Just Coffee... Or Something More?

Remember my big adventure at the beginning of the year, when I somehow ended up visiting a Spanish-speaking church where I knew just one person, only as an acquaintance? In this blog entry, I described my struggle between playing it safe and trying something new:

Could I really show up at a church full of strangers who speak a different language than me? Surely it would be safer to stay where it's comfortable, where life is predictable, if rather boring.

"Lord, thank you for being my gatekeeper," I prayed at bedtime. "You know the hearts of every person, and I trust you to bring all of the friends that you have chosen for me into my life. So, should I go to this church tomorrow?"

God let me choose, and I decided to take a chance. If you've been reading for a while, you know about my first couple of visits. I've been attending Wednesday services there since January, and everyone there has welcomed me as una hermana (sister).

My goal in visiting Palabra Viva (Living Word) was to practice listening to Spanish; I can read, write, and speak it fairly well, but I can't converse because I have a difficult time recognizing the spoken words. I now think that God's plan in bringing me there was very different, though I still don't know the end goal.



The only person I sort of knew at first was Darwin, the kind bank teller who invited me just before New Year's Day. Most weeks, we would talk for a while after church, but I always had to wait several minutes for him after service while he counted the offering. During that time I would exchange awkward pleasantries with the rest of the church members, in both English and Spanish.

The most friendly one was Hermano Juan (Brother John), Darwin's close friend and mentor. Each week, I told him the few truths I'd been able to glean from the sermon, and he'd show me his notes and fill in the blanks for me. We also talked about our jobs, and I shared my many struggles as a middle school teacher in a low-income school. He encouraged me with stories of how God has helped him in his own job as a chef and manager of the kitchen department in a retirement center.

Hermano Juan

I found myself drawn to Juan's passion for the Word and his love for God, but I never got to talk to him for more than five or ten minutes. After a few weeks, though, his face was the one I looked for as I walked through the door, and exchanging smiles and handshakes was a highlight of the service for me.

At some point I started telling my coworkers about our weekly interactions. Each Thursday at lunch, they'd ask, "Did you see Hermano Juan last night?" I would nod and blush.

One week I told them that we had gone to McDonald's for coffee, with Darwin.

"Ohhh!" they cried. "What happened?"

I frowned. "I had thought maybe Juan wanted to get to know me better, but Darwin did all the talking. Juan looked tired and bored."

There was nothing else to tell for a long time, except that we continued to discuss the sermons, and he had encouraging words for me whenever I came in frazzled after yet another trying day in the classroom.

The first time I heard Juan lead prayer, I was delighted to tell him that I'd understood almost everything he'd said, and that I had been very moved.

"It was the Holy Spirit," he said. "He helped you understand."

"Maybe," I said. "I don't know. It was just easier."

After that, I started attending the Thursday prayer services, which he leads. Each time I heard him pray, I felt a tugging in my heart. Over the last two years or so, I've been asking God whether he might have a husband for me someday. I have felt content in my singleness, yet I want someone to pray with and serve God with. I want a spiritual leader to talk through important decisions with, and someone to show me affection. Every time I mention these desires to my Father, I always say, "Even so, not my will, but your will. If you want me to be single, I will be happy with you. You are enough for me."

Another thing I noticed about Juan was his heart to serve. I always saw him carrying out the trash and serving food and making sure that every need was taken care of. I could see that all of his work was not a sacrifice, but a joy.

I thought that I could learn a lot from him, and I wanted the opportunity to know him better. For all of this time, though, I wasn't sure how he felt about me. I knew that his face lit up with a big smile each time he spotted me across the small sanctuary, but he is kind and friendly with everyone.

One week, after I'd missed two weeks of services due to Allyson's volleyball game and my trip to Florida with my big sister, Juan held my hand longer when we shook hands before service. "I didn't see you here for a long time," he said.

I smiled and probably blushed. "I'm glad to be back."

"I'm glad you're here," he said as he finally released my hand.

"Me too," I replied.

At last I had something interesting to report at lunch time, but nothing else came of it. I figured I might need to give him a hint about my feelings.

I found an opportunity at a "quinceañera" that the church held to celebrate their 15th anniversary. I sat at Darwin's family's table, and Juan joined us after he had served cake to everyone. From that point, I directed most of my attention to him, and we talked and laughed quite a bit.

Juan is on the left. 

"Hermano Juan?" I asked.

"Yes?"

I pointed at the wooden arbor decked in flowers, where a long line of guests waited to get their photos made. "Why haven't you gotten your picture taken?"

"Why haven't you?" he asked.

"I did. With Darwin and his family."

He shrugged.

"Years from now, people are going to look back on these pictures and say, 'Where was Hermano Juan? Didn't he come to the quinceañera?"

"I'm kind of shy," he answered. "I don't like to take my picture alone."

I looked at him through the corner of my eye and grinned. "Maybe we could get our picture made together."

"Yes!" he agreed.

And that's how I found myself standing next to him in line, chattering about all the types of foods that he likes to cook. "A soufflé?" I repeated. "Wow, I'm impressed."

On the inside, though, I was feeling something very different... a fear that made my stomach twist and my heart thud against my ribs. I'm flirting with him! I thought. What if we ended up going out, and then I didn't like him... or he didn't like me... or we liked each other and then....?

Part of me wanted to walk straight to my car and back to my comfortable, predictable, rather boring life. But another part of me really enjoyed talking with him about our shared passion for cooking.

