I'm Yours

Next morning, as we drove down Hunter Street Newcastle, I gasped in horror at seeing bridal boutiques down both sides of the street. What is this place? I heard a very clear, ‘Before you leave this place you’ll be married.’ This freaked me out. Was it God? The idea of marriage terrified me. And there was more, ‘You’ll have so many friends, you won’t want to leave.’ Uh? I don’t know anybody. I’m alone. I’m a mess. How could it be?

Not knowing what else to do, the couple left me at a refuge. I was shown around. When we got to the part of the spiel where the door is locked, and you can’t get in or out, I dropped my bag and bolted out the door, across the road and ran onto the beach, past Merewether surf club, past the ocean baths and kept running. I came to a wild wilderness beach which stretched around to the next headland. I kept running. The beach went on and on. Waves crashed onto the shore. Each wave protesting its limits. I ran and ran and ran. I didn’t stop. There was no one anywhere. The cliff-face coal-seam haulage line, undermined by the relentless sea, abandoned.

Before I left, I’d called the only number I had. Mountain Man usually worked from dawn to dusk, but it was so hot at three in the afternoon he returned to the homestead to replenish his drinking water and decided, ‘I might as well have a coffee.’ He was about to take a sip when the phone rang. He answered to hear me sobbing.

‘Help. I can’t do this, it’s like a prison!’

‘Okay, I’m coming.’

Mountain Man got into his truck and headed toward Newcastle, knowing it would cost him. He hadn’t left the bush in six years. Or shaved. Or seen a barber.

 He told me later, ‘By the time I got to Hexham, I had tunnel vision, cold sweats and palpitations. I was hyperventilating and couldn’t concentrate. It got worse as the traffic got heavier. I couldn’t remember the short cuts I’d driven for years as an ambo.’

When he got to the refuge, he leaned against the truck, retching. By which time I’d returned and was doing the same beside him. We stumbled over the road to the beach and collapsed into each other’s arms shaking. The sun set.

‘Now what?’

‘Let’s try the backpackers!’ They were all full.

Mountain Man rang Giloo, the owner of the Yango Creek property where he was working, ‘Is it alright if Jules stays over.’

‘Ok. But just for the weekend.’

Mountain Man stopped on a small bridge and turned off the engine. ‘I milled the timber for this bridge.’ As we sat in the truck and prayed silently, I had a vision. I saw myself marrying this man on his mountain. A relaxed and informal affair. What made it special was, it was a marriage of intimacy between him and God and me. The kind of marriage I wanted. I didn’t tell the man from the mountain. I didn’t want to encourage him. As much as I wanted it, I was scared. Unsure of him. And me.

Mountain Man got a call, reminding him I only had one more night. I had to find other accommodation.

At Mountain Man’s social phobics’ social club, we watched a DVD. I was stunned when I saw the title, Intimacy with God. It was what I longed for. It was the vision I saw, with Mountain Man and God and me. I tingled. I had a sense of oneness with the man from the mountain. But as much as I wanted it, it frightened me. I felt vulnerable. Fragile. Enmeshed. I didn’t know if what I was feeling was him or me. I needed space until I did.

Three years later, having just seen my daughter get married, I dreaded going back to my empty life in Newcastle. I flew home from Melbourne feeling fragmented and disorientated. With all my other suitors away, there was no one around to pick me up. I called Mountain Man, still waiting for his visa to go back to India. I didn’t want to see him, there’d been so much disappointment, but I needed a lift.

He pulled up at my address. In desperation, I asked him to pray for me and felt comforted. He kissed me, a passionate sensual kiss full of promise and love. I went inside with hope in my heart but didn’t hear from him.

I’d bought tickets for a Valentine’s Day event, but Kyle was away, and Liam was working, so I asked Mountain Man. We had the best night. Exotic food, interesting people, stimulating conversation, live jazz and dancing. I felt alive again. He dropped me off. But again, I didn’t hear from him. Disappointment set in. Hope failed.

Then I heard, Jason Mraz’s new song—I’m Yours on the radio. It felt like our song. Then a flash of knowing—Mountain Man puts up with me—he must love me. I enjoyed the company of Kyle and had a lot of fun with Liam, the same question going round and round in my mind—What am I going to do?

