This is a personal favorite short story I wrote in March 2011.
He’s young, he’s foolish.
He’s charming, he’s clever, he’s handsome.
He’s engaging, he’s talented, he’s modest.
He’s Godly, he’s receptive, he’s fresh.
He knows everything, but mostly he knows what he wants.
He wants a girl, he wants a woman.
He wants beauty, dashing, debonair.
He wants cunning, humor, adventure.
He wants mystery, simplicity, respect.
He wants Godly, he wants to be enamored.
He wants Proverbs 31.
He’s prayerful. He’s patient. He’s hopeful.
He’s never seen, tasted or experienced the world.
He’s got convictions, he’s got standards.
He’s got moral.
He’s careful, he’s watchful.
He considers his words before they bear life.
He’s tactful, he’s honest, he’s kindhearted.
He departs the home of his youth, to make his own home.
He’s determined to make it on his own.
He has decided, his decision stands. He’s stubborn. Immovable.
He finds a job, a car, a home. He’s determined, if nothing else.
He loses sight of his life before.
He’s on to bigger & better things.
He prays a little less every day.
He reads a little less every week.
He fellowships a little less every month.
“All in good time,” he says to himself. “God understands.”
“He would want this for me,” he convinces himself, “He would want me to be happy. God understands.”
He continues his life, pushing forward.
He pursues the next highest rank, the next best.
He’s always looking for more.
It’s been six months since he left home.
It’s been five months since he got a job.
It’s been four months since he’s been to church.
It’s been three months since he’s spoken to his parents.
It’s been two months since he prayed.
It’s been one month since he truly smiled.
He’s older now, some might say, more mature.
He’s still charming and handsome and dapper.
He’s witty, he’s worldly, he‘s lonely.
He’s skeptical, weary & burnt out.
He molded himself to fit the world.
He still knows God, he still hears Him.
That still, small voice, begging his attention.
He can’t listen though, not yet.
He needs to accomplish his goal first.
He feels his lack of companionship, his lonesome state of being.
It begins to be more than he can handle.
He has friends who are nice enough, but he still feels empty.
He’s 22, now. It’s high-time he got himself a girl.
He wants a pretty girl, not too chatty, not too clingy.
He still needs to get his work done, after all.
He wants her to adore him, to compliment him, to pet his ego.
He wants her on his schedule, he wants her sweet.
He wants to show her off, he wants to enjoy her company.
He wants… oh, what was it he wanted?
He’s a charming fellow, and with standards set so high, he’s bound to land a lady in the blink of an eye!
He’s 24 now.
9 girlfriends, 13 failed attempts later; he’s finally found the one.
She’s beautiful, funny, sweet, independent, honest, caring, loving, and did he mention beautiful?
She is the love of his life!
He wants to spend every moment with her for the rest of their lives.
He would do just that! It’s perfect.
He is going to propose.
He’s waited his whole life for her.
He didn’t think it would take this long.
He makes the arrangements.
He took her out, he brought her up.
They soared together for the better part of the afternoon in perfect companionship above the noise & commotion of the city.
He brought her to a fancy restaurant, one they’d never been to before.
They arrived in style, they dined with class.
He was nervous, excited, terrified.
He prayed. “Lord, I’m going out on a limb here, please let her say yes!”
He pops the question.
She sits in stunned silence for what seems like forever.
He prompts her back to reality, by softly calling her name.
“Lord, please.” he prayed.
She glances up, momentarily, briefly meeting his eyes.
With a twinge, she sighs.
“I can’t,” she states sadly. “I… I just can’t…”
He had never cried in front of one of his girlfriends before.
He bitterly thought, “I won’t give her the satisfaction.”
She hurriedly stutters to explain herself; something about commitment, too much, too serious, too fast, fun…
He tunes her out. He can’t listen any longer.
“I don’t understand, Lord.” he prays, “WHY? Why me? why…”
The months after that seemed to whisk by, taking with them his hope, his faith, his love. Stripping him of his joy, leaving only cold bitterness, resentment, and anger.
He was bitter at her.
He was angry at the Lord.
He resented all his lost, wasted time.
He began pouring himself into his work; focusing all his attention on becoming the best and shutting out the world.
It’s been six months since she broke his heart.
It’s been five months since he last prayed.
It’s been four months since he spoke to his parents.
It’s been three months since he got his promotion.
It’s been two months since he quit his job.
It’s been one month since he re-entered college.
He begins to despise his surroundings, his beautiful, unnecessary material possessions, his ostentatious house.
They were a painful memory of a time now gone.
He began doing everything in his power to opposite his life.
He sold his possessions, keeping only the bare necessities.
He moved, downgrading to a cozy apartment space.
He put all his money into savings and prayed for his life to change.
He stumbled upon a local coffee shop in his new neighborhood.
