The Girl Date

When I threw out my dating books last month, I also threw out the extreme desire to date. Dating is too exhausting.

Instead, I embraced the idea of making new male and female friends to endure the seemingly endless dating path of singledom that I'm on. I started a dining out group called "Foodventure", began traveling solo and now write about everything. In the process I've collided with lots of people. Here's the funny part, a new phenomenon has emerged in my singledom - the girl date. Before you get any ideas about me having changed teams etc. let me explain. I've found myself recently pursuing and being pursued by other women in search of new gal pals. Essentially this is ocurruing because all their existing pals are otherwise preoccupied with their marriages and children. So while at various social events, we'll meet another interesting girl and then we're forced to either ask for her number, locate her email address or hope to run into her again. In the last couple months, I've found myself sitting across from a few different women having either coffee, brunch or dinner. We've made the typical date conversation such as: "where do you live?" or "what do you do for a living?" and then as the moments materialize we begin wondering if we're meant to be friends. I can't tell you how many times after these "dates" I'm left wondering if I talked too much (I usually always do) or wondering if I asked enough questions about the other person. As the time comes to a close, I drive home wondering when it's appropriate to contact her again and if she wants to be my friend. It's absolutely hilarious because this same introspection occurs in dating, job searching and networking.

This new type of date, the kind where we're auditioning to be friends has quite intrigued me. It's intrigued me because I'm learning that every potential relationship begins with chemistry, then progresses to an audition and eventually leads to both parties exploring the level of connection. Like I stated earlier, this occurs not only in romantic dating but also on job interviews, when meeting new friends and networking. I thought understanding this concept would take the bite out of dating but instead it's revealed a fascinating something. That something is that every relationship develops in the same manner and each new contact holds the promise of something or nothing.

Is it Talent or Just Hard Work?

While in college, we'd sit on the scratchy common area wing chairs and debate the topic of talent v. practice until the early morning hours. I staunchly believed talent was the determiner of success while many of my most talented musician friends firmly insisted - practice creates talent. My friends have the research to back their hunch while I have none to back mine. Yet if practice creates talent it means a world of limitless possibilities is ahead.

It's long been accepted that Mozart was a musical prodigy. What most don't discuss is how he became one. Mozart began learning music when he 4 years old by his father. His father was not only a famous music teacher but was also a skilled composer who wrote one of the first books of violin instruction. 

In 1985 Benjamin Bloom's research, explained in Developing Talent in Young People, corroborates that Mozart wasn't unusually gifted. Bloom's research revealed a direct scientific correlation between a young person's intense practice, coaching, and unwavering support of parents. These three facets comprise the making of an expert. What exactly is an expert?

An expert is:
1) Someone whose performance is consistently superior to that of his peers
2) Results are concrete
3) Results are able to be replicated and measured in a scientific way

It takes approximately 10,000 hours or 10 years to become an expert in something. 2 key facets comprise the making of an expert: (1) deliberate practice and (2) relentless coaching by an expert.

(1) Deliberate Practice
Definition: Considerable, specific and sustained efforts to do something you can't do well or at all.

The point being that you must not only identify your strengths and improve them but you must also pinpoint your weaknesses and work repeatedly through them by concentrated practice. This type of practice requires concentrating and focusing on the goal and should be limited to 2-3 hours a day.

Professor Auer, Nathan Milstein's (famous violinist), instructor said of practice "It really doesn't matter how long. If you practice with your fingers, no amount is enough. If you practice with your head, 2 hours is plenty."

This type of real time practice should be supplemented with simulated exercises which are a solid learning method. Examples of simulation would include: (1) running the marathon course as part of training & (2) case studies. Knowing the terrain, expected outcome etc. trains the mind and body about what to expect.

(2) Deliberate Coaching
Deliberate coaching should be done by an expert who isn't afraid to deliver hurtful yet meaningful feedback. A skilled coach knows when to push his student because his student is ready for the next level. Yet coaching (on the job training) isn't the only mechanism for improving performance.

Benjamin Franklin was his own coach. He performed simulated exercises when desiring to become a better writer. He'd read favorite articles of Spectator and then copy the article from memory in his own words. He'd then compare his writing to the admired writer.

Understanding that experts aren't born but are made is a liberating thought. It means that it isn't luck but the right kind of hard work that creates talent and success. When applied properly, it means you can achieve a lot more dreams than you thought!

