There was an undeniable tension at work during the next several days. Carla tried to carry on as usual, but the titillating anticipation of a growing relationship with Marc was quite absent. Much as she liked him, and loved being with him, she knew he was not a believer and, because of that, she could not marry him. In the times they had been alone together, he had never really talked about himself very much, and Carla had to admit she really didn’t know him very well. She remembered from the ring shopping that, to his credit, he had wanted to marry Patrice, and the cohabitation had not been his choice. Nor had the heinous event that precipitated their break-up, or so Carla had surmised up to this point.
Now she had doubts again, and that uncertainty was quite unsettling. If Marc had been party to his child’s death, it certainly would have a numbing effect on her desire to further their personal relationship. But she really couldn’t bring herself to believe that Marc had condoned the abortion. Still, he had appeared so adamant against the life bracelet. Why?
For Carla, only one thing was certain: she had to neutralize—now—the strong attraction she’d felt towards Marc. If she waited, it would only become more painful. Besides, it was easier right now when she was disappointed and annoyed by his suggestion that she keep her bracelet in the drawer. Even though he had said it so matter-of-factly—so reasonably, there was undeniable insinuation that he believed she chose to wear her wristband out of a self-righteous attitude. It was time to cancel her expectations tied up in her relationship with Marc. She didn’t come to this conclusion lightheartedly, but she felt at peace nonetheless.
About ten o’clock the following Thursday morning, Rita Helgessen stopped by to ask whether Marc was in. Carla told her that he was, and asked politely if Rita wanted her to let him know she was there.
“Oh, no. I’m meeting with him later today, and I just wanted to make sure he was in.”
“If he has an appointment with you, he’ll be here, Rita.”
“Well, it’s not an appointment per se; I just promised I’d drop by sometime this week.” She smiled smugly. “He just wants to know how I’m doing.”
“How are you doing, Rita?”
“Quite well, thank you. And you?”
A most insincere smile played on Carla’s lips, as she answered. “I feel a cold draft right now, but I’m fine otherwise.”
“Hmm.” Rita turned and walked off.
Carla knew her coworker had taken the comment just the way it was meant. She turned back to her work but found herself totally preoccupied instead by a flood of conviction. Hadn’t she just committed to pray sincerely for Rita every day? “I’m sorry, God.” She looked up at the thought-for-the-day calendar her mother had given her and read the quote: “Prayer for a person without love or a desire for love for that person is devoid of the spirit of Christ.”
Carla winced, feeling not quite an inch high. “I’m sorry,” she said again. She waited a moment to feel forgiveness from the Holy Spirit.
Are you really sorry? Because if you are, there is something you can do about the situation.
Carla took a deep breath. “What, Lord?”
No answer.
“I am sorry, Lord,” Carla repeated, meaning every word. “What shall I do?”
Go up to Rita’s office.
“But what do I say?”
Ask her to forgive you for being rude.
Carla waited. “Is that all?”
That’s enough.
“OK.” Carla swung around in her chair to get a ream of paper for the printer.
Do it now.
“But… OK.” She stood up and started walking out, just as Marc Garman emerged from his office.
“Carla?”
She turned around, and quite forgetting the tension of the past several days, held up her left hand congenially, punctuating her words with it. “I’ll be back in just a moment.” Then, catching herself in time to dilute the audacity of asking him to wait, she asked, “Would that be all right?”
He smiled. “I suppose I can get my own cup of coffee.”
“Thank you!” Carla said, her words made sincere by the sense of relief expressed. She walked out of the office and up the stairs slowly, taking several deep breaths before she entered Rita’s office. It also gave her time to thank God ahead of time for giving her love for Rita no matter what the woman’s reaction might be to her words.
“We’ll see what happens,” Carla told herself, overwhelmed for just a second at the adventure it was to be led by the Holy Spirit. “Thank you, Father, in Jesus’ name,” she prayed. It was like a handshake, confirming in her heart that come what may, God was working out His will in the situation, and that was a good bargain. She tapped gently on the doorframe, her face full of expectancy.
Rita looked up, surprised. “What can I do for you?” The tone was quite cold, but Carla was prepared for that; after all, she certainly deserved it.
“Rita, I just wanted to stop by to apologize for being so rude, and to ask you to forgive me.”
“That’s all right.” Her lips were pursed, and Carla could see it was not all right.
“I really am sorry. It was totally uncalled for, and I’m ashamed of the way I acted.”
The expression on Rita’s face softened perceptibly. “Your comment wasn’t very professional.”
“No, it certainly wasn’t.” Carla decided to ask again, “Will you forgive me?”
“I already said it was OK.”
“Thanks, Rita,” Carla said. Then she smiled, patting Rita’s desktop as she added, “See you later.” She walked the few steps to the stairs, knowing she’d done sincerely what the Holy Spirit had asked of her.
“Thank you, God,” she prayed as she tripped down the stairs feeling light as a feather. Carla knew Rita and she were still huge distances apart, but at least she had undone her recent actions that would otherwise have widened the gap even further.
