Chapter 3: The Promise

Tabitha and I hang out as planned on Saturday. While out, she asks me if I’d like to get together and go for an evening walk, or two, during the week, as only friends, of course. I happily accept. On Sunday, I take an evening walk through the park across from my apartment by myself. As I'm walking and contemplating life, I notice the small church on the opposite side of the street as I pass an arbor leading out of the park. I stop to look at it. The church is basic, but beautiful. The sign outside reads, “Sunday worship 10 AM. Come as you are. Leave not as you were!”

Having been raised in a fairly religious family, I feel a tug at my heartstrings when gazing upon that church. During my marriage, especially when things were going sideways, I tried to attend church a couple of times. I was hoping it would help guide me, but what I found was either churches filled with messages of, “Obey, obey, obey,” through empty feeling rituals, or, “Give, give, give until it hurts,” preaching. Though my most recent experiences were not so positive, I plan to stop by next Sunday around eleven a.m. to observe the attendees as they exit.  

The next Sunday, I walk over to the church as planned. I watch, from across the street, the people exiting after worship. All of them appear to be smiling and talking with each other. They look happy. The pastor is standing outside the doors, talking with the attendees as they exit with smiles and handshakes. It looks inviting. I plan to attend worship the following Sunday. 

During the week, I do my normal routine of work, weight training at the local gym I joined, go for a walk or run in the park, hang out with a friend or two, then meet Tabitha for coffee on Saturday. When Sunday morning arrives again, I dress nicely and walk to the church. I leave my place at nine-forty. It is an absolutely beautiful morning in mid-July.

I cross the street out of the park and stand on the sidewalk in front of the church. I feel nervous. I know I’ve not always led a clean life. I wonder if I’ll be accepted with my checkered past. The sign outside reads “All are welcome!”

An elderly man and woman approach, greet me with a happy good morning, then walk toward the church entrance. The man and woman are holding hands. It makes me smile with a hope that love still lives. After a few steps, the man stops, turns to me and asks with a smile, “Are you joining us on this blessed day?” He waves for me to follow.

I hesitate for a moment, but then follow the couple to the entrance. As they approach, the pastor opens the door and greets them warmly by name and thanks them for coming. He then looks at me and extends a hand. “Thank you for joining us on this glorious day that God has made. I'm pastor Rob."

I shake his hand. “Good morning. I’m Rick. First time here."

“Welcome, Rick,” he says with a genuinely warm smile and a firm handshake. “So glad to see a new face. Please sit anywhere you’d like. Worship will start in just a few minutes."

I feel a genuine, happy smile on my face as I walk through the door. The elderly couple stops to talk with some other attendees in the narthex. There are many people talking and greeting each other as if they are all friends. Most of the people appear to be middle-aged to elderly. There are a few younger families and teenagers in the crowd as well. Some try to approach me, but I quickly make my way into the body of the church. I find a seat somewhat away from others.

As people shuffle in, they greet each other. Many of them greet me with smiles and good mornings. Soon, four people, including the pastor, come out onto a small stage and start singing a variety of well-known Christian songs. The music is upbeat and vibrant; not like some of the churches I’ve attended in the past. Many people are singing or swaying along with their hands raised in the air. I find myself wondering if I could ever be that comfortable with my faith. 

After three or four songs, a person from the audience gets up on stage and gives an opening prayer. They talk briefly about their personal experience with God and how He changed their life. After that, the pastor starts to give a moving sermon about how we need to pray to God for what our hearts are longing for. I feel a tightness in my throat and a tear well up in me as I acknowledge what my heart so desperately wants, needs even. I close my eyes and pray for the first time in a long time. 

As I pray, I sense something in the middle of my forehead. It’s like a shimmering light penetrating into me through my third eye. I recognize the feeling from my practice of mediation, but this is different. The feeling is not of my consciousness going outward, this is coming in. The feeling spreads across my forehead, down my cheeks, down my neck, all over my torso, and, finally, down my legs. I sense all the hair on my body standing on end as my skin reacts with goosebumps. It feels as if I'm floating. Uneasy with sense, I open my eyes. The feeling evaporates and I feel myself sitting solidly on the church pew again.