Not long after this I had a strange feeling, like I’d stepped into a dream, and all the walls came down. Like a fairy tale, my prince charming had arrived three years ago on Valentine’s Day—kissed me—and life had never been the same. Scared, vulnerable and unsure, I’d told him, ‘I don’t want to see you.’ Lonely and sad I’d prayed, ‘Lord, I really do love him.’ I told him, ‘Don’t call me!’ And I really wanted him to. Afraid of falling for him, I’d pushed him away. I didn’t trust my judgement and feared repeating my past heartache, disappointment and failure.

Still… nothing happened.

Then, the morning before I was meant to start back at work, I tripped in the living room and had excruciating pain in my foot. With all the pressure from WorkCover to return to work, and not knowing what else to do, I pushed through.

That afternoon I got a phone call from the Return-to-Work Officer from the University saying, ‘Don’t come in.’ 

‘What do you mean don’t come in? It’s all arranged!’

‘Don’t come in?’

‘But there’s been a meeting. It’s all agreed. I start tomorrow. I’m entitled to a work trial.’

She said, ‘Don’t come in,’ and hung up.

I put the phone down, trying to process what she’d said. I didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense. My foot hurt.

I made some calls, and an appointment to see my GP, who ordered an X-ray for my foot, and called Mountain Man for a lift.

On the way back, we passed a sign, ‘The Healing Rooms.’

‘Stop the car!’

We were the first to arrive.

At the desk, we filled in a prayer request form. I wrote ‘Sabotaged return to work attempt’ and sat down to wait, and asked Mountain Man to pray for me.

Before long, I was invited into a room, where three people were seated. One of them told me, ‘Each has of us has something to share.’

The first person said, ‘I saw a porcelain doll smashed against a wall and shattered. Jesus is mixing clay and slowly and methodically putting the pieces back together bit by bit so you can’t see where the damage is. It’s the master’s handiwork.’

I cried, and told her about the accident, and what a mess my life was, even before that.

She read, ‘Lord you have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away. You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything about me. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord. You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head (Psalm 139: 1-5).’

The second person said, ‘You were trying to sweep dirt under a mat. There was a lump. God wants to take out the lump and get rid of it.’

I cried and told them, ‘I’m here because I tripped on the carpet and hurt my foot and work won’t take me back.’

She read, ‘When I said my foot is slipping, your love oh Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul (Psalm 94:18-19).’

The third person said, ‘I had a vision of your heart in His hands, saying that you don’t have to worry.’ He read, ‘Don’t let your heart be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me (John 14:1).’

They addressed everything I was struggling with. I felt hopeful and went back regularly. Mountain Man too.

Then I received a letter from The University Human Resource Services saying they required an ‘Independent medical assessment of my current fitness for work.’

It was a stressful wait for an appointment that would determine my working life.

Finally, the appointment letter arrived, and Kyle who promised to take me was away the whole weekend before and I didn’t hear from him. Distraught and fragmented, I was relieved when Mountain Man turned up. He comforted and prayed for me.

It was a difficult appointment. I knew the doctor had been assigned to assess my suitability to work which would determine my career. I knew he’d been given an agenda by the University, and he knew I’d see his report. It took months for the report to be submitted to the university, the long wait adding to my stress.

In the middle of this, Mountain Man asked me to marry him again. But stressed out and anxious about the conflicting pressures, waiting for the outcome of the report and struggling with my injuries and upcoming surgery, I said, ‘Don’t ask me now. I’m not ready. Ask me when I’m ready!’

‘How will I know?’

‘You’ll know.’ But he didn’t.

Back in hospital on my birthday, I had the rod removed from my tibia and the pins from my ankle. In a lot of pain and on crutches again, Mountain Man, still waiting for his visa, picked me up to take me home. He hadn’t got me a present. I sent him out to get one. While he was out, dear friends called in with a present, and Liam arrived with a sandwich toaster, just what I needed. Mountain Man came back with a cheap one. We laughed and laughed. I sent him back to return it.

