Happiness (better than the AA Milne kind*)

Every once in a while, usually in the times we least expect, we all stumble across flashes of inspiration or revelation, which we know will change our lives. The kind of realisation that gave to us the reformed church or the best songs. The kind of which doesn't necessitate mental excavation or committee discussions. Possibly the kind that only God can inspire.

I lay in bed on Sunday morning after awakening from a dream. A dream in which my best friend, Laura, was married (to a guy who was taller than me). I dreamed I spoke to her on the phone the day after the ceremony after not being able to make it myself and hearing the happiness and ecstacy carried in her voice. But (for a supposed best friend) my reaction was not one of shared joy, or even contentment for her happiness, but one of heart aching sadness (perhaps even jealousy). I lay in bed for a substantial time after waking at that point doting on a dream that had truly disturbed me more than I have ever been moved before, and it was to only one conclustion I arrived. Compounded with the last few months of my `friendship` with the fair Laura, I discovered I was in love with her! And not in a `conventional love` way, but a head over heels, delerious, insane, mad, passionate, genuine love. The kind of love not employed by the dating culture in which we live, but more the kind of agape heart-beat-skipping love whose only derivatives live their lives in praise to the Father who blessed them with such a gift.

One prevailing thought emerging from the evil dream was that I missed out on being the guy who made Laura happy. This isn't a thought I've not pondered before, but the waking moments from that dream flashed revelation to my heart as to just how much I wanted to be the man who makes her happy.

After a late entrance to church that morning, a day's long worship practise for a trully awesome worship event in the evening, I felt a subtle confidence to ask God for direction in my dilema: I could either tell her of my infatuation, or keep it to myself. The former would have implications of not being able to move in together, making of myself a fool, but the prospect of a lifetime of happyness. However, the latter ushered a marginal attraction of being able to live with Laura (by the way, we planned on renting a flat together), and have the retention of security of friendship.

At work today (Monday), my commuting and day at work was compelled by a continual charge of thoughts; memories; conundrums; dilemas and prayers. I arrived at my desk at 8.15 and didn't leave the office (even for lunch) untill 5.40 - it's amazing what love does to a man. Eventually I met with Laura at about six, and after we were re-aquainted from her long weekend away in Scotland, we sat by the river side (opposite Jarrolds printing). I was even more screwed up then than I had been all weekend. But I knew she was more beautiful then than I had ever seen her before. Her eyes sparkled with a radiance I've never seen before, and her smile was nothing short of captivating. I could only feel impulsed to tell her my feelings - and perhaps with a whole deal of help from the big man upstairs, she smiled and echoed what I was thinking.

I'm so glad I have my Laura back again. Life isn't right without her around. Her eyes, her giggle, her smile enthrall me everyday when I see them. She truly is the most wonderful person I know and this evening I consider myself a richer man.

* Google it :)