He wrote a list.
Iwrote a list too.
Mine is on paper sitting in a drawer—but it’s also been locked away in my mind, memorized after praying and dreaming and wondering if he even existed.
And the more time I’ve spent with Nate over these two days, the more I’ve realized, piece by piece, conversation by conversation… he fits every single one of them.
“I wrote a list, too,” I finally say, my voice quieter than before.
I pause, letting the weight of that truth settle over me. I inhale slowly. “You fit every item on it.” I exhale, and it feels like I’ve just said something far bigger than a simple sentence.
I had physical traits on my list—dark hair, height. A São Paulo accent. And then so many others: in love with God. Wants children. Confident. Polite. A gentleman. Likes to travel.
So many little details I added over the years without even realizing I was building a picture.
And he ticks them all.
Every. Single. One.
Today showed me that. The way he handles things. The way he processes life. The way he talks about God like He’s real and present and guiding every step.
What do I even do with that?
I feel slightly taken aback, like my heart and my mind are scrambling to keep up with each other. I don’t know how to process it all at once.
Because if this is real… it changeseverything.
If he really is the man I prayed for, the one I asked God about in quiet moments when no one else was listening… then my whole world might flip on its axis. In the very best way. And also in a slightly terrifying way.
Because it’s only day two.
But sometimes God moves in an instant.
And that’s terrifying too, because it means I don’t actually know what my future holds. Anything I thought would happen might not. I only came here for a short visit. I was supposed to go back to Belgium, back to the life I already had mapped out in my head.
And now there’s this question sitting quietly but persistently in my heart:
Do I go back to Belgium… or do I see this through?
Right then, our waiter arrives with the food, unknowingly interrupting what feels like a life-altering internal spiral.
“Oh wow,” I exhale as my plate is set down in front of me.
I went with the shrimp risotto in the end—and it’s served inside a hollowed-out pineapple, beautifully presented like a piece of art I think is almost too pretty to eat.
Nate’s dish is placed in front of him next, a steak literally in flames.
He laughs. “That’s pretty impressive.”
Then his eyes grow serious again, locking onto mine with that steady, grounded look of his. “Let’s pray about it. I don’t know what the future holds. But let’s enjoy the rest of our night and pray about it overnight?”
I realize I’ve been holding my breath and slowly let it out. It’s a lot to take in. A lot to process. But right now, I know one thing very clearly—I’m enjoying his company, and I don’t want to be anywhere else.
“Sounds perfect,” I reply, finally digging into my food.
“What about dessert?” Nate asks later. “What’s your favorite?”
“How can I ever decide? Dessert is only the best meal of the day,” I state confidently.
