I'll call him Sam

A few years ago, a friend set me up with a guy I'll call "Sam." Sam was extremely good looking, kind, my age, and a book lover to boot!

Seriously, Sam and I could have talked about books for about eight hours, I think. But I knew going into my first date with Sam that there was something big that might keep us from pursuing any kind of dating relationship.

Sam is Catholic.

But I was open-minded, wanting to hear his thoughts on faith and Christian spirituality.

And, doggone it, the very thing I respect most about Sam is the thing that would keep me from continuing to see him: he was a bonafide, dyed-in-the-wool, this-is-my-life devout Catholic. (I pictured Sam's future wife as gorgeous, benevolent, and well, pregnant.)

Sure, he was raised that way, but the impressive thing about Sam was that he had studied his religious tradition for himself. He wasn't "borrowing" on his parents' faith. In the span of two dates, I learned a lot about Sam, and a lot more about Catholicism. Coming from a Baptist background, I was curious about all-things-Catholic.

So, Sam and I sat at the coffee shop, and I learned very quickly that he was opposed to birth control, and he was wholeheartedly pro-life (a bonus), but that for the rest of his life he would practice the dictates of the Catholic church to the best of his ability. He seemed wholly devoted to serving the poor and doing wonderfully good things. So I was a little sad that after our coffee date, and a date to a square dance, Sam and I would part ways.

Oh, well, I thought. We must have been destined to learn from each other. I do believe in my heart of hearts that every conversation, every "blind date" can instruct us on our journeys.

And so, occasionally Sam would call, but eventually we just lost touch.

Fast forward 1 1/2 years...our mutual friend tells me Sam is becoming a priest! He is selling all his possessions, quitting his job, and moving away from family. But the sad part of the story is that Sam says he is doing this because he cannot find a wife. He hopes that the community he might find as a priest, in seminary, might touch this void.

And if Sam goes through this schooling and decides taking the vow is not for him, he can still back out. But he would have to in all ways "start over."

When my friend shared this drastic news, I was tempted to e-mail Sam to tell him not to do it. I really think he is a wonderful man with a zillion good qualities a woman should look for in a husband. But Sam is on his own journey. He's making a choice that seems scary to me, based on his reasoning, but it is his choice.

And I wonder...what might God teach him through this season?

Sam recently mentioned to our mutual friend that I had once said something very profound about love to him that he has never forgotten. I cannot imagine what that might have been.
But Sam told my friend that God meant for the two of us to meet, even though we both realized a dating relationship would be impossible.

When my friend shared this with me, I thought about daily events that whiz by, and how my heavenly Father ordains the people, and circumstances, and chance meetings, and in a way--even the instruction of failed romances. It's the age-old reminder that our lives are being so lovingly woven into a tapestry: we see the "underbelly," ratty, ugly, and seemingly purposeless.

But He sees the colors and hues forming something beautiful, sometimes painful, but always, always something he is working for good. It might not seem so good today, but in the biggest picture, in the larger sense, it is entirely good.

Sam doesn't realize that he's reminded me to put the "dailyness" in my life back into perspective. But if I could see Sam today, I would thank him. And that is how God used a future Catholic priest to show me His love and care for me. Go figure!

Thank you, kindhearted, good-looking, hard-working, devoted Sam.