Giving Thanks for Baby. Terri Reed

She and Kevin hadn’t been very happy together, at least not the last few years, but she still missed having someone to talk to at the end of the day. Someone to share the ups and the downs with.

      There were suggestions of places she could go to meet people, mostly exotic locales. Yeah, right! She had a baby to take care of, she couldn’t go gallivanting all over the world.

      Books were recommended on dealing with divorce and single parenthood. Links to support groups were offered. A few commiserated on the emptiness and loneliness of finding themselves single after so many years of marriage.

      Several said they’d be praying for her. She rolled her eyes at the clichéd sentiment. If only life’s problems were fixed so easily.

      “What did you expect?” she asked herself aloud. This was a Christian Web site. These people believed in the power of prayer. It certainly couldn’t hurt to have them praying for her.

      Trista wrote back to a few ladies that she felt a connection with, giving a brief glimpse into her life, yet careful not to reveal anything too personal.

      A person just never knew who she was actually “talking” to online. Hadn’t she just seen a news show about online predators?

      Then one e-mail snagged her interest.

      Momof1

      Has your family said that you’re a burden to them? If not, don’t assume that’s how they feel. One way of finding connections would be to join a women’s group in your area. As to your question about emptiness…people are not only physical and emotional beings with a need for food and companionship, but humans are spiritual beings with a need for God. How is your relationship with Him?

      Called2serve

      Trista stared at the screen. It wasn’t an unreasonable question that Called2serve asked. Presumably everyone on this site would believe in God. And it wasn’t that she didn’t believe in Him. It was just…where had God been when she was growing up and needed Him?

      That was a question she was afraid to ask because she might find out she was right. She wasn’t worth God’s time.

      Scott had thought he’d scared off Momof1 when a day had passed without a reply. But there was a message from her in his in-box on Thursday evening. He clicked on the post.

      Called2serve

      You ask how my relationship is with God. I’m trying to discover that amid all the turmoil of my divorce.

      Momof1

      Compassion filled Scott’s chest. He couldn’t imagine the pain of divorce. The death of a marriage. The shattered dreams.

      The only experience he had with matters of the heart had been Sylvia. They had met during high school in the choir at church and shared a love of music and God. At least he’d thought they had until she’d walked away from him and the life he’d offered.

      Her rejection had hurt, but had faded quickly after he’d entered seminary. Since then, he hadn’t met anyone whom he wanted to let into his heart.

      He offered Momof1 what solace he could even though he felt very inadequate.

      Thursday night.

      Momof1

      I don’t know the circumstance of your situation, but I do know God loves you. His comfort and peace are gifts He wants to give you.

      Called2serve

      Friday Morning.

      Called2serve

      How do I receive these gifts?

      Momof1

      Friday night.

      Momof1

      There’s nothing complicated about it, even though we’d like to think there is. Open your heart and mind to Him. Ask Him silently or aloud to show you His love, to come into your life. He so longs to. Then you wait and watch. He’ll reveal Himself. Sometimes in small ways, sometimes in big, dramatic ways. But you’ll know. And you’ll feel the peace and comfort like a gentle blanket of protection.

      Called2serve

      Trista entered The Kingdom Room on Friday night to discover a chat room was now available. She’d decided to stop corresponding with Called2serve since the direction of their conversation was heading into waters she wasn’t ready to navigate. Asking God into her life?

      She was too afraid He’d say no.

      It took a moment to acclimate to the format of the chat, but soon she was in on the discussion of the latest blockbuster movie. She hadn’t seen it, but asked if it was worth the time and trouble to go since she wasn’t into action films.

      She was surprised to see Called2serve enter the room. But Called2serve didn’t acknowledge her, instead wrote that he wanted to see the movie and planned to go on Sunday afternoon.

      Several other people who hadn’t seen it yet said they too would make a point of seeing the movie over the weekend at their local theaters and then the discussion could resume.

      All she could commit to was a quick, I’ll think about it.

      That earned her a smiley face from Called2serve.

      For some reason that silly little yellow icon on her computer screen made her laugh.

      Saturday morning arrived with a fresh fall of snow. Outside, a soft blanket of white covered the town of Chestnut Grove and a crisp freshness in the air brought anticipation of a cold winter. Scott stomped his snow-covered boots on the dry pavement beneath the awning of The Reading Rainbow Palace, downtown’s newest bookstore and café.

      Inside the double doors, warmth seeped beneath the collar of his coat. He quickly shed the down parka, draping it on a peg bolted to the wall alongside a dozen others.

      The place was hopping with mothers and children vying for spots near the center rise where a woman in a green vintage dress sat waiting. In her hands, she held a book and a puppet.

      Hanging on to his backpack, Scott made his way to the counter and ordered a cappuccino with double whipped cream. Soon he was settled at a table off to the side where he pulled out a fiction book and began to read, the voices of the crowd fading into white noise.

      A jarring knock against the table interrupted his flow. He glanced up and met the gaze of a beautiful, brunette woman with the most intense, bright-blue eyes he’d ever seen. She smiled apologetically as she maneuvered a jogging stroller to the corner before unstrapping an infant from the seat. The baby, dressed snugly in a powder-blue jumpsuit, had the same dark hair and vivid blue eyes as his mother. His chubby legs pumped as she held him face out.

      The woman stood and stared at the crowd, indecision written plainly across her oval face. Scott didn’t blame her for hesitating before venturing into the sea of bodies taking up every available space on the carpeted floor. The only vacant chair sat across from Scott. He waved a hand to garner the woman’s attention.

      She flicked her gaze at him, clearly unsure if she wanted to give him her attention. Scott indicated the chair. She bit her lip for a second before pulling the chair out and plopping down in it.

      “Thanks,” she whispered.

      “You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

      The woman turned her gaze toward the storyteller. Scott turned his attention back to his book, but now the words wouldn’t hold his interest. His gaze kept straying to the woman sitting across from him. He hadn’t seen her in church.

      He liked the way her dark ponytail hung low at the nape of her neck in a sleek way. The high arch of her cheekbones and forehead gave her face sharp lines that were softened by her pert nose and dark lashed eyes. She wore a red turtleneck sweater and close-fitting black pants tucked into her snow boots.

      There was an air of sophistication about her, yet