The One

Twelve year old Libby was an intuitive and thoughtful girl. Somehow she was aware that she was nearing the end of a quiet period of her life, aware that soon the frenzy of adolescence would fall upon her and grip her with an unknown but powerful fury. She also divined that when this came to pass, rational thought for her might be a thing of the past, so... she determined to understand a few things about what lay ahead, before the path she was walking turned slippery and treacherous (simultaneous with her own hormonally-induced loss of equilibrium.) She looked for an opportunity to talk with her grandmother alone, and when the day came, she asked:

"Gram," (as Libby always called her), "how did you know that Grandpa was 'the one'?"

"Oh, my dear girl!", Gram exclaimed, laughing a little. "Why Elizabeth, dear," (Gram always called her Elizabeth, just because she could), "He isn't 'the one'! He never has been."

Aghast, Libby stuttered: "H-he.. he's not? But... but then, who is?"

"No one, child", Gram said softly. "No one."

"Dear girl, many people, just like you, think it a lovely romantic idea that there is but 'one true love' out there for you, and if you play your cards right, or live a good life, or are lucky, or some such thing... you will surely find that person. But that idea really isn't even romantic at all! It has less to do with romanticism than it does with the 'meticulous' view of God's providence", explained Gram.

Libby frowned. "God's providence? What does that have to do with finding your 'one true love'? Does God send that person to you if you're good, and not if you're bad, or something like that?"

"Exactly!", Gram cried. "That's what people think. They think that God picks a certain someone for you to love, and if you don't find that 'special one', you'll miss out on God's plan for you... or maybe that God's making you wait (for, of course, a very good reason).

"These people worry about falling in love too soon, or even choosing to marry at all. They worry about choosing the wrong person, and then missing out on 'the one' God has planned for them, if only they had waited. So... they either wait for the lightning bolt to fall from Heaven... or just play around and never get serious. They're afraid, honey. Afraid of making a hash of it."

"But..", Libby started, "but Gram... if God hasn't chosen someone exactly right for you... then that means... oh, dear!"

"Right again, sweetheart. You get the privilege of choosing for yourself... AND with it, the responsibility to make good choices.

"You see, some people think that God has everything planned out for us, every little detail: where we are to live or go to school, what friends we should make, what career we are to choose, whom to marry, our future children, even when we'll die... and how."

"Well... isn't that so? Doesn't God know all these things?", asked Libby.

"Knowing ABOUT us, and choosing FOR us, are two very different things, dear", said Gram. "God may indeed send people across our path, cause circumstances to happen to influence us, even present us with challenges to meet and choices to make, but..." Gram paused, "... but ... I have never believed that God chose anything FOR me. No. God is there when I choose, guiding me, helping me know right from wrong, better from best, and 'good enough' from perfect. But I'm still the one who chooses."

"What if you choose badly?"

"Then I have consequences, don't I?"

"Yes." Libby thought a while. "I think I would rather have God choose."

"But if God did choose for you, dear... what if you didn't like God's choice? Many people are angry at God because they think that God has chosen a life for them that they never wanted.

"Really, though, it was their own choices that brought them the life they have. They're angry at God for what were actually their own choices. Not very fair of them, is it?"

"No. I suppose it's easier to blame God than blame yourself, though."

"Mmhmm", said Gram, "it sure is."

"Elizabeth, suppose I wanted a dog to keep me company as I get older. Let's say I got a new puppy, and trained him, fed him, loved him. And then one day a couple of years later I saw another puppy that was soooo much cuter, and maybe was a better size for me, or had a better personality, or didn't shed as much. Suppose I said 'that's the right puppy for me! That's the one God really meant for me to have, if I had only waited!' What if I then got rid of the first puppy... in order to have the nicer one. Would that be right?"

"No! Not at all!", said Libby animatedly. "It wasn't the first puppy's fault! You picked him, and you should keep him! It wouldn't be right to get rid of him and just get a new dog, because you think the new one looks better or is nicer. You can't say it's the puppy God wants for you, when you already have one to take care of... one you picked!"

"But some people do that, Elizabeth. They get lonely and choose a man or woman to keep them company for a while, and then leave them when they find one that seems better. And they say it's because they finally found 'the one' they were meant to have", said Gram.

"Oh. I see", Libby said, puzzling over this a bit. "So... if God really has only ONE person out there for us, we really must WAIT to choose until we actually find them. Or else it's not fair to all the others we loved that came along first. All it does is hurt them when we leave them for someone else."

"But then, if it really is OUR decision, and there isn't 'one true love' just waiting out there for us... then we can choose whoever we want, whenever we find someone nice!" Libby smiled at this. Then she thought, frowned, and asked: "But then we have to stick with that choice, right? And not blame God if it doesn't work out?"

"Right, dear", Gram said gently. "That's right. We can choose whomever we want, whenever we want, but we must choose wisely... because when we choose... we must keep. That's the right thing."

Libby nodded.

"And by the way, Elizabeth... your Grandpa? He was one of the very best choices I've ever made."

Libby grinned, and hugged her Gram.

(Gram was no Calvinist, no sir; a free-will theist was that old girl.)