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| Just Walk Out |
One note flickered brighter than the others. A woman’s voice etched in aching honesty: "I just want to meet the right man. The man You have for me."
Raguel touched the prayer gently. “Latifa Jones,” he said. “You’ve waited long enough.”
He turned toward a figure standing in the Light, waiting.
“Go to her,” Raguel said. “She’s ready to believe again.”
___In Seattle, Latifa pulled her car into a space in the St. Luke Baptist Church parking lot and turned off the engine.
It had been years since she’d stepped into a sanctuary.
Her brother Silas had been relentless since she broke things off with Tanner three months ago. The man she thought was hers turned out to belong to someone else—his wife, whom Latifa hadn’t known existed.
She leaned her head against the steering wheel. “Why does God keep doing this to me?” she whispered. “I just want to meet the right man. The man You have for me.”
Her eyes lifted to the brick exterior of St. Luke’s.
Silas had threatened to come and drag her out of the apartment if she didn’t show up.
With a sigh, she got out of the car.
The sanctuary smelled just as she remembered—clean wood, old carpet, something faintly floral. She waved at a few familiar faces in her brother’s band. Then she spotted June Bug.
He strolled over and pulled her into a hug.
“Latifa Jones,” he said. “Good seeing you. It’s been too long. I’m sorry about Tanner.”
“Me too, June Bug.” She meant it. “I’m here to see Silas. We can catch up later.”
He pointed toward the stage. “He’s packing up. And I’m holding you to that catching up.”
___
Silas looked up from his guitar case and smiled. That same annoying little-brother smile. Somehow, it irritated and comforted her all at once.
“You came,” he said.
“Did I have a choice?”
The sanctuary was mostly empty now—just a few volunteers adjusting mics and cables. Silas strummed absentmindedly.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “But you needed to get out of that apartment.”
He was right, and she hated that he was.
“You singing tonight?” she asked.
“Choir and band. They won’t let me hide.”
She managed a tight smile.
“How long has it been?” he asked.
She didn’t pretend not to know.
“Three months.”
He nodded slowly.
“Tanner told me he was divorced. He said all the right words. Even threw in Bible verses.” She chuckled bitterly. “We even prayed together about getting married.”
Silas’s jaw tightened.
“She found out about me,” she said. “Came to the apartment and confronted me.”
She looked away.
“I wasn’t the other woman on purpose,” she added. “But that doesn’t make it hurt less.”
Silas said nothing.
“I feel so guilty,” she said.
He set his guitar down and looked at her.
“You don’t need to carry guilt. Give it to God. Leave it there.”
She stared at him.
“You met your wife in this church. Why can’t I?”
“You have to come to church,” he said.
She chuckled. “You got jokes.”
“I’ve been where you are—guarded. Tired of praying the same prayer. But I still prayed. I waited; you do that and he will answer.”
The choir director called his name.
“I’ll be right there,” he said, then glanced back. “Stay for the service. Sing if you want.”
She looked past him at the flyer on the wall. "Annual Singles Retreat?"
"We do it every year. It’s enlightening. You should come."
“I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“Just show up. Let God do the healing,” he said, then walked off.
___
After rehearsal, she wandered toward the back of the church.
That’s when she saw it.
A wooden box lined with deep burgundy velvet. Prayer Box, etched in gold.
“That’s a powerful thing,” an older woman said, seemingly appearing from nowhere. “Write down what you’ve been holding onto. Fold it. Drop it in. The prayer team prays over it.”
“I don’t want anyone reading my mess,” Latifa said.
“They won’t know it’s yours. And yes—you do want them praying over your mess. That’s what it's there for. For God to clean it up.”
Latifa nodded slowly. “He can clean it up.”
The woman smiled. “Exactly.”
She hadn’t planned on writing anything.
But some prayers get too heavy to carry alone.
She picked up a card. Grabbed a pen. Wrote.
When she was done, hands shaking, she folded the slip and dropped it in the box.
She looked up.
The woman was smiling.
___
She hadn’t planned on returning that Sunday. But something felt unfinished.
The service was better than she remembered—Scripture, worship, familiar hymns layered with new songs. She sang anyway, even the parts she didn’t know.
After benediction, she shook hands, smiled. Then she saw her.
The same older woman from before.
“Glad you came back to visit us, Latifa.”
Latifa paused. “How did you know my name?”
The woman’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve known it for a long time. I’ve been waiting.”
Latifa frowned.
“I know God read your prayer. Today, it will be answered.”
Latifa’s breath caught. “The prayer from the box? How could you know that?”
The woman didn’t answer directly. “This is what I want you to do. Walk out the church to receive it.”
Latifa blinked. “Just walk out?”
“That’s all.”
A member greeted Latifa from the side. She turned for a second—and the woman vanished.
“All you have to do is walk out the church and your prayer is answered.” she said aloud to no one.
She did.
And that’s when she saw him.
Philip Strawberry.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her old high school boyfriend. The one who didn’t leave her broken.
He looked the same—but more himself. Confident. Steady.
“Latifa?” he called.
She couldn’t move.
“Philip,” she finally said. “Wow. It’s been a while.”
“Great to see you at the service,” he said warmly.
“I’m glad I came,” she replied.
“Sorry about Tanner.”
Her cheeks flushed. “How did you…?”
“Word gets around.”
“I got what I deserved,” she muttered.
“No one’s judging you,” he said. “Not this Deacon.”
She laughed. “You’re a deacon now?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I remember you,” she teased.
“Back in the day,” he smiled.
A volunteer handed her a Singles Retreat flyer.
“So,” he asked, “are you going? You are single. So am I.”
“You’re single?”
“Just said so.” He smiled. “Great chance to catch up.”
Someone called his name. “Be right there,” he said, then turned back. “Don’t disappear. I want my answer.”
“I’ll be right here.”
When he returned, she said, “I look forward to going. My brother and now you—that feels like confirmation.”
“And it’s a lot of fun,” he said.
“Where is it this year?”
“Hawaii.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m definitely going.”
He grinned. “This is going to be fun.”
As Philip walked her to her car, she thought about the prayer she’d written.
A fresh start. The right man. A second chance.
This time, she was ready to believe again.
Philip opened the door for her. She glanced back at the church and saw the older woman — surrounded by soft light — smiling before fading into air like mist.
Latifa froze. Her breath caught. It wasn’t just a church member.
It was the answer she’d prayed for.
She didn’t understand it all, but she knew this: the prayer had been heard. And Heaven had sent someone to deliver it.
Latifa held the moment close. A second chance. A quiet beginning. And this time, she was ready to hold on.
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