Audio: Mary Rose Kreger reads.
April 2014
During my morning meditation, I finally faced the truth: in order for me to find a husband, I’d have to start dating men.
I leaned over my soft leather journal, scrawling line after line about my dating fears. The rising sun slipped through my window, casting a radiant bar of light across my prayer space.
I was scared to date again. Charles and Aidan had hurt me. I didn’t want to date only to have another heartbreaking experience. I didn’t want to make a mistake. What if my future husband ended up being just like them?
I am the one who will choose a husband for you, the Lord reminded me. Not you, little one.
I recorded these words in my journal, feeling comforted. After all, going home to get married was the Lord’s idea, not mine. I’d given Him permission to be in charge of whatever happened next.
“The Lord will find the right person for me,” I whispered, smoothing the tan comforter under my journal. “No matter what he’s like, the grace will be there for me to love him.”
And if the grace is there, I wrote, you don’t need to be afraid, right?
Sisterly Intervention
Luckily my savvy sister April was there, too.
“The first thing we need to do is get you comfortable around other people again,” April told me later that day. “More social gatherings, out in public.”
“Okay.” I was still feeling nervous about taking the next step, but I knew April would push me in the right direction. She was a social life expert. “I have been going to the fish fries.”
“Yeah, that’s a good start! Let’s see…you’re going to need clothes, jewelry, maybe some makeup…” April stepped around her full-size bed and started searching her closet. “Here you go, Mary,” she said, handing me a familiar piece of clothing.
“Ohhh.” I took the stylish purple jacket from April and raised it aloft. “It’s my old ‘members-only’ jacket! The one from that big H&M store—”
“In London,” April finished. “Yeah, I love it, too! You should have it back, though, now that you’re home.”
“But I gave it to you before I left.”
April waved at her bedroom closet, which was teeming with clothes. My closet used to look just like it, except perhaps not so brightly-colored. “I have plenty, Mare. Please, take it.”
I smiled and gave her a warm hug. “Thanks so much.”
April wasn’t the only one returning things to me. My other sisters returned my old clothes and other accessories as well. My mom brought me some shirts and pants from the thrift store, and later took me to Carson’s for a spring jacket and a new dress.
Everyday, I was getting a little closer to making my post-convent debut.
What’s A Selfie Again?
Meanwhile, my youngest sister was helping me in the pop culture department. We watched the new Avengers movie together, where Loki takes over New York City. I was surprised by the good storyline and cool characters. It was definitely a step up from the Captain America movie I’d watched in the convent.
My sister also introduced me to Instagram, a social media site that mystified me at the time. Why would anyone want to share stuff that would disappear in 24 hours?
And then there were the “selfies”. I immediately disliked the term, which seemed like a flagship word for an increasingly self-centered world.
“Hey,” I waggled my eyebrows and gave my sister a goofy grin. “If we get a picture together on your pink phone thing…is it called a ‘groupie’?”
“It’s not a phone, Mary, it’s an iPod touch,” she huffed, annoyed by my technological ignorance. “And there’s no such thing as ‘groupies’.”
Dressing the Part
The next week on a trip to the mall, my sisters and I wandered into a Forever 21. The high-ceilinged clothing store was brightly lit, with garments of all shapes and sizes displayed on racks and shelves. The store smelled fresh and floral, and trendy music blared over the loudspeakers.
Uh-oh, I thought, wincing inwardly. This place is a recipe for sensory overload.
Now that I was more aware of the danger, I kept my eyes on the ground when walking, and only perused one set of clothes racks at a time. I ignored everything except my mission: find something date-worthy to wear. This helped somewhat, but after about ten minutes, my brain was spinning again.
Should I try that shirt? Or maybe those cute corduroy pants? Why does everything have to be worn in five layers here? Oh look, shoes!
Focus, Mary. After all this sensory disruption, I didn’t want to leave the store emptyhanded. So I kept picking through things. Nothing was in my size, or looked quite right.
I was just about to go search for my sisters when I saw the dress. It was bright blue, sleeveless, and printed with pink and orange roses. A cheerful spring dress, with a modest top.
“Wow,” I whispered. I examined the dress and its price tag. “Wow.” The perfect dress for my new wardrobe, and it was only $8.
I took a deep breath. Right here, in this fashion store, surrounded by a thousand tantalizing distractions, the Lord was present. He knew I didn’t have a lot of money. He knew I’d given up my income to be with Him.
But even I could afford an $8 dress. I picked one out in my size and headed for the checkout line. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like the Lord had chosen it just for me.
Dueling Piano Bar
April’s college friend came to visit us over Easter, so we did all the fun Holy Week and Easter activities with her.
On the Wednesday after Easter, April, her friend, and I dressed up and drove over to downtown Royal Oak. We parked by the train tracks and walked into a sophisticated bar and restaurant. Inside on a raised platform were two full-sized pianos. “Dueling Pianos – Tonight!” read the handwritten sign.
We found a table with a great view of the pianos. I sat up straighter, laughing and smiling with them. When the waiter stopped by, I ordered a drink.
I listened to the two pianists duel it out with different classical and popular tunes. I almost felt normal, sitting there listening to them. Like I could pretend to be like the other bar patrons, at least for a while. I had gotten dressed up, practiced putting on my makeup, wore a favorite pair of earrings. And now I was wearing my new rose print dress.
Maybe I could give this dating thing a try, I thought, as I sipped my drink.
One of the pianists started singing “Let It Go.” He was playing it as a joke. Everyone else had heard the song so much, they were tired of it. But not me. For me, everything was new again—even the smash hit song from Frozen.
I think I’m ready, Lord. Let this new dating adventure begin!
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