It all started when my Dad left home. I never did hear from him after he walked out of the house that time Mom and him had a fight. I hated to see them fight and I wasn't too shocked when they broke up. But it really hurt me that he never visited me or called me or even wrote to me. I began to wonder if maybe I was ugly or something.

That's when I began flirting with the boys. Mom used to say I was boy crazy. I wasn't really so crazy about them, but I was crazy about all their attention. I eventually quit school and got married. But it didn't last long.

I tried harder on the next marriage but my second husband was really cruel to me. He would often come home drunk and beat me. Eventually he just left me to go live with one of the girls who worked with him at the factory. This only intensified my suspicions that maybe I was ugly.

I began studying the glamour magazines and experimenting with different hair colors and styles. I probably used too much makeup and chose clothes that were a little too revealing. But apparently something worked because I did get a lot of attention.

I dated several guys while I waited for my divorce to finalize. But for some reason no serious relationship developed. The guys were really sweet and seemed interested in me, but as soon as we spent the night together, they suddenly became distant. Just when I was thinking that finally I had found someone for companionship, I would be dumped and find myself back alone in a very frightening world.

I guess that is when I got hooked on my romance novels and the soap operas. They seemed to give me some hope, that somewhere out there were really nice guys. But I never met one. Craig was the last straw. I finally gave up on men. We had lived together for three months. I gave him plenty of time to prove himself. Instead, he was just like the rest.

I slammed the door to my apartment, hoping the noise would wake him up. He was sleeping off the previous night's drunk. I was really steaming as I walked down the sidewalk that hot morning. "That guy isn't genuinely interested in me," I mumbled. "He is more interest in my food stamps and welfare check than he is in me." He seemed so cool and professional when we first met. How could I have been so dumb?

I headed for Jake's Place, a corner drinking establishment on the outskirts of town. I didn't really expect to find any companionship there, not at noon. Besides, I had given up on there being such a thing as a genuine relationship. I just had to get out of the house.

I arrived at Jake's just before noon. There were no cars outside, just one old beat up motorcycle. My eyes had to adjust to the darkness as I stepped inside. I made my way to the bar and asked for a drink. I sat there sipping it and thinking. As my eyes began to adjust, I noticed the figure of a man setting at a table in the back. I didn't think much about him at first. The last thing I wanted at that moment was to get involved with another man. He was setting at a table in the back reading some kind of old book under the light of a small tiffany table lamp. He didn't look like the college student type. More like one of the factory workers that made Jake's Place their hangout after work. However, it was obvious that he was intensely involved in his book. He kept a pencil behind his ear and occasionally he would take it and write something in the book.

There was something different about this man. He didn't seem to fit in. It wasn't his clothes. He was wearing levis, t-shirt, dirty jogging shoes. He had a small beard, not too neat. His hair was not combed. It looked like he had slept out in the fields during the night. He was carrying a small backpack, in which he eventually placed his book. It was either a paperback or else a book that had lost its cover. It was very ragged. It showed signs of much use. I was intrigued by it. It looked so cheap, yet he treated it as if it had great value.

After placing his book in his pack, he looked up and our eyes met. He smiled. It was not a flirtatious smile. Just a greeting smile, yet without the normal lust that I had come to expect. I smiled back at him and turned towards the bartender, slowly sipping my drink.

I felt his eyes looking at me. I glanced at his reflection in the mirror on the wall and could see him looking my way. I turned my head toward him and faced the most penetrating eyes that I think I have ever seen. So much so, that I felt very uncomfortable. Normally, I liked men to look at me. But his look gave me the feeling that he was looking through me.

I wanted to appear confident and poised so I made the first move. I approached him and asked jokingly, "What have you been reading, a romance novel?"

He smiled, thought a second, then replied, "Yes, I think you could call it that."

I wasn't going to let on that I was intimidated by his penetrating eyes. So I boldly sat down at his table. "Oh really, what's the title? I may have read it."

"You probably have," he replied with a smile, "Its the Bible."

I looked at his pack and said, "That's a Bible? My Mother had one but it was black and leather."

