On this day in March, as we sat in a mall food court sipping Dunkin' Donuts Joe, Rick had been complaining of some pain and general discomfort. I asked him if he thought he'd be OK, and though his face was a canvas painted with an image of distress, he replied "yes" and I took his word for it. We swallowed the last of our Dunky Doh's brews and headed out to the parking lot to pray in my car, as a busy mall food court could not be considered a proper or discrete prayer closet.

I opened our prayer with "Heavenly Father, thank you that we can come before your throne because of the blood of Jesus shed for our sins. Thank you, Father, and praise you Jesus. I would like to lift up.." "I need to get to a hospital" Rick vehemently blurted out. As quickly as it began, prayer time was over.

"The pain in my leg is getting worse and I'm having some tightness in my chest" Rick stated in a near panic. "It will be quicker for me to drive you up East Germaine Street to Midstate Medical Center than to call 911 and wait here for an ambulance to arrive" I said and began to head for the nearby exit that led to the aforementioned street. Midstate was only 6 miles away and Sunday traffic was light, so it would be a quick trip.

The first traffic light was green as I sailed up East Germaine, driving about 45 miles an hour in a posted 30 MPH zone. I felt the Holy Spirit strongly with me and I wasn't concerned with getting pulled over, although the street is bordered most of its length by residential neighborhoods of various economic strata--more upper-class toward the mall and nearly ghetto where we would take a left onto University Avenue that would take us toward the Midstate Emergency Room. It was then, after passing under the first traffic light that Rick said "we should go to St. John's Hospital instead. Remember that I had my heart catheterization done there this past Wednesday?" "Good idea" I looked over and said to my stricken friend, whose face was etched with pain and worry--making him look twice his 40 years. St. John's was indeed a good idea as it has an acclaimed cardiac care unit and Rick's complaint of chest tightness did indicate that a heart related issue may be at play.

East Germaine Street would not be the ideal route to travel to St. John's Hospital Health Center, as it was on the north side of town and about 10 miles from where we were driving. But, having been a lifelong resident of this city I knew the lay of the land very well, and with a few zigs and zags we were proceeding northwest on Route 692 and quickly exiting at Townsell Street which would lead us uphill to the St. John's Emergency Services entrance.

Rick was strong enough to walk into the processing area of the E.R. and fortunately for us, business was slow as one would expect on an early Sunday afternoon. The previous night would have offered much more robust activity for the doctors and staffers, with the violence of the crime-ridden neighborhoods surrounding the hospital providing a fair supply of customers. My buddy was able to fill out his own paperwork and was then quickly ushered into the triage area. "Come in with me" Rick plead and I suppose that was a better deal than sitting in the waiting area, looking at the left-wing biased news of CNN that the T.V. on the far wall presented.

Rick was quickly hooked up to monitors by the two middle-aged doctors attending to him; a physician named Deb and the other being Theresa. I was being my usual self, cracking jokes and spinning puns in this tense environment. Deb and Theresa seemed to enjoy me being there, as I offered a degree of levity. "Should I step out" I asked Deb. "Oh no, you're fine" she said with what appeared to be a sincere smile.

A few moments later we were headed down the hall to treatment room 232--Rick on his gurney with monitors rolling alongside, and me with my sense of humor and "hello" for everyone I passed along the way. Certainly, my friend appreciated my good nature, moral support, and wit during his time of pain and uncertainty. We entered 232 and then Deb and Theresa hastily exited. It was just me, Rick, and his collection of wires and monitors left waiting. I took a seat in a chair to the left of the doorway and on the right wall I spied a grease board that had written on it Your nurses will be Gail and Ashley.

It was then that Gail entered the room, a blond in her 30's dressed in navy blue scrubs. Gail was pretty, polite, and strictly business. She began to rattle off the same litany of questions that Deb and Theresa had for Rick: where does it hurt? How is your breathing now? What kind of meds are you on? There were so many questions and yet each was exceedingly important to determining what Rick's malady was and how best to treat it. Two Physicians Assistants: one a 60-ish year old man and the other a hippy-fied woman in Birkenstocks also entered during the interrogation session, replete with interrogations of their own. After the questioning and brief poking and prodding, Rick was administered some meds and the P.A's both left more quickly than they came.

