No Strings Attached

I wrote this story back in 1985, thirty years ago (I did make a few revisions)...basically it's my story...I changed a few names around, but I am "Pam," one of the main characters.  At first, it was a bit difficult for me to read because it was painful to revisit some of the hard things I have experienced growing up. But it did help me see how far I've come over the years and how the Lord has healed my heart.  I could also see how He used different people in my life to help me to grow in my walk with him. He definitely used this man, Paul Reiss, who was my spiritual mentor, and who was the main reason I decided to go to Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. He is one of the reasons I have become the person I am today - because of his influence in my life.  

No Strings Attached

By Patti Stephen
November 1985

It was raining outside.  After her last class, Pam wanted to get back to her dorm, but she needed to go by the school post office to check her mail.  There was a letter from her friend, Paul Reiss.  He had been helping out with Christian Servicemen’s Centers since retiring from the Navy and was now in Missouri.  She ran back to her dorm and opened the door to her room, and walked over to the sink to fill the hot pot with water for tea.  She plopped down on her beanbag chair to read his letter.

His newsletter included his itinerary and other information and also contained a personal note to her at the bottom.  Her eyes skimmed below to read his message to her.  He said he would be leaving for Germany in a few months and asked her to visit him over spring break in Missouri before he left.  He said he liked her most recent poem she had sent him, and the noted ended with a verse of scripture.  Pam got her cup of tea and settled back, pensively reflecting on Paul, as an unconscious smile found its way to her lips.  His friendship and counsel had been an invaluable resource in her life over the years since she had known him.

She sat back and remembered when she first met Paul.  She knew about him through mutual friends who attended her church back in Key West when she was in high school.  She was intrigued by what she had heard about him.  He was a chaplain in the Navy for over thirty years and had been stationed in Key West for a while.  It was during her senior year in high school that she began to attend the base chapel services on Sundays to hear him speak.  She remembered coming into a service a few minutes late with some friends.  It was crowded and there were no seats in the back.  Paul’s resonant tenor voice could be heard above everyone else as he led the singing.  He smiled when they walked in and motioned for them to come sit up front.

 

Paul was a short, stocky man with a barrel of a waistline and had the appearance of a large bear.  His craggy-lined face seemed to be weary, concealing numerous tales of woe bequeathed to him by others over the years.  His eyes were sharp and pierce, searing to the soul with laser precision.  A boyish grin framed his face and his graying hair was cropped flat and neat, like his uncluttered lifestyle.

 

After the singing stopped, they all sat down as Paul began to speak.  There was a winsome magnetism that drew people to him, and his words were more than refreshing.  “I want to speak to you about a spiritual intimacy that can be enjoyed by all men and women who are true believers in Christ, an unconditional “no-strings-attached” love that God wants all of us to have, with Him and with each other . . .”  His words were fueled with a dynamic passion, and Pam was instantly captivated.  Lovingly, he escorted his listeners, as he walked them through the Gospel of the New Testament, painting a vivid portrait of the love between Christ and His followers.  Pam was immediately confronted with the shallowness of her own relationships with others, and she hungered to hear more.  Paul welcomed their questions after his message, and she longed to speak up, but she felt afraid, restrained, and was not quite sure what to even ask.

Like a seasoned surgeon performing delicate surgery, Paul skillfully exposed their diseased condition through the revelation of the Scriptures.  He could peel back the calloused layers of human need, revealing the selfishness and yet, at the same time, he could gently apply a healing balm of love and affirmation that transcended human understanding.  He did not leave them with their wounds open and untreated, for indeed that would have been cruel.  It was a difficult task, but in the months to come, he would give them the tools necessary to implement these truths into their lives, and Pam’s life would become totally transformed.

 

That same evening at the service, an older couple, Jim and Ruth Rangers, invited Pam to their home on Tuesday night for a bible study which was also led by Paul for the past several months.  Pam said she would love to come and would definitely be there. 

 

When Tuesday arrived, Pam was eagerly looking forward to the study.  She arrived a few minutes early and was surprised at the number of people already there.  It was like peering into a large box of candy, sprinkled generously with assorted sizes and flavors.  A myriad of conversations flew across the room like the clatter of busy insects clamoring in the woods at dusk.

 

Ruth Rangers was a live-wire lady, bursting with boundless energy, chattering endlessly to anyone who would listen.  She was up and down every five minutes greeting latecomers, scurrying about to get chairs or cushions, while her husband, Jim, offered coffee and cookies to those already seated.  Pam sat next to Carolyn and Genevieve who were clumped together on the blue-flowered couch.  Carolyn was a local artist who came to the study each week.  She was a long willowy woman, in her late fifties, with wispy gray-brown hair cut close to her head.  Her high cheeks were gracefully etched with tiny wrinkles embedded within her fine, thin face.  She had a large wide mouth that grew even wider each time she smiled, and her large ivory teeth clucked and clicked each time she spoke.  She told Pam that she was married once, but her professor husband ran off with one of his students many years ago. So now she lived alone with only her paintings and sculptures to keep her company.