Further Reading:
The Making of An Expert

Practice Makes Perfect with the 10000 Hour Rule

Expect What You Want

I had a follow-up discussion with my boss and her boss about the possibility of a title change. I felt the title change was warranted due to my increase in responsibility over the past several years. Today I received the disheartening news that I'm not going to know if I'm getting a title change until after my 2010 End-Cycle Performance Evaluation which will occur in December after the focal concludes.

The discussion left a distaste in my mouth. It seems that where I work isn't concerned about the rise in my responsibilities. I'm expected to continue working and take on more work without the compensation or change in title. So, it is without adieu that I begin my job search again. I've learned a few things:

1. Nothing's permanent.
2. A good thing can come to an end.
3. When you know what you want take action to get it.
4. If you aren't feeling appreciated, find someone who is appreciative.
5. Never settle for less than what you deserve.
6. Time is money so begin making more as soon as you feel you're able.
7. Don't let one set back prevent you from pursuing your future.

So a chapter is coming to a close. I'm glad I took action. I'm not longer going to waste time hoping people will do what I ask. I'm going to expect what I ask for and move on when I don't get it.

What to Fast About

I was recently told an encouraging story about a woman who fasted for a year, not straight through of course but intermittentanly, in order to find a husband. It was a touching story and I figured if I wanted something so badly a little hunger and pleading with the Lord would surely help. I researched the reasons, how to fast and set aside several Saturdays to the task. I was strengthened spiritually and was immediately answered on many of my spiritual musings.

The interesting part was that the closer and closer I came to the Lord's heart, the more and more I realized I shouldn't be fasting for a husband. It's not that a husband is a terrible thing to pray for but it isn't a necessary thing to pray for. Whether I pray for a husband or not, it's a gift from God that He'll surely give in His perfect timing. What I need to fast and pray for is the strength to endure the pain of wanting that man and that child and seeing most of my friends having received both. I need the Lord to grant me the strength to hold onto to my faith when the answer doesn't immediately come. It's not that He hasn't answered because He has answered. It's that the answer hasn't materialized. God is a God of great surprises. His gifts far exceed the keenest of imaginations. He mysteriously takes horrendous circumstances and turns them into something fabulous. He is always glorified. The wait is worth the delightful surprise that the answer brings.

Here are some Biblical examples:
1. Daniel fasted and prayed for 10 days before an angel came. Imagine being so heartbroken you deny yourself food in the hopes God will hear you. It takes Him 10 days to get to you. There's no consolation. But the beauty is in the angel's message. Daniel is told the Lord heard his prayer and sent a messenger immediately but there was a terrible battle in heaven and the angel couldn't deliver the message. Today we have the Holy Spirit so while the answer may not materialize, God's comfort is ever with us.

2. Joseph saw a vision as a teenager that he would be a great man. He was then sold by his own brothers into slavery, then was falsely accused by his master's wife, thrown into prison and finally transported to Egypt. Yet in the end, Joseph's vision was correct. He did become the provision for his family.

Through all these examples the truth is plain to see. We're required to patiently wait for God's answers to materialize. Whether they materialize or they don't, we are still to labor for His kingdom. We must keep our eyes fixed on the heavenly kingdom, work hard here on earth for His glory and leave everything else to our loving Father. We know He loves us because He gave His life for us. He has nothing else He needs to give and yet He continues to give. We're on earth to worship a very powerful and loving God. With every breath we take we need to thank Him for all that He's done. The sun continues to rise, the moon continues to rise, the earth always rotates and so on. It's all in His care. Our hearts are a very small thing for Him to mind and He loves us so much that He takes the time to number our hairs, to think many thoughts about us and to even build us mansions in heaven. Praise God!

Giving it all up

I was wondering, as I sat in church this afternoon, if I should continue fasting. The week had been very discouraging and by Saturday I was on my knees pleading with the Lord for many things. I was pleading with Him mainly for certain desires to be fulfilled. I was anxious and feeling very lonely. Anyone who knows me, knows I don't handle loneliness very well.

There I was in the pew praying; praying over the congregation and through my very prayer the Lord was speaking clearly to me. It's important for me to disown myself, including my desires, dreams and everything in between. When Jesus called his disciples they abandoned all that they are and followed Him immediately. Personal abandonment is a daily task.

