldn’t be an example of the type of girl I would want my boys to marry.  I couldn’t even be a good model for my daughter.  So before I could do too much damage, I decided to leave. 

          I was in no way proud of leaving my kids behind.  What mother would want to?  But I knew that there was nothing that I could give them in life.  I had no wisdom or virtue that they could be proud of.  It tore my heart that I wouldn’t see those little bundles grow up.  I wouldn’t hear them learn to talk, or witness them getting the hang of walking.  I wouldn’t be there for them but I knew my cynicism and detachment would do more harm than good.  I couldn’t risk wrecking their lives just because I didn’t know to handle my own.  Going back to work was the only right thing to do.

          At first, it was hard.  I wanted to go back but that sense of inadequacy only seemed to grow.  They deserved so much more than the broken pieces of the life that I called mine.  Besides, I’d already left now.  To go back would mean to go back on my word, and I’d be more untrustworthy than before.  As the days went by, it got easier.  Or maybe I grew a little number.  I’m still not sure which, but I can say that it was a dark time.  I worked hard, but none of the money or sex satisfied.  I didn’t expect it to, but I had hoped that I could at least distance myself from my situation.  The last thing I wanted or needed was a volley of emotions, but it seemed I just couldn’t shake the sense of failure. 

          Had I only wasted my life but taken advantage of a second chance, I probably could have lived with myself.  Instead I had wasted my life, half-heartedly accepted a chance at something better, and also thrown it away for a lifestyle even worse than the ways I’d lived before.  I tried every way I knew and more to numb the pain and the consequences, but it never worked.  With each new try, I only fell deeper into self-loathing and despair.  What was the point of it all?  Whatever good times I’d had were ruined by my carelessness.  I didn’t have the strength to pick myself up, to carry through.  Not a day went by that I didn’t consider meeting death with a smile.  Whether or not it looked like an accident didn’t matter.  The fantasy of never being able to fail again had intoxicated me. 

          I remember being drawn to that man for more than just practical reasons.  He’d been in majestic rooms and holy places, and had seen things that I never could.  But I was never ashamed or inferior around him, he made sure of that.  Every compliment melted my heart a little more.  Every tender kiss and gentle squeeze thawed the cold existence I had lived.  Love nearly killed me.  Returning to that frigid existence was more than my hypothermic heart could take.  My heart’s memory of that gentle flame created in me a web of cracks, not quite breaking but fracturing me just enough so that every time I even tried to move, I was reminded of all I had left behind.

          There is only one man who has broken my heart.  He wasn’t the same as he was before�"that much was obvious.  I had imagined plenty of times how much my betrayal would break his heart.  Had he wept?  Did he go to our children and kiss their brows and hold them close?  Most days I did it just to make myself to miserable by reminding myself of everything I’d lost.  Some days I imagined him furiously angry, and that one day he would come to take me back and teach me my lesson.  When he walked in, it was so much worse than any of the scenarios I had thought of.

          His steps were measured, determined, decisive.  He only walked like that on his way to the palace, which meant that he felt quite strongly about something.  I was set on not looking his way, no matter what he said or did.  These things were easier to bear if you braced yourself.  When he said my name and my eyes met his, my fractured heart finally shattered to pieces.  I had hurt him deeply, and it was written all over his face.  But what pained me most was his voice as he choked on his tears.  How could he still love me so much�"or even love me at all!�"that he would come to take me back?  What on earth had I put him through?

          “Live with me for the rest of your life,” he begged me.  “Be faithful to me, and I swear I’ll be faithful to you.”

          This man must have an unconditional love, if he was being completely serious.  I felt that he was, and for a time I could do nothing more than weep.  I wanted to ask why, but I knew the answer to that.  Why had he promised to be faithful when I had been faithless?  Why had he come here to take me back, with all my shattered pieces?  Why had he taken me in the first place, the undeserving w***e that I was?  Because.  Just because.  I was so overwhelmed.  I wasn’t ashamed, because he never made room for that between us.  There was just a deep, passionate, incredible love that overflowed from him, and he had chosen to spill the best of it out on me.  It didn’t make perfect sense, or any sense at all, but I didn’t need it to.

          I looked that man, who still called himself mine and I his, searching for words.  Nothing could say everything I felt.  Nothing could describe salvation of that measure.  All I could think to do was nod, to agree, to obey�"and that’s when the unthinkable happened.  He wrapped his arms around me, picked me up, and carried me out of that dark freezing hell.  His love was no gentle, tender flame coming to warm me over.  His love was a consuming bonfire, burning away all the pain and betrayal and shame and leaving only life in its wake.  I had done everything and more to deserve his wrath.  He had no need of anything I could offer.  He was not obligated to pay such a price so that I could find forgiveness in his arms.  But he did it anyway, just because.

          The temple is a holy place, and I am everything but.    I go to the temple pretty often�"they’re making more room for people like me�"and some days, even I can’t believe that I’m actually here.  I often wonder at how lovely it looks on the inside, with the colors richly mixed and bathing the place in vibrant hues.  Then I realize that I’ve gotten ahead of myself, and that I have much business to do inside.  People insist that there’s something more to me, something deep and mysterious that they don’t have words for.  The wonder of stained glass is that it’s impure and broken, yet Love shines through it all the same and moves people to stare in awe. 

 

Author's Note

what do you think of this?