Genevieve, or Gennie, was younger than Carolyn by only a few years.  She was a widow who lost her husband only two years earlier. She was a petite woman, with golden-bronzed skin baked in the slow oven of the warm Key West sun.  She had silver-streaked hair, tapered close to her neck.  Her ocean blue eyes were clear and conveyed a mischievous twinkle, even though a hint of sadness peeked out at times.  She had been married for over thirty-five years.  Adjusting to living alone was hard, but thankfully her friends from the chapel were always there for her.

                                

Pam really liked these two ladies.  There was an intangible, unique quality about them, a refreshing exuberance that mystified her.  They all enjoyed many lengthy discussions over a variety of issues, which she rarely engaged in even with friends her own age.

 

The study with Paul on Tuesdays was a simpler version of Sunday evenings at the chapel, the atmosphere more casual.  People asked more questions and even Pam was at ease to ask some of her own.  A unique sense of community permeated the atmosphere and was unlike anything she had ever known before.

 

Pam also became a part of the entourage that went out to Paul’s trailer on Sunday afternoons for dinner.  Paul was a confirmed bachelor and would often visit restaurants to avoid the hassles of cooking at home.  But when they all went out to his place, he would buy the food and the ladies would help prepare the meal.  The guys were talked into cleaning up afterwards.  Everyone who visited Paul's home had so much fun and were so encouraged.  He was respected by so many people, and Pam felt honored and blessed to be a part of his surrogate family.

 

At first, Pam must have subconsciously looked to Paul as a father figure.  Through his consistent outreach to her, he seemed to sense the lack of positive paternal influence in her life.  Interestingly, he would disclose very little about himself, yet he was extremely gifted in getting others to open up without their even realizing it.  Yet he never probed too far nor did he ever violate anyone’s privacy.

Pam recalled one of her visits with him on a lazy Sunday afternoon.  They talked a while about trivial matters, but Paul had this quiet way of asking questions that she preferred not to discuss.  He inquired about her family, particularly her father, who was also in the Navy.  She answered in a quick, evasive manner, mindful to avoid his all-knowing eyes.  Much to her dismay, Paul read between the lines of her unspoken words.

 

“You don’t like to talk much about your family, do you?” he asked.  It was as if someone had slowly but deliberately released the air of an over-blown balloon.  But somehow she felt comfortable talking with him.

 

“Well my real father left my mom and brother before I was even born.  She did the best she could raising us alone.  When I was four, she married my step-father who ignored us most of the time when he wasn't arguing with my mom about us.  I'm sure it was hard on him too,” Pam explained.  “I mean, he did inherit the problems that come along with two small children when he married my mom.  But it got worse.  He was a cruel man and got carried away with his anger at times when he punished us.  We just wanted him to love us; to tell us that he cared about us, but never happened."   Paul did not say anything.  He just sat there and listened for a long time.  All the air in the balloon had been finally let out.

 

After that Pam made every excuse to be around Paul.  She attended every chapel service, every Tuesday night study, every Sunday afternoon dinner that she could get away to. As time went on, she could sense a little girl within reaching out to someone who was worthy of her respect and admiration, someone who would love her and accept her just like she was.

 

She sometimes nursed a secret fear that perhaps Paul was just tolerating her adolescent attention.  He must have viewed her as an impetuous, young girl who forever railed him with questions, and that soon he would sit down and talk to her about being a pest.  He never did.  Indeed Paul filled a great void in her life, yet she felt inadequate to meet any needs in his life, though he never seemed to have any; and she often wondered why he would even put up with her.  Once she dared to ask him.  She was at the trailer on a Saturday afternoon.  He was by himself in the living room reading while the others were out playing softball.  Pam was making sandwiches for everyone, rehearsing the words carefully in her mind.  She walked out to the living room where he sat.  Suddenly, she felt shy all over and the words stuck in her mouth like the peanut butter she had just smeared on the bread. Paul looked up.  “Did you need something Pam? There is more bread in the freezer."

“Oh no. It’s nothing Paul.”  Embarrassed, Pam turned to go back to the kitchen.  She tried to gather her courage, but a non-verbal battle waged war with her mind and temporarily won. After finishing the sandwiches, she neatly arranged the fruit and chips on paper plates to assembly-line fashion and filled the glasses with milk.  In a nervous flurry, she accidentally knocked over two glasses which broke and circled around her feet, splattering milk all over the floor.  Paul was at the door instantly to see what happened.  She trembled as she stood before him, her head down, her eyes to the floor. “I heard the noise…are you okay Pam? What happened?” Paul asked.

“I’m so sorry, Paul….for making such a mess.  I can get it cleaned up right away.” Pam stammered.

“It’s alright, Pam.   Here, let me help you.”  She looked away, afraid to look him in the eyes, for fear he would scan and read her thoughts.  Paul picked up the slivers of glass as she mopped the floor and they both worked in silence.   After they finished, Paul stood next to her with his hand on her shoulder and said, “Pam, you’ve been preoccupied all afternoon.  There’s something bothering you, I can tell.”