It is not that the Lord will not answer the desires of our heart. In fact, he bottles our tears and hears all our woes. It's that we are asked first if we love Him and how far we'll go to follow Him. There's only one road that leads to heaven and that path requires a trusting commitment. We must lay aside everything that hinders us (including our desires and dreams) and follow diligently after Him. We must placidly accept our lot and serve others before we serve ourselves. We must tend the heavenly vineyard and commit our soul to Him.

We won't be told what is ahead. It isn't for us to know. It is for us to have the faith in an eternal God that He will bring us through it all and give us all we need along the way. He's working it all out for our eternal good, not just for heaven but also for what's on earth.

Lord, give me strength to set out on Your task. Help me to entrust all else to Your capable hands.

A Realization On Love

What you want at 25 might not be what you want at 30 is what I was thinking the other day. While at New Brunswick's Frog & Peach in September and while in Charleston just last week, I realized something huge. I'm not looking for a GQ man anymore nor do I need someone who sweeps me off my feet and wisks me into a windy mist of romance. I'm looking for a man whose heart is set on Christ, whose looking for the mutual encouragement of a godly woman by his side. I don't need the fancy restaurants, the expensive chocolate or the big diamond ring. I just need the man who lives in Truth.

Lord have mercy on me and find him. I know he's out there looking for me. Please don't delay our love too long. Oh Lord have mercy.

The Query of The Heart

As I sit at my computer and begin to type on this lazy Saturday, I can't help but ponder last night's events. Foodventure was once again a success. We met, last minute, at a small local place and got to talking. A friend said something that answered a question I had in my heart as I was driving to meet everyone. The question was: At 29 are all the good men taken and am I not going to find someone because I wasn't fortunate enough to have met him young?

While at dinner my friend said he had dated and dated so many women and had one difficult experience after another. One day he realized he was fine being single and perhaps he shouldn't go so crazy looking for love. Two months later he met the woman he thinks he's going to marry.

Lord have mercy on me. Please just have mercy. Sometimes there's no other prayer to have. Thank you for answering the query of my heart in a very timely way.

Jake Owen - Don't Think I Can't Love You

I woke up one morning to find more than a memory of you

When I close my eyes and feel the beating of my heart beneath my chest I feel you. When did I awaken from the jet lag of death to find myself you? Where did you go and will you ever come back? My heart beckons to hear the sound of your voice, to see your faint smile and feel the warmth that overcame me when I lay against your side.

When I was born, you were there. As I grew up you were always there. Through all the angst ridden teenage years and into my 20s you were there. Where are you? Where'd you go sweet mum? Your spirit was swept up from earth and left at the bosom of Christ. This loneliness crushes against my heart, lodges there and then thunders through my conscienceness. The pangs that only the heart feels and the voice can never sing rest within me.

What happened? I awoke one summer's morning, light flooding my bedroom and realized you had left your heart inside of mine and now I carry you. Everywhere I go are memories of you. Is it heartache, heartbreak or something almost sweet? What's the difference between the deepest of pain and the widest of joy? Are they one and the same?

It makes me think of this i carry your heart with me by Edward Estlin Cummings

I don't know. It just happened. I woke up one morning to find more than a memory of you.

My Solo Travel Tips - Learned & Earned

Dining Out:
Avoid the chef's table. There's a misnomer out that you'll talk to people at the chef's table. I dined 4 nights alone and not one creature said anything even though I initiated conversation. INSTEAD:

Call the restaurant ahead of schedule and let them know what table and where you'd like it. Corner tables aren't given they're requesting so ask for it! If the maitre'd is reluctant go elsewhere. Your happiness is what's important at the end of the evening.

Diversify your daily activities:
I mistakenly planned just a couple of similar activities which is quite boring.

Ask the locals to suggest activities
While in Charleston recently, I sat at a wine bar and asked both the owner and his friend to write down some suggestions. So bring paper with you always as well so you capture the conversation.

Take advantage of mass transit:
If the city has discounted transit, take advantage of it.

The best thing about doing anything alone is you only worry about pleasing yourself. It's a great self discovery tool.

On Moving On

I read this article by Peter Bregman today. It had me thinking about some key "time to move on" points.

Point 1: When contemplating change ask yourself:

What do I most want/need out of the situation and am I getting most of it? 

•     If the answer is "I'm not getting most of it", move on. 
•     If you are getting most of it, stay.

Point 2: Understand you're a changing person. That means a lot of things will change: 1) relationships, 2) jobs, 3) routine and 4) even how you do things. Recognize that and come to peace with the fact that things are daily changing.

