Maria had gained a heightened awareness once she had left home for college. The dynamics from her childhood environment would mock her whenever she returned for a visit: a feeling of despair would often unfold as she would find herself involuntarily reverting to a time when she did not understand and her responses were dictated by reaction and fear. At times it seemed as if her adult form sat watching, tied to a chair in the corner, as the child within rampaged.

She had done so well for the first few days; she had carefully chosen her battles, reminding herself that, in most cases, the relationship was more important than it was for her to be right. She had tried hard not to be pulled into pointless arguments or baited by unwarranted insults. And she had done well prior to the last two days.

The others in her family expected her to continue in her childhood role. They wanted predictability–security that things had not changed. They expected her to play the part that she had always played; they knew her roots, her weaknesses, and would strive with her until she eventually wore down and became the person that they knew her to be.

They refused to believe that there could be change. For then they would each be forced to admit that change was possible. The ground beneath them would crumble–excuses would no longer be enough. And they feared change because of the pain that healing would force them to walk through.

As Maria sat on the plane, she silently prayed to God. Her exhaustion and defeat were overwhelming and she did not have words to express how she felt. But the Holy Spirit understood. He did not need words. Maria slowly drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, while collecting her luggage, she looked up to catch a young man’s gaze. He’d been watching her. Although strangers, he somehow seemed familiar. Instinctively, they dropped their eyes and moved on to their separate lives.

Maria dragged her luggage to a metal bench, sat down, and then took out her cell phone. Switching it on, she dialed the friend who had agreed to collect her. But there was no answer, not even a machine. Well, the plane was early, she reasoned. So she decided to wait. She placed the phone in her pocket and then took up her Bible with the intention to read.

Her bookmark fell to the floor: Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage (Galatians 5:1). Slipping the bookmark back between the pages, Maria, now distracted, returned her Bible to the bag she’d taken it from.

Her mind began racing with comprehension. Memories began to pass before her eyes as if short movies.

First she saw herself talking to the coordinator of the college’s religious group. He was asking her to sing a solo for the first meeting of the year. She watched as she declined, saying that she would not be living on campus for the year and did not have a vehicle. The meeting began, and ended after dark. But the coordinator did not take no for an answer. After the meeting, person after person had dismissed her plea for a ride. She had walked to her off-campus apartment alone, in the darkness, and had been followed for much of the way. It was only by the mercy of God that, halfway, she had run into a friend who was headed in the same direction and the man who had followed turned away.

Next she saw herself sitting with the very friend who had promised to collect her. They were at a table in the college cafeteria. Her friend sat eating ice cream. When asked why Maria had not purchased any, Maria had explained how her meal card had failed and how the administration was not to return to the office until after the weekend had finished. Yet, despite not having eaten a meal for more than a day, here she sat, watching her friend eat ice cream, with only the promise of prayer.

More and more incidents flashed by. She instinctively reached out her hand as if ready with an answer to a question. But her hand was, in her intellect, reaching upward to God.

The chorus to a song filled her thoughts: When I think I'm going under, part the waters, Lord. When I feel the waves around me, calm the sea. When I cry for help, oh, hear me, Lord, and hold out Your hand. Touch my life; still the raging storm in me (Part the Waters by Charles F. Brown).

The truth had hit her. The very people that she had come to love were no different from her family. In fact, they were far worse. They manipulated her and used her intentionally; her family was merely dysfunctional and thought that they acted out of love. But these friends were both subtle and surreptitious.

She began to ponder. When had the truth been replaced by a lie? How had her freedom become a means for imprisonment? Why hadn’t she seen the manipulation and the perversion of the Scripture? When had she torn down her boundaries and allowed such disrespect?

Her cell phone’s ring interrupted her thoughts. She knew it was Lisa, the friend who had promised to get her, before she had even retrieved it from her pocket. As she listened to the numerous excuses, the truth became even more solid.

She accepted the explanations, as usual, and told Lisa that she’d find another way to get back to the dormitory. As she hung up the phone, she felt the loss of the many friends that she had believed she had found. It became clear that, although she had emptied herself completely, she actually knew very little of each person’s life. She had allowed activity to encompass her; it was busyness that filled her life, not community as she had wanted to believe.

Reflecting on how easily Lisa could rewrite history and spin tales, Maria realized that many others had also practiced this ability. Statements from others would contradict as if chameleons adapting to the environments that were perceived. Blame and responsibility were often in a flux and rarely accepted by, or placed on, others than herself.

True, some, like Lisa, had themselves been deceived. They had learned to distrust themselves–to see their perceptions and emotions as flawed. They feared failure or judgment so allowed others to lead them. Their need for acceptance outweighed the desire for truth, or in some cases, even respect. Their lives and decisions were now shaped by others.

Yet others were not deceived; they chose to betray others and craved the attention. They sought glory and power at all cost, rewriting history and beguiling those who would follow. Denial had become their reality and all who followed also lived in denial.

Maria gathered her things. She now understood the truth and therefore could not remain in such an unhealthy stasis. Her road to recovery insisted that she not be used by others but instead continue to grow. To grow she would need to move forward and inevitably face any pain that might result. She would need to walk through whatever showed up in her path.

She’d seen others rejected, leave, or be labeled as traitors, but had been kept so busy that she hadn’t taken the time to seek them out. She’d accepted the explanations, whether harmful or harmless. Now she needed the truth. For her decision, when she became a Christian, was a decision to follow Christ, not people. She must follow God’s path, even if she must tread it alone.

Just as Maria stood, she heard her name come through the crowd. Scanning the area, her eyes finally landed on a lady she had met at one of the first campus meetings; her name was Mrs. Molowsky. Maria stopped, thanking God for the encounter.

This lady had been a gift throughout the prior semester. She had taken the time to send care packages and to call long distance on numerous occasions. As Maria was wrapped in a hug, she heard a young man inquire for directions from his mother. And it was not surprising when the voice belonged to the very same man whose gaze had met hers as they had struggled with their luggage.