God Promised Her a Man Who Fit the Bill

Her heart knew the love of her life's name and she was determined to find him.

by
- Posted on Nov 18, 2019

A name tag that reads 'Hello My Name is Bill'

“Woman seeking man named Bill.”

I stared at my words in print. My personal ad in the classifieds section of the morning newspaper, complete with a P.O. box address so potential suitors could send me letters. It was one of the weirdest things I’d ever done, but I so wanted to take a chance on love.

I’d recently gotten divorced and was feeling lonely. A friend suggested praying for someone new to come into my life. While I had always been spiritual, I’d fallen away from church. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d prayed for something so specific. But I gave it a try, not quite knowing what to expect. Please, God, bring into my life the love you intend for me.

I was surprised when I received an answer, whispered into my heart: The man you’re looking for is named Bill. The message felt too strong to ignore. I told my daughter, Margie, and my friend Pam about my conviