After celebrating a southern Thanksgiving at her parents’ home, Phil wanted to reciprocate by taking Mary Katherine to Memphis at Christmas-time to meet his parents, both to introduce them to her and also to assuage his mother’s increasing complaints about him not coming home as often as he had in the past.[1]

Mary Katherine declined the invitation, however. “Not yet, honey.”

It was the first red flag he noted.

Soon there were others. She was getting harder to reach by phone and was less available for dates. Her parents seemed more distant and less welcoming.

“What’s going on?” he asked Mary Katherine as they shared dinner in early December.

She looked away and lowered her head.

“What is it?”

She began to cry. “Oh, honey, I don’t want to ruin our evening.”

And then she proceeded to do just that. “Mommy doesn’t approve of us,” she tearfully confessed.

Phil was dumbfounded. He had never been more surprised at any news in his life. Not even Marilyn’s Dear John letter had stupefied him as much as this. He felt utterly blindsided.

“Why?” he muttered. “Because I’m an amputee?”

Mary Katherine vigorously shook her head and continued to cry.

“Did I do or say something wrong?”

Again, she shook her head.

“Then what?”

She sniffled. “You’re not from Atlanta!” she exclaimed. “She and Daddy want me to marry someone from our social circles. You know, Mommy thinks Memphis is not the South. And….”

“Is she saying my family’s not good enough?” Phil felt his face reddening. “That I’m not good enough?” Meaning that he didn’t come from a wealthy family, wasn’t of the same class.

Mary Katherine nodded, hung her head, and began crying again.

Now he knew. His love affair with Mary Katherine was over.

As Phil fell asleep that night, the chaplain’s words rumbled through his mind: You can choose to be bitter or better.

He knew he was a better man—a man beginning to heal—because of Mary Katherine. Sure, she would leave a giant hole in his heart, but he determined that he would fill that space with thankfulness, not bitterness.

He had to let her go. He was confident that God had someone else out there for him. All he had to do was to be patient.[1]

~~~~~

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 291-292.

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