Mosaic

 

A week or so later I got word of a church that held a group for college and post-college singles on Thursday evenings. I had no idea what to expect in terms of format or numbers in attendance which admittedly set me on edge. More, I knew the church was more than a few towns away. Even so, I couldn’t deny the strong pull I felt to go and check things out for myself.

 

The following Thursday I got in my car and drove all of fifty minutes to this new group called “Mosaic”. It had been the farthest I had ever traveled to a particular church, and my stomach turned as I considered the possibility of having to make the trek on a regular basis. Was I nuts in driving so far? I shuddered at the notion that my desperation could be driving this change. More, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was making some terrible mistake in leaving my other church. I couldn’t be sure.

As I pulled into the parking lot a distinguished brick building stood before me that nearly took my breath away. Its clean architecture revealed pristine windows and a cross that rested elegantly upon the roof. I had been told Sunday attendance was upwards of two thousand. Having always attended churches of two and three hundred, this felt new and exciting and yet also terrifying in realizing I was not here for a Sunday morning service. I knew I couldn’t just covertly blend in as I could for a Sunday morning.

As I entered the building, my heart began to pound nervously within me. What was I doing? I swallowed hard and told myself to put on a pleasant face. Having near always preferred to know the how’s, when’s and where’s to any given situation, a part of me trembled internally. Even so, I marched myself down the hall decidedly hoping for the best.

I made my way to a room with two large wooden doors swung wide open. The lighting was soft which instantly put a part of me at ease. The room was inviting with wooden bookshelves against the walls and couches and chairs scattered about. There was also a large coffee bar stationed at the opposite end of the rectangular room with several plates of homemade cookies laid out.

Slowly the room began to fill, and I found myself conversing with a friendly brown-haired girl about schools, careers and faith. Throughout the night I spoke to several others, relieved to meet so many who were in the same phase of life. Many had careers in medicine and business while others worked odd jobs to pay for graduate school.

A few hours passed, and the cool night air gently bristled against my skin as I made my way back to my car. As I got in I couldn’t help but pause for a moment, noting a clear sky filled with stars, radiant across a serene sky. As I started up the car I felt myself inwardly exhale, grateful for a good night.

I returned the following week. And the one after that. Thursday evenings soon turned into Sunday mornings too, and in no time at all this new group began to feel like home. It didn’t even matter so much that I was still alone. I was just thankful to be in the company of friends. And for the first time in as long as I could remember,

I felt like I belonged.

I wondered if that was why God had brought me here. To this place.

A few months passed, and a friend casually mentioned one of the guys in the group as a possibility for me. She told me he “didn’t attend regularly but seemed like a solid guy”. I couldn’t remember seeing him before, but I was sure I must have. A group of thirty or so, I figured I’d likely seen him, but I couldn’t place a face. Curious, I began to wonder what this person was like and why she had mentioned him as a possibility?

The following week I hastily got into my car, frustrated by the way my day had been going, knowing I was running behind. School work had been piling, and I was feeling the pressure. As I pulled onto the highway I let out a frustrated prayer, “Please God, let that stupid guy be there”. That was about all I could muster given my bungled dating history.

As I entered the building that night I scanned the room for a seat at one of the tables. All seemed to be full except for one. As I approached the table I noted two guys sitting there, one of which was the guy my friend had mentioned. I was stunned. Had God just heard my prayer? I certainly hadn’t known him to answer my prayers in this particular area.

Amused, I sat down, secretly thankful I had worn a particularly cute outfit that night. We began talking, and he introduced himself as “Matt”. We spoke about our families and our hobbies, and I quickly learned he was an avid runner and hockey player. As we talked I couldn’t help but notice his grey sweatpants and running sneakers. I wondered if he always dressed that way. I secretly hoped not.

Some time passed, and a friend came over asking if she could talk to me. I briefly said good bye, feeling entirely distracted throughout my conversation with her. What had just happened?

The following week I saw him again at a group party, only this time he talked only to me for the entire event. Was this turning into something? Not long after, he asked for my number. He called the following night to wish me good night. And the night after that. And the night after that.

I didn’t know it then, but he would go on to wish me good night for many years to come on the road ahead.