Janie & The Test
I couldn't make sense of any of it. In chapel, Janie scribbled away in her journal as if she was taking a timed writing test. I overheard her muttered whispers in the hall on several occasions, things like "Do not awaken! Do not awaken!" or "Steadfast! Steadfast! Hold steadfast!" She was gone in the woods for stretches of time, doing who knows what, coming back exhausted and barely staying awake during study sessions. I wondered, "Has she lost it? Is our beloved Janie really going crazy?" What bothered me so much was that I seemed to be the only one who noticed. Then again, study groups didn't notice that kind of thing, and our Bible study was made up of girls who all had very different schedules. Additionally, Janie was living by herself this semester, so there was no roommate to comment on her frequent trips to the prayer closet. Maybe she was finally cracking under all the pressure of school and work.
Finally, one day I could not handle all the worry and confusion any more. I went into her room on pretense of drinking tea and getting help with physical science. Secretly, I was determined to find out what was the matter. Halfway through my mug of green tea I blurted out, "What are you doing?"
She stopped mid-sentence, confused at the interruption. "I'm explaining why Henry VIII divorced his first wife, like you asked. Just be patient, it gets better," she said, as if I could ever tire of hearing Janie explain life and its mysteries.
"No, I mean with all the writing during chapel and the talking to yourself between classes, and all those long walks in the woods. Don't think I don't see you sneaking away all the time."
"I always write during chapel, it helps me focus-
"Not frantically," I countered.
"And I always talk to myself," she kept saying. With a sideways smile at me, "You do know this about me, right?"
"It's different lately" I said, glaring at her.
"It is not, and what's so weird about walking?"
"The fact that you're even getting defensive means something's up."
"It does not. I'm just explaining Henry VIII, uh, I mean I'm just telling you that I'm completely normal." Janie was very frustrated, I could tell. She rarely messed up on sentences. Poor thing was very angry and needed someone to talk to. I was that person. Leaning back against the bed, I contemplated her with a patient smile. Oh Janie, don't worry. We can work this out together.
"Stop it, Emmy," she said. Depending on the inflection, I can always determine her mood when she uses that nickname for me. The tone was angry this time.
"I didn't say anything." Patience, Em. Patience. That's what friends express with each other.
"It's nothing, all right?"
"Of course it's nothing. That's why you can't speak."
"Okay, okay, I'll tell you!" she burst out. I laughed as she brought out her journal. Now was the time for listening and nodding, for understanding, for- Wait, she was smiling at me.
"Okay- she stopped. "This is really strange- she stopped again. "I don't really know-
"Complete sentences would help."
She sighed. I braced myself for a very long, eloquent paragraph of griefs as she opened her mouth, "I like someone."
A gun must have gone off. Only something that unexpected could explain the shock that filled me. But no, I told myself, there were no guns in this room, only me and Janie who was sitting there with an enormous, guilty smile on her face. Was this happening? Janie, my dear sensible and fabulous Janie, falling prey to men? Oh, come on Emma, get a grip, get a grip. Respond! Respond!
"Uh, you do?"
"Yes, I have for the last three weeks now. He doesn't know, but that's why I'm always writing."
I tried to make sense of this comment. "What do you mean?"
She grinned mischievously. "I'm doing the test."
Janie liking a boy was strange enough in itself. I always thought she would end her days as an old maid, and a happy one at that. She was so eccentric, it was hard to believe any man would be able to satisfy her, what with her reading 15th century poetry for fun and keeping a Venus fly-trap in her room.
"See, it's this thing that I started when I realized I like him. Every time I think of something I like about him, I write it down and then I talk to God about it and He helps-
"Wait, you do what?"
Janie sighed. "Here, I'll show you." She opened her journal, the one she had made after reading an article about the art of book binding. "See?" I leaned forward, and began to read the book that Janie wrote in incessantly. I saw what she was doing, sort of. Where other girls rated boys on their looks and charm, Janie was rating this boy, whoever he was, on his actions. Over and over again, I saw entries like:
2/1/2012- He helps the wheelchair guy at the cafeteria. No one sees him except me. He is a servant.