He began studying there, regularly.
He liked the atmosphere. It was cozy, quaint, charming-if you will.
All the employees were friendly, and helpful.
They began to recall his presence as his visits became more frequent.
He was soon considered a regular by the natives.
For the first time in years he felt included.
He became more aware of his fellow latte lovers as the days went on.
He started noticing his fellow frequenters.
He wished for the courage to branch out & strike up a conversation.
He was so deep in his thoughts one morning that he was startled by her familiar, soft voice.
“Is everything alright?” she inquired, “it’s just that you’ve been standing by the counter for 10 minutes and haven’t placed an order.”
“Wha?… oh yes. Dreadfully sorry, miss. I must’ve gotten lost in my thoughts…” he sighed, “You pick today, I can’t think.”
“Do you have a favorite, a preference?”
“Oh, I suppose just anything will do.”
“Do you like latte’s?” she questioned.
“Hmm? Yes, sounds wonderful,” he replied absent-mindedly as he pulled out his wallet.
“No, no. It’s on the house today. You look like you could use a pick-me-up.” She smiles warmly.
As she busied herself preparing his drink, he marveled at her simple act of kindness.
He though he’d been fairly efficient in noticing people, up to this point.
He wondered how it was that she had slipped through the cracks.
He shook himself out of his head & thanked her for her generosity.
When he opened the cap to sip at the foam he noticed the smiling latte art grinning up at him & couldn’t help but take pleasure in the simple gesture.
On his way out as he was about to toss his cup in the rubbish he noticed some writing on his cup. “Psalm 18: 28-30,” it read.
He considered it for a moment, jotted down the reference on his palm and continued out the door.
She wondered about him, she wanted to know his story.
She prayed for him, the Lord had placed him on her heart.
She wanted to reach out to him, but she wasn’t sure how.
Her heart was burdened for him, he had such a heavy countenance.
She hadn’t seen him when he left that day, she didn’t know if he had seen the verse she left him on his cup.
He hadn’t mentioned it to her either.
So, she decided she would write another verse, the following day.
It’s been six months since he first stepped foot into his little cafe haven.
It’s been five months since she wrote that first verse on his cup.
It’s been four months since he asked her about the verses.
It’s been three months since she brought him to her church.
It’s been two months since he rededicated his life to God.
It’s been one month since he got back in touch with his parents.
He’s been reading again, he’s been praying.
She’s been encouraging him to seek, “Psalm 27:8”
He’s been attending church with her.
They study together, they pray together.
He prayed for forgiveness. “Father, help me. Absolve me. I was a fool to deny You. I love You, Lord. Thank You for loving me through my darkest times. Thank You for sending her to me to pull me up out of the mire, out of the dirt, the filth of my own mind. Lord, she is a Godsend, literally. I will praise You for the rest of my days. Keep me strong. Give me courage, give me faith, help me to love again. I love You, Lord Jesus. Amen.”
It’s been six months since he prayed that prayer.
It’s been five months since he realized he liked her.
It’s been four months since he asked her out.
It’s been three months since their first official date.
It’s been two months since their first kiss.
It’s been one month since he realized he loved her.
They spend every day together.
They love each other.
He is everything she ever wanted.
She loves every moment she has with him.
“Thank You, Father for Your abundant blessings,” she whispers through her heart.
She is everything he has ever wanted.
He loves every moment he has with her.
“Lord, You are too good to me,” he breathes softly.
He seeks, and prays and listens earnestly for the Lord’s voice.
For the first time, in a long time, he is following the Lord’s guidance.
It’s three months later.
He wakes her up early, and takes her to see the sun rise on the beach.
They sit close, holding each other as they watch God’s glory unfolding before them.
He thinks back to his rocky beginning, praising God that she said no.
He was so blinded, so stuck in the world.
The Lord chastens those whom He loves.
He loves her, all because He first loved them.
She’s thinking back to their serendipitous beginning.
She praises God for every piece of their story and His.
She finally got to know his story, it was a story she wants to live with.
She can’t imagine her life without him.
He’s waiting for her.
He listens to the beautiful music, closes his eyes, lets it wash over him, calming him. “Lord, thank You.” he breathes in deeply.
The doors burst open, shattering his calm, arousing his anticipation.
And suddenly, there she is.
She is more beautiful than ever, perfect.
He holds his breathe as she walks towards him.
“How’d I get a gal like her?” he wonders to himself in awe.
They meet together at the end of the aisle. Finally.
The moment he’s been waiting for his whole life.
“This is the beginning of a beautiful lifetime together,” he whispers softly to only her, as he tenderly cradles her hands in his, “I’m never letting go.”
“YOU MAY NOW KISS THE BRIDE!”
“Thank You, Lord.” he prays for the thousandth time that day.
“I always knew You loved me.