Another Springtime

A note to readers: Your reception and interest and responses are very gratifying. Thank you. For those who do not read German, never fear. Where appearing, there is also sufficient in English to give you the gist of the comment as had you read and understood it. My own experience has been that broad exposure to many cultures and art forms has deepened my appreciation for life and the people with whom we all share this incredible journey.

Chapter 6: Into The Valley of Tribulation

It was also a time of more intense interaction than I had ever imagined could be.

She signed up for an American Literature class as well, another step in her increasingly serious study of English and America, and towards a university degree she was beginning to see as something she not only wanted but now could see her way clear to actually accomplish. Her excitement was endemic, and she bubbled and danced about like a school girl… in other words, she was beautifully engaged and delightful to be with.

The interaction on new topics had started, and on that Thursday afternoon, the first week of classes, took a major stride forward. She was quiet and thoughtful after her Lit 101 class and we drove a ways out of town to a little Chinese place we had found and enjoyed Tuesday evening. Finally, she pushed her plate aside for a moment and took a paper napkin and folded it into a little place marker for me and wrote on it in bold letters: "Dad." With a solemn little gesture she placed it in front of my plate, as if marking my place at a conference or a convention or something.

This was a game, yet not a game. I quickly sensed that she was trying to be light-hearted, but at the same time was very serious about something on her mind, and needed to talk to her father.

"Yes," I responded, in a little deeper tone and trying to accommodate her need, "my darling daughter, what is on your mind. I will be happy to listen and try to help where I can." From my own experience I knew there was, as a father, a time to talk and a time to listen. Usually much more of the latter was needed, and as little of the first as possible.

That I had read her correctly was immediately evident in her pretty face and she relaxed somewhat with me. Slowly, she started an explanation that seemed to meander and sidestep the main point, telling me about her class and the other young people in it and the prof and the readings, etc. Then, probably gaining confidence in our situation, she began to tell me about him, a tall, sandy haired boy in her class, and how nice he was and handsome, and all that. Then she stopped, stuck.

In the past I had jumped in and attempted to pick up the conversation with my daughter. It had been a mistake then, and would have been a mistake now. This time I was alert and wise enough to let the silence drag out until she found words to say it.

"He asked me for a date for tomorrow evening to a movie… Father." Her words came to me like an electric shock, even though I should have anticipated them sooner or later. Trying hard to listen and not over react, I now sensed, too, in her adding "Father" to the end, as sort of an afterthought, that she was having to work at keeping her thinking focused clearly.

"And," she began again, her voice trembling a little, "I have no idea what I should do." I was watching her closely and she looked up at me briefly, those big brown eyes full of doubt and anxiety and confusion, hoping she could trust in me to help her.

She was a beautiful, bright, blossoming flower, and with no pertinent experience whatever with boys and men, social or otherwise, as innocent as a babe in the woods, and in a foreign culture. Little wonder that she was uncertain and afraid. On top of that, the easy going sociability in the typical junior college classroom of western American youth could very well and probably had already triggered the flow of hormones in her that added to the confusion and perhaps even scared her.

And, I though to myself again, I had thought I had a hot potato before. I was in up to my eyeballs here for sure, and there were suddenly alligators in the swamp at every hand.

"Thank you, Christine, for trusting me to help. I will try my very best." No speeches here, I told myself, but clear thinking and careful coaxing to make for herself the best decisions she could.

"The very first thing to concern yourself with is what you want and desire for yourself. That decision will help guide you in all that follows."

She looked at me intently, then nodded her head in understanding, and waited.

"Only your decision matters. You may gather information and ideas from others, but ultimately you are responsible for you."

"What kind of a person do you want to be and become. You are a girl, a young woman… well on your way to becoming a mature lady. You have already, to some degree, decided what kind of lady you are to become. I have seen it in your manner with me and others, and I admire and respect your decisions very much." That was no idle complement either.

"Then, remember, too, that you owe him nothing at all other than being yourself, a self-respecting lady, honest with yourself and him.

"You have options. You always have options."

Now what? She was waiting.

"Perhaps you see in him a pleasant, interesting, thoughtful, intelligent young man with whom you would enjoy sharing some time and adventure. Wonderful.

"It is entirely proper that you ask what his plans are, to what events or activities is he inviting you to accompany him? A gentleman with manners and appreciation for a lady will be happy to tell her and even to ask her ideas and thoughts on the matter.

"Then you decide how you want to respond.

"Should the activities not be appealing to you, or his manner or attitude make you feel at all unsafe with him, you may simply decline politely with a friendly smile. A lady might say simply, ‘Thank you for the invitation. Perhaps another time.' A courteous fellow will accept that and probably come back and ask you another time later.

"Of course, his invitation may be exciting and fun, and you decide to accept."

All well and good; but I felt like I was describing a formal courtship on a 19th Century plantation in the southern states. Hardly very useful or applicable as a norm for the rough-and-tumble, catch-as-catch-can social scene in today's American west. To judge from the magazine stands – yes, a very superficial data source, but the magazines sell, right? – recreational sex was an evening's casual activity and even date rape was no longer sufficiently racy even to make headlines. Suddenly, this relatively simple protection assignment assumed mammoth proportions, and I felt like I was in deep water well over my head.