God is So Enormous

It's 3:37 a.m. on Wednesday. Later this morning I launch a new product to everyone I work with. My mind is racing, I guess you could say it's from nerves but I think it's rather just from life. Lately I've learned that in the grand scope of the universe, I know nothing. How humbling right? We definitely see in a glass darkly. When I contemplate the universe and the enormous God in whom I serve, I can't help but feel infinitely less important. Why am I hanging on to my lifeless life? Why do I fret over things like not having a family life? My life is small but the God I serve is so huge. The black hole in the heavens has a mass of 1,000 galaxies. Exactly how large is this God I serve? When the Bible says the earth is His footstool I almost can't imagine how large He really is. Understanding how huge God is shows me how true the verse is that says to be anxious for nothing. Lord increase and establish my faith.

"Bless The Broken Road" - Rascal Flatts Official Music Video

I hope this is me one day. :)

Careers & Children

Interesting article. I think a woman needs to carefully consider her career and potential employer if she sees children in her future. Not all employers are flexible and some careers require considerable hours. Having a career and children is possible but it requires creativity and sometimes a career shift.

For me, I'd love to be able to take some time away from my career and raise children. I've learned that life is about making a choice and dealing with the sacrifice. Some can put their 6 month old into daycare while others can't. For one, leaving a career is a lesser sacrifice than leaving a child in daycare. For the other it's the opposite. Some of us have to work. I long for the day when I can focus on my family for a season. I plan to return to work but hopefully not while my children are very young. Hence I'm laying the groundwork by creating a career that gives me a broad range of skills and the flexibility to do something part time. I want to enjoy my children rather than multi-task throughout the day. Of course, each to her own!

The Shadows of Our Past

So I've begun the memoir about my mother. The funny thing is I absolutely can't write it in her voice and as I write, I'm unearthing truths about myself. I'm excavating my memories, searching for her story. Her story is almost too tragic and too personal to tell. It's a story she opted not to share with the world at large. Meanwhile, my story is one filled with the happiness she created for me.

It's weird, the story I'm telling is about my future. As I write my potential future is unwrapping. My future and my past are sewn together by rich memories created from my mother's bond to me. It's as though her story continues into mine. Her legacy is becoming mine. She was striving for the life she wanted. While I don't think she got all of it, I think her daughter's life will complete her dream. The memories of our past are shadows that follow us into our future. The dreams and prayers of a mother are coming to fruition in the daughter. It's as though God is creating a quilt. He's stitching her piece of the quilt to mine and together we're forming something - perhaps a piece of Him? Not sure.

The Fourth Date

It had been over 4 years since her mother's death. The pale pink walls of the dining room had been painted over with a deep taupe paint. The English chintz love seat set in the living room were replaced with a green sofa and love seat. The Morris chair; reupholstered in a modern check print. She stood inside the dining room and peered into the living room. In 4 long years her life had completely changed. Her father had promptly replaced not only their home decor but also began dating a new woman within months of her mother's death. Very little of her mother resided out in the open.

Her heart pattered a bit as she went into the kitchen. She had just finished frying the breaded eggplant that would be the basis of her famed eggplant parmigiana. She'd only made the dish several times since her mother's death. The cat,  placidly sitting in her window seat, peered outside. She desperately wanted her mother to be there to talk to. She had so many questions about love, pleasing a man and growing up. Instead of the questions, she focused on preparing the salad. He'll be here soon and everything needs to be perfect. I hope he's not early but then again, I hope he's not late. I hate waiting. The waiting makes my nerves worse.

The back doorbell rang. She jumped before throwing off the apron and scurrying to the door. He stood with the screen door open as he waited for her to unlock the door. In his right hand were a dozen pale pink roses.

"These are for the, what I hope will be, the happy hostess." he said happily as he entered the back entrance.

She wanted to run into his arms and tell him how much she had missed him. She refrained instead.

"Thank you! Gosh they are such a light and pale shade of pink that they're almost white!" she radiated as she took them from his hands and quickly headed to the kitchen. She talked as she quickly grabbed a vase, filled it with water and plunked them into water.

He smirked as he watched her. Tessa was an extremely social creature. He wasn't a sensitive man and therefore wasn't hurt by her lack of appreciation for the flowers. He knew what she wanted was to talk to him and present a perfect meal.

