INTERNET ROMANCE…OR TRUE LOVE?
I suppose it is a very common thing nowadays, for people to meet
online, but back in 2001, when I first got on to a “Christian Chat” I had no
idea what I was doing there. I was experimenting and learning about my new
computer. I was a newbie in every sense of the word. But it was the one thing I could do in my
wheelchair that kept my mind busy. I had
no intentions of actually “getting to know” any of the strange people that were
asking me to chat. I realized right
away that they were asking “ASL” age, sex, and location, as a process of
eliminating those who were basically a waste of time for them. As soon as I told them my age (51) most of
them disappeared off the screen. What a
strange new world I had stumbled onto!
My online name was “Lady Wheeler,” which I thought was
appropriate for a lady in a wheelchair.
I soon immediately answered the ASL question with “short, fat old lady
in a wheelchair.” This eliminated them immediately from wasting my time. I
thought myself very clever. Nearly everyone that heard this left my computer
screen abruptly. There was one Pastor in
Africa that chatted with me now and then, and a young woman in Malaysia who was
crippled too, but for the most part, no one wanted to just chat about being a
Christian…they were looking for online romance. I wanted nothing of the sort!
Then this young man in India came to chat with me. He didn’t
seem to mind that I was a short, fat, old lady in a wheelchair and he seemed to
be lonely and sad. He told me that his life had turned for the worse and that
he was online that night just to pass his time.
He knew that he needed to change his life and didn’t know how. We talked
online for nearly an hour as I encouraged him to leave wherever he was and to
go back home to his village, where his family was. It is never too late to
change. He thanked me for my advice and
I felt like I had somehow had connected with him in a motherly way.
The next night I got back into the chat room and connected with
him again, wanting to know how he was doing.
Again we chatted for over an hour and he asked if I could meet with him
online on a regular basis because I was so encouraging for him. He told me that
he was taking my advice and going back home to live with his parents. I was so happy that he had listened and truly
was sincere about changing.
Well, that is how it began.
Vishal and I became fast friends and for the next 4 years we shared our
lives together.
It was in about the
second year that I realized that Vishal had become an important part of my
daily life. I looked forward to our chat
times and reading the e-mails that he sent me.
Sometimes he would call me and we would talk about anything and
everything.
I suppose it was inevitable, but I never even dared to think
about it…Vishal was the first to say it. “Janice I love you.” “No you don’t.” I told him. “I am too old for
you and I am just your friend.” “No!” he
said emphatically, “I am not a child and I know what is in my heart. I want you
to be my wife!” I hung up on him. I turned
off my computer and didn’t answer the phone when it rang all night long and for
the next few days.
But the truth had finally been spoken. Once the words were said,
there was no turning back. No matter how hard I tried, I could not deny that I
had fallen in love with him too.
“Ridiculous!” I would say
to myself. “Impossible!” I would yell in my empty house as I wheeled around in
that wheelchair.
Determined to stop this nonsense, I wrote a scathing e-mail to
him, telling him to just grow up and find a nice Indian woman his age and get
married. I didn’t want anything to do with India or with him. I accused him of
manipulating me over the years just to get a ticket to the U.S. and his green
card. I told him to stop calling me and stop writing to me.
But I missed him terribly. How can I be in love with man half my
age living on the other side of the world? I suppose it is like living inside a
romance novel, I justified myself…it isn’t real. What harm would it do to just love each other
in the surreal world? It wasn’t like we
were hurting each other or anyone else….I finally contacted him. I confessed my
love for him with tears running down my face as I wrote it.
That was the moment in time that changed our world. He began
calling me “Mrs. Kashyap” and writing me e-mails addressed to “My wife” and
signing them with “Your husband” It was
a wonderful romance, full of everything a romance novel contains. He was my
prince charming who came galloping up on his white horse to rescue me from the
sickness, the wheelchair and the loneliness. He made me feel young and
beautiful in our imaginary world. And
like a good novel, the more time we spent inside the story, the more time we
wanted to live there.
There was another element to our story that had entered in…it
was God.
I am not sure how it happened, but each of us had, without
telling the other, began reading the bible and going to church. One night I
happened to mention that I went to church. Vishal said, in amazement, “You too?
I went to church today as well! I
enjoyed it, but was afraid to bring it up because we both said we weren’t
really interested in it.” “I know…but
something has changed inside of me and I have been reading the bible.” “I can’t believe this!” he replied, “So have
I! Every night I have been reading until late.”
There was a long silence between us as we both absorbed what was
happening. Finally I said, “Maybe God is
trying to show us something?” “Yes he
is. He is showing us that He loves us and wants us to share our faith.” Vishal
said.
It was the tiniest of miracles, really…or was it just a
coincidence? But no, over the next two
years we shared scripture and even prayed together online. Our lives now included
God in almost every conversation. Both of us were caught up in a change that
neither understood, but it was powerful and it was wonderful!
Then I was healed.
Our little romance novel
suddenly opened up into a reality that God was orchestrating our lives and
bringing us together. I was going to India.
This is what happened after the wonderful healing…..
Excerpt from my book: “As Angels weep”
"How little chance the Holy Ghost has nowadays. The
churches and missionary societies have so bound him in red tape that they
practically ask Him to sit in a corner while they do the work themselves."�
- C.T. Studd
- C.T. Studd
The church tried everything to discourage me
from going to India, to follow God’s call.
It was all practical, common sense words.
“It
is a dangerous place. You don’t know this man, Vishal, at all. He could be just
using you to get money, or his green card.”
When I asked about becoming a missionary for
the church they told me that I was too inexperienced. That only seminary
students trained for the mission field were qualified… They only sent married
couples. ..I was too old… I heard it all and indeed it sounded very “practical”
and “of the world” wisdom. But it was
not God’s wisdom.
But
just in case, I set about a “plan B,” which was to contact other missionaries
in the area and let them know I was coming. This was more to appease the
doubters, but also I felt it would be a good idea to have fellow Christians for
Vishal and I to lean on for support.
Unfortunately, these missionaries only had addresses. They were not in
India, but nearby countries. I wrote
them down and tucked them inside my wallet along with my passport.
When the church realized that I was going
ahead with my plans to go to India, they had the church matriarch and a friend
call me. She told me to stay and find another way to serve God, here, where it
is safe. She talked on and on about it not being my calling at all. I listened
politely.
“No sister,” I said firmly, “God has called me
to go to India and that is where I am going.” She flew into a rage. “I tell you
that if you insist on taking this trip against my wishes and the pastor’s
advice, you will never arrive there! That plane will crash!” “Well then,” I said calmly, “If that is the
way the Lord wants me to die, so be it. But I will follow God’s lead and not
the coercions of you or the church. Thank you for your concerns. I will be
praying for all of you.” I said, and
hung up.
Though I didn’t realize it then, I now see
that God was closing doors in my world so I would be willing to step into
another one. It was a painful process
for me, but so rewarding in the end!
The
church where I was healed decided that I was “shunned.” which meant that they
were not allowed to speak to me. I ran into them now and then in the town and
they would avoid me. I was sad for them, not for me.
I
ran into the pastor of my first church one day in Walmart. He was obviously
shocked to see me walking. I had heard that he had been recently diagnosed with
Fibromyalgia. “What happened? You are out of the wheelchair!” he asked. “Yes,”
I said, with a big smile on my face. “God healed me a few weeks ago
Sunday.” His reaction was unexpected.
“Well you haven’t been coming to church lately.” He grumbled. ‘Yes, I am sorry,
but I have been going to another church. I said awkwardly. He grumbled and walked away. It seemed no one
could see the miracle or feel the joy I was feeling.
In
my conversations with God, I would explain to him that, just as in Jesus’ time,
no one wanted to listen to me. My “Good News” was falling upon deaf ears.
He
just kept telling me to “Go out and tell the world.” And oh how I wanted to! I wanted to shout it on the roof tops. “Jesus
is alive and real! See how he healed me!” It was like an itch I could not scratch.
It was no longer about me, but about the glory and grace of our living God!
In
my naïve mind I thought that my healing would bring people to the Lord. I now
know that healings do not bring great faith. But it is great faith that brings
healings.
When
I told Vishal, in India, about my wonderful miracle, he was so happy and told
his family and friends. They were all amazed and joyful to hear of the healing.
Vishal again told me to come to India and give my testimony. He arranged for me
to give my testimony in a local church as soon as I arrived. “How long can I
speak?” I asked him. He laughed, “As long as it takes to tell your story.” How strange, I thought. My own world did not
want to hear about God’s miracle. But evidently Vishal’s world believed more
than mine.
I
had many obstacles to stop me from going to India. But somehow each one of them
crumbled away and I just watched as the doors opened for me to leave. I rented my house out to my niece. She was my
younger sister’s daughter. I stored away the things that I wanted my children
to inherit, but kept everything else inside the house. When I was getting ready
to leave, I jokingly said, “Well if I don’t come back, I guess everything here
is yours!” I gave my car to my son. I got a six month visa for India and a mess
of shots at the health department. Every
detail was taken care of. My soon to be ex-husband gave me the money for the
plane ticket. He knew I had been healed by God and he believed in my calling,
even though his own relationship with God was very distant.
There
was another battle going on within me, the smoking. You see, it was such an
addiction that I had for over 30 years. I confessed to others and asked for
prayer about it. I tried and tried to quit, but could not. I asked God to remove it from me. How can I
stand before others and tell them of this great healing when I still had this
addiction? “My grace is sufficient for
thee.” Was the reply in my heart. But why did he heal me and not take this
away? The answer came to me much later,
but for that time I knew that I could not let it stop me from following the
Lord.
I
landed in Kolkata, India on June 1st, 2005 just 4 months after being
healed.
Stay
tuned to my posts for “the rest of the story!”
Janice