My eyes are drawn up to the large wooden cross behind the stage. I hear, sense, or understand something. Something I don’t comprehend. Maybe it’s a voice, maybe a feeling, maybe just a knowing, but it says, “Bring her to me so you both will be saved."

Who? Who am I supposed to bring? There is no response. There is no voice, no feeling, no understanding, no goosebumps even. The rest of the sermon and ending music is a blur. My mind swirls, trying to comprehend what I experienced.

As I exit the building, still in a fog, the voice of Pastor Rob yanks me back into the present, “Will we see you again, Rick?"

I look at his face then back into the church at the Cross and respond, “You will…someday…I promise.” I then turn back to look at Pastor Rob. “Thank you. It was a very good…powerful message.”

“I’m glad you got something out of it. I will be looking forward to seeing again someday." Pastor Rob then turns to the person next to me to greet them.

Before going home, I take a long walk in the park. A fear wells up inside me. Am I not saved already? Am I not going to heaven? Am I condemned to hell? But, I try to live my life well. I try not to hurt anyone. I try to be kind and helpful. Is it because of my divorce? Am I supposed to bring her? Is it something else I’ve done? Why am I condemned? All these  questions and thoughts flash through my mind. That night, I can’t fall asleep. I toss and turn for the first hour or two, haunted by worry. 

I finally do sleep and when I wake, I feel like I have a fresh, purified heart desperate to love again. I listen to the songbirds outside as the phrase, With love, rejoice in each other’s flesh, repeats in my head.

Tuesday evening, I go for a run in the park. It is a pleasant evening. There are a number of other people and couples in the park. As I stop my run and slow to a cool-down walk. I hear someone running up behind me and slow to a walk next to me.

“Hi," I hear a bubbly, but out-of-breath, voice say.

I turn to see one of the girls I, internally nicknamed “The Bobbsey Twins”, who are servers at Jacob’s. She is walking next to me, sweating and panting. “Hi, Sarah. Good run?" I ask, fairly winded myself.

“Yeah. Was great. Needed it after the day I had. Whew."

“Bad day, eh?”

“Not bad. Just busy. Had my nursing final today. It was hard."

“Great for you. How’d you do?" I soon regret my inquiry. 

For the next thirty minutes, she talks my ear off about, it seems, every question on the exam. Even after I stop to stretch, she stays with me and continues to jabber, stretching herself. I remain quiet most of the time. I practice politely listening without dismissing her.

After a few minutes of stretching, she abruptly says, “Well, thanks for the talk, Rick. Stop by the restaurant. I’ll be working tonight." Then bounces off toward the apartment complex.

I watch her petite frame as it goes away. She is really nice to look at. 

“Her?" I ask into the evening air. No response. 

I walk back home to shower and eat dinner. I don’t go to Jacob’s for dinner. Jacob’s does not have the type of food I'm in the mood for. They mostly have burgers, fries, and other comfort foods. They do have some healthy salads, but I'm not in the mood for a salad.

Chapter 4: Budding Friendship

I continue to meet with Tabitha on Saturdays as well as other random times. We continue to build our friendship. I sense I earn more of her trust. She begins to share more and deeper details about herself. Eventually, the topic of dating comes up. 

“Is there a special someone for you?" I inquire.

“I like a specific type of guy," she says, then considers me carefully for a moment. “Sorry, not you. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Where did that come from?"

“Figured you were trying to lure me into your little trap with that question.”

I laugh. “Nope. Just interested in getting to know more about you. That’s all. We’ve talked about a lot of things and, yeah, I have to admit, you seem like a pretty amazing woman so far. I guess I'm surprised some handsome stud hasn’t recognized it and swept you away to his castle." I mask the attraction I have for her.

My heart tugs a bit when I think about her with someone else. She is an amazing woman. She is absolutely stunningly beautiful. Once I got past her defenses, she opened up like a beautiful flower. Tabitha is just as beautiful inside as she is on the outside. Maybe she’s a bit boring and controlled, but she’s still amazing.

Put it away, Rick. She’s just a friend. She’s already told you multiple times she’s not interested. Don’t do something to ruin the friendship.

“What is your type?" I inquire out loud.

“I have specific qualities and such I need. I do date, but most guys just don’t cut it."

“So specific qualities, like a soulmate list?”

