My Heart's Desire (Based on a TRUE story!!!) By Jana Baldridge Katrina looked in almost horror as she came towards the row where her family of five sat, waiting for the worship service to begin. Didn’t she know that visiting girls were introduced by the Sunday School teacher? Didn’t she know that one didn’t just introduce herself? In her old church, that’s the way it was, the only life she knew; the friends Katrina knew were made known by parents or teachers. “Hello!” The girl’s smile seemed to radiate her long brown hair. “My name is Sarah Thompson; what’s yours?” A feeling of shyness came over Katrina and even though she considered eleven to be grown-up, she hid her face partially in her mother’s arm like a child. Sarah smiled encouragingly and remarked in a friendly way to her dad, “Doesn’t she talk?” Dad laughed. Her name is Katrina Collin, and yes, she does talk! Quite loudly, I believe,” he added with a wink towards Katrina. “Would she like to eat with me and my friends for the meal afterwards?” Sarah offered, directing her question at Dad, but looking at Katrina. Katrina shook her head negatively, thinking of nothing worse than meeting new friends. Why did moving have to be so hard? But, Sarah wasn’t discouraged by her decision. She was soon chattering away about her family, making Aaron, eight, and Tonya, five, wanting to meet Sarah’s brother and sister. Mother was soon talking about homeschooling with Mrs. Thompson and Dad was meeting the Pastor. Katrina bit her lip and stayed in her seat trying to hold back the tears that wanted to run down her cheeks. She wanted her old friends back: Dawn, Anne and Christine - The girls she knew - Her only friends - The ones who knew her best. Katrina even longed for the boys she used to know. The few that she liked and that she knew liked her were beginning to take thoughts in her mind that she had hoped would fill the place in her life which was utterly empty. All through the service and the pastor’s message, Katrina compared the differences. Hymns were not sung in this church, there was no Sunday school for children ten and up, and the pastor was much shorter in height than her old one. He took many Bible verses and used them in his sermon, instead of using one certain verse. This church was different, to say the least. When the service ended, the potluck meal finished and her family was finally heading out the door after many greetings, Dad turned to his family with a smiling face in the parking lot. “So, what did everyone think?” “The people were extremely friendly,” Mother commented. “I like Noah Thompson a lot!” Aaron exclaimed. “Did you see the swing-set in the back?” Tonya mentioned. It was silent, and everyone glanced towards Katrina. Katrina looked down, picking at her fancy flowered dress which seemed out-of-place among the simply dressed people. “I... I didn’t really enjoy it,” she whispered brokenly. Aaron and Tonya faked a moan, then laughed, running to their car. Daddy placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you like it, Katrina?” he asked quietly, seeming ready to listen to her complaints. But how could she say all that she wanted to say? Katrina tried to tell them, but nothing came to mind except friends. She saw no one who was similar to; who would take the place of Dawn, her best friend in Illinois. Katrina shook her head, and hurried to the car, tears flowing down her cheeks. What she needed was a friend. A friend that could be like Dawn and who would care for her sincerely; much more sincerely than any of the boys she knew. * * * Children laughed and screamed in the dark outside as they played tag on a Memorial Day. The parents were upstairs, drinking and eating, as they talked together like old friends. Katrina was downstairs with Sarah and “the group”, which referred to the closely-knit group of her friends. “Now, since we’re all here,” Sarah announced in a business-like manner, “let’s introduce ourselves to Katrina, so she can know who we are.” A girl who sat on a chair backwards raised her hand. “I’m Kathleen Conrad, but you can call me Kate for short.” “Oh, tell her your age, too,” added Sarah “Okay, I’m eleven.” She smiled at Katrina, showing braces on her teeth. They really gave her small face a character. “I’m Anne Conrad, eight; Kate’s sister,” the next girl announced. “Unfortunately,” Kate giggled. All the girls laughed, but Katrina held back, not sure if she was ready to join into fun with girls she didn’t know well. “Okay, stop it!” Sarah poked the girl next to her. “Go on, Abby.” “Abigail Davis, ten.” “Marie Dorfsmith, twelve.” “Dara Malinzo, ten” It was Katrina’s turn. “I’m Katrina Collin, and I’ll be twelve in two months.” “What date in July?” asked Abigail. “The 30th.” Abigail nodded. “There’s another girl’s birthday on the 28th... uh,... oh, well, never mind. It really doesn’t matter. When I think of her