The sun filtered in as the church door opened. In walked an elderly woman, who was new to the church. Behind her, stood what appeared to be an angel from Heaven. Only this angel was dressed in stiletto heels, a slim, purple pencil skirt and a form fitting, cream-colored cashmere sweater that hugged her voluptuous figure in all the right places. Her long strawberry blond locks flowed down her back almost to her waist. The loose ringlets framed her face perfectly. (Sigh.) Her face. How to describe such beauty? She had the face of a porcelain doll. Creamy white skin. Mesmerizing blue eyes that any man could lose himself in. And soft, pink lips that just begged to be kissed.
No, I haven't decided to write a hot, steamy romance novel. (Although I do enjoy reading them from time to time.) This is actually how my husband describes the first time he saw me. And while it is a pretty accurate description, there is a little more to the story...
Our story begins on a cold, winter Sunday morning. My grandmother and I were driving around looking for a new church that my aunt Marian had told us had opened recently just a few blocks from our old church which had closed suddenly, without a word. We drove all over that part of town looking for the new church, but we never found it.
The only church we did find was the tiny Spanish language church where Gramm's third husband had been a pastor many years before. As we drove by, Gramm described the little church in vivid detail and said that one of her fondest memories of that church was her eldest son's first wedding. Intrigued by Gramm's tales, I told Gramm that we should make a visit to the church for old time's sake. And so we did. As I parked the car on the side street, the congregation began to sing inside the church. We hurriedly made our way inside, hoping to not cause any distractions.
The moment we opened the door, all eyes turned towards us. We smiled and shook hands with the people we encountered as we made our way to an empty pew in the middle of the small church. Some of the older women recognized my grandmother (a former pastor's wife) and waved to her from across the room. The Pastor also recognized my grandmother and welcomed us to the church. He then informed us that the young people had just left for Sunday School and that I was more than welcome to join them.
One of the ladies in the congregation escorted to me to a tiny house behind the church. She instructed me that I didn't need to bother knocking, so I just opened the door to let myself in.
The first face I saw was that of a handsome young man, with very kind eyes, who greeted me with a smile. He was the Sunday School teacher for the small youth group. He shook my hand as he introduced himself, then asked if I spoke Spanish. As soon as I said "Sí", he pointed to a loveseat where I could sit down and join the rest of the class. It was then that I noticed that there were five young men (six if you count the Sunday School teacher) and another young girl in attendance. I tried my hardest to pay attention to the Sunday School teacher, but I couldn't help but feel just a little uncomfortable, because all eyes were on me.
When the church service ended everyone in the congregation invited us to return the following Sunday, even the handsome Sunday School teacher. As my grandmother and I left the church, the Pastor walked up to one of the young men from the youth group and said, "You're going to marry that girl someday."
To be continued....