Just as she reached her own doorway, the refreshing thought popped into her mind that she had already prayed for a friendship—from God—with Rita. But her thoughts were directed elsewhere upon entering her office. There was Marc, setting a cup of hot coffee on her desk.
“You don’t take anything in your coffee, do you?”
“No, sir, I don’t.” She smiled gratefully. “Thank you!”
“I… appreciate your putting your bracelet in the drawer.” He smiled sheepishly. “I saw it when I opened it to get a coaster for your mug.”
“That’s all right. No problem.”
“Well, it was a problem that I didn’t know exactly how to handle. I was bound to step on somebody’s toes.” He took a sip of coffee, as did Carla, not wanting to say anything because she didn’t want to mitigate the seriousness, in her own mind, of his instructing her not to wear the wristband. “Thank you for being the peacemaker.”
Carla set her cup on the coaster and sat down at her desk, murmuring, “You’re welcome.” She wanted to avoid a conversation on the subject, because she had too much to say about it. Still, she was a little disappointed when Marc walked back into his office. His bringing the coffee and thanking her had been an overture on his part, and Carla had inadvertently prevented what might have been conciliatory communication.
“Oh, well,” she said to herself. “It’s just as well.” She knew it would be far too easy to get right back to the former place of their relationship, which she knew would mean a compromise of continuing a relationship with a man who couldn’t appreciate the faith that occupied the very depths of her being. She was quite determined she didn’t want to go there.
“You are my first love, Lord, and I want You in every part of my life—especially my marriage. But please take care of Marc, too; you know the place he has in my heart.” She heaved a sigh, thinking about Rita, about Marc, and then dove back into her work with renewed energy, confident in the assurance that God had someone for her, if not Marc, even more special than he.
……….
In the weeks that followed, Carla couldn’t help but notice that her best friend spoke less and less of the wedding, and Carla knew this was for her sake. Dear Nancy. Carla was constantly impressed with her selfless character. Although a good share of the time Carla found herself wishing that she, too, were getting married, she was certainly thankful that Nancy was marrying Michael. Michael deserved the best, and he was certainly getting it in Nancy.
But although Carla had no wedding plans to make, her life was far from dull. At the office, Rita Helgessen had warmed up to the point of being almost friendly, much to Carla’s surprise. Even more surprising, she had stopped her icy treatment of Nancy. The same night she’d apologized to Rita, Carla had prayed again that Rita and she could somehow become friends, and now she could almost imagine it happening. The abortion issue was a big one, of course, but Carla had learned that what was huge in her eyes was a minute detail to God in His ability to handle it—if she could just learn to leave it in His hands and not worry about it.
Carla had learned, too, that it was difficult to truly give up her relationship with her boss. About a week after she had apologized to Rita, Marc had asked her to meet him the following Saturday at Corner’s Coffee, so they could talk. Carla had agreed.
It was a cool summer morning, and when she arrived, Marc was waiting for her. Together they ordered coffee and then sat down at the table in the windowed corner of the shop.
“Thanks for meeting me, Carla. I thought it would be good to clear the air a little. After the incident with Rita, you’ve seemed a little…” He paused and smiled. “…reserved.”
When he said nothing more, Carla shrugged her right shoulder and acknowledged that that was probably because she felt that way.
“How can I undo that?”
She sighed. “I’m not sure. I think we’re on two different wavelengths that are not really compatible.”
“Perhaps we should talk about where we’re both coming from.”
Carla’s heart burned within her. She was surprised how calm and confident she felt, but her desperate desire to reconcile caused her to feel physical pain in her chest, as if she had been crying for a long, long time.
Marc spoke gently, when she didn’t respond. “Carla?”
With desperation in her eyes, Carla asked, “Could we please go outside?”
“Sure.” Marc got up instantly, picking up her coffee as well as his own. “Let’s go.”
He pushed open the door and stood against it while she passed in front of him. “I’m parked around the corner. Want to sit in the car?”
“That would be great.” The fresh air helped Carla get hold of herself, and she prayed silently. “God, help me. Let him know how much I appreciate him, and help me be true to You. I ask it in Jesus’ name.”
Marc opened the car door for Carla, holding her coffee until she’d carefully slid into the low seat. When he had seated himself, he took a sip of coffee and turned to her. “So you think we’re on different wave lengths?”
“Yes, Marc.” She looked at him intently. “During the time I was with Sig Thorsten up at Moose Lodge, I became a Christian. I’d grown up in the church, and I knew about God, and learned about the sacrifice of his son Jesus, and I even went through the motions of praying and reading the Bible at times. But I wasn’t a believer—a follower of Him. I was religious, but I didn’t know God.”
“So you’re a Christian.”
“Yes.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“Well,” she said, pausing as she thought about how to answer the question, “I think it’s just loving God—and really wanting to know Him… wanting to please Him. It’s not just following a system of rules or ethics. That makes good people, but not God’s people. When I was up at Moose Lodge, I was really afraid. I was desperate in that room, and I cried out to God.”