"I'm told by many of your friends that I'm in for quite a treat." he openly praised. He leaned against the door frame of the kitchen while she tore the washed lettuce into very small bites of food.

"Well...perhaps they over sell me? I do absolutely adore cooking but I'm not sure if it'll be a treat...yet." she didn't look up but continued to prepare the salad. He wanted to laugh at her intensity. She was a perfectionist.

"I take it you enjoy making the lettuce pieces as small as possible?" he easily asked.

She frowned. "Well I actually hate making salad. Such a pain in the neck. Nevertheless it drives me nuts to have these huge hunks of lettuce in my salad. I feel like one shouldn't need a knife when eating a salad."

He only nodded. What was there to say? "Well you certainly are particular."

She looked up with concern. "Oh I'm so sorry. I'm so opinionated on the stupidest of things. Do you prefer your salad in larger pieces?"

He looked started. "Oh I'm merely making an observation. I could never be bothered making the pieces so small. I'll eat it, however you make it."

About a 1/2 hour later they were seated in the dining room. He sat across from her. She wondered what he was thinking. He was such a catch and so good looking. His dark hair gently bent up a bit in different sections and was a stark contrast to his blue eyes. In the candle light his eyes danced with amusement. Matthew was a man who seemed constantly amused.

He was toying at the floral patterned silverware.

"I set the table with my mother's china. This pattern was actually featured in Martha Stewart a while back. My mother was so proud. She picked up this set little by little at flee markets in the 70s." she wondered if she'd said too much. Did she sound like she was boasting?

He took the a bite, chewed then grinned. "Oh wow! No your friends weren't wrong. You're a fabulous cook. This has got to be the best eggplant I've ever eaten. No wonder your father begs you too cook. I would too!"

She smiled, "Well I'm glad it's ok. I always worry that the food won't come out the same when cooking for new people."

"It came out the same. But...this pattern is quite nice. You don't see red dishes every day. Your mother had great taste. Did she choose the wall color as well? It doesn't seem to quite go with the dishes." he said as he continued to eat.

She played with her food before speaking. He tried to catch her eyes but she was staring straight into the plate of uneaten food.

"I'm sorry if I said something to upset you. It wasn't my intent. Sometimes I say things without thinking."

She looked up. "Oh no! It's completely fine. My father redecorated shortly after my mother died. The walls used to be a pale shade of pink. They were the shade of the roses you brought me actually. The woman he's now dating felt uncomfortable with another woman's decor so he changed it." She didn't want to say anything more. The evening wasn't going as she had planned. It was only their fourth date and she wanted them to have an evening of laughter and not one of her groaning on the past. She wanted to change the subject.

He intently held her gaze before looking away. He seemed grieved but didn't immediately say something. He took a sip of water and continued to eat. It felt like hours had passed.

"That must've been quite hard, having someone paint over the memories you had of your mother." he said quietly. "Of course, I don't mean any disrespect to your father or the woman he's dating but it must've been hard for you?"

"It was." she stated simply. She didn't want to have a heart to heart with Matthew. She had turned so many men off by her just being herself. She wanted to be a light hearted fun person that he'd fall wildly in love with and not someone who he'd feel sorry for.

"What was your mother like?"

She breathed in to steady her voice. She wished she didn't have to talk of her. It wasn't that she didn't want to, it was that speaking of her almost always brought her to tears.

He stopped eating and looked at her.

"She's so hard to describe in a few sentences. My mother is the person who taught me what love is. She allowed me to love her the way I wanted to. Our love was like a rope that knotted our souls together. We just loved each other. We spoke 3 times a day even though we lived together and spent a lot of time talking about everything from motherhood, being a daughter and other stuff. She was my best friend, mother and spiritual mentor. How can I describe her? The words about her would fill an ocean." tears began to well up in her grey eyes.

He nodded. "You have a way with words...so in what ways did you love her?"

She looked at him blankly.

"You said she allowed you to love her in the way you wanted to. How did you love her? In what ways?" he tilted his head to one side and looked at her.

She looked up toward the ceiling and prayed to die. This was so not how she intended to show him a good time. Can't I just change the subject? Why'd I go and mention my mother? Dad said men will leave if I'm always sad and crying. Besides, I have a happy life. I'm not sad all the time. This is just a sad subject!