name you should meet her; she’s really nice.” “Now that Abby is done talking,” Sarah teased, “let’s play a game.” As it turned out, Katrina knew none of the games they played and ended up sitting along the side while the girls showed her how to play. Then they launched into their own laughter of jokes without her. Katrina felt ignored. Didn’t they know how to be a friend? They were supposed to play with her, make her feel welcome and talk about interesting things instead of writing letters, horses and babies. “Would you like to play, Katrina?” It was Sarah again. She seemed always there to offer to let the new girl play or to let Katrina have her say in a subject. This time, she had enough. “No thanks,” Katrina answered, then stood up, brushing the lint from her clothes. “I think I’ll go upstairs to eat something.” No one followed her, and Katrina walked up the stairs from the basement. When she was out of sight, she heard Dara remark, “Give it up, Sarah; she won’t play with us.” “You have to give her time,” Sarah argued. "She just moved two months ago and probably misses her old friends." “Can’t she make new ones?” Kate shot back. Katrina heard no reply from Sarah. Tears again stung her eyes as she hurried to the bathroom and shut the door, leaning heavily on the wall. Why couldn’t she accept them? She knew she wanted friends, and as much as she still loved Dawn, Anne, and Christine, she wanted someone else like them to love her in return. Friends were a vital part of Katrina’s life; she lived with them, and without them, she couldn’t live her old life. At home, that night, Katrina searched through her boxes of still unpacked papers and books until she found it - her two notebooks which contained diary entries from the past two and a half years. She hadn’t written since the move; nothing was interesting and plus all Katrina thought about were her old friends. Almost tenderly, she opened to the next blank page and began writing; first slowly, then speeding up. At the Conrad’s I like the youth pastor they had. He’s funny and has a good sense of humor. I like Kate, Abbey and Ann. I sort of like Dara and Sarah. Sarah seems too friendly and always wants to be with me. I feel sort of peaceful tonight for some reason. I know God is with me. Katrina’s pen froze. “God is with me?” Why did she write that? How could God be with her as she left her friends? He told her Dad to move to Wisconsin, and the family didn’t know why. Katrina left her friends; she had no new ones. How could He care about her? Totally exhausted and confused, Katrina switched off the light and went to bed without even changing out of her clothes. * * * In the following weeks, Katrina grew more and more desperate for a friend. Perhaps only Mom knew what she wanted and that is why she gave Katrina a subscription to a magazine. This was unlike any other she had seen; girls were unconcerned with boys, wanted a strong relationship with God, and also concentrated on learning sewing, cooking and homemaking skills for a future home. “It’s a really nice magazine.” she told Mother, the day she had received her third issue. “They had lots of good articles in them.” “Do you read it?” Mother inquired, looking up from where she was snapping beans for supper. “Oh, I read it when I go to bed, and sometimes when it first comes.” For the truth, the inside gave Katrina a feeling that she didn’t like. She did read it, but never for very long. Something in those very pages seemed to condemn her heart. “But I am a Christian!” Katrina would argue with herself every time. She was baptized the summer before they moved, and she read the Bible. What else could there be? And Katrina wanted a friend. How in the world could God be her very best friend? It didn’t make sense. She wanted a friend who she could see, talk to and love with her whole heart like she did with Dawn. And then the day came when Katrina was just over 12. Her fifth issue had just arrived, and after looking over the contents, she was about to throw it on her bed and read it after she had written another complaining letter to Dawn, when a title caught her eye. MY BEST FRIEND. My best friend? With all thoughts of Dawn disappearing, Katrina quickly picked it up, trying to find the page with that title. The story was about a girl who had lost her friend. Like Katrina. A girl who wanted a friend to replace her. Like Katrina. A girl who found a friend in Jesus, making Him her best friend. Like Katrina? A million thoughts ran through her head. Could she really have a friend in Him? Katrina was pretty desperate now to find anyone. All but Sarah had given up on her and even then she still thought Sarah as too friendly and not her type. Then, as always when Katrina was confused or angry, she took her notebook from the shelf and wrote her thoughts in a mumble and jumble of words. Katrina made her diary a place where