The Love Feast (Part 2)

His name was Dennis. He was a very lonely man. Since I lived closest to him, somebody asked if I could pick him up for our college and career group in Ottawa.

As the weeks went by, he opened up to me slowly. I learned that he enjoyed his job as a dishwasher at a hotel. Even though he said nothing at our college and career events, he became more animated in his conversation each time we went home together.

Then came our Love Feast. You may recall, this is where people are paired off and have to go for a meal one on one for two hours, then report back to the group about what they learned about their partner.

I think it is safe to say that everybody in the room dreaded drawing Dennis as a partner. I can imagine Dennis was just as afraid to go with somebody else.

Joyce, a pretty, young nurse, drew the slip with his name on it. Immediately, eyes like daggers looked at me as if to say that she was thinking of going home and escaping from this hellish experience she was stuck with. Dennis didn’t look very comfortable, either. However, she went through with it.

Being the organizer, I was always the last one to draw a slip of paper. If there were an odd number of people, then I didn’t participate. For the next two hours, I sat there alone wondering what could be happening with Joyce and Dennis. Would Dennis even say a word? He was so painfully shy.

Everyone returned. Joyce shot a look at me that reminded me of a laser beam burning a hole in a piece of metal. I was not her favourite person in the world. That was very clear.

Then the presentations began. People gave eloquent, funny and detailed stories about the people they went out with. Joyce got enough out of Dennis to present a positive experience to what I knew was a moment that would go down in her life as a disaster, even though she eventually saw it as a blessing.

I turned to Dennis and said, “Dennis, tell us about Joyce.” Silence. More silence. Even more silence. Would Dennis ever speak? I waited. I waited long enough that I could hear the mental screams of everybody in the room to let this guy off the hook. I refused. I just knew that I had to be cruel to be kind in this situation. I looked at the floor and vowed that I would wait there forever until he spoke.

And he did. He said, “Joyce and I went out for dinner and she is a really nice girl.” That was it, but those who had been screaming mentally at me just moments before were reacting like they had heard Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech. Everybody in the room was relieved, including Dennis and me.

The seed had been planted and had been watered immediately. Dennis had given to the group and they had reacted favourably. He had taken the risk and had been rewarded by love. Little did we know how fast it would grow.

Within a month, Dennis was a vital part of the group. Sure, he was still a bit shy, but he was acting in skits. The warm, bright light beyond the door was shining through as it was gradually being opened.

I don’t remember how I lost contact with Dennis, but I still wonder how he is doing.

I do know what happened to Joyce, though. Jon, a friend of mine, was so impressed with the positive attitude (he probably didn’t see Joyce’s looks at me) Joyce had about the evening, that he figured he would like to know this kind woman better. A year or so later they were married. Joyce later confided with me that she was ready to strangle me that night, but realized how this experience, which she deemed so negative, had a happy ending well beyond her expectations.