Sitting in the back row sat a group of young men. The leader of their pack, Michael Schacht, combed fingers through his hair with one hand while the other lay resting on the back of the pew. Listening more intently than he had for the past 20 years in attendance, his eyes remained steady on the girl with the golden hair.
“We need to get them in our band,” he whispered to the guys. And together they nodded wondering which one would get our phone numbers first.
Two weeks later, I answered a call from my sister Bonnie. “Hey, I forgot to tell you,” she said. “Remember when we sang at my church on Valentine’s Day?”
How could I forget? I was nervous beyond belief, wondering if the congregation had gathered a collection to have me taken out for stepping on stage that morning. It’s unnerving to look into the eyes of people whose relaxed demeanor shouts, “You’ll be burned at the stake if you miss that high note.” And I’m sure I missed several.
“Well,” she continued. “There’s a guy in our church who has a band, and he really wants us to sing in it.”
My first thought was What’s wrong with this band? Why would they ask US to sing with them? Weren’t we the girls who stood there only two weeks earlier sporting nail polished nylons (fyi it stops runs) and belting out kindergarten tunes? My second thought was BOYS. In fact my third, fourth, fifth, and sixth thoughts were Boys, Boys, Boys, Boys. So that afternoon in 1986, I joined the Crossroads band.
I hadn’t planned to join a band that morning, 24 years ago, nor did I plan to find my husband in the back row of a little chapel on Morrow Avenue. But God’s plan that Valentine’s day was exceedingly abundant above anything I could have dreamed of or prayed for my life. He knew my desires, as he knew Michael’s heart, and so in that moment divinely orchestrated by the Father of love, our journey began.
24 years later, Michael is still the leader of the pack, but that pack has changed some with four children, two birds, three hamsters, and a little blond wife. The pink sweater and nylons are gone, the chapel is empty, and praise God–our house is full.
You are loved by an almighty God,
Darlene
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