She sat down, alone, in the middle of the row of chairs. Chapel was going to begin soon, and she didn't know anybody, so she sat alone.

If my life were a story, someone would notice me sitting here by myself and would come over and talk to me, she thought. Sometimes it was a curse to be such an avid reader. A side-effect of reading fiction was that you get the notion that all of life is one big story, with one big plot, and the Author is writing each move with a destination in mind. Too bad life doesn't work like that. She considered this as she sat in the cold chair, hoping that no one would see her, and yet at the same time hoping that someone would notice her.

People were milling around her, taking their seats in the rows of chairs, their voices rising into a crescendo as people struck up conversations with familiar faces. The girl still sad alone, with her head down, and tried to drown out the voices and the rising panic that was settling into her chest. She was reaching a crisis point when she heard a voice, speaking to her. She froze. Was she in a story after all?

She looked up into the friendly face of a boy she had never seen before.

"Are you new? You can come over here and sit with us."

So she rose, and joined him.

After chapel was over, the boy gave a friendly wave and scooted off to class, throwing a "See you around," over his shoulder at her. She slowly followed him out the door, immersed in a sea of students, all unfamiliar and eager to get to the next place, the next point in their story.

She was forgotten.

That feeling of panic was still lurking under the surface, she knew. She was in a new school, with no friends, and the only friendly face had quickly darted off. She was alone, and she was lonely.

The girl wandered over to the cafeteria, hoping that she could fill the empty time before class by lingering alone over some food. She walked in the door and stopped in line. And she waited. And waited some more. No one noticed that she was waiting to pay for entrance, and as she stood there she saw all of the faces of the chapel-goers, and heard again their voices rise and fall as they happily conversed over food. And still no one saw her.

The panic rose and overtook her, and the girl turned and ran out of the cafeteria and quickly looked for an exit. The tears were pooling in her eyes, and she hated to cry in front of strangers. She ran out the front doors, her face turned to the ground. She had long, dark hair, and found that her hair provided an effective curtain from prying eyes...if anyone could even see her. So she hid behind her hair, and ran.

She brushed past a person and headed swiftly for the parking lot. Once she felt far enough away, she let the tears fall. She knew that her life was not a story. No one would come.

And then she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

**

He barely glanced at the dark-haired girl as she moved past him. He caught a glimpse of dark hair and a bookbag, but didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. His class was starting soon, and he needed some lunch, so he took a few steps toward the cafeteria.

Go after her.

He stopped and glanced around. Was that really a voice? There was no one around him, but he had heard the words as clear as day. He glanced back in the direction of the dark-haired figure, hurrying away towards the parking lot. He heard nothing else, so he took another step towards the entrance of the building.

He heard it again.

Go, talk to her.

He stopped again, and after a seconds hesitation turned and sprinted after the girl. He didn't know why he was running after her, but he knew better than to question the voice. There was a reason for it, and so he went.

The sound of his footsteps reached her before he did.

**

Damn, she thought, as she quickly tried to restrain her tears and sobs. It was difficult though; once she started crying, she had a hard time stopping it until it had run its course. Hopefully the person would just run on by her, without noticing her. The last thing she wanted was to be seen in this condition. She kept walking, hanging her head so that her hair covered her face.

Unfortunately, the footsteps slowed to match her own. She glanced up, hesitantly, to see that the boy beside her was looking at her in concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

His words brought down her tears, which slipped silently down her cheeks. They also brought down her guard, and words started to slip unbidden from her lips.

She poured out her sadness and her loneliness to him. Of all the people on campus, he seemed to be the only one who could really see her. He listened silently on the sidewalk, and waited for her words to abate.

"Where are you going?" he gently asked her.

"Wendy's," she sobbed.

He looked at his watch. Half an hour until his class started, but then, it didn't really seem to matter anymore.

"I have some time, how about I go with you?"

She looked startled. She thought hard for a few seconds, searched for any evidence that he was unsafe.

"Alright, sure." She hiccuped, and they walked together to the parking lot.

Later, at Wendy's, they would talk. He would tell her how he had come to see her. How God had told him he should follow her. How he had no idea why until he saw her tear-stained face. She would be shocked, thinking that he had followed her because he had somehow seen her tears, wondered if she was okay. Awed because, for an hour or so, her life had been a story, with characters written in, a plot developed, and a happy ending.


***********************************************************************************

And so, for an hour, my life WAS a story. This really happened. It was my first day at a new college campus. I had no friends, and I was thrown into a situation where I had never felt lonelier. I really had a panic-attack and ran for the hills, and he (His name is James) really heard a Voice from God tell him to go after me. He didn't know why, but he also didn't hesitate, and that spoke more to me than anything about who James was, as a person. And then I was thrown off guard when he offered to go eat with me.

If it had been me writing this story, perhaps I would have continued on to match them romantically. They would have dated, fallen in love, and married, a perfect ending to this rather extraordinary story. As it was, I didn't Author this particular piece (just recorded it as best I could remember), and the story stopped shortly after Wendy's.

I only saw James in passing after that, although we continued to greet each other fondly. I found new friends, a new place at that school, and soon many of the faces became familiar, and I was seen. James graduated.

I don't know where he is now. Half the time I don't even know where I am now. I've never experienced anything that even comes close to that hour. I have been reminded time and time again that my life is most definitely NOT a story out of one of my fictional novels. But, for an hour... it was. I have often thought that if I have nothing else to give as a testimony for the hope that I have (as little as it may be) I will point to this. It is enough.


p.s. The first boy became a familiar face around campus, too. I think his name was Brandon, and he on occasion would take the time to introduce me to people, or stop and say hi. Of all the Christians I have known, Brandon and James are the only two who modeled their faith to me in such a way.