I had just refereed a basketball game. I hated referees when I was a player and now I had become one. That day the fans of the home team were displeased with my point of view and apparently one of the team fathers suggested I was blind and my parents weren’t married when I was born. Always a critic or two in every crowd.
I showered up and headed for Augusta to buy a birthday present for my daughter hoping my afternoon would be better than my morning. I was on Washington Road and was passing by Carrabba’s. I had never eaten there before and had decided to try out lunch there. I walked in and waited to be seated in the dimly lit waiting area.
And there she was. What are the odds?
Call it fate. Call it chance. Call it luck. Call it whatever you want to call it. I call it God showing me my gift. And I am forever grateful I decided to eat Carrabba’s that day instead of Krystal drive-thru.
She was good looking. I smiled and she smiled back. Her left hand had no ring on it. So far, so good. At this point in my single life, I had been on so many dates that I didn’t even get nervous anymore. I was as cool as B.B. King picking Lucille in a Baskin-Robbins freezer.
I was a divorced single guy and had been on a lot of blind dates and set up situations. Why? Because I’m Baptist and every lady that’s young, middle age, and elderly “knows a woman that would be perfect for you.” Forget the fact that they are wanted in seven states for felony assault or murder. They are single and you MUST meet them.
So, at this point in my dating life, I had no expectations or nerves. I had quite a resume of love. I had met some wonderful ladies along the way, but I had also been to the ice cream shop with Haley the Hatchet who had “Kill or Be Killed” tattooed on her arm. I took Clumsy Catie to a concert and she tumbled six rows down while I had to retrieve one of her Reeboks from a pool of regurgitation from whence she slipped. I took Big Betty to the Old Country Buffet and she tucked a napkin in her collar, pulled up her chair to the platter of banana pudding at the end of the buffet line, and destroyed it with a soup spoon. I took Sleepy Sally to the movies and she snored louder than my Papa after a heavy Sunday lunch.
And those were the high points. Eharmony and Match.com ain’t got nothin’ on me.
Back to Carrabba’s. The waitress walked up and said, “Is it lunch for one or two?”
I looked over to the pretty lady and she looked directly at me smiling. Sometimes in life you just go for it. I stood up and quickly became Nicholas Sparks.
“Uhh, well, sure. Lunch for two.”
The waitress, detecting the impromptu move, was impressed and got all giddy. “Awww, that’s so sweet.”
Then it happened. My gift stood up. For some unknown reason, I immediately got nervous and began to fold like a crinkled superstore trouser. I just couldn’t help myself.
“Uhhh,… Hey, you were sitting over there in the shadows so I was looking for the red sniper dot on me.”
My gift looked liked she had seen the Grinch assassinate the Pope. It was a look of, “Who IS this FOOL that’s going to eat lunch with me?’
I immediately started the back pedaling. “Uhhh, sorry. That’s stupid. I watched the movie Shooter last night so…”
My gift said nothing. She just stared. Dude, this ain’t going well.
Next I popped off a line that could woo the most frigid of souls. “Hey, you sure all tall.”
Where the heck did that come from?!!???
I just dropped my head because I knew it was over. How could I have become a buffoon so fast? Even Haley the Hatchet would have slapped me. Surely the lunch would be cancelled.
Finally a chuckle. “Haha. Hey, I’m Mary.” She offered a handshake.
That’s how it started. That’s how I opened the lunch. My gift now had a name. Mary. She was so gracious with my idiocy. I don’t remember what we ate. I remember we talked about our kids and about what birthday present I might buy for my daughter.
When the lunch ended, I didn’t have any magic sparks fly in my head. No powdery Valentine candy hearts danced in her eyes either. I just knew this lady was pretty neat and I wanted to talk to her some more. We were headed for the door so the moment of truth arrived. I had to throw out the bait.
“Hey, we’ll have to do this again. Can I call you sometime?”
What would she say? She smiled. Then a quick nod. She hugged me.
“I enjoyed lunch. I have to go out of town on business for three days. I’m flying out tomorrow, but, yes, call me and let’s do this again.”
YES! He dribbles. He shoots. He scores!! When I got to the car, I pulled out my phone and decided I would text her. I began to type. “I really enjoyed lunch, “ but before I could hit send my phone dinged. It was a text from Mary! It read, “I hope you were serious about another lunch. Call me sometime.”
I waited a day and called her in Detroit. I could tell she was glad I called. I mentioned my botched intro at our lunch meeting and she said, “I thought it was great! At least I could tell you were genuine. Good to hear your southern voice again.”
And I’ve been calling and texting her ever since.
We spent weeks and months saying that we weren’t serious and we were just going to be good friends. We were best buds before we ever decided we were “dating.” We ate lunches and dinners. We watched movies – anything Jason Statham for me and The Notebook for her. We went to concerts. Kiss, Def Leppard, and Metallica! But then my penance was a Carrie Underwood show. Jason Aldean, too. We’ve climbed mountains together. Literally and figuratively.
And then one day, sitting on her couch, I read John 13 to her. I pulled out a ring and asked her to marry me. I washed her feet following the example Jesus laid out to show her where my heart was. All she did was turn around and wash mine! That’s how it is with Mary. She has every reason to be out front and proud, but she’d rather quietly wash feet. Or hand me a grilled cheese after a terrible work day.
Eight years of marriage as of today. We dated two years before getting married, so I’ve had this gift for a decade now. Not bad for a guy that once angrily declared, “I will NEVER be married again!” I was a single Dad with two daughters and I figured I could do well or I could do badly on my own. I didn’t need any help. I was angry and closed minded. I was wrong and God showed me when I was least expecting it that surprise gifts are the best gifts of all.
His ways are not our ways says the Prophet Isaiah. Take heart, single men. I’m sure Haley the Hatchet is a wonderful cook, but she throws hands like Mike Tyson. Unless you want to negotiate with a tire iron, wait for God’s provision. You might just find a gift of your own.
Thanks for being my gift, Mary. Happy Anniversary! Love you.