He pulled it back out of his pack. "I suppose it did have a black leather cover at one time," he said as he thumbed the pages of the book. "I bought this at a Salvation Army store. But the cover has long since come off. However, it is still the Bible."

I could see that he had written many notes in the margin and underlined many portions. "Why do you say its a romance novel?" I asked.

He smiled. "Maybe you will understand that someday." was all that he would say as he put his well worn book back into his pack. And then he asked me something which really caught me off guard, "Could I ask you to buy me a drink? I'm very thirsty."

"Now that is a new one," I laughed. "Isn't it supposed to be other way around, the guy asking to buy the drink for the girl? I never heard that line before."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, looked into my eyes with that penetrating look, and said, "If you only knew who I was, and what it is that I have to offer, you would have asked me and I would have given you a drink that would have satisfied all your desires."

I wasn't sure if by "desires" he was referring to my need for romance and companionship, or my growing dependency upon alcohol. Not wanting to reveal my real hurts and desires, I pretended that he was speaking about some new kind of cocktail. "Ok," I said. "Give me this new super drink. Does Jake know about This? It just might take away all his customers," I joked.

He said nothing. Just looked me in the eyes with that compassionate , penetrating look of his. He didn't even smile at my joke. I knew that he saw through my remarks. "I think you know what kind of thirst I am talking about," he said to me as he reached across the table and put his hand upon mine. It was a rough hand. Hard and calloused like that of a carpenter. "Everyone carries within them an unfulfilled desire. Some try to fill that desire with a relationship, as you have. Others try to fill it with materials things. Still others try to fill it with power or fame. But these things are only temporary distractions. They cannot satisfy this thirst. Only the gift that I have to offer can satisfy that need."

"Then give me that gift," I asked.

"Go get your husband, and bring him here."

My eyes dropped in shame. "I don't have a husband," I replied.

He squeezed my hand. I dared to look up into his eyes. He smiled. "Well that's true. In fact, you have had several husbands, haven't you?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"And the man you are now living with, isn't your husband, is he?"

I nodded in agreement. He said nothing. Just looked into my eyes and smiled. The silence made me uncomfortable. I stuttered, "I c-c-can see that you are some kind of a-a religious man." He nodded silently. Then wanting to change the subject I said, "Well, I have this problem. My mother was a Catholic and my father was a Lutheran. My mother wants me to go to her church but my Father wanted me to be a Catholic. So rather than upset either one of them, I just haven't gone to any church. Which church do you think I should go to?"

"It is not where you worship that matters," he said in his soft, gentle voice. "Rather, what is important is that you are honest with yourself, with others around you and with God." And then he added, "And also, that your worship is truly from your heart."

At that moment I heard several motorcycles drive up in front of the bar. In walked a dozen or so bikers. It was obvious that they knew this man who was setting across from me, holding my hand. It was also obvious that they were surprised to see him talking to me. I assumed that he must be their leader. They sat at the bar allowing us to talk in private.

"I may not be very religious," I went on. "But I believe in God and I think he must understand all that I have been through. I believe that I am going to have to face him someday, and I don't think he will be too hard on me."

At that point he leaned closer to me and said in a very quiet voice, "You are facing him now." Any other time I would have run away from anyone who told me he was God. But for some unknown reason, I believed him. And at that moment, the most wonderful sensation of peace came over me. I believed that he really did understand me. And that he really did care about me. Was this the answer to my thirst that he offered?

I squeezed his hands. Tears suddenly began to flow, followed by an uncontrollable sobbing. My face fell to the table as I quietly wept into his hands. He let me cry and then lifted my face and stroked my wet cheek with his hand. He smiled and said, "Go in peace."

Bleary eyed I stepped out of Jake's Place into the bright sunlight. With tears streaming down my face, I danced back to my apartment, full of joy. I woke Craig up, "Hey Craig, you gotta come with me down to Jake's Place. There is somebody I want you to meet." I hurried him along because I didn't want to miss the man. As we were leaving the apartment, I saw several of my friends setting out in the lawn. "Hey, come on everybody, there is somebody you gotta meet!"