Courtship, Part 7: Resolutions

Despite all of the frustration and pain and hurt I was feeling, I did feel that on some level, I deserved it all–that this was a natural and just consequence of my failings.

But there was one fact I couldn’t overlook, one thing I couldn’t convince myself to ignore: in all of this, Dylan had been hurt too. In his Facebook post, he’d said it wasn’t because of what I’d done, that I’d caused him no harm–and even though I wasn’t sure I believed him, though I didn’t know if being more circumspect would have avoided all of this, I was also convinced that he didn’t deserve this. And I knew that if I never spoke to him again, I’d be causing him pain.

This was something I couldn’t ignore, couldn’t smother with guilt, couldn’t dismiss as an irrelevant feeling of my own.

Dylan didn’t deserve this. And the reaction my dad had had toward him didn’t feel remotely justified.

I didn’t know what to do with that conviction, but it remained, an unavoidable something that I didn’t know how to fix, but something that demanded fixing nevertheless.

---

My mom approached me one day, having apparently picked up on my quest to find a solution or remedy in courtship books.

“I think that a daughter probably has the right to refuse to marry someone her father tells her to marry,” she told me. “Biblically, she doesn’t have to enter an arranged marriage. But I don’t think that she can marry someone who her father has prohibited.”

I think I heard a different message than she intended.

To me, the idea that an arranged marriage was (in any crazy scenario) a possibility hadn’t occurred. I wasn’t looking for an escape to that; I hadn’t previously even been concerned about that as a threat. But now that the idea had been brought up–even if it was brought up as an aside solely to be refuted– I felt I had yet another reason to be alarmed. Another reason not to trust the process.

Now, the conversations my dad had had with me about other random guys felt far more threatening and sinister. Even if there was no actual intention to attempt such a thing, I felt afraid that maybe, just maybe, he thought he had the authority to do that. That perhaps I was now a “problem child” whom he’d be willing to betroth to someone even if I didn’t care for them.

Nothing more was said on the subject.

The days went on, and I wondered if I was overreacting, was coming up with unfounded reasons to suspect the worst of my parents. I still couldn’t bring myself to fully trust that my dad wouldn’t ever consider such a thing. But I also convinced myself, as much as I could, that that was an impossibility.

---

In my head, a resolution gradually solidified.

I can’t let this be the end for Dylan and I.

I had no clue what to do next, how to proceed. I didn’t want to rebel–rebellion was as unto witchcraft. I didn’t want to displease God. Didn’t want to break His law.

Everything I knew – everyone I respected – told me that women weren’t supposed to make their own decisions in this manner, that it would be wrong for me to try and control my own life apart from the guidelines and commands given by my father.

But I was also fully convinced that it would be wrong to let this be the end. It didn’t make sense.

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I didn’t know what my choice towards non-compliance could possibly even look like. Didn’t know how to proceed with rebellion.

I felt obligated to give my parents formal notice of my resolve, but after several missed opportunities I realized that I wasn’t going to simply be courageous enough to broach the topic without a script of some sort.

So I took advantage of the now less-monitored computer access I had to compose a letter. Although I was still being watched, it seemed much easier to hide this digitally than it would be to hide a handwritten letter–at this point I didn’t trust that any of my notebooks were private. It took many days to write. I typed out just a sentence or two at a time when my time at the computer wasn’t being watched–whenever someone neared, I’d use the CTRL+A and CTRL+X function to clear away everything I’d typed and quickly revert to some other tab with some other task I could work on.

And then, finally, I had no more to say, no more to add to the letter. It felt lacking in conclusion–what was I actually trying to say that I was going to do next? I had no idea. But perhaps that was best. Perhaps after we all talked as adults, we’d work out the next steps together.

I managed to print it out and I hid it for another few days before I summoned the courage to give it to my parents – and I decided to start with just one parent, to show it to my mom.

I don’t remember what I said to her before handing that paper to her, but I do recall the anxiety I felt, heart pounded, knot in my throat, as I watched her read. We both sat side by side on my bed as she read it and I sat by in silence, feeling increasingly sick as every moment.

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Dear Mom and Dad,

I love you, deeply, and I ask you to remember this as you read through my letter. Please don't read this and imagine me having an angry or resentful or bellicose tone of voice, but a heartfelt and loving and sometimes matter of fact tone of voice.

Scripture says to train up a child in the way he should go, and that when he is old he won’t depart from it. You HAVE trained me right. Yes, you have made mistakes, but you have been wonderful parents. Now you don’t need to force me to follow the LORD. I will make mistakes, certainly, but I am not incapable of making decisions.

I DO want your advice and counsel and wisdom and prayers. I am not rejecting that at all. I need it. But I also do not want you to make every decision FOR me. Help me, but do not force me or do it all in place of me. We are all humans and will all make mistakes, but if you make mistakes in my place I will simply end up resenting you and feeling more and more frustrated and bitter. If I make my own mistakes then, LORD willing, I will learn from them and do better next time.

I am not a child anymore. As an adult, I know I am inexperienced and young and often immature or downright stupid. But how will I ever learn to make wise choices if I never have a chance? You know that I want to follow God’s word; I am not seeking to rebel. Help me, but don’t drag me.

When I, and all of my siblings, went from being a baby to a toddler, you encouraged and praised us. True, we were inexperienced at walking and we stumbled a lot and hurt ourselves. But you didn’t pick us up and insist on doing it for us - otherwise we’d all still be in strollers. You comforted us when we had tears, and cheered when we did well. Now, please, do likewise as I learn to be an adult. Will I stumble? Undoubtedly. But please, don’t keep me from trying.

[Several paragraphs here are omitted – they had to do with me addressing other things going on in my siblings’ lives pertaining to their agency and choices]

I’m not saying that I wish to change the direction of my life and reject what you have taught me - far from it. I’m saying that I want to do it myself. I am an adult - I want to act like one and be treated like one.

For me to submit to you when I believe you are wrong is not right. If I were the only party effected I might do so anyway, as I don’t wish to hurt you or cause any frustration or extra stress.

This is what I did with the matter of the [drivers] license, but I still struggle with bitterness over it - even so, for the sake of keeping the peace, I might be tempted to quelch my beliefs and go through the motions of obeying while growing resentful, even though that would be unhealthy and wrong for me to do.

But with Dylan involved, I cannot convince myself to simply sit back and hope you change your mind. Even if you did, I don’t know that I would want to put him in a situation where he has to worry that for no real reason at all you might tell him to get lost again. That isn’t fair to him at all. You act as if you are scared of him, and I don’t understand that at all. He isn’t a scary guy. Really. It would have made sense for you to try to get to know him better during this past year and meet him and learn more about him, yet it seems like he was mostly ignored and made a low priority. I don’t know why.

Remember how crushed and hurt and frustrated we felt when DCC [Dominion Covenant Church] told us not to bother visiting, that they had changed their minds? How is this all that much different? You were hurt and frustrated and felt betrayed - now you are on the other side of the issue, and it isn't okay to treat Dylan the way the elders treated you. I cannot sit by from the sidelines and pretend that you are right.

You are wrong to reject Dylan. I don't know why you have responded the way you did, and it doesn't make any sense to me. Yes, I made mistakes. I won't deny that, and I know that I am far from perfect. However, your reaction is not logical or biblical. I will always make mistakes in whatever I do, but that doesn't mean I should go through life not doing anything.

The relationship between Dylan and I was not without error, and it may not have followed Robert Fugate's rules of courtship order or Doug Phillips' idea what it should be, but it is an edifying, godly friendship. As I stated before, there were many things I may have done which may have been less-than prudent or downright wrong, but that was the exception to the rule. While I don't wish to simply excuse myself with a "Nobody's perfect" attitude, there is truth to the saying. I actively sought to keep the conversations appropriate and not say anything which I would be embarrassed to have you see. There were many times when I considered telling him something but wasn't sure if you would want me to and therefore abstained. I did make and will make mistakes every time I have any sort of relationship with anyone, but these mistakes should cause growth and sanctification, not ruin relationships or hinder them from ever even beginning.

Dylan is a godly man. I know that I have yet to meet him and therefore have much to learn about him yet, but I feel utterly convinced that I am right about this fact and that I can state it with assurance. He isn't perfect, but he is seeking to follow God and His Word. I can think of dozens of examples to support this - there have been many times where some comment he has made has encouraged me in my walk with God, for one, and [here I’m omitting a few sentences about other people whom Dylan was friends with]

Are there things about Dylan that I don't know? Of course. But I have searched for red lights and such during the past year and I have not found any. There are matters I wish to talk to him about (i.e., what it means to keep the Sabbath) but I would be surprised if there were not some way that these matters could be resolved easily and quickly. There is every indication that he walks uprightly and truly longs to follow God's word. I definitely want to have my eyes wide open, but that doesn't mean I presume him guilty until he proves otherwise. So far as I am possibly able to tell, he has been honest and is trustworthy and hardworking and is a Berean and is seeking to draw ever closer to Christ.

You seem to think that I only wish for marriage so that I can escape the legal battles you are involved in and because I see my friends getting married. This is not true. I certainly don't wish to have these legal battles last longer, but I want them to end - I don't simply wish to escape. Even if I did, I would never get married for such petty reasons. OF COURSE I don't like the legal stuff - but when I think of marriage, "escaping" the legal battles isn't something that enters my mind at all. It isn't something I'll be sorry to leave, but it also isn't driving me away. Besides, as long as you are involved in it, it will undoubtedly affect me, even if from afar. You'll always be my family.

As for seeing friends getting married - well, that doesn't create a desire in me, it simply makes that desire harder for me to ignore. Similar to how hearing from the [Family name omitted] re-ignites your desire to get over to Israel.

I am truly sorry that I did not seek to better communicate with you during the past year. I should have sought to, and I deeply regret that I didn't nearly so much as I ought to have. Please forgive me for hurting you in this. I did not mean to deceive you, but I should have tried to make sure you knew more.

As for the journal entries I wrote - please understand that I wrote them to vent. To get out some frustration and hurt and confusion and such out of my head. I did it to make myself feel better, not to try to make a catalog of how I really felt. Most of them I would have called stupid or an exaggeration shortly after writing them. I'm not saying this excuses them, but just as when a little kid is having a temper tantrum and yells that nobody loves them, they are not thinking logically nor would they really believe what they are saying. Please understand it that way, rather than taking what I wrote seriously.

You brought up several issues regarding Dylan which caused you to hesitate in the past - I'm going to try to address some of them so that you realize that I am not being merely emotional and ignoring the logical side of things.

Church was an issue in the past, and since you brought it up in the conversation with RF [Robert Fugate], it seems to be yet an issue. But since he moved into his own house, Dylan has been attending church. He admits that the one he is at is not perfect - but then, neither are the ones we are going to, and there isn't much we can do about that. Even when you first talked to him about it, he fully agreed with you that it was a vital part of a Christian's walk with God and that he needed to be part of one. He can't change the fact that his family didn't ever have a long-term church family anymore than I can change the fact that we haven't, either, in the past several years.

As for "Calvinism" - I think that the only disagreement, really, is over terms and such. He's been burned before regarding that subject, so it understandably isn't something he finds thrilling to discuss - but I think he has at least a basic agreement with the doctrines themselves. He has never called himself Arminian, has in fact stated emphatically that he is not. I think it safe to say that he is defintely a four-pointer, if not five.

Another thing you've brought up is the fact that he isn't Dutch Reformed. Dad, I don't want to marry a Dutch Reformed person. [Omitted: a few sentences criticizing some of the Dutch Reformed people I knew for what I then perceived to be hypocritical or immoral behavior]

Even those who are from Conservative DR churches I'd have no real advantage in relating to, as I was seven when we were last at a DR church. Besides, you yourselves have often said that there is too much stubborn stuffy traditionalism in these churches, and that I am prone to that same error. If I were to marry someone also prone to the same thing and go to a church where it is prevalent, wouldn't that always be a stumbling block for me? As for having the same cultural roots: wouldn't homeschooling be what I would need to look for to have similarities? I don't see that this ought to be an issue whatsoever.

I understand your hesitation regarding the divorces in Dylan's family. However, God's grace can break generational sins, and one must also take into consideration the circumstances around the divorces, as I tried to state before. [Several sentences about Dylans’ family omitted here: basically, I tried to clear up that there was no recent objectionable history to criticize and that the one sibling who was divorced had a “biblical divorce”]

I don't want this letter to hurt my relationships with either of you, and I hope you don't get angry or hurt by what I have written, but I have no other choice than to tell you this. I love you, and I always will. As I stated before, I will always welcome and desire your advice and wisdom and counsel, but I cannot submit to your decision. I am an adult, and if I obeyed you when I know you are wrong, I would be sinning against God and Dylan and you, as well. I've analyzed and re-analyzed and though and re-thought through this many times throughout the last month, and I am not stating this in haste - I have tried to understand your point of view, but no matter how I look at it, I cannot agree with you.

After Mom read the letter, she looked sad. She wasn’t angry, and she didn’t try to tell me that I was wrong or sinning.

But she did say one thing: “You cannot have your dad read this. I’ve been talking to him. He’s almost ready to change his mind and approve a courtship with Dylan. If you tell this to him, you will never get him to be okay with it.”

I felt relieved. I felt defeated. I didn’t know how to feel.

Having mom read it without getting angry was a triumph, a goal accomplished: but having her read it and immediately warn that I must not show it to dad was a crushing setback to my resolve.

I reasoned to myself that I could bide my time and see what happened, so long as I didn’t do anything dad viewed as being a point of no return.

And so I hid the letter, and didn’t tell him.

And once again, it felt all at once like a relief and a defeat and a victory and a respite and a regression. I’d been on the cusp of a horrifying terrible action where I demanded to make a choice for myself, and now I was waiting in hope of a good choice being made for me by a man that I no longer trusted to have my best interests at heart.

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Not much time passed before Dad brought me to the Cheesecake Factory. I don’t remember if we had cheesecake, but I do recall having tortilla soup.

The tension was palpable.

Dad said a lot of things. Some of them were conciliatory. Some of them were questions, seeking my opinion on this or that. Some seemed formulaic, as if he were following a script. Some were pointed, demanding to know if I still agreed with a variety of doctrines. It was odd. The whole outing felt odd.

Then he pulled out a small box, the kind jewelry came in. Within, a necklace with a white gold heart pendant. I wondered if he’d purchased it, despite us not being able to afford such things, or if it was a remnant from my grandpa’s former jewelry store that had been passed along in the family – likely never intended to be used in this manner if so.

“Will you give me your heart?”

It was as if he was quoting from some cheesy movie or following a corny script. It didn’t feel genuine. I felt manipulated. I knew from all the speeches and teachings what I was supposed to say, but this didn’t just feel dumb and cheesy – it felt sickening.

But I was also certain it was a test of some sort. And from what mom had said, perhaps passing a test or two was all that was between me getting the outcome I wanted. Perhaps this was a way I could follow my dad’s will and avoid having to rebel (for so my letter felt) while still getting an outcome I could live with.

And so I agreed, and I wore the necklace, not entirely certain in my own mind if I was telling the truth or not. But I could see from his reaction that he thought I had done the right thing, and so I didn’t dare take it back.

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The days continued to go by. I continued to feel agitated, unsure of what the right course of action was. I started to work up the courage once again to present my dad with the letter.

But finally, one Family Worship after breakfast (a tradition we’d had every day for as long as I could remember) Dad pulled out a handful of printed notes and started reading, sharing what he and mom had been learning and discussing over the past couple of weeks.

The story he told was nothing short of odd.

Weeks earlier, my mom had happened across another courtship story online of another homeschooled couple who also had the names of Dylan and Hannah. She’d found it in a Yahoo group for homeschooling moms. And before sharing this with my dad, she had even reached out to the woman who shared it to ensure that this wasn’t a hoax, wasn’t posted by Dylan’s family, and that it wasn’t an oddly non-coded reference somehow to myself and my Dylan.

Upon verifying that the story and the people were real, she shared the story with Dad, who viewed it as a sign from the Lord that God Himself was telling Dad to allow a courtship between Dylan and myself.

He then announced to our family he’d reached out to Dylan (on Valentine’s Day, as he was adamant to point out to us, as some token romantic gesture rather grotesquely given on my behalf) to see if Dylan was still willing to consider a courtship, a new beginning – and to invite Dylan to visit.

Dear Dylan,

After much prayer, discussion, reflection, sharing our hearts with Hannah and her with us, gaining more certainty and assurance, getting further questions answered, seeing growth and sanctification in certain areas, rehearsing God’s providences (some striking), we would like to communicate to you that if you are still interested in the possibility of being considered as a potential suitor for our daughter, we are amenable to it.

We recommend a new beginning to be able to get to understand and know one another better. We will have a lot to communicate about and believe it would be better to meet face to face than over the phone or email. If you are interested to come this way, we would like that.

Please refrain from communicating with Hannah at this point. Let us talk and decide first (you and us) and then update her further. Thank you.

Consider it prayerfully and let us know.

God bless you,

James and Lori Graveling

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Once again, I found myself in a situation where I didn’t know how to feel. Despite my mom’s heads-up that my dad might change his mind, I hadn’t expected anything like this. I was stunned.

The whole thing was weird, and Dad’s reasoning for changing his mind seemed flimsy and arbitrary. Perhaps even contrived. A few months ago Dad was adamant that Dylan was a terrible person who I’d never be allowed to ever speak to again. Now, he’d apparently changed his mind: but not because of all the refutations I’d given him. Not because he got to know Dylan better or changed his mind about what was right or wrong in our behavior. Instead, some random coincidence, a story of two people with their own lives entirely disconnected from Dylan and I, had convinced him of divine intervention.

I didn’t think that this made any sense. I’d already soured on the idea of prophetic intervention and modern-day “words from God” after other choices my parents had made – but even more than that, I wasn’t convinced that this decision would stand the test of time and be something they themselves continued to find compelling. If a story like this could be perceived as God’s direction one day, how little would it take for that to unravel?

But as I tried to process all of this, I also realized with some relief that at least for now, I didn’t have to worry about rebelling. I had a path forward where I could work in submission to my parents, without the crisis of conscience that going against them would inevitably bring. And so if Dad was going to be in favor of our relationship, then perhaps going along with his wishes and direction–for now–would be the wisest, most godly option.

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Having considered everything prayerfully, asking God for grace and a proper attitude, I recognize all too thoroughly that I must rely entirely on His providence if I am to move in any direction. I will admit to you that I am spent. That's usually where God puts His people before doing something miraculous.

My somber frame of mind was shattered ten minutes ago when I checked my email and saw that I had received an online chess challenge from [Hannah’s Sibling], an apparent continuation of a game that was cancelled on December 19th. It was perhaps a stress release, but I laughed nearly to tears as I realized all the many ironies and implications of this.

All things considered, while I am not without fleshly apprehension, I believe it is God's will that I accept your offer. And [Hannah’s Sibling]'s.

Love, Dylan

We were allowed to chat again (with chaperones in place) not long after this. As he wasn’t able to get time off work until early April, my parents decided that us being allowed to talk again was appropriate. Once again, we were told to avoid speaking of anything beyond “friendship”, and I was explicitly told not to address with him the courtship – or the lack of contact – but to instead stick to lighter topics.

Our last messages had been sent on December 19th. The conversation continued again on February 18th. To someone with no further context, no additional knowledge of what had happened or the emails my parents had sent, the conversational lapse would have seemed odd: but as it went unaddressed and we picked up with lighthearted banter once again, it would have otherwise gone nearly unnoticed.

We talked about silly things my kid siblings said. Things we were cooking. Dylan’s reenacting. The Ken Ham & Bill Nye debate. Everything but our own feelings and relationship. In hindsight, the amount of things we tip-toed around was astronomical. But even with the constant monitoring and restrictions in play, the ability to say anything, after thinking for some time that I’d never talk to him again, felt like a lifeline, the only thing keeping me from drowning.