There Is No Pleasing Me

This year, I'm making an effort to spend more time with Jesus.
Every Thursday, I go to Eucharistic Adoration and just sit with the Lord.

It's an interesting experience, and being that I'm lousy at prayer, I sometimes sit and read a devotional (there are some lovely writings out there to reflect on) and sometimes I just sit and go through my stream of consciousness with my Jesus. I let Him know what is on my mind, who I'm thinking of, and prayers I want to share but honestly don't make time for throughout the rest of the week.

So at last week's visit, as I shared my stream of consciousness with my savior, I asked Him why there weren't more Godly men in the world, in MY world. Why, Dear Jesus, can't there be a man for me who just turns up at Mass or even Eucharistic Adoration, and is brave enough to talk to me as I walk out?

This expectation is similar to my consternation that the airlines can't arrange for an attractive, available single man to be my seat mate every time I get on a plane! Never happens. It's always some old dude, or someone with a wedding ring! Then I'm perplexed that the man next to me wearing a wedding ring doesn't start thinking of the loads of single men he knows to introduce to me! Why, he ought to be texting an eligible friend to meet him at baggage claim at our destination, to meet me, before our plane even takes off!

But I digress.

As I finish my time with the Lord, I get up, genuflect, and walk to the back of the chapel to leave.  As I do, the man that I saw in the back gets up to leave too.
He stops me in the entryway (outside of the chapel) and asks me in very broken English where I work. That's an odd opener, but I give him a vague answer. I have an even harder time understanding him ask if I've ever had a stone massage. Again, a very odd segue but massage is one of my favorite things, so I engage.
All the while he is struggling to make conversation, I'm growing increasingly uncomfortable. Turns out he's a massage therapist and he hands me his card. I use the opportunity to rave about my current massage therapist so that he gets the idea that I'm not going to call him.

We walk outside together and I hustle to my car, tossing a 'nice to meet you' over my shoulder.

Then I think, "God, You're not really putting an odd, hairy, little guy that I can't even understand in my path when I ask why You can't just place a good eligible, faithful man in the same church I'm asking the question... are You?"

If so, I guess there just is no pleasing me!