When God writes our love

I never prayed for love. Not the way my friends did—whispering names into their pillows or asking God for tall boys with soft smiles. I prayed for peace. For strength. For the kind of faith that didn’t shake when life got loud. That was before Ethan Cole walked into my life. I met him on a Sunday morning, sitting two rows ahead of me in church. His Bible was worn, the pages folded like they had been held during storms. When he lifted his hands during worship, he didn’t look around. He looked upward—like he trusted God with something heavy. I noticed that. I noticed too much. “New here?” my friend Sarah whispered. I shook my head. “No. He is.” After service, our youth pastor introduced him. His family had moved towns. New school. New start. When our eyes met, he smiled—gentle, unsure, like he wasn’t certain he belonged yet. I looked away quickly. Love, I reminded myself, was distracting. And faith required focus. That night, during my prayers, his face came to mind without invitation. “God,” I whispered, kneeling beside my bed, “please don’t let this be a feeling that pulls me away from You.” I didn’t know then that sometimes, God answers prayers in ways that bring you closer instead.