even if all else failed, she could write to the person who read the entries. No one did, but lately it gave Katrina a small peace that someone would understand how she felt. A story I just read was about a girl who lost her friend and found one in Christ. I want a friend so desperately, but I don’t know anyone. All I want is to move back to Bourbonnais and have Dawn again. My friend who I love and- By now, Katrina was crying and couldn’t stop. Her heart was filled with emotions too hard to explain. She wanted peace in her heart - the same peace that she had when she first became a Christian when she was 10. “Then ask for it.” It was so clear and healable to Katrina’s heart, that she cried more. “God, if you only knew how much I want peace, I would ask for it. But I’m scared. What would it be like being your friend? I’m scared because who knows what you will do with me! I... I don’t know if I’m ready for changes. I want my old friends, my home, and my old life!!” “Do you really?” Katrina knew she didn’t. “No... I don’t,” she whispered humbly. “Oh God, please be my friend. Make me your friend. Help me, and please give me peace.” She clutched her bedspread tighter, crying again. But her heart began to feel lighter in a gradual pace. She was filled in her heart with a love that was greater than any friend on earth. * * * Katrina’s heart was calmed after that day. She read her Bible with renewed spirit and tried her best to live the way Jesus would have done. But, like many Christians who rededicate their lives to the Lord, she soon found herself beginning to believe that God was forgetting her and not helping her anymore. “No, Katrina; you can’t go.” Dad’s voice was sympathetic, but firm as he told his daughter his answer. “Why not?” Katrina exploded. "Because we don’t know the girls that will be there," Mom answered solemnly. “No doubt there will be boys there also who don’t exactly have the standards we do.” Katrina was angry, but knew better than to express it openly. “How am I supposed to make friends?” she muttered, as she shuffled up the stairs, knowing her parents’ eyes were upon her. “I expected to go to this party and make a few friends.” She slammed the door in her room and plopped down into her chair next to her bookshelf. How could this happen!” she exclaimed aloud. But no answer was heard, like that night before. Katrina pushed herself up and picked on the armrest. “God, what friend am I supposed to love?” As soon as she said it, Katrina knew the answer. Of course, it was God; her Lord; her Friend. It was the one who loved more than earthly people. “Forgive me for my unbelief,” Katrina sighed, burying her head in her hands. “I’ve forgotten too quickly what happened that afternoon, and all that I’ve tried to do for You. Help me to live better for you and accept your plans.” But, it wasn’t that easy... Katrina was just taking Mom’s last bag to the car, when the familiar honk of the mailman’s truck sounded. “Mailman!” she sang excitedly. “I’ll get it!” called Tonya. “I’m outside first!” Aaron argued, already flying out the front porch door. But Katrina beat them all. She grabbed the mail from the box, flipping excitedly through it. “A letter from Katie... oh, and one from Beth! How nice!” “I didn’t get anything,” Tonya pouted as she walked angrily to the car. Dad and Mom were already inside waiting for their children, so Aaron and Katrina hurried inside. A trip to town was once a week for the children, and special. “Pass the mail up!” Dad told Katrina before they were even out of the driveway. Deep into her pen-pal’s letters, Katrina unconsciously handed the mail to Aaron. “Katrina!” Aaron bumped his sister’s arm a bit too hard, and Katrina scowled at him. “Can’t you see I’m reading?” she answered, then turned back to her letter. But Aaron shoved something into her lap before she moved, “You dropped this when you took the mail out,” he informed her. Katrina looked in surprise at the envelope, then slowly peeked on the back side... and gasped. It was a letter from her friend Dawn, whom she hadn’t heard from in about 6 months. Katrina’s last letter was before her “change”, as she liked to call it, and it almost made her scared to think what Dawn’s letter would be like. “God, I... I...” Katrina’s prayer was lost as she slit the envelope and pulled a thick letter from it. From the first paragraph, Katrina wished she was back home. Dear Katrina, Hello! How are you? Pretty good here. You know, I’m really sorry that you aren’t here to be involved in our youth group! This spring we went to a youth retreat up North and went fishing for a few days. I wish you could’ve been here... “So do I,” Katrina whispered. But for some personal things, Katrina. I think I’ve finally got my life straightened out with God. Mom isn’t around a lot since she works at the hospital, so I go to Mrs. Reider or Mrs. Haskins (remember