The story of Brian isn’t a short one. In fact, it’s quite lengthy, but how does one speak definitively of such a story? You see, the story of Brian is also the story of someone who essentially saved my life. Its the story of how I found hope amongst an abysmal darkness in which I lived, with three words. The story of how I was told for the first time in fourteen years that I was loved. The story of how eight months ago, I walked into a youth room, and my life changed forever.

“Hey! I’m Brian!” A strange man he was. Tall, beard, and a wardrobe that looked as if classy hipster hugged rustic and never let go. I smiled nervously and responded with,

“I’m Katie.” In all honesty, I couldn’t wait to leave. I hated new places, new people, it screamed vulnerability. A friend had dragged me here purely involuntarily, in hopes that it might cure my ailing heart. As if a youth group with a strange bearded man who smiled like the world was wonderful, could make me want to stay on an Earth that choked everything I was? We walked over to a circle of couches, and sat down, and for an hour I listened to Brian connect with all these kids. I listened, to the kids connect with Brian, and share how their day was, share how they felt about certain things. For the first time, there was this “safe place” established, and I was sitting in the middle of it, sinking into a fabricated couch cushion. For the first time, I felt like the world ceased to spin.

I began to return to that couch cushion every sunday night. I was in love with the reality of being in a room, so close to the world, yet so far. However with each night, the idea of returning home gnawed at everything I had felt at youth group. Once I left that room, my woes, my pain, grew unbearably real. My nights became longer, my depression became deeper, and the week wait for youth group, seemed light-years away.

It was the middle of the week, I was worn down, exhausted, and the weight of the world was beginning to crush me. The first night that I went to youth group and met Brian, the same friend that brought me, had given me Brian’s number. In desperate need of someone to speak to, I texted Brian. I still remember exactly how that first text went, “Hey Brian, this is Katie, Katie as in youth group Katie. I really need someone to talk to, could I talk to you?”

A couple of days later, I met Brian in his meager sized office, at the church where youth group was held. Having never said a word in youth group, and having only gone a few times at this point, my heart pounded so heavily, I thought it might just leap out of my chest. What was I even supposed to talk about? Does he even really want to listen to me?

“Hey Katie!” He said, before I had the chance to answer my thoughts. He sat with a leg crossed over the opposite knee, next to a surprisingly organized desk. Behind him against the wall hung a mass of cards, papers, pictures, and written on envelopes. To the side of the door, was a couch quite similar to those of which resided in the youth room. I walked in and sat down, sinking deeply into the synthetic fabric, that seemed to re-create the same safe place I had learned to love so dearly. Or more so, Brian recreated that safe place. As if he emanated this ora of love, and care, and genuine acceptance.

“Hey!” My mind was pacing, dumbfounded as to what I should speak of.

“So, whats up? What did you need to talk about?” He questioned. I sighed, still confused at this point as to how I were to explain to someone, that I didn’t enjoy life. That things were rough at home. That I was struggling with depression, due to having been abused. That I was skipping school, and getting into alcohol, and prescription pills. That youth group was my only place where I felt okay. That some days I no longer wished to stay alive.

Not even thinking, I told him just like that. Everything came out. Everything I was struggling with, everything that was hurting me in life, he became aware of. I’m not sure exactly what his initial reaction was. It’s not even one I can recreate for the sake of the story. However the words he spoke from it, are ones that I will never in my life, forget.

“Katie, you did not deserve that. You are strong and brave for sharing, You press on. Theres hope, you’ll make it. Keep going, press on. There’s hope. I want you to hear that every time you begin to have those thoughts, echoing in the back of your mind. There’s hope, you’ll make it. Press on, there’s hope.”

Brian filled me with so much hope. He made me feel accounted for, accepted, cared for. But perhaps, the phrase that will forever stick out to me, were the three words I had never heard before until he spoke them that day.

“You are loved.” What simple words, that will never leave my mind. I, was loved. I left his strangely organized office that day, with a heart of gold, and a sense of hope that I’d never obtained before. I continued to go to youth group, and meet with Brian when I need a little restoration.

Brian, became this go-to guy when I needed help, or guidance, and each time I met with Brian, he not only motivated me to keep going, but he filled me with tangible hope as well. Whether it was a cd with a song he had written; that mind you, sat on replay for a couple of weeks, a website to look up, even another person, or quite often, a song to listen to, he never failed to convince me that I would make it. Brian instilled the beautiful thoughts of redemption, grace, hope and love inside me. Things every human is deserving of, yet few seek.

Brian, ended up resigning from his position of youth leader, to embark upon a new chapter of his life. Needless to say, it was difficult not having him to rant to in his strangely organized office. However, I came to the realization that maybe I just needed Brian, to help close a ruthless chapter in my life, and open a new one. A new chapter, in which I knew of love, God, hope, redemption, and grace.

The story of Brian, is the story that saved my life. Its the story of how I kept going. The story of how I found hope, and was told for the first time in fourteen years that, I was loved. It’s the story of why I am here. The story of how eight months ago, i walked into a youth room, that changed my life, for forever.