“Lord, we thank You for this food that will bring nourishment to our tired bodies. I thank You for never leaving or forsaking me, though I do not deserve Your grace time after time. And for giving me the opportunity to meet Ford, who has been a perfect steward of charity to put us up. Please bless him, Lord, for his kindness. In Your name, Amen.” I trailed off during prayer, but Ford’s quiet “Amen” barely was audible. He paused for a moment and slowly started moving his fork.
“This is awesome. Thank you, Presley,” Ford beamed, after taking a bite. “I can’t remember the last time I had enchiladas.”
“Well, there’s more where that came from, then.” I didn’t know why I said that, but I rolled with it. “I mean, I love to cook.”
“That’s what you said.” He smiled, but it almost looked forced. The man was exhausted.
“Yes. I love to cook, and I haven’t been able to cook for someone else in years,” I said, immediately contemplating if that made me sounddesperate.Ugh, there I go again, worrying to death about what this man thought of me.Lord, help me out. Ford’s opinion of me does not matter. I just want to be kind and respectful.
“I don’t know that I like to cook, but I sure like to eat.” Ford’s serving was disappearing fast. I sipped the sparkling Italian soda I brought while he opted for water.
As we ate, and he got a heaping second serving, I noticed the sheer size of the table. Perfect for puzzling, and I just so happened to have brought a puzzle with me. Could you really take a ski trip in a sleepy snowy village without puttingtogether a jigsaw? I didn’t think so. I also noticed how quiet it was there. I felt a twinge of nostalgia and craved some music.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I opened my music app and scrolled until I found an aptly titledaprès-skimix. The first song was soft and serene.
“You don’t mind, do you?” I motioned to the phone that played music while we ate. He shook his head. The song ended short, and the second song to come up sounded like it was playing at a rave. “Oh my. . .” I trailed off, shutting down the app.
“If that’s the kind of music you like, head down to the base of the ski resort. There’s a DJ there five days a week blasting that,” he smirked, as he finished his meal.
“No, I’m afraid not. I’m more into the oldies. Nothing from this century has won me over yet. I have a record collection at home. The way a record player fills a space with sound is just incredible. It might not be the crispest way to play a tune, but it sure feels the most. . . right.” Ford smiled.
“You’ll like this then.” He got up and slid his chair back into the table, taking his dish to the sink. I got up to follow him as we went into his office. He revealed inside of a large built-in cabinet a record player and a small collection of records. “Go ahead and play something from here, if you’d like. I’m going tohit the shower.” He left, heading upstairs to his room and shut the door behind him.
“Now we’re talking!” I started thumbing through the collection and was pleasantly surprised that we had music tastes in common. I wasn’t far into his cabinet when I realized the man had more Elvis albums than I was even aware existed. And IlovedElvis. Kind of a chicken and the egg situation, considering my name and all, but I’d listened to him all of my life. So had my mother, who passed on her love for his tunes to me with my namesake. I swiftly put hisGreatest Hitsrecord on and placed the needle at the beginning. As the delicious sound filled the room, I felt at home.
By the time Ford returned downstairs, I was halfway through the album and had 1,000 puzzle pieces scattered around half of his dining room table, on the side that we hadn’t been eating at. The dishes were already in the dishwasher, and the counters had been wiped down. Priscilla was working on aKongtoy with a tablespoon of peanut butter inside as her prize. My hot tea was steeping a delicious peppermint scent, and I was having the time of my life. The song changed and my favorite Elvis song of all time came on,Unchained Melody.I stood.
“Do you want to dance?” I asked Ford, who looked like I just asked him the secrets of the universe.
Chapter 6:Ford
Tracks Back to God
I lied when I told her I was going to shower. Really, I had that urge to pray again, and I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to say it, because I felt like that would have opened up a can of worms. This woman seemed to have a question for every question and the answer from me was,I don’t know. I didn’t know how to pray anymore. I didn’t know how to talk to God, or if He was even listening to me after all the wrongs I’d done.
Tonight, at the table when Presley was praying over the food, I was almost moved to tears. I couldn’t believe the words that came out of her mouth so easily about God not leaving or forsaking her though, she didn’t deserve His grace. How did she know that I needed to hear those things? Thoughts raced through my head as my heart longed for answers.
So, I went upstairs. And I got on my knees, which felt like a pretty good place to start. And I prayed. At least, I think Idid. It was more of a “hello” to God and a long pause to see if He would answer. But, in a way, I think He already had. Perhaps, He was sending me signs through this woman. Maybe He was telling me to work on my patience, because if I was not, how could He extend patience to me? But, I was noticing that this woman’s questions, her humming, and the fact that she was now blasting some of my favorite songs through my house—none of that irritated me. In fact, I was enjoying the company. I’d been lonely. And that feeling had been exacerbated since I was so far from God. But, according to Presley, I was not far at all.
As I sat on my knees in a dark room, with my eyes closed shut, I didn’t let my mind wander. I wanted to focus as hard as I could on listening, which was something I had never been good at.
It may have been the downfall to my last relationship, my lack of listening. I certainly wasn’t good at picking up cues either. Poppy talkeda lotand after a while, I just couldn’t keep up with it all. My own thoughts became muddled with hers, because she spoke every one of them, but would quiz me later on what she said. At first, I took it as a gentle nudge that I should listen and cherish her words. Her voice was like an angel singing, and I was the blessed one for being the recipient of suchpoetry that she spoke. Later on, the words became harder to interpret. She would say things like “so-and-so’s boyfriend took her to Paris” or “Tanya’s husband listens to her.” But all the flights in the world wouldn’t have fixed things at that point, and I was absolutely clueless about that because it was then and there that I booked us a trip, where I was planning on asking her if she wanted to elope. I even ordered a custom wedding ring set that couldn’t be returned, which was delivered shortly after she left me.
No, I’d never been good at listening. But God was, and I knew He was just waiting for me to speak. To repent. To turn from those ways that I’d already written off so long ago. TO tell Him about my plan for dating—that I would not pursue a relationship again that He had not ordained. I wanted to say these things. I had felt these words crawling around in my head and heart for the last several months. However, the words didn’t come to me.
After a long while, I got up and decided to shower since I was already up here. While I was in the shower, with the hot water beating down on my face and cold skin, the tune of the music blaring in the background, I called out to God.
“Lord, please forgive me! Come back to me, God! Show me the ways that a godly man should live and straighten my paths that I may follow You!” And I wept for the first time since my mother died all those years ago.
*****
As I ambled down the stairs of my chalet that evening, I was in my head talking to God with every step. I felt relief; a weight I had been carrying for so long was lifted from my shoulders. Guilt was gone. Shame was gone. Joy was returning.
The song that was playing on the record player was a catchy tune, and I automatically started humming to the music as I walked over to my magnificent picture window. I felt myself bursting with thankfulness for everything I had; God’s grace abounded in my life, despite my not deserving it.
Turning, I saw Presley at the table putting together a jigsaw puzzle in her leggings and ski shirt. I looked at her from where I stood, before she acknowledged me, as she was lost in her puzzle. She was a beautiful woman, probably about my age. I didn’t know much about her, but I thought back to my promise I made about women. I found myself saying another prayer in my mind to tell God about that promise. I would be as respectfulof God’s boundaries as I was with Presley. Despite this forced proximity, I would honor the Lord with my actions and words.
As if on cue, Presley spoke. As she held her hand out to me with the invitation to dance, I was stunned. What kind of gentleman turns down a lady’s offer to dance with her? After contemplating this for a moment and hearing the tune, which was possibly my favorite Elvis song of all time, I accepted.