2/5/2012- He helps the chemistry study group with their study guide. He must be patient, because no one could do that without an extreme amount of forbearance.
2/6/2012- He is the first person to help a girl who sprained her ankle between classes. He cares about people.
2/7/2012- Is someone a real man when he falls on his face and weeps during worship? Or is he just a silly boy pretending? God, what does this mean? Take this away, if You want. I am so confused.
"But how is this a test?" I asked. Janie stared at me, surprised that I didn't understand. "I don't get how this is a test."
"This isn't a test. It's the test," Janie said.
"I don't get it. I mean, you obviously like him. What is the test? What are you testing him for?"
"Oh, silly. I'm not testing him. If I wanted to do that, I would make a list of vague sounding questions, finagle him into my room for tea, and then work all those questions into a very innocuous conversation and keep track of his answers." I stared at her. "But he's smart, so he would probably catch on, and it would be stupid anyway because-
"I get it, I get it," I said.
"The point is, I'm the one doing the test," she smiled, as though all my questions were now answered.
"Uh, I'm lost."
She smiled again, a secretive Mona Lisa smile. "It's the test of my life, Emmy. All of this," she gestured to her room, where pictures and poems were on the wall in a collage of memories, "all of this is such a big part of me. I love creating, and this guy- you know, it's so wrong to call him that, he's a man, or a young man anyway- he is my muse. When I see him doing the simplest things, like writing or singing or even walking, I want to write it down or shout it, or draw a picture, or make a music video."
"A music video?"
"Maybe not, but the point is he barely speaks to me, barely says 'hello' and I'm suddenly bursting with creativity, and I have to fight to keep myself from writing love songs for him and lavishing all my greatest creative thoughts on him."
"Why?" I asked.
"Why what?" Janie said.
"Why do you have to fight it?" I said. I had been on the receiving end of Janie's creativity, and though it was zany, it was still beautiful. Whoever this guy is, he would be an idiot not to love anything she makes for him.
"Because I want to save my best thoughts, my best moments, all my best creativity for God. He's the only one who deserves it. I don't even know if this guy is even worthy of receiving my creativity yet. That's why I'm always walking out in the woods."
"Wait, that doesn't make any sense. How does walking in the woods help with anything?"
Janie smiled again and said, "Because then I am closer to our Creator, and there are not so many distractions." She cocked her head. "It's magical, you know? We have the greatest talks, and He helps me deal with all of this confusion. I always come back wishing all of life was a very long hike." She squinted. "Though, I guess you could say it is. That sounds like a song, don't you think?"
I laughed, mostly because I was confused. I decided to make all of this less philosophical. "Janie, do you like him?"
A pause, then a nod. "Yeah, I do. But he doesn't really know who I am."
"He's not going to find out unless he meets you, unless he has a chance. Look, who is it? Just tell me, and we can figure out how to get him over here." Janie shook her head at me.
"Emmy, don't you see?" I didn't, though, so I shook my head. She smiled, glowing. "That's the test part. I have to trust that if God wants me share my creativity and my heart with this guy, He will give me the opportunity. He will show me when the time is right."
"It would be so much simpler if we just-
"You don't think I've thought that? I think it every day. Tests don't become simpler, Emmy. Tests are hard, and I won't pretend that this one isn't the hardest thing I've ever done, but it's worth it, even if- she paused- even if he never notices me."
"You think so?"
"If it means I love God more, then yes," she said, and looked me straight in the eye. That's when I knew she was dead set on finishing this test, this struggle to the end, even if I thought she was ridiculous. She did not care what I thought, that I wanted to shake her and tell her to stop being so silly. Janie, my beloved Janie with all her crazy brilliance and potent thoughts, had fallen in love, but not with a boy. Janie was in love with God, and I didn't know what to do or think about it.
I suppose we kept on talking, but it was all in the same vein. She sent me back to my bedroom with a hug, and promised to take me on a long walk soon.
