Jesus worked in mysterious ways.
So, too, did girls. Not that girls were Jesus, or Jesus a girl. That was a robe, not a dress, and not once had Mark seen Jesus with his hair done up in some girly fashion. Just to make that clear. All Jesus and girls had in common was the mysterious part. Everything else was different.
For one, Mark could talk to Jesus. With girls, not so much. Especially the pretty ones. As soon as a girl he had known all his life began to register as damned attractive, Mark couldn't deal. New girls, who he had never seen until High School, were even worse. Well, better, in the sexy attraction way, but he couldn't even get near them without getting all flustered. Jesus, he could talk to.
Jesus AND God.
Jesus was God, kind of, but also kinda wasn't. It was confusing. The Bible was unclear, and Church? Forget about it. No Sunday School teacher since Miss Rene in 4th grade had really been able to make it all clear to him. He read the Bible every night, thanks to her. Soaked up the stories. Committed his soul to God, like she said to. His parents didn't know. They weren't religious, like him. Dad didn't even go to church, except on holidays. Mom took him and his sister every week, but Mark got the idea she was there for the people, the coffee hour afterwards the main draw. Sue, naturally, went because Mom took her. But, religious, no. They weren't.
Mark had tried. Attempts to get them to say grace before dinner met with heavy resistance, and he quickly gave it up. Prayer was to be private anyway, according to one of the gospels, he forgot which one, so he did that. All of his prayer was private.
Especially when he asked God and Jesus questions.
That Jesus answered him was one of the great things about his faith. God talked to people all the time in the Bible, like you couldn't shut him up. Both he and his son did the same with the fifteen year old Freshman. Not with words, no. That would be silly. Only insane people heard voices in their heads. No.
They used a coin.
Heads was yes. Tails was no. Mark would ask a question, a serious one (because Jesus wasn't going to be bothered doing his homework for him, and would probably give the wrong answer just to punish him), flip the coin, and get his answer. They were always right. Oh, sometimes Mark would screw something up, and it would LOOK like God had been wrong, but, no, it was Mark's fault. Just because God said he should or could do something, didn't mean he didn't have to try to do it right. God was just advising.
An example: Mark had not wanted to go with his sister to see that stupid cartoon that had come out. Cartoons were for kids. His Mom wanted him to go to keep Sue company, even though she was eleven and SHOULD be able to go alone. So, he had asked Jesus if he really had to go, or if saying he had lots of homework to get out of it would be OK.
It came up heads. He had to go.
And, it had been OK. Good, even, although he wasn't telling his friends he went to that one. God had been right. Again.
In the theater, looking around, Mark had seen a few teens his age. ALL of them were couples, a boy and a girl. Not brother and sister, though.
He wanted to go on dates.
Well, to be honest, it wasn't the date part Mark was interested in. It was the kissing, touching, and lots of other stuff. God, to be able to make out with a girl! To ... fuck! Wow, he'd love to do that!
At the moment, his chances were slim.
Which brought him to today.
Miss Rene had given him the idea. She had given him many ideas. Heck, his first boner had been thanks to her! Anyway, one Sunday he had been the only one in the 4th grade class. Maybe it was over the holidays and everyone was away, he didn't remember now. Mark hadn't complained. A whole hour alone with Miss Rene! They had talked, about God. Life. Love. Mark had asked the twenty year old redhead how he'd find the girl of his dreams. How he could find true love, someone to be with forever in Jesus's name.
"God will send her," she had said, smiling, nose crinkling in that cute way he loved. "You will know, because God's light will shine in her eyes."
So far, he had not found her.
That, most likely, had been because he had been going about it wrong. Looking at the girls around him, trying to see which one had been highlighted by God. That was just too hard. No, the proper way to do things, he now realized, was to narrow things down. To, in fact, just ask God which girl he should be with forever.
So he had.
Mark brought his bike to a stop in front of the large two story house.
It was larger than his house, at least a little. Fancier, yes, with two white round columns holding up the overhang over the front porch instead of the blue painted wooden beams he had grown up with. The lawn and garden was nice, too, everything trimmed perfectly.
