How I'll Know

I was talking with a friend last night about some of our spiritual challenges, being single this long. Two of the questions she raised were the common, "how will I even know when I meet him? Am I doing something to drive him away?"

I've struggled with those questions a lot over the years. One reason is because there are plenty of people out there who, whether they love me or not (seems to be an equal ratio of both), really seem to get a kick out of telling me that I am a "strong personality" (usually in a tone that means they think it's a sin, a big problem, or at least a liability), or that I'm intimidating to guys, or that I have an overabundance of opinions. It's not the most encouraging set of observations, and I've gone through phases where I tried to make myself more approachable, or not talk much, or be... I don't know. Something not really me. Let's just say it doesn't help.

I also heard people say for years that I would have to marry an especially "strong" guy in order to keep me under control. Now that was just the ugliest lie from the pit, even if the people saying it didn't realize what they were really suggesting. Unfortunately, I believed it, and I ended up dating a guy for way too long who was just that way - really controlling, critical and utterly disrespectful. Finally after a year, and the 2nd incident of him yelling at me for friendly banter with a (female) checker at a grocery store, I realized how sick the whole idea was and told him to have a nice life somewhere else.

Given all that, you might be able to imagine my concerns about what I was doing wrong to drive the right guy away from me. All I really knew was one extreme or the other - wimp (or at least not ready for me) or bully.

But all that changed once and for all, thanks be to God, on a flight to Canada this past June.

When I boarded the plane, two guys my age were in the row where I needed to access my window seat. The guy in the middle smiled at me, elbowed the other one, who was on his phone, and got them both out of the way for me. I settled into my seat and pulled out a stack of reading I wanted to get through, but Middle Seat Guy was in a chatty mood and was reaching out to me.

I had one of those split-second thought processes: Do I want to talk to this guy? He's not that cute. I have reading I need to do. I have some cool new tunes on my ipod. I'm tired. But then... last night I read an interesting article about just plain harmlessly practicing being nice and inviting to guys. I figured, heck, he's a stranger, I'll never see him again, might as well practice my social skills.

That settled within about two seconds, I turned to him with a smile.

Was I ever surprised. Within a few minutes, this guy had me engaged in intelligent, interesting, fun conversation. We talked books, business, religion, politics, international relations, and Canadian vs. U.S. culture. I guessed accurately which province he was from (Nova Scotia) while he mistook me for a "Western Canadian" (HA! I consider that a serious accomplishment). We analyzed personality types (I'm an ENTJ, he was a very social INTJ), and my favorite self-descriptor he gave about the INTJ's niceness with a need to isolate when really angry, was "Don't make the bunny mad!"

The only time he flirted with me was at one point when we were debating something, and he couldn't think of an answer to one-up me, so he just grinned at me like a typical guy and made me laugh like a typical woman so I'd give up too. It was shameless dirty resorting to cheating, and very funny.

All through this conversation, he treated me with more respect than I'd experienced from any man that I could remember to that point. It was both demonstrated and explicitly stated.

And you know, he got better looking by the minute. Genuine mutual respect and a little chemistry covers over a multitude of imperfections. All in all, I was really pleasantly surprised by this very classy, decent, humble, intelligent man.

Two hours later we landed, and as we got off the plane, he thanked me for the great conversation, and introduced himself as David. He shook my hand and sent the unspoken message that he would respect my personal space, and he didn't expect me to hang out with him any longer if I didn't want to.

So we got off the plane and started walking. But he didn't leave. We started chatting again. And it's a pretty long way from the gates for American-origin flights to the baggage claim at that airport. Within moments, David sort of swung into place - now leading, now stepping behind - gracefully escorting me through the airport for the duration of the fifteen-minute walk. He never laid a finger on me, but he was fully in control. I felt protected, cared for, and purposefully, highly honored.

He taught me a strategy for getting through the immigration line quickly, and then caught back up with me on the other side. We continued on to the baggage claim, where I figured he'd take off, since he hadn't checked any baggage. But he didn't - he stayed with me in the crowd waiting for the bags, still chatting. We were talking about political figures on television, and I said I didn't really find time to watch TV, so I'd never seen the commentator he was telling me about. He mock protested, a true jaded idealist, "It's not television, it's thought leadership!" At which I lost it laughing and he sort of blushed a bit.