That night, I had the strangest dream. Janie and I were hiking, and I hit a rock with my shoe. Suddenly, the rock grew into a huge dragon, breathing fire and flapping its wings in my face. I ran to hide, screaming at Janie to do the same, but she just bent down and started to pick wildflowers. I yelled her name, begging her to get away because the dragon was coming, but she wouldn't move. She stood there as the dragon's flames bore down on her, and I could only watch.
Maybe I drank too much green tea.
Finally, one day I could not handle all the worry and confusion any more. I went into her room on pretense of drinking tea and getting help with physical science. Secretly, I was determined to find out what was the matter. Halfway through my mug of green tea I blurted out, "What are you doing?"
She stopped mid-sentence, confused at the interruption. "I'm explaining why Henry VIII divorced his first wife, like you asked. Just be patient, it gets better," she said, as if I could ever tire of hearing Janie explain life and its mysteries.
"No, I mean with all the writing during chapel and the talking to yourself between classes, and all those long walks in the woods. Don't think I don't see you sneaking away all the time."
"I always write during chapel, it helps me focus-
"Not frantically," I countered.
"And I always talk to myself," she kept saying. With a sideways smile at me, "You do know this about me, right?"
"It's different lately" I said, glaring at her.
"It is not, and what's so weird about walking?"
"The fact that you're even getting defensive means something's up."
"It does not. I'm just explaining Henry VIII, uh, I mean I'm just telling you that I'm completely normal." Janie was very frustrated, I could tell. She rarely messed up on sentences. Poor thing was very angry and needed someone to talk to. I was that person. Leaning back against the bed, I contemplated her with a patient smile. Oh Janie, don't worry. We can work this out together.
"Stop it, Emmy," she said. Depending on the inflection, I can always determine her mood when she uses that nickname for me. The tone was angry this time.
"I didn't say anything." Patience, Em. Patience. That's what friends express with each other.
"It's nothing, all right?"
"Of course it's nothing. That's why you can't speak."
"Okay, okay, I'll tell you!" she burst out. I laughed as she brought out her journal. Now was the time for listening and nodding, for understanding, for- Wait, she was smiling at me.
"Okay- she stopped. "This is really strange- she stopped again. "I don't really know-
"Complete sentences would help."
She sighed. I braced myself for a very long, eloquent paragraph of griefs as she opened her mouth, "I like someone."
A gun must have gone off. Only something that unexpected could explain the shock that filled me. But no, I told myself, there were no guns in this room, only me and Janie who was sitting there with an enormous, guilty smile on her face. Was this happening? Janie, my dear sensible and fabulous Janie, falling prey to men? Oh, come on Emma, get a grip, get a grip. Respond! Respond!
"Uh, you do?"
"Yes, I have for the last three weeks now. He doesn't know, but that's why I'm always writing."
I tried to make sense of this comment. "What do you mean?"
She grinned mischievously. "I'm doing the test."
Janie liking a boy was strange enough in itself. I always thought she would end her days as an old maid, and a happy one at that. She was so eccentric, it was hard to believe any man would be able to satisfy her, what with her reading 15th century poetry for fun and keeping a Venus fly-trap in her room.
"See, it's this thing that I started when I realized I like him. Every time I think of something I like about him, I write it down and then I talk to God about it and He helps-
"Wait, you do what?"
Janie sighed. "Here, I'll show you." She opened her journal, the one she had made after reading an article about the art of book binding. "See?" I leaned forward, and began to read the book that Janie wrote in incessantly. I saw what she was doing, sort of. Where other girls rated boys on their looks and charm, Janie was rating this boy, whoever he was, on his actions. Over and over again, I saw entries like:
2/1/2012- He helps the wheelchair guy at the cafeteria. No one sees him except me. He is a servant.
2/5/2012- He helps the chemistry study group with their study guide. He must be patient, because no one could do that without an extreme amount of forbearance.
2/6/2012- He is the first person to help a girl who sprained her ankle between classes. He cares about people.
2/7/2012- Is someone a real man when he falls on his face and weeps during worship? Or is he just a silly boy pretending? God, what does this mean? Take this away, if You want. I am so confused.