them?) to talk about my problems, even though they are adults. But they aren’t like my girlfriends. Oh Katrina, please come back and take part of my life! I really want you to! My mom says I need to hang around with girls my own age, but I can’t trust Christine anymore ‘cause I told her one secret and told her not to tell anyone, and the next thing I know, everyone knew! Please come back, dear Katrina. But Mom says you probably won’t, and I suppose that it’s why I’ve been hanging around with guys a lot lately; not many are from our church, but from the swim team or quiz team. They kinda have this thing that makes a place in me wanting you back feel a bit better... Katrina bit her lip. Finding a friend in a boy? Maybe having boys for friends when she was nine or ten was okay, but at twelve.... would it help? Would it hurt to explore the possibilities? Katrina never was sure how it all happened. In an instant, her character of being a young lady striving to be pure, seemed to disintegrate. The boys at church who had once “stayed away” from her, seeing her as not a possibility, began to get bolder. They would never talk to her when her parents were around, but when the church put on an Easter drama for the county, there was more than once when Katrina was waiting for her part to come. Although once in awhile, a part of Katrina cried out that keeping company around the boys who her Dad disapproved of, wasn’t pleasing to God, Katrina either ignored it or protested that she wanted a friend and was trying to find one. What was wrong with that? Plenty. In the drama, Katrina played the part of a girl, who was telling her parents of the Easter story. Her “brother” was a year older than herself. They acted the parts perfectly together, talking to each other as if they really were siblings, and even looking similar with hair and eye color. But, when Steve saw how Katrina was becoming like other girls he knew, he began to talk differently to her. No longer was Katrina afraid of boys as she had used to be. She now felt more at ease, and that ache was almost disappearing. Almost... A couple weeks after the last Easter drama performance was completed, Katrina was lying on her bed reading a borrowed book from the library. It was warm for a May afternoon, and so Tonya was lying on the floor in front of the fan, writing a letter to her friend back in Illinois. Both were supposed to be cleaning their room, but the air had made them lazy. Tonya had clothes and dolls all over the floor, and Katrina had piles of books, opened and closed, piled on her desk with papers, pens and dried flowers. “Kat, how do you spell apples?” Tonya asked sweetly, aware that her sister probably didn’t want to talk to her. Katrina turned a page in her book. “What?” she mumbled, half aware of Tonya’s question. “I said,” repeated Tonya firmly. “How do you spell apples?” “A-P-P-L-E-S,” came the quick reply. “Slow down!” Tonya scratched down the letters as quickly as possible, but didn’t catch a few. “A-P-P-L what?” “Oh, go ask Mother,” Katrina commanded in an irritated voice. Tonya gathered her notebook and huffed out of the room, while Katrina settled herself more comfortably on her bed. In a few minutes, the book slammed shut, was placed on the desk, and Katrina turned onto her back, stretching. “I don’t know if I care to finish Ben Hur or not,” she remarked to herself. “The author spends two chapters describing the gate to Jerusalem, and Ben Hur is so dumb at times.” The contents of the book had put Katrina into a dreamland, thinking what would happen next. However, she soon wandered from that to the past drama performances, and her thoughts soon turned into ones not worthy of mentioning. It was only when the door slammed shut that Katrina shot up, as if guilty for what she had done. It seemed quiet in the room; too quiet. The wind had stopped blowing, and she sensed someone was in the room. “Tonya, if you’re hiding, I want you out now!” Katrina demanded, but no Tonya appeared. She looked under the bed, in the closet, and even behind her bed, but still no Tonya. “Oh well,” Katrina said lightly, “might as well clean my room while I’m up.” She walked to her desk and began cleaning the top. At the bottom of her stack was her Bible, sadly neglected for several weeks; that is, ever since the Easter drama rehearsals had begun. She was about to close it, but not before her eyes fell onto a page, which was about to turn over. “Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” [John 10:37 & 38] Katrina swallowed hard and turned her head away from her Bible, filled with shame. Yet inside, a battle was being fought to win her heart. “Lord, I don’t want to! I don’t want to give him up!” “My child, no one can love two people. Either you love him, or love Me.” “But -” “Either you follow me wholeheartedly, or you are better off not following Me at