She was waiting for me to go on. My spirits were lifted to feel her paying close attention and hanging on every word. In retrospect, I myself hardly perceived how very innocent and trusting she was… I was talking about a topic that was, for her, something akin to rocket science.

Sexuality and physical intimacy were current topics of interest, whether she could categorize her own anxieties as such or not. I could sidestep the subject material… and that would set her up for emotional disaster, which for her would be lurking just around the corner. Whether the young fellow in her Lit class or some other after him, she would, more likely sooner than later, be picked up in the scanning gunsight of a predatory male hot for a roll in the hay with a strikingly beautiful, innocent young virgin he could charm into the back seat with smooth talk and a little cajoling.

Some protector I would be then.

Once again, as with my own daughter before her, I had to face the very significant challenges of a father teaching his children about intimacy without overdoing it, while putting just the right spin on the information to include concepts of integrity and character and fidelity that would inspire without being preachy and turning them off.

I should have known this would come up.

Dinner was over with; my plate was nearly cleared anyway, and I could not go on further sitting in a booth together in a restaurant. If she was still hungry later we could eat again or whatever, but it was time to move on. I paid the bill and soon we were in the Suburban alone in the early evening's fading light.

She was still waiting patiently for me to go on. You know, there's something enchanting about a pretty girl who is so keen on learning and becoming her very best person. After sitting with her a moment and considering how very much her parents must have loved her, I determined to move on as carefully as I knew how.

"Your own assessment of the young man, Christine, will be absolutely crucial. You may feel attracted to him because of many things… he is handsome, muscular, tall, strong, smart, clever… and sometimes the physical attraction alone can be very,

very

strong.

"What I would explain to you, dearest daughter, is that

you

are now more than ever before two people in one. You are as always a spirit… a thinking, perceptive, creative spirit, making decisions and using the wisdom you have acquired to acquire yet more. Your spirit is residing in a body that is, however, changing dramatically as you mature to womanhood. There are hormones flushing through your system that create new and exciting and thrilling changes that are meant and intended by our Creator to bring you love and pleasure…" how to express this in just the right way for her? "… and satisfaction of an intensity…" how could I possibly get this point across to someone who had not experienced it? "

of a magnificence and intensity you can not now even imagine.

"Christine, I am speaking now as an older man who has in the past enjoyed years of physical intimacy with a beautiful and loving woman. Nothing in our youth – not mine, not hers, not yours – could have prepared us to know how very intense such pleasure can be. Your own father and mother enjoyed such intimacy together, and one of the expressions of their joy in their togetherness is the baby that was conceived in their lovemaking… and the child that was borne and raised in their home, the young lady that sits now before me here in my care and protection."

She had dropped her eyes to consider her hands clasped together in her lap. Perhaps she was hearing me as I tried to reach her, I could not be sure.

"The treasures that such delightful intimacy promises a loving husband and wife are already evident in your body, Christine. When Jenny was fifteen she was slender and willowy, then her hips began to fill out, her attitude changed to be more feminine, her breasts began to swell and develop, her facial features took on a fineness and delicacy that was striking. She took great interest in her appearance and spent time brushing her long hair. By the time she was eighteen she was no longer a child… she was a young woman."

Her hands went to cover her mouth and her brown eyes were wide as saucers, and she must have felt naked in front of me.

I just ignored her and pushed on.

"That transition, Christine – for both the girl and the boy – releases into their systems hormones that drive the changes that make them adults. That is good; that is as it should be… but those gifts of maturity can be easily mis-used and squandered.

"Yet, she was again a child in a special way. The world of mature adulthood beckoned and seemed very inviting, but she had not a clue as to how to move on. She had to learn new and basic skills and how to deal with the emotions and feelings her body presented to her spirit. Her body craved, demanded stimulation and excitement… it was ready to be a wife and mother and to be intimate physically with a husband who would be the father to her baby. Her spirit needed to be wise and control and steer and guide them into a good and loving relationship.

"That is for a girl of eighteen perhaps the supreme test of her entire life up to that point."

Having reached that conclusion I could easily have left the subject there. Had she given me the least signal that she was saturated or her interest was waning, I would have left off. But when I looked at her sitting there, she was looking at me, and it seemed she was drinking in what I was saying as quickly as I could pour.

Where to go from here?

"You will not, Christine, be able to assess the challenges you face without knowing something about boys and men.

"It is fair to say that their spirits are experiencing challenges in controlling the demands of their bodies just like a girl faces. Some earlier, some a little later; each somewhat different in their own way, yet all basically the same. They face the same challenges of deciding whether the spirit or the body should dominate. It will come as no surprise to you that some men and boys… like some women and girls… are willing to seek gratification above wisdom… well, at least that is how I feel on the matter. Choosing to gratify passions of the body before marriage and the commitment to each other that goes with that is, in my mind, weak and allows their bodies to rule their spirits."

She made no move or comment, but her eyes on me never wavered.