“I don’t believe in that and not an actual list, but, um, kinda like that I guess, maybe?" Her expression appears to be one of doubting or questioning.

Before I can formulate a clarifying question, she abruptly states, “Next topic."

I look into her eyes. They seem cold and hard, but I sense something else. Did her eyes just dilate?

“Next topic, please." Tabitha's eyes turn cold and her tone is strong, unmoving.

There’s something she is hiding or purposely avoiding? Maybe pain?

Tabitha proceeds to tell me about how she’d like to change the fact there is no recycling, composting, or gardening going on in our complex. We spend a good amount of time talking about our ideas on how she could accomplish that. We also talk about fond memories of the gardens our parents’ had growing up and our favorite things to eat out of a garden. At one point in the day, she tells me I can call her Tabi as that is what her close friends and, sometimes, her family call her. I feel proud she sees me as a close friend. We hang out most of the day and into the evening again. I walk her home, as I normally do. We say goodnight with a friendly hug. I can’t help but notice the energy exchange between us.

The next time I walk by her place, Tabi has a small container garden on her patio. Also on her patio is a sign that reads, “Leave some, take some composting station,” next to a stand-alone composting drum.

Later that week, she delivers me a bin to put outside my place for recyclables. She asks if I would drive her and the recycling in my truck to the collection center once a week. I, of course, say yes. Over the week, I notice a number of other apartments with the same type of bin outside as the one she gave me.

On Saturday, I meet her outside her door on our way to get coffee. “What's all this about?" I inquire, pointing to her, now, jungle-looking patio.

“Well, we talked about it, so I got a couple books out of the library and just did it." She turns away and starts to walk toward the coffee shop.

“You amaze me," I state, standing and staring at the results of her ambition.

“How? All I did was do what I said I was going to do.”

“Exactly. Pretty amazing. Most people don’t do that," I say, catching up to her.

“I think you’re easily amazed."

“Maybe just easily amazed by you.”

“Ha! Good try. Still not interested." She laughs with a snarky tone.

“You’ve turned me down I think ten times already, and I haven’t even asked you out once."

“You were about to, were you not?” she says, looking at me confidently.

Busted. I try to bury my heart down while Tabitha gives me an, I-told-you-so look. 

After coffee, we collect up the half dozen or so recycling bins from around the complex and take them to the collection center. It’s another beautiful day. Tabitha asks me if I want to go on a hike with her in a park near her hometown. I’m up for it, so we pack ourselves lunches and head out. I drive us on the hour-long trip.

We are having a great time talking and walking in nature. She seems to love this place. She knows every trail and, seemingly, every tree. 

“Garrett and I used to picnic under that tree when we were in high school," she says as we walk past a big open field with a large story oak with wide sweeping branches standing in the middle. She stops and stares at it for a minute as if remembering a fond, but possibly painful memory.

“Who’s Garrett?" I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up for a moment as I ask.

She continues to stare, stoic now. “Next topic." She says, turning and continuing down the path and away from the field.

For the rest of the hike and the ride home, I try to make small talk, but she remains quiet. She appears to be deep in thought. I assume she is thinking about Garrett. Maybe a lost love? My heart feels for her. I sense the memories hurt. I reach out and touch her on her shoulder, but she pulls away. I find myself wanting to hold her hand and comfort her in my arms.

I walk her back to her place later that evening and she gives me a quick, cold hug goodnight. She turns and enters her apartment without saying a word or making eye contact. I stand for a minute, looking at her door, hoping, wishing she would come back out and ask for me to comfort her. To my disappointment, the door remains closed.

The next day, I walk to the leasing office to ask a couple of questions. On my way, I walk by Tabitha’s apartment, through the courtyard, and, finally, the common area. In the common area, I notice Tabi talking with two attractive guys. Tabitha is smiling and laughing with them. I approach, say, “Hi, Tabi,” then keep on my way to the office without stopping.

Her glance snaps to me. “Hi, Rick,” she says in a nonchalant tone, then looks back at the guys. I can almost feel the guys staring at me as I walk away. It makes me feel uncomfortable, insecure even.

Tabitha and I go to the park across from my place for a walk on Tuesday. We go to the gym together on Wednesday. Though we work out separately, it still feels good having a workout buddy. There is no mention of Garrett and she no longer seems bothered by the memories.