all. Katrina, if you do not take up your cross and follow Me, you are not worthy of Me.” “But... but Lord, he’s my friend. He’s what helps me to fill that ache in my heart.” “And I do not?” Silence. “Katrina, what you must do is not easy. I’m not forcing you to do so. This must be entirely on your own. “But, Lord, what will he say? What will he think?” “Leave that to me.” “But don’t you realize the embarrassment this will cause me for the rest of my life?” “Katrina, everyone has made mistakes in life, and must learn to live with them. You must choose what you will do.” Pause. “Do... do what?” “You must choose-” “Lord, no!” “No, you must choose between the one whom you think will help you, and me.” “Don’t you know how hard this is for me?” “Haven’t I done much harder for you?” “I need a friend! I need someone to love! And someone to love me!” “My child, have you already forgotten My Promise to never leave or forsake any of my children? You were my child, and still are. Changes do not mean that I have left you. It means that I have a special work for you, and you need to be prepared.” “Please, Lord!” “Choose, Katrina; choose between him, or Me.” “But-” “Me, or him?” Katrina threw herself on her bed, tears streaming down her face, her hands clenching a pillow. Choose between what? Between the boy who had “helped” her... or a God who had always been there, was there now, and who would be there in the future? “Lord... I... I choose... You.” A very brief silence. “Why, Katrina?” “Why?” Why did she want God instead of Steve? “Because... because You have always been there and have always helped me. Steve... was only there for a few months and... and will probably be gone in a few weeks, leaving me with... no one.” “I am very glad to hear that, Katrina. ‘Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever looses his life for my sake will find it.’ [John 10:39] Today, my child, you have truly lost the “joy of your life” for Me, and I am well pleased.” For a moment, Katrina felt love that she had never felt before. Sobbing still, she felt like her life was just beginning again. “Lord... what is to happen now?” “The future is tomorrow, my child. For now, just be as one who is loved by Me.” In that afternoon, Katrina felt like she would never need a best friend. The Lord’s promises and words seemed to soothe that ache, now that she had truly accepted Him, and from then on, her life would never be the same. There would be changes. Yes, those painful changes never ceased. But things seemed to go smoother with a friend who would never abandon her. And, as Katrina learned and grew in the Lord, He sent an earthly friend for her. Sarah Thompson, the one who had seemed too friendly and not her type, now encouraged her and was her closest friend. In return, Katrina helped Sarah through her difficult times, and together they had fun, serious, and troubled times... but always with the Lord in their midst. ~*~ Some of you may have noticed that the characters in this story were similar to another I wrote called “Imitators of God”. Again, Aaron is my brother; Tonya, my sister; and Katrina’s parents were like mine. And as for Katrina... she was me. Yes, I was brought through a move to Wisconsin when I was 11 and struggled with the problem with friends. Dawn was my best friend in Illinois, Erica. We shared many fun times together, but when I moved, we both changed and went our own ways. I haven’t heard from Erica in months, nor have I seen her. I only pray that she is not what I fear she is. And as for Katrina’s search for love with boys, that was my personal experience. I went through all that I wrote about. The “conversation” between Katrina and the Lord was what went on in my heart that May afternoon. Sarah Thompson represents my dear friend in Wisconsin, Lauren. Words cannot express how much I love her. Our mothers say we were made for each other, but both of us think there is more to that than they joke about. You may wonder why I bothered to write about this; there are many reasons. First of all, let me say that above all else, the Lord should be your best friend. He should be the one you trust and hope in, never trusting in others. Don’t look for this in friends on earth or even in boys, as Katrina and I did; they won’t work. And friendships with boys, although they may seem harmless, cause nothing but pain in the end. Although this may be hard, no one really needs friends to live. You may think so, and desperately be praying for one, but the Lord might not have that planned for you. You might not have a friend in your town or close by, but what about pen-friends through magazines? Your parents? Or even your siblings? But, if none can be found, be a friend to the one who is always your Friend. He will always be there, will never betray, and will always love you with a deepness that can never be described. - Jana YWSH Main Page