"Well, I'd leave my mother little notes written in the voice our family house cat. They'd be cute little things like 'I love to bite your ankles at the steps each morning. In fact, that gives me such delight'. Or I'd make up little songs about the cat or something that made us both laugh. Once she sent me a letter in college. It was written in the voice of our cat about how much the cat, or should I say "she" missed me. I really wish I had saved it. It was brilliant." she laughed as she began to tell about her mother.

"Wow, she sounds really neat. Tell me more..." he stated enthused.

"I think the thing I remember most of my mother was her imagination. I definitely have that from her. She was a master at play. Have you ever seen the movie 'Finding Neverland'?"

He shook his head no. She continued. "Well, my mother was that character. 'Finding Neverland' is about the playwright he wrote the play 'Peter Pan'. Well my mother was like John Barry. She created a world filled with scorelines. Every other day we'd play with my Barbie dream house. Only this wasn't any ordinary Barbie dream house. This was a rate G soap opera where each Barbie was a character. The storyline developed with each play time. On the 'off' days we played with my American Girl dolls. They had a Victorian story line complete with Samantha, the main character, Bonnie, a southern belle and the negro maid. I would charge up the driveway after school, shove my backpack into the coat closet, gobble down my afternoon snack and beg my mother to play with me. That daily hour was the highlight of my life." She was beaming. Her grey eyes danced with excitement as she wistfully looked past him and into the memories of her past. While the pale pink walls were coated over with taupe, at that moment she was back in time. The memories of her past flickered through her memory as the flames on the present table skipped before them.

"She sounds almost as remarkable as you." he said gently.

"Oh no, I could never be as phenomenal as her. Even the memory of her takes my breath away." she smiled. "But I'm sorry to talk so much of this. I really want to know and hear all about you."

He gazed at her. "What is there to tell and how would I tell it? Apparently you're a master storyteller about to weave some one's heart around your own memories. I'm left with only wanting to know more."

Taking Risks

I ought to be finishing up my chores before work. The rain is pelting the asphalt outside at a speed comparible to the rain falling while Noah was in his ark. Yet I must write because I'm taking a risk and just read an article on risks. Here's a couple key points on risks.

• Find cheap ways to fail
• If taking a risk, take it by doing something you enjoy
• Be sure your risk is in line with God's word

In less than two weeks I board a plane alone and head to Charleston. I've wanted to head there since 2003. As a single woman with all married friends, I decided to take the trip solo instead of waiting for someone to join me. For me it was a risk. Sometimes I wish I wasn't going and other times I just can't wait to head there and be on my own. 

As I plan this trip for myself and contemplate the still unknown outcome, I can't help but be filled with a little bit of dread and whole lot of excitement. For me just booking the ticket was a major step in embracing my singleness.

Love, Love, LOVE

I thought of you today as I lay on my bed musing over love and the lack thereof. I was thinking of the "love" some of my friends have in the men they've married. Funny thing though, they seem to all lack what you and I had. Our love roped around and around our hearts. It was so intimate. It gave to each of us constantly and I don't even think it was from us. I think God gave it to us. It was a gift that each of us nurtured in the other.

You allowed me to love you in the ways that I love. You always accepted my forms of love without complaint. If you needed more from me you never stated so. Your love blanketed me at night, soothed me in distress and pleased me constantly.

I miss you dear friend, dear saint, dear mother. My thoughts go continually towards our past. As I ponder the present I can't help but realize that you aren't in it. Yet you are forever in my heart. Your love for Christ lives on in me eternally. The future seems bright because I know that He is preparing more love for me.

Lord, will you tell her I miss her? Will you tell her that I still love her? Will you tell her that I'm moving on with my life? Will you tell her you're working on finding me love?

But Lord, one more thing - thank you for showing me love in the form of her. I doubt many have been so blessed as to experience a love like ours. What a good thing you gave me. I'm very thankful for it.

He will not leave you undone.

She stood inside the tiny chapel as torrents of rain pattered against the concrete steps. The door had been swung wide to make room for her umbrella. The sanctuary was small with dark oak seats and no pillow cushions. In the back of the room stood the small square alter, centered in the room. A baby grand piano was catty cornered to one side. The pastor sat up front, stooped over his Bible. Other than the pelting rain outside the room was quiet. He didn't look back as she pulled the heavy church door shut.

Her hurt was filled with anguish. She wanted to crawl to the alter and plead with Jesus to save her from the loneliness and despair she was feeling. She came to the alter without acknowledging her beloved pastor and began to weep.