As the pair of Physician's Assistants split the scene, another R.N. entered the room. She was young, thin, and not beautiful but certainly pretty. A small section of her shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back by a brown plastic clip that resided on top of her head. She wore a light blue scrub top with navy slacks--a slightly different uniform than her co-worker Gail. On her feet was a pair of black New Balance sneakers. This nurse had a serious if not stern look on her face. For some reason--perhaps it was the graveness of her countenance--I was a bit put-off by this nurse.

"My shift is over now. This is Ashley and she'll be attending you" Gail said to Rick as she hurried out of the room. I thought to myself: Self, this Ashley is not going to be pleasant. Ashley said "Hi" to Rick and began to thrust upon him the same list of questions that everyone else had asked over the course of our visit to St. John's. The hippy-fied P.A. re-entered the room, checked Rick's monitor and gave him some other medication for his leg pain. He was also administered a small dosage of nitro glycerin. I began to sense that Rick's life was not threatened but yet the leg pain and chest tightness was something that the P.A's had to pinpoint a cause of. Rick mentioned that a Dr. Santucci had given him a catheterization earlier that week and it seemed to put everyone at ease--everyone except for Ashley. My, oh my, she was a serious one.

As Ashley stood at a small table adjacent to me, documenting something on a clipboard, Rick told her that he was a court deputy for the county, as she had asked what he did for a living. I then quipped "yup, Ashley, if he's out sick, all the prisoners down there are going to run amok without his firm presence." She looked up at me and then for the first time I saw Ashley smile...

Remember back three paragraphs when I said that she was not beautiful but pretty? Well, you can scratch that. That R.N. was beautiful, in a very natural way. Her face bore little if any makeup, and it didn't need to. Her blue eyes were like deep, clear, cool lakes on a warm summer afternoon. Her nose was slender like the rest of her, with a pleasant little bump. She giggled at my "run amok" comment as though she found it quite funny but was attempting to maintain a professional facade, which she certainly did. It seemed like she wanted to laugh hard but was restrained. It is said that you never get a second chance to make a first impression, but her second impression on me made the first one moot.

For the next two hours, Ashley was in and out of Rick's room. "Ashley to Triage" "Ashley to ambulance" "Ashley to room 234." This nurse was being paged all over the Emergency Services area of St. John's Hospital Health Care Center, and each time she returned to Rick's room with grace and a smile. I made her giggle at every opportunity. At one point Housekeeping was paged to a particular room for a turnover. I commented to Ashley that I wished that they'd page me for a turnover because I was hungry and in the mood for an apple flavored one. That got a hearty laugh out of her and she commented that I wouldn't want to eat anything there. I could be way off base, but I sensed that Ashley kind of liked me. Rick mentioned to her that he and I were both in the process of getting divorces and would soon be rooming together. Ashley responded with "I just did the same thing and I'm rooming with a friend and I highly recommend it." "Hmmmmm" I thought to myself and the wheels in my head were turning.

This banter went on until it was time for Rick to be discharged. As it turned out, his condition was one that could be treated with medication and not the heart attack or blood clot that we feared. As she was processing Rick's discharge paperwork, she mentioned to him that "you need to take your friend who is getting seperated (she emphasized those two words) out for a meal because he is hungry." Somehow, New York governor David Patterson came up in conversation and Ashley replied to the effect "I'm a democrat and I don't like the guy at all. I don't know what's up with him" in reference to a host of new fees and taxes that the disgraced Elliot Spitzer's replacement was attempting to levy on New Yorkers. She reasoned that she was a Democrat because "her parents were hippies." I mentioned that I was a conservative that was disgusted with both major parties. Rick then felt the compulsion to tell the first pretty now beautiful Democrat nurse that I was a Christian-Rock singer/songwriter with a video called "He's Coming" that she should watch on YouTube. He advised her to go into the video hosting website and type in the keywords "He's Coming." Ever the humble evangelist, I mentioned that there were lots of videos with that title and it may be tough to find. I didn't have any of my business cards with me that have a direct link to the ROCK Music Ministry Of Jim Yackel website where she could have seen the video. When Rick mentioned what I did, Ashley seemed politely interested but not so in the true sense. It was then that I sensed that she probably wasn't a Christian, especially considering her upbringing.