 

“It’s nothing really, Paul.  I’m okay. It’s been a hectic week.  Probably not getting enough rest."  His face softened into a knowing, half-smile, as he led her into the living room. “Come on Pam, tell me what’s on your mind.”  She followed him lamely and sat next to him on the couch.

“Well, it’s kind of hard for me to talk about this Paul, but well—I feel like you’ve given hours of your time helping me grow as a person, but what have I really ever done for you? Why do you even care about me?”

Paul seemed to sense her feelings of inadequacy and immediately spoke up in her defense.  “Pam, I have learned a great deal from you. It has been encouraging to see a precocious young person like you so full of life.  Your interest in spiritual things and desire to learn more about the Lord always keeps me on my toes.  Why, even in the poetry you write, your perception and insight into human nature – is beyond your years.  I receive more than you realize, Pam.  But there is one thing I can see that you have not yet learned from all our time together.”

 

“What is that?” Pam paused to hear his next words. 

 

“What have I been teaching you about “unconditional love”?  The love that has no expectations.  I don’t expect you to do anything for me, although I have to admit that I do like it when you make those incredible homemade cookies.  But I do not give to you in order to receive.  Likewise, God does not love or accept us on the basis of our performance.  We can’t do anything to make God accept us or love any more than he does.  It’s that “no strings attached” love that I've been talking about, remember?   I know it’s hard for you not to expect some kind of love from your dad.  It’s only natural.  But this applies even with him since he is not able to accept or receive your love, much less, give any back.”

At first Pam was stunned by his words.  Then Paul reached out and put his arm around her, holding her quietly for a few minutes.  She knew she would not be able to stop the tears from falling once they began, and at this point, it did not really matter.  She cried – for a very long time. She cried for that little girl who never knew she was accepted and loved with an unconditional love; she cried for others, like herself, who had never known the security of God’s kind of love.

 

That afternoon marked a significant moment for her as she began to make the tedious journey of application.  She would have to guard herself with her expectations of others, for she knew that people would inevitably let her down.  Still, it seemed to idealistic, too lofty to think she could ever embrace these truths fully as her own. 

 

Pam’s thoughts from the past quickly caught up with the rain and wind that was still blustering outside her dorm.  She got up to pour another cup of tea and recalled how recently Paul had shown his concern for her even over the long distance of miles between them.  After moving to Chicago, she realized she needed to buy a winter coat.  The light weight tweed coat she brought from Florida could not battle the harsh Chicago winds.  Her part-time job would help with her basic expenses, but her tuition was also due, and she only had just enough for that.  She thought about calling her parents to see if she could borrow the money from them, but she hesitated since she had never asked them for money before.  It was risky, but she decided to call.  Her mother answered the phone and at first, her voice seemed a bit formal, almost stiff.  After a few minutes, she warmed up to Pam and then Pam told her why she called.

 

“Why Pam, you know how your father is. I don’t want to upset him by even asking him.  You understand, don’t you honey?  Now if I had any money of my own, I’d give it to you right away.”  Her words revealed her caring heart, even if they weren't the ones she needed to hear then.  Pam told her that she understood, talked for a few more minutes and then said goodbye.

 

She sat down on her bed feeling a bit devastated, abandoned.  A deafening silence prevailed for what seemed like hours until finally, her anger recoiled like a snake into a fuse of defensive rage.  “I did not want to ask them in the first place.  And to think for once, they would help me out, especially when I really needed it.”  She was quiet for a while and tried to focus on her next step.

Immediately, Paul’s name came to mind.  She decided to call him with her request, but she was still a bit nervous and afraid.  It must have taken her at least ten minutes to get to the point of asking him if she could borrow the money for the coat, and Paul, true to his nature, said he would mail her a check the next day.  Pam’s cheeks were flushed and wet with tears she tried so hard to suppress, as she told him what had happened earlier with her mom.

“I promise Paul, I can pay you back soon. It should not take that long, and I –“

 

 “Don’t worry about it, Pam.  I know you’re good for it.  I’m glad I can help you out when you need it.”

 

How could Paul so easily dispel her fears and replace them with a surge of inner confidence?  Separated by hundreds of miles, she felt strengthened and encouraged just to know that he still cared for her.  It was like that time years before when she had that talk with him in Key West.   It was a risk she chose to take, and she was not disappointed.  He still loved her with “no strings attached.”  Yet she still had a lot to learn in that area of expectations, especially with her dad.  It was so easy to love Paul since he reciprocated, but she knew her dad would most likely never care for her like she wanted or needed.  That hurt her terribly, and part of her stubbornly resisted the request from God.  “But my dad does not deserve my love, Lord.  I can’t forget all the pain he has caused in my life.

Then ever so quietly, an inner voice gently reminded her, “How long did it take for you to believe?” Pam knew she would have to ultimately deal with the issue of forgiveness with him, and she thought about that as she turned to look out the window.  The rain lightened to a misty drizzle as the sun barely poked its round face through the still overcast sky.  She smiled as she finally understood what Paul had been talking about all along.