I'm from New Hampshire.

Back in my early 20s, I lived about 30 minutes outside Manchester.

I had a girlfriend of two years that I had just broken up with.

It was a strange time in my life,

the kind where you're sort of wandering, figuring things out, maybe looking for meaning

without realizing it. My grandmother was extremely religious and would attend liturgy,

well, religiously, no pun intended. After my grandfather passed away, I started going to church with her every Sunday.

I tagged along partly to support her, and partly because I felt like maybe I needed a bit of grounding myself.

My grandfather had been a decorated veteran, well known and respected in our community, and losing him left a huge hole in her life.

Even though she was grieving, her faith was unshaken.

She told me that she knew he was finally reunited with the Lord, and I could see how much

comfort that gave her.

I admired it, honestly.

Faith like that, the kind that brings real peace, is rare.

I think it's something that people search for their whole lives, even if they can't always

put it into words.

One Sunday after the service, I met this girl.

This whole thing still feels like a fever dream.

I'd never seen her around before, which was unusual since our community was close-knit,

especially at church.

She was striking, with dark, curly hair and deep hazel eyes.

I waited for the service to be over and approached her.

...