"Tessa?" the old pastor asked sweetly. His voice nearly whispered to question. His tenderness brought her to further torrents of tears. He came and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Sister." he said nothing further. He waited. He was the kind of man who understood tears and knew that tears often flowed before conversation could begin.

"Oh Pastor" she groaned with her head still bent in a prayer position. She remained kneeling.

"What is it sister? Let yourself cry and then tell me." he implored.

"I feel so completely alone. I miss my mother. I wish I could tell you with words how much I miss her. My heart is crushing everyday with grief. My father is no father. He called me a roommate when discussing me with his girlfriend. I don't know anymore. My former boyfriend refused to marry me and I ended up leaving him. I have no one. All that I have died when my mother died.

There's no one anymore to discuss the things of  God and there's no one to call over lunch. There's no one to talk to, to lean on, to pray with, to even cry with. There's no one to share my life with. My friends are all married now, they all even have children.

I know God hasn't forgotten me and I don't need to ask Him why but I wish I could learn contentment. I wish I could have some comfort. I can't seem to find it. I can't seem to find a man to marry. These men won't even call me back after a date. No one wants me. No one." She burst into further tears.

"Oh sister. The Lord sees your heart and that you are His. He will never leave you undone. He knows that you're in need of a friend, that you're in need of more than a friend - that you're looking for someone to share your life with. He knows. You will not be left undone. The man that is right for you will have a heart adorned in love. That heart will see your heart and you will both be adorned in love for each other. Do not get yourself upset. It will happen. God will do it. What seems impossible to man is possible to God. You are a faithful woman and God never leave you in this state. Trust Him."

She looked up into his sky blue eyes and smiled. "Thank you Pastor. I suppose I wanted to know that God hasn't forgotten me. Sometimes as I look at my friends I wonder what I've done wrong. I wonder where I have sinned."

He frowned and touched her hand. "Sister, you have done nothing wrong. Every good and perfect gift comes from above. God desires to give you help mate and someone to truly love. Dry your tears and give thanks. The Lord always hears the prayers of His children."

She smiled at him and took her seat. He had told her exactly what the Lord had said to her in her heart just days earlier. She just wasn't sure if it was her feelings or if it was the God she served so diligently.

No Words

Tessa sat across from him at the coffee house. Her slim alabaster fingers curled around a mug of steamy frothed milk. Her eye lashes were thick. He could tell by the tilt of her chin and clenched jaw that she was deep in thought. It was rare that she was this quiet.

"What's on your mind?" He said softly.

She didn't immediately respond. She rubbed her finger around the rim of the now half empty mug.

"Tess?" he asked a little softer. A part of him hoped she wouldn't answer; he knew whatever she had to say would mean a long conversation and he'd had a long day.

"I was thinking of her this morning." Her deep grey eyes were smoky with tears.

"Of your mom?" he said with a small sigh at the end.

"It's ok. I'm ok. I don't need to talk about it." She looked down and swirled her finger round the rim of her glass again.

He took a deep breath. To ask or not to ask? he pondered with little humor.

"What had you thinking of her?"

"I awoke alone this morning and it was weird. The memories are weird. I don't know how to describe them. Suddenly I remembered the last day we saw each other. We had gone to church, ate at Nancy's and she said good night and that she loved me very much." Tears began to drip down the sides of her face. The alternative bands from the 90s strummed on. The overweight, goth waitress gave him a look of inquiry. He probably thought they were breaking up.

"I told her I loved her very much. We went to sleep. The next thing I knew it was 4 a.m. and she was stumbling out of bed; in terrible pain. We finally drove her to the hospital. There we were, I was bending over her and her eyes rolled away from me. I knew I'd never see her again. They rushed her away and the chaplain came down. He came down dressed in a black robe...maybe it was a black outfit...I don't know. I just remember him looking like the angel of death."

He was moved. He knew how much she loved her. How much she still loved her. Tessa wanted desperately to cling to her mother. She was like a small toddler pleading for her mother to come home. He felt restless. He had no words. He couldn't fix this. There was nothing he could do to bring her mother back. He felt angry and helpless. There she was, golden, angelic and filled with angst. He knew he'd bring her back to his place, make love to her and toss and turn all night. What was he to do? What could he say?

"It's ok if you didn't hear me." she whispered through tears.

"I heard you Tessa. I just have no words, there are no words." he groaned. He reached for his wallet and gestured for the waitress.