"But how is this a test?" I asked. Janie stared at me, surprised that I didn't understand. "I don't get how this is a test."
"This isn't a test. It's the test," Janie said.
"I don't get it. I mean, you obviously like him. What is the test? What are you testing him for?"
"Oh, silly. I'm not testing him. If I wanted to do that, I would make a list of vague sounding questions, finagle him into my room for tea, and then work all those questions into a very innocuous conversation and keep track of his answers." I stared at her. "But he's smart, so he would probably catch on, and it would be stupid anyway because-
"I get it, I get it," I said.
"The point is, I'm the one doing the test," she smiled, as though all my questions were now answered.
"Uh, I'm lost."
She smiled again, a secretive Mona Lisa smile. "It's the test of my life, Emmy. All of this," she gestured to her room, where pictures and poems were on the wall in a collage of memories, "all of this is such a big part of me. I love creating, and this guy- you know, it's so wrong to call him that, he's a man, or a young man anyway- he is my muse. When I see him doing the simplest things, like writing or singing or even walking, I want to write it down or shout it, or draw a picture, or make a music video."
"A music video?"
"Maybe not, but the point is he barely speaks to me, barely says 'hello' and I'm suddenly bursting with creativity, and I have to fight to keep myself from writing love songs for him and lavishing all my greatest creative thoughts on him."
"Why?" I asked.
"Why what?" Janie said.
"Why do you have to fight it?" I said. I had been on the receiving end of Janie's creativity, and though it was zany, it was still beautiful. Whoever this guy is, he would be an idiot not to love anything she makes for him.
"Because I want to save my best thoughts, my best moments, all my best creativity for God. He's the only one who deserves it. I don't even know if this guy is even worthy of receiving my creativity yet. That's why I'm always walking out in the woods."
"Wait, that doesn't make any sense. How does walking in the woods help with anything?"
Janie smiled again and said, "Because then I am closer to our Creator, and there are not so many distractions." She cocked her head. "It's magical, you know? We have the greatest talks, and He helps me deal with all of this confusion. I always come back wishing all of life was a very long hike." She squinted. "Though, I guess you could say it is. That sounds like a song, don't you think?"
I laughed, mostly because I was confused. I decided to make all of this less philosophical. "Janie, do you like him?"
A pause, then a nod. "Yeah, I do. But he doesn't really know who I am."
"He's not going to find out unless he meets you, unless he has a chance. Look, who is it? Just tell me, and we can figure out how to get him over here." Janie shook her head at me.
"Emmy, don't you see?" I didn't, though, so I shook my head. She smiled, glowing. "That's the test part. I have to trust that if God wants me share my creativity and my heart with this guy, He will give me the opportunity. He will show me when the time is right."
"It would be so much simpler if we just-
"You don't think I've thought that? I think it every day. Tests don't become simpler, Emmy. Tests are hard, and I won't pretend that this one isn't the hardest thing I've ever done, but it's worth it, even if- she paused- even if he never notices me."
"You think so?"
"If it means I love God more, then yes," she said, and looked me straight in the eye. That's when I knew she was dead set on finishing this test, this struggle to the end, even if I thought she was ridiculous. She did not care what I thought, that I wanted to shake her and tell her to stop being so silly. Janie, my beloved Janie with all her crazy brilliance and potent thoughts, had fallen in love, but not with a boy. Janie was in love with God, and I didn't know what to do or think about it.
I suppose we kept on talking, but it was all in the same vein. She sent me back to my bedroom with a hug, and promised to take me on a long walk soon.
That night, I had the strangest dream. Janie and I were hiking, and I hit a rock with my shoe. Suddenly, the rock grew into a huge dragon, breathing fire and flapping its wings in my face. I ran to hide, screaming at Janie to do the same, but she just bent down and started to pick wildflowers. I yelled her name, begging her to get away because the dragon was coming, but she wouldn't move. She stood there as the dragon's flames bore down on her, and I could only watch.
Maybe I drank too much green tea.
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