God had led him here.
Maybe. Mark looked around. Nobody was paying attention to him, just another kid on a bike this Saturday morning in May. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his quarter. Mark closed his eyes.
"Oh, God, should I go talk to her today?"
He flipped the coin, catching it, slamming it down on his wrist. Mark lifted his hand.
"OK, then." It made sense. God had sent him here. He obviously wanted Mark to go through with it. That calmed him a bit. God was with him. This was the right thing to do. There was no reason to be nervous.
Taking a deep breath, he pedaled up the driveway. There were three cars there, with room for more. Nice cars, although one was a bit older and more beat up. It definitely looked out of place. Mark rode onto the sidewalk leading to the front door, kicking out the kickstand once he was off the driveway. He dismounted, quickly checking himself. Mark was not very fashionable. He liked wearing short sleeved light blue dress shirts, buttons down the front and a collar. His closet was full of them. They were plain, yes, but so was he. Short brown hair, with a part to one side. About five and a half feet tall. He would grow more, he thought. His dad was a good six feet tall, after all, and Mark was already taller than Mom. He wore bluejeans, just normal ones, whatever brand Mom had gotten on sale. They fit, which was all that mattered.
He checked his breath, blowing into his hand in front of his face. Mark had no idea what this was supposed to do, but he didn't smell anything weird so figured he was good to go. Leaving his bike, he grabbed the yearbook and walked up to the front door.
"God, give me strength, and help me on this day. Amen."
He pushed the doorbell.
The girl that opened the door was pretty.
Not beautiful. Not in that movie star way. She probably could be, with only a little effort. Certainly, she wasn't ugly, or plain. No. She was just not trying at that moment. Her black hair was straight, pulled back into a pony tail with a white scrunchy. Her eyes were brown, large and questioning as she stood in the doorway. She towered over him, but part of that was probably just due to her being one step higher. On level ground, she probably only had a few inches on him. Slender, she wore a pink shirt that did NOT expose her flat belly like some slut, but did hug the curves of her nice bra enclosed breasts. Her jean shorts weren't THAT short, and could even be mother approved depending on the mother. He detected no makeup, saw no jewelry ... apart from a small gold cross on a thin gold chain around her neck, and one ring.
She blinked at him.
"Hi," he said, trying his best to look confident. It all came down to this moment. "I'm Mark. God sent me."
She blinked again. Her mouth opened, then closed, expression clouding. Those brown eyes seemed to bore into him.
"God sent me. I prayed to him to show me the girl he had chosen to be mine in Jesus's name, and that's you."
A third blink. The door did not slam in his face, however. He smiled.
"Y-es." Evelyn looked back into the house. "Yes I am. And, I'm sorry, but..."
"May I come in?"
"What?" Now her expression was a bit condescending. Mark was getting to see the full range of her emotions, which he quite liked. Get it all out of the way up front. "No, you can't come in, and I'm very busy..."
"Who is it?" A female voice came from inside the house. Now annoyed, Evelyn looked behind her again.
"Some boy who says God sent him."
"Tell him to come in!"
Mark looked at the four girls sitting in the living room, amazed.
Not that the girls were amazing. Well, they were, kinda, but then he was at the point where any girl who looked at him, let alone conversed in any way, was that. No, it was that he knew them. Sort of. Not personally, or even their names. No. It was that they had been in the same yearbook photo Evelyn had been in, that God had pointed out to him.
If you were a godless heathen, then sure.
"Everyone," Evelyn told them, sitting down between an African American girl and a redhead on a large, expensive looking couch, "this is Mark. Jesus sent him here looking for a girlfriend."
Ten eyes focused on him, eight of them amazed. Mark, always a good observer, one reason he was good at reading the Bible, noticed all of them had the same gold cross necklace. He smiled at them.
"Not girlfriend. I asked Jesus to show me who I was going to spend the rest of my life with, my perfect woman, the one who I would lay with and start a family."
.... There is more of this story ...