In post-operative pain, and struggling to walk, I couldn’t do anything for myself. Mountain Man, not having somewhere to stay, pressured me to let him. But stressed out and on edge, unsure about myself and my situation, I told him, ‘You can’t stay here! But seeing you’re here, I need some water.’ He hung around to help me. But in pain and stressed out, I told him, ‘You have to go. You can’t stay here. I need to sleep.’

On my way to bed, I heard on the radio. ‘I’m leaving you with a gift of peace of heart and mind. And the peace I give you is a peace the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid (John 14:27).’ And ‘I told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth, you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, I have overcome the world (John 16:33).’ I accepted the gift of peace and went to sleep. The best sleep in a very long time.

In the morning, praying as I made my way across the living room, I got a physical boot in the backside and heard, ‘Marry the man. It’s not about you, it’s about me. Have some faith and marry the man.’

My heart leapt. I asked for confirmation. Right then, Tal, a young concert pianist and teacher, called and invited me to the beach. She picked me up.

At Bar Beach, before I said anything, she said, ‘You know Julie, ever since I met you, I thought it’d be good for you to be married… You know that guy Steve…’

I was shocked. I’d just asked for confirmation and here it was. Tal barely knew him. How did she know? I looked at her in wonder and asked, ‘Will you be my bridesmaid?’ We squealed.

A few days later, Mountain Man was sitting at the other end of the couch, in Rector Stewart Perry’s office. I explained, ‘This guy reckons he wants to marry me. What do you think?’

Stewart looked at him and looked at me. He looked at him and back to me and said, ‘Well he clearly loves you.’

My jaw dropped, mouth open, as I turned to look at Mountain Man in astonishment, ‘Does he? Well then, how soon can we get married?’

He laughed. ‘We need to give three months’ notice. That brings us to the busy season for weddings at the church.’

‘Oh, that’s okay. We don’t want to be married in the church. We want to be married on the beach.’ The date was set.

I was still not back on my feet since the accident and recent operation, struggling to walk and dizzy, but I was keen for what was next. Mountain Man had no job and no money, only debts from giving away money he didn’t have in India. Annoying. But I also loved that about him. I would’ve done the same. I paid his debts, and despite my frugality, sensed it was time to flip the switch—book a honeymoon, loosen the reins and trust.

We walked the beach, looking for a suitable location for the ceremony, and found ourselves in a little shelter on Mereweather Beach with a sudden knowing, ‘This is it!’ Whereupon a pair of doves flew by in confirmation. And the reception? Up the stairs behind us was the Beach Hotel, with stunning views of the beach. The perfect venue.

Before long, every detail of the wedding was provided for, with offers to make the cake, do the flowers, decorate the beach, the photography, on and on until every need was filled. This was indeed a God job. And the wedding dress I picked up on a whim? My son and daughter-in-law, up from Melbourne, had collected it from the dry cleaners while I was in hospital after the accident, and it was hanging in my wardrobe. And now I could wear the engagement ring I felt led to buy in India.

Still, I wondered how we’d manage. I was losing my job, my identity, my colleagues, my students and my prospects. Who am I without that? The answer was to surprise me.

On my wedding day, descending the stairs on Dad’s arm, I couldn’t stop smiling. Mum was behind me on Liam’s arm. Ahead of us were the flower girls, my granddaughters, and behind them my bridesmaid Tal, hand-in-hand with my two-year-old grandson as pageboy. I smiled wide at each familiar face, overwhelmed there were so many. Kicking off my shoes and stepping barefoot onto the sand in my long white elegant, fitted lace dress, lined with satin and embellished with white ribbon roses, I looked up to see my groom waiting for me. My mouth gaped open as I saw the tall handsome sexy and clean-shaven man I was marrying. He looked stunning in his white shirt and black suit with bare feet waiting for me in the sand.

We looked directly into each other’s eyes, as we said, ‘I do,’ with all the love, romance, intimacy and presence I’d ever dreamed of. A passionate kiss followed Reverend Stewart pronouncing us ‘Man and Wife,’ to enthusiastic applause.

On the beach, looking into each other’s eyes spinning in the sand, we laughed.