When we realized that there was some confusion about which carousel matched our flight, David stepped ahead and went looking for help before I could do anything. I'd managed plenty of international travel and baggage hassles all over the world alone, but I told myself, "ok, honor this guy, let him do this." And besides - I wanted to let him do it. It felt great to let go. As I watched him, I could easily picture him as a husband and father, taking care of a family without breaking a sweat. He was clearly ready for that.

And by this time, I was starting to get positively emotional. When at one point he brushed near me, I had the bizarre awareness that if he'd taken my hand about then, I would have let him. I had spontaneously slipped right into the role of being the relaxed woman who is cared for, covered, sheltered, and totally confident that the man she's with can handle things. I was also starting to feel a little panic about how I'd feel once I was left to handle things on my own again.

Once my bags were found, he took my suitcase and walked with me to the garage. I asked him if he'd parked his own car in the garage, and he said he had, so I figured he was going that way anyway. Then he asked me if I knew the shortcut to the rental car area, filled me in on that useful piece of information, and then he paused, stopped walking and looked at me.

"Would you like me to go there with you?"

It had nothing to do with the car or my ability to handle it. The man was asking my permission to continue accompanying me.

Another split-second thought process:

Emotional self: "Lord, I'm falling apart here. I haven't been treated like this ever in my life. Not even by my ex-fiance. Without laying a finger on me or ever really flirting, he got me completely wrapped around that finger in less than three hours. Am I nuts?"
God: "It's nice, isn't it? You've done very well."
Emotional self: "I don't want him to leave. I really want him to stay with me."
God: "You already know he's not a Christian, and he knows you are one."
Emotional self: "Crap."
Rational self, warning lights flashing: "If you let this guy stay with you five more minutes, you'll throw yourself on him and beg him to marry you. Or you'll start crying. Better let him go."
Emotional self: "Crap."

So I took a deep breath, thanked darling David from the bottom of my heart for his graciousness, and said that I couldn't ask him to go any further. He shook my hand, thanked me for the lovely conversation, and wheeled around and took off. It seemed that he felt rejected, which just killed me. My eyes spilled over with tears and I sniffled my way through the shortcut to the rental cars. I felt more alone than I ever thought I could after a few hours with a stranger.

I was a mess all weekend. I wept when I arrived at my friends' place, rattled that a complete stranger had gotten under my skin so easily, feeling incredibly vulnerable and aware of my need for a partner. Ruth was sympathetic, encouraging me as God had, that it's lovely to be honored like that. But she also reminded me that the right man will actually come home with me from the airport, and be there to unpack the bags.

Their little 9-year-old, Alanna, who would have been one of my flower girls had I gotten married in 2006 (she's pictured here, in the middle), teased me about "DAAAA-vid" every chance she got.

She asked me: "Are you married yet?"
Me: "No, not yet."
Alanna: "Are you engaged?"
Me: "No, not any more."
Alanna: "Do you even have a BOYFRIEND?"
Me: "No..."
Alanna, exasperated: "Don't you even LIKE anybody?"
Me: "Well, I met a really nice man on the plane here yesterday, but he wasn't a Christian."
Alanna, with sage wisdom: "Oh, that won't work. I hate it when that happens."

As I prayed my way through this emotionally-wrenching experience, I asked God what the point had been. And I got this answer: I'm not too intimidating. I'm not doing anything wrong. There's nothing wrong with my personality. On the contrary, I'll know exactly what to do when the right man comes along. I'll know it, because he'll slip right in like David did and take the reins in a way that will be a complete relief, without a shot being fired. It will be the most natural thing in the world to go with him. Like Sara Groves sings, it will be like this:

This is grace:
An invitation to be beautiful...

Every time I get discouraged, I just remember that. And I take it as a promise that God has that man out there somewhere. He'll show up alongside me at just the right time, and when he has the class to ask, I can give him permission to stay.

When I was leaving to go back to the airport and home, Alanna yelled, "I hope you meet another DAVID on the plane!"
It's going to be all right...

I can tell by your eyes that you're not getting any sleep
And you try to rise above it, but feel you're sinking in too deep
Oh, oh, I believe, I believe that
It's going to be all right

I believe you'll outlive this pain in you heart
And you'll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart
Oh, oh, I believe, I believe that
It's going to be all right

When some time has passed us, and the story is retold
It will mirror the strength and the courage in your soul
Oh, oh, I believe I believe

I did not come here to offer you cliches
I will not pretend to know of all your pain
Just when you cannot, then I will hold out faith for you

It's going to be all right
We're going to be all right

Cast your cares on Him...

~ Sara Groves