“Why didn’t you just leave—tell Sig you wanted to go home?”
“Because he was drunk! He wanted me in bed with him right then and there in that fancy suite.” She shuddered, looking out the window. “I don’t even like thinking about it. I’m only bringing it up to tell you that when I cried out to God, He told me what to do and gave me a way of escape. I was so grateful.” She paused. “That experience changed my life. For the first time, I really wanted to know God.” She turned to Marc, unconscious of how beautiful she looked with her blue-green eyes widened in sincerity. “Remember I told you my dad died when I was eight, and I missed him so much? That night at Moose Lodge, God became my Father, and getting to know Him, and talking to Him, and listening to what He has to say to me has been…” she took a deep breath and smiled before going on, “the most precious thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“And how do you get to know God?”
Carla smiled, apologetically. “Well…”
Marc asked again, “How do you get to know God?”
“I’m not exactly sure how to answer that. I think it involves two things—wanting to know Him, to relate with him as friend to friend—in fact, as a child to a father, and then also learning who and what He is—from the Bible.” She thought for a moment, and then added, “You know, you can get to know a person pretty fast by just hanging out with that person. But with God, because He’s not here in the flesh, it’s different. A big part of knowing God means studying the Bible and learning the true record of how He’s interacted with men who walked with Him from the very beginning—countless generations ago. That helps us truly understand what pleases Him.”
Marc turned away and rubbed his head as if he had a headache. “I have no problem with anybody reading the Bible. As a matter of fact, I think it’s great. But what does it have to do with us?”
“It’s just that… well… knowing God is so very, very important to me.”
Marc turned and looked at her, frowning. “Being a Christian works for you, Carla, obviously, and for anybody else who thinks in those terms. That’s part of your personality—maybe even part of why I enjoy your company.” He tilted his head with an appeasing expression on his face. “But it’s not part of my personality,” he explained. “I’m pretty much a pragmatist. Maybe I could believe there is a God, a creator. I certainly believe there is right and wrong in the world, and that distinction has to come from somewhere. But the rest, like about a ‘relationship’ is—well, I don’t think it’s over my head, it just…it doesn’t fit my personality.”
Carla looked at Marc, her expression reflecting acceptance but disappointment. “I don’t think a certain type of personality is required to have a relationship with God. There’s just one requirement—that we humble ourselves, creature to Creator. When we really want to know Him, we become willing to do that, acknowledging that He is our Creator. And because we can’t see God, it’s not a natural relationship with another created being whom we see, but a supernatural relationship.”
Marc sighed as if to say, “That’s impossible,” and Carla sighed, too, resigning herself to a platonic relationship with this man to whom she found herself so attracted. Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny that she felt a sure peace.
“I just can’t relate to what you’re saying, Carla. I’m sorry.”
“I am, too.” She looked at him and smiled, but she made no attempt to hide the sadness that she felt. “At least we’ve been honest with each other. If we’re incompatible, it’s better to know earlier rather than later.”
Marc cocked his head and looked at Carla, studying her face. “But I’m not convinced we’re incompatible.”
Carla closed her eyes momentarily and took a last sip of coffee before replying. “I am. God is first in my life, Marc. I’m a completely different person from who I was a year and a half ago. What matters to me is… so different now. God is my source…my strength.” She lifted her shoulders; and her eyebrows, too, reflected her sincerity. “He’s my security, my—very best Friend. I want to get married some day, of course, and I want to marry a man who trusts Him and lives to please Him—as much or more than I. I want an intimacy with my husband that is more than just physical and emotional. I want us to connect with our spirits as well.” She looked up at Marc and saw the skepticism on his face.
“OK, maybe I’ve set my hopes too high,” she said, a faint smile on her face. “I know that a lot of people are only attracted to each other on one level—usually physically. Sometimes having two levels makes a marriage last. But I’m holding out for all three.”
Marc clasped his hands behind his head. “Well, Miss Idealist, I hope you’re not disappointed.”
Carla’s heart sank. She could see that Marc wanted to end the conversation. She hadn’t really expected him to respond any other way, but still it was very difficult to hear his words of resignation.
Marc must somehow have seen her expression change. “How about walking to Greco’s for a sandwich? It’s almost twelve and I’m hungry.” He reached over and cupped her chin in his hand, and gently turned her face toward him from the straight-ahead posture she had at the moment. Carla wished more than anything that he’d not done so, because his simple little gesture of tenderness was enough to bring down her guard on all the emotion she felt. A tear escaped down her cheek, despite how desperately she wanted it not to.
“Carla,” he said gently, still holding her chin, “if God’s all that you say he is, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. You’re a great girl. I just wish I’d gone to Sunday school past third grade.” His smile was as kind as his voice, and Carla was struck again by how extraordinarily handsome he was.
“Greco’s?” he asked.
Carla smiled back, brushing her wet cheek, and nodded.