The Beginning

"Rachel, there was a new guy at Small Group last night!" Lydia told me the first week of October. "You should meet him!"

"We'll see," I said with a shrug. I had given up on guys at that point. I had liked a guy months before who had just played with my heart. I had tried online dating but quit after two months. I decided that if God wanted me married, He'd have to throw someone in my lap. I wasn't going out of my way or holding out any wishful thinking anymore. I'd stay focused on ministry for the time being. 

When I met Geraldo at Small Group the next week, I didn't pay much attention. He seemed like a nice enough addition to our Bible study group, solid in his faith in a lot of ways, but he said one thing I disagreed with about the prosperity gospel and Benny Hinn, so I wrote him off and carried on with life. Three months passed. Occasionally, Lydia would tease me about him, but I always told her I wasn't interested in him because of that one comment he'd made. I even tried introducing him to a friend at Thanksgiving, hoping they would hit it off, but they didn't. I didn't know at the time that Geraldo had noticed me from the very first day in Small Group and had started paying attention to every little detail about me.

Our Small Group

Suddenly, in January, our Small Group leader left. We all talked about what we should do next. Geraldo texted to say he wanted to meet with me to talk about his ideas for the group. I agreed to meet him at a coffee shop in Royal Oak for a short conversation about the group. Which we did. But as we said goodbye, he hugged me a little bit longer than usual, and my brain said, "Uh-oh, I think he likes me."

When I got home, I sank onto the stair landing to talk to my roommate Kari. "I think Geraldo likes me," I told her and explained briefly. Then, throwing my hands up in exasperation, I exclaimed, "This isn't the year for this!!" My plans already included finishing my master's degree, going on two international trips, and taking over responsibilities from my team leaders while they're on sabbatical, while still juggling the chaos of refugee ministry. I couldn't handle a long, drawn-out, ambiguous thing, wondering if Geraldo really liked me or not, agonizing over when he would ever get around to saying something or not. I can picture God laughing down at me in that moment, "Not long and drawn out? Okay, my daughter, let's see what happens." Before I went to bed that night, Geraldo had already asked me if we could meet again the following Saturday at the same coffee shop. I agreed, but still didn't know what I thought about the prosperity gospel comment he'd made months ago.

At Small Group a few days later, Geraldo made a comment about the Bible school I went to in New York. The only way he knows about that, I thought, is if he's been reading more of my blogs. I had sent him one of my blogs from Mozambique because of a question he had asked about it at the coffee shop. But I hadn't expected him to dig further into my past by reading old blogs. If I had questioned whether he liked me or not before, it was pretty obvious now. 

When we went to the same coffee shop in Royal Oak again that Saturday, I noticed that he had paid attention to the tiniest details the week before. I drink tea instead of coffee. I don't like to sit with my back to open spaces when I can avoid it, so he picked a table he knew I'd be comfortable in. I knew this second day at the coffee shop was more personal, yet whenever I sensed him fishing for an answer about what I wanted in life, I evaded by saying I wanted whatever God wanted for me. I could tell he wanted a more direct answer. I knew he wanted me to say I wanted to be married someday, but I refused to give him that answer. I was being very guarded. I wanted a man who wouldn't play games with me. A man who would be direct about what he wanted and not dance around the subject. A man who loved God with his whole heart.

I had noticed the week before how attractive he looked in the yellow sweater he had worn. I had felt the connection we had as Cross-Cultural Kids, not always feeling like we belonged in the culture we're supposed to be a part of. (I was born in Kenya to American parents. He is Albanian by birth, but grew up in Greece. Neither of us feels truly at home anywhere.) Now, on our second day at the coffee shop, I realized I enjoyed hanging out with him, talking with him, and loved his heart for God. Slowly, a few cracks were starting to appear in the walls around my heart that I kept so closely guarded. I still didn't know, though, what I thought of his comment about Benny Hinn.

Later that evening, I told my friend Sarah about Geraldo and all my mixed emotions. Maybe I was beginning to like him a little bit, but I wasn't sure about his theology. I wasn't sure if I wanted to give him a chance or not. Sarah was like, "Girl, give the man a chance!" 

"I don't know if I want to!" I replied in exasperation. "Besides, he hasn't said anything yet." We both knew he liked me, but how long would it take for him to say something? Neither one of us would have guessed that in less than 24 hours, everything would change.