"The male is, evidently by nature, the more aggressive and thus when his spirit allows his body to dominate, he can be… well…

predatory

. His body demands intimate contact with a girl, but is unskilled and coarse, untempered by the spirit's restraint which could steer him to true love and rewarding intimacy in marriage.

He wants it now!

"He wants to kiss her… touch her." Just how far would it be appropriate to take this lesson, I wondered. "He wants to feel her breasts… run his hand up under her skirt." Take it just as far as were she my own daughter, I decided, and in a sense I had to treat her so. Her own father could not be there through no fault of his own. In accepting this assignment, did I not in some way assume the task of standing in for him as best I could?

"He wants to possess her, conquer her, mate with her… and revel in the intense feelings and sensations such activities bring on… in

sexual orgasm

! The body interprets this as the ultimate fulfillment, because it knows no other."

I was in deep now. There was no way out but through. Go gently, I told myself, and with care… but with sufficient point to make the point. This opportunity may never arise again.

"But his need, his passion, though super intense and powerful, peaks and passes quickly and his attention wanders elsewhere. In using a girl so he reduces her to a slave, a toy, a consumable, a passing memory that soon gives way to the next conquest. He is like," I turned to her in the seat and looked at her straight in the eye, "a wild beast in the forest seeking it's prey!"

My directness made it's point, I could see it in her expression. My portrayal was somewhat extreme, and perhaps too severe, but appropriate to make the point clear. She was a little wide-eyed at my words, and I thought that a sign that I was getting my message across, perhaps.

OK, time and place to shift gears, I thought. "One of a young girl's tasks," I let the tone of my voice alter and soften the mood altogether, "is to develop an effective technique for identifying and dealing with predatory beasts."

There needed to be a little pause here, perhaps. This was a lot of stuff, and a break may well allow the lesson to be taken aboard in one sitting. I had no way of determining how well she was getting this, yet it seemed so very important to me. It was to her as well, of course, but did she understand that fully? No way to determine that. Happiness in life is such an elusive goal and sexual freedom is widely preached as a doctrine that gets us there. It depends, of course, on how one defines happiness. For me it has always been a great deal more than just a weekend's getaway with any girl available at the moment. How could I get this idea across to her?

I was far from clear on what else was needed at the moment. In the pause I reached over and started the car, and we moved out slowly to the driveway and the street home.

"But you are not…" she was struggling to say what she could not yet even define, "you are not like a beast in the forest." Her voice was so very expressive, and a little hesitant, at once stating what she observed and begging for a confirmation that what she felt she discerned was in fact the truth. Her expression was every bit a question as much as it was a statement. To hear her draw such a conclusion on her own, however, was a tremendous reward. Perhaps I was getting through to her.

"Thank you for the compliment. I try never to be; but it takes constant effort and discipline for my spirit to retain control over my body. I am a man like other men, but I have decided there are values greater than immediate sexual gratification."

It was not so much a tension between us, but much more a sense of that being enough for the present. The student's questions were answered for the moment, at least in part, and the teacher was drained.

I looked up at her in the dim light of the parking lot lighting at the motel. She often wore her long hair loose and flowing down her shoulders, especially when we were together. She remembered my earlier compliment likening her hair to a beautiful waterfall sparkling in the sunlight, and very often she pulled her ribbons or her clips free when we got together. Now her hair cascaded down over her right shoulder and breast, and she held her head tilted just so, busy and absorbed in taking on board the ideas I had expressed.

She was an incredibly beautiful girl. Kneeling there on the bench seat with her hands in her lap, sitting calmly erect, and poise and grace came as naturally to her as the morning's warmth to the rays of the sun… she took my breath away!

A comment like that, as I look over what I am writing, might suggest to some that the visual image of the girl's beauty is all that is taken into account. So the words might seem to say. There is, nevertheless, very much more to it. Equating a girl's beauty to her bra size is about as shallow as a man deciding to spend many thousands on a new car because he is infatuated with the hood ornament. It is no surprise to admit that a man makes early on selections based on the visual image of a girl he sees, a highly subjective selection based on criteria unique and specific to the individual man.

Fine.

At that point, however, a first selection made, the girl's character and personality, that is, the qualities of her spirit become dominant and dictate, to the discerning gentleman, whether his interest endures or fades. Thus it is that during a courtship – and doubtless the girl is studying the man as well – these more critical and enduring spiritual aspects of her beauty are observed and studied at length in a variety of circumstances. The discerning girl will quickly perceive if the man values her only for her body, and a lady will respond accordingly and seek to free herself from such a liaison. Should it come to that, the man was, in my estimation, no gentleman. Should it be that each finds the other hopeful, honest, interesting, respectful, humorous, intelligent… and, in short, a companion that is intriguing and stimulating to be with, then the courtship continues. By this time we had been more than nine months in close, daily… continuous… but not intimate contact. Well, not physical or sexual intimacy. The visual cues I mention relative to her beauty were by this time much more that just visual. I saw and had come to value in each little mannerism the personable and open and keenly alert person she was… and the glorious promise of the emerging lady she was becoming. The man to whom she would give her heart was going to be one happy man with this stunning creature by his side.