A Heart Open to God and to Others
I never imagined I’d be writing a dating profile again after forty.
Not because I’d stopped believing in love—but because I’d started to believe it might simply no longer be meant for me. But one day, after a long conversation with my pastor about how important it is not to close your heart, I decided to give it a try.
That’s how I found justsinglechristians.com.
At first, I approached it with skepticism—just a few messages, some casual chats, nothing serious. Until Sarah appeared.
Her first message was simple:
“Do you have a favorite Bible story that gives you hope?”
I replied: “The story of Peter stepping out of the boat. It reminds me that even when I’m sinking, God always reaches out His hand.”
From that moment on, our conversations flowed effortlessly. We talked about faith, music, and how hard it is these days to find a relationship built on something deeper than appearances.
After a week, I suggested we meet—but not for ordinary coffee.
I wanted something that would connect us spiritually—naturally, without pretense.
“What do you think about spending an afternoon together in the church garden?” I wrote. “They’re organizing a small volunteer event this Saturday—planting new flowers and tidying up the grounds.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she replied. “Better than any restaurant.”
And it truly was.
When I saw her for the first time, she was holding a small watering can and smiling more brightly than anyone I’d ever known. There was a calmness and warmth about her that instantly dissolved my shyness.
- So you’re the one from the Peter-and-the-boat story? - she asked with a smile as I offered my hand.
- That’s me. - I said, smiling back. - And you’re the one who reminds me that hope is like a seedling, it just needs a little light.
For the next two hours, we worked side by side—planting roses, pruning old shrubs, chatting between sips of water. It was an ordinary Saturday, yet filled with meaning.
- You know, - Sarah said at one point, pressing a small trowel into the soil, - ever since I became a widow, I thought I’d never be able to share my everyday life with someone new again. But I’ve realized that love doesn’t end with loss. It just changes shape.
- I think you’re right. - I answered softly. - Sometimes God doesn’t give us a new beginning so we can forget the past, but so we can learn to love more deeply.
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the church roof, we sat together on a bench. The earth smelled rich, the air was warm, and beside us stood a neat row of freshly planted roses.
- You know, Matthew, - Sarah said after a quiet moment, - when you wrote to me about Peter, I thought I was talking to someone who truly trusts. And now I see I was right.
- And I thought I’d met a woman who talks about God as if He were a close friend. - I replied, smiling at her. - And maybe that’s the greatest gift of all.
There were no fireworks that evening. No music, no candlelit dinner, no grand declarations. Just two people who allowed their faith to open their hearts.
As I walked Sarah to her car, she turned and said,
- Next time, you pick the place. But promise me it won’t be anything ‘too holy.’
- Hmm… how about baking a cake together for the parish fair? - I teased.
- Deal, - she laughed, - but only if you let me add chocolate.
I watched her drive away and felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—peace.
Not because I knew how this story would end, but because I knew it had begun exactly as it should: with prayer, a smile, and dirt under our fingernails.
Because sometimes God doesn’t speak with thunder from the heavens.
Sometimes He simply plants a rose—and places someone beside you who’s willing to help you care for it.