Rick and I left St. John's and we were famished, so we stopped at a Friendly's to get some supper. As I perused the menu, I couldn't concentrate. All I could think about was the Registered Nurse that we had just spent a good part of the previous two hours with. It was though I was spellbound in a sense, and a song called "Spellbound" from the late 1980's by a band I like called the Smithereens was playing in my head as I thought about Ashley. The once pretty now beautiful nurse was a considerable part of out conversation while Rick and I ate. "You should have asked her out for coffee or something" he suggested. Perhaps I was uncharacteristically shy on this Sunday? Perhaps I just plain dropped the ball? Perhaps this new separation/divorce thing was just too fresh for me to navigate through? Maybe she might think that I'm too old, as she appeared to me to be in her late twenties.

That night, I prayed the first of many, many prayers for Miss Ashley. I prayed that if she was not yet saved, that the Lord would woo her to Himself and she would make Christ her Lord and Savior. Secondarily, I prayed that Ashley and I would meet again under different circumstances. I prayed that we could spend some time laughing, talking, and having some fun. I prayed that I could bring joy into her life, even though she seemed like a happy person after I got past the initial perception. I prayed that I would have the opportunity to show Ashley what a Godly man was.

On Tuesday of that week I composed a letter which was mailed to Ashley's immediate supervisor, a Mrs. Susan Hubbard, who was in charge of the St. John's Hospital Health Center's Emergency Services. In the letter, I mentioned the professionalism of the staffers who treated my best friend Rick. The final paragraph was dedicated to the R.N. who had so captivated me. Her sense of humor, attention to detail, meticulousness, and composure while being paged all over the E.R. were cited and commended in that paragraph. I couldn't remember Ashley's last name at that time, even though it was on her nametag (I was reminded of it a day later) but I'm confidant that Mrs. Hubbard knew who I was referencing. The paragraph went on to say that Ashley is a bellwether for other nurses to aspire to.

A couple of weeks later I got together for fellowship with a brother in Christ named Jaime Capucilli. Jaime had played bass in the early stages of the band Jim Yackel and Company and had also played Saturday night services with me at Eastside Bible Church in our hometown. It just so happens that my Bro Jaime was also employed by St. John's, in the I.T. Department. I told him all about meeting Ashley and although he didn't know her, he did have frequent contact with another of her supervisors and would be seeing this woman the following day. Jaime suggested that he bring a copy of my CD Agapé along with a handwritten note from me to give to Ashley through this supervisor. I enthusiastically accepted Jaime's suggestion and wrote a note to Ashley outlining our meeting in the E.R., some of the things that I said that she found funny and an update on Rick's condition. I ended the note with the hope that she liked the CD and included my e-mail address. I asked her to please e-mail me to confirm that she received the package. That e-mail never came, and honestly I wasn't surprised.

The month of April arrived with its obligatory showers and the thoughts of Ashley persisted, as did the prayers. I can only hope that someone out there would be praying for me as frequently as I was lifting the beautiful young R.N. up in prayer. I could remember vividly what she looked like as though I had just seen her the day before. This was no mere crush or insane obsession. There was undeniably a romantic interest on my part, but there was a strong spiritual component at play as well. I cared deeply for this woman's soul and wanted her to know Jesus. Of course--but secondarily--I wanted for her to know me as well. There had been no response from the CD I had sent a few weeks prior, and admittedly there was some disappointment on my behalf. It was in the latter part of the month that I was inspired to write the song "Ashley." The song was promptly recorded and added to the roster of tracks that were set to appear on my forthcoming CD release titled So Very Soon...

As April morphed into May, it was time for Rick and I to move into our apartment and begin our tenures as bachelors. It was then that I was hit with the idea to make another overture toward Ashley. I burned a copy of her song onto a CD and composed yet another letter, similar to the first but a bit more direct. I outlined everything again, but this time I had a particular song that I credited her for inspiring and I thanked her for it. I asked her if I could be so honored as to take her out for coffee, dinner or "whatever" as I put it. I gave her all of my contact information: my cell phone number, my e-mail again, and my physical address. If she thought I was stalking her she would have my address to report to the police. Not knowing what else to do and actually being concerned that I might make her uncomfortable, I mentioned in the letter that she knew how to reach me and that the ball was in her court. I packaged the CD and letter into an envelope and mailed it off to St. John's addressed to Ashley's attention.