Eagerly anticipating divine intervention
Radiant beams streamed through the stained glass windows of the sacred cathedral.
A handful of windows were ajar, welcoming the cheerful chorus of birds in the distance.
Gentle piano melodies wafted through the air, serving as a melodic backdrop.
Candles flickered brightly, illuminating the altars that encircled the church.
I was poised for it. I yearned for a sign. Any sign.
In the company of a woman whom I deemed potentially “the one,” we stepped into the resplendent church, unperturbed by the outside world.
The grand Catholic church, nestled in the heart of the courtyard, stood empty but inviting. Having frequented this place of worship upon my returns home, its magnificent presence had become familiar over the course of a century.
Our paths first crossed on the bustling streets of Boston. As our connection deepened, conversations meandered through our shared tropical homeland—our common ground in language, culture, cuisine, and perspectives.
A single discordant note struck when she revealed her admiration for Ayn Rand’s writings, which caught me off guard. Yet, I was willing to make concessions.
After all, aren’t relationships built on compromise? I convinced myself to overlook the fact that her favorite author propagated selfishness and rejected the principles of altruism and the greater good.
When my date mentioned her plans to visit her family during the upcoming Christmas holidays, I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Wait, what? I’ll be there too—I’ll coincide with your visit."
"This must be a sign,” I thought to myself, as I fervently prepared for our shared journey home to Asia.
Destiny led us to that venerable church in the heart of our hometown.
Following a leisurely lunch, we found ourselves walking through its hallowed doors. The pews stretched out before us, empty and available, inviting our presence on this weekday afternoon. We settled into a spot amidst the middle pews.
As we sat, ensconced in the pew, our eyes fixed upon the sacred images, I became convinced that I required a clear and immediate revelation—a divine sign—to confirm her status as “the one.”
However, upon our entrance, I encountered no angelic choruses or radiant sunbeams casting halos.
As we sat in those pews, looking ahead, I yearned to hear or see something—anything.
I longed to hear the celestial voices, the harps’ ethereal melody, to witness the vibrant rays of light, and to receive any other sign that would signify her as my destined love.
I closed my eyes.
”Alright, Jesus, we may be strangers, but I’ve been here before. Every time I visit, I find solace in this holy place. We share a history, faint as it may be."
"Can you assist me? Can you provide a sign? This woman has been sending me mixed signals across the vast expanse from America. Is what we share genuine? Is she my future? Is this meant to be?”
I continued to pray, alternating between closed and open eyes. Twenty minutes slipped away. She grew visibly bored, perplexed by my sudden religious fervor.
Determined not to depart without a sign, I extended my prayers and contemplation for as long as possible. But no sound, no light, no sacred voice resonated from above, nor did any unexpected clergymen enter to bless us.
”God, this is your final opportunity—if not you, I’ll reach out to Mom instead. Mother Mary, please send me a token, a sign to confirm if she is the one. Is she leading me on? Can our connection endure?”
Silence persisted. I released the wooden kneeler in front of me, surrendering to my knees in prayer. Perhaps God desired a more profound, intense appeal, and so I poured my heart and soul into this final supplication.
”Listen closely, Almighty—I’m serious. If you don’t intervene, I will move on. Offer me a sign or forever hold your peace.”
Yet, moments later, stillness enveloped the space.
I stood up from the kneeler, brushed off my trousers, and turned to face her, conveying my readiness to depart.
We retraced our steps toward the cathedral’s entrance.
I allowed a few more moments for God to transmit a sign or message.
It has been several years since we stepped out of that church together.
Soon after, she returned to Boston, and I ventured back to California. We had spent a week together, getting acquainted, and this visit to the church marked the final day of our time spent side by side.
Deep within, I sensed that we wouldn’t communicate again after that fateful day.
I yearned for a sign, a revelation to discern if she was the one.
And still, I await a response.