I needn't have worried about the flirting. Evidently I'm not very good at it, because it turns out that he was oblivious. By the time we finally posed for the picture, my nervousness had subsided. As we each put an arm around each other, I thought, "This is nice."

I smiled all the way home.

At my own church a week or two later, I cried when I saw a young family praying together at the altar during the worship service. As the man put his arms around his wife and their elementary-age boy and girl, I could see his tenderness and protectiveness.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as my heart whispered to my Beloved. "That's what I always wanted. And I'm never going to have it. My kids' fathers are never going to pray for us like that." My heart throbbed with longing for a mate to pray with, and the old pain resurfaced with shocking sharpness.

I cried silently for a few minutes as I watched the family return to the row in front of me, where the father again wrapped his arms around the whole family.

But then several Bible verses filled my mind. I saw myself hiding, even singing, in the shadow of God's wings (Psalm 63:7). I saw God as a mother hen gathering me and my "chicks" under her wings (Matthew 23:37). I remembered how God sent me an angel in the Wal-Mart parking lot so that I would know that my Maker is my husband and always will be (Isaiah 54:5).

"Lord," I prayed silently, "I'm giving this desire back to you. I'm laying it down. You are enough for me. Thank you for loving me and protecting me and my family."

Three days later, before our customary post-service chat, I saw Juan showing off pictures of his three-year-old granddaughter. A dazzling smile lit up his face and crinkled his eyes.

"Puedo ver? (Can I see?)" I asked.

"Por supuesto (Of course)." He held out his phone.

I laughed at the picture of the two of them striking a sassy pose. He said she'd been showing off, and he was imitating her.

Juan and his grandbabies

"My ex-wife took this," he said. He explained that it was a gift from God that they could get along now.

"I'm thankful that I get along well with my ex-husband," I said. I pressed my lips together sheepishly. "Actually, I have two ex husbands, and I get along with both of them."

"You were divorced twice? So was I," he answered.

He put the phone aside, and we started talking about the pain of our divorces, and how God had worked in our hearts through those hard times. By now, they were closing the church, so our conversation was interrupted.

Outside, a woman approached Juan about some church business, so I stepped back a couple of paces to give them privacy. Juan reached out and grasped my upper arm. "Wait!" he said.

I think that impulsive action surprised him as much as it had me, because he apologized fervently after the other woman had walked away.

"It's okay, really," I said. "I didn't mind." That was an understatement, to tell the truth. Over the next few days, I had a funny feeling in my stomach each time I remembered the feel of his hand on my arm.

"Would you like to go for coffee?" Juan asked.

I grinned. "Sure!"

When he asked me to wait for a minute, I knew without being told that he was inviting Darwin. I was a little disappointed, but not surprised. We always talked with Darwin after church, and I figured he would have been hurt if we'd left him out.

Juan and I arrived at McDonald's about ten minutes ahead of Darwin, and I was so nervous! Is this a date? I wondered. The fact that he paid for my coffee made it feel like one, but I wasn't sure you could call it a date if someone else was coming along.

I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember twisting my straw wrapper around my pinkie and staring at my hands. When Darwin joined us, both of us relaxed, and the three of us had a very entertaining conversation. I told them how God had given me a new name this year, Joyful. Then I told them about the last time God had given me a new name, Beloved.

And then a much older memory came to my mind.

"The first name God ever gave me was Integrity," I said. "I had read a Bible verse about God giving us a new name, and I asked for one. It came to me in a dream... about a dog. A really big dog, kind of like Clifford the Big Red Dog. Do you know about Clifford?"

"Yes," they both answered. All three of us laughed uproariously at the idea of a spiritual dream about a giant dog.

When I'd regained my power of speech, I described my dream of riding on the giant dog's back while we rescued people from a flood.

"In my dream, I said, 'Dog, I'm giving you a new name. Your name is Integrity.' When I woke up, I understood that the name had actually been for me. At that time in my life, it was difficult for me to receive that name, because of guilt from my past. But I always remember my name and try to live with integrity."

Our shared laughter lifted a weight off my shoulders and melted away the stress of my long work day. The lightness and joy remained with me through the next day even though I'd stayed up way past my normal bedtime.

The next Wednesday, during our handshake, I looked in Juan's eyes and greeted him with a phrase he had taught me, "Gusto de verlo (good to see you)."

Still holding my hand, he replied, "Igualmente... mucho  gusto. (Likewise... very good)"

My heart fluttered.

After service, Juan immediately said, "Coffee?"

"Yes, I'd love to," I replied.

This time we moved up in the world, meeting at Waffle House. Again, the two of us arrived 10 or 15 minutes ahead of Darwin, and Juan paid for my food. Instead of feeling nervous, this time I hoped that Darwin would take his time.

The three of us had fun laughing together, but I kept thinking that it would be very nice to go out with Juan by myself. I decided to do a bit more flirting.

I asked him to friend me on Facebook, and then I looked at his pictures. I laughed at a couple of old ones. "You know, you're getting more handsome with age," I said.

My flirting must have hit the mark this time. Juan punched Darwin's arm. "Did you hear that? She thinks I'm handsome."

We stayed at Waffle House past my bedtime, and then we stood in the parking lot and talked for another 10 minutes.

At last, I dragged myself away. "I'll look forward to seeing you next week," I said, directing my gaze at Juan.

"Yes!" he agreed.

Maybe next time it will be just the two of us, I thought. But all I said as I climbed into my car was, "Good night!"

I never could have imagined what would happen the next Wednesday, but that's another story.

[More soon, I promise.]