In dating, like most areas of my life, I was a late bloomer. Most of my friends had been through several rounds of breakups before I took the plunge in my senior year of high school.
The girls’ PE class that met at the same time as mine featured a brown-eyed beauty whose personality made her even more attractive. Plus, I was gawking at her one morning while her class was playing volleyball, when she spiked a ball on top of her teacher’s head. The entire gym erupted in laughter and I was further hooked.
Now, my emotional makeup at this time was similar to a watermelon, which consists mostly of sweet water. I, too, was sweet, but I was watered down with insecurities. My friends were well aware of this, so they took the liberty to ensure this nice young lady was up for a date with a watermelon like me. I’m not sure what they paid her but she was up for it.
A monumental occasion, such as having a date kept the attention and intervention of my friends coming for months. One of our first dates was on a cold winter evening and we were double dating with mutual friends who couldn’t resist an experiment of sorts.
As we traveled to Valdosta for a night of bowling, I began noticing that the warm car we were cruising in got increasingly colder by the mile. I also became aware that my friend was watching us in the rearview mirror far more than he was watching the road.
This trip would have made great practice for becoming a contestant on Naked and Afraid. I wasn’t naked, but I was definitely afraid. My dear friend in the front seat was trying to make me uncomfortable to the point of needing to put my arm around my date to keep from developing frostbite before arriving at the bowling alley.
His dastardly plot worked as my survival instincts defeated my insecurities and it only took my arm six months to reach my fair maiden’s shoulder. Okay, it was about 10 seconds, but it felt like months. Eventually, my overbearing friends trusted me not to make a complete fool of myself and left me to go on solo dates where I could have controlled the heat, if I had any, but I didn’t. Thus, we chose to watch movies at her place on really cold nights.
As I left her house one evening, my car made strange noises after I cranked it. My multi-talented date asked me to “pop the hood.” I’m thinking that there wasn’t a chance this lovely creature was going to get oil and dirt on her hands and I was right. She didnt need to. “You got a cracked head gasket,” She surmised rather quickly. “Get it checked out and drive home slowly.”
I had the experts examine the engine on the following morning and they charged me a lot of money to tell me that my head gasket was cracked. It was then that I realized I was dating an amazing girl. Not only could she tattoo the logo of a volleyball on her teacher’s forehead without getting in trouble, she could also withstand incredibly cold temperatures and diagnose mechanical problems free of charge. I was doubly hooked.
Just when I thought my circle of friends had retreated back to their own soap opera lives, a new question arose from their inquiring minds. “Are you kissing her in an American way or a French way?,” came the intrusive question.
I had no idea that I needed to be bilingual to enjoy a kiss from my girl. I was way ahead of the current climate when I declared that I was a firm believer in making America great again. It was all stars and stripes for me.
As you might expect, the schoolyard brats found this bit of news to be hilarious. However, they were very supportive of my reasoning after I explained that the girl’s father was built like John Cena and he had two huge German Shepherds with impressively large teeth. The carnivorous canines barked so loudly when we returned from some dates that I barely had the nerve to shake her hand as a good night gesture. You gotta love a good dad, who thinks of everything.
As the end of the school year approached, it was prom time. Fortunately, I wouldn’t need any heat in late April. Unfortunately, I had no air conditioning, either. I made the decision to abandon my car altogether and borrowed my Aunt’s Dodge Dart for the big dance.
I got up very early on the morning of the prom and cleaned that car to the point that Queen Elizabeth would have been pleased to ride in it. No speck of dust was left unturned until I was certain that the car could have doubled as an operating room. It took me all day to finish but we were riding in style by the time prom rolled around.
These days were a lot of fun and I have no regrets. It is easy now to look back and see that much of what consumed my thoughts as a teenager was much ado about nothing. Unlike the present day, where there seems to be much to do about everything .
Most of what needs doing is out of our control, so we should take the Lord’s advice and cast our cares on Him. Though His eye may be on the sparrow, He is also watching us intently. While we may be praying to get back to normal because of the current pandemic, God might well be planning to take us to a new place in Him.
His desire has always been for a people with an undivided heart and a deep trust in Him. “Normal” has never been part of the equation with God because it makes us look and act like everyone else. It is our relationship with Him, not our religion, that makes us different.
Days of adversity were made for Him to shine in us the hope that comes with his abiding presence. He can handle everything, even a virus without a cure.
Now would be a good time to diligently examine our hearts the way I examined that old Dodge Dart to make my girlfriend comfortable. God needs to have a welcoming environment in us so that He can make himself at home while making his goodness shine through us.
We, after all, are the Lord’s favorite dates. He spared no expense to make a place for us in his heart. Perhaps it is time we do the same for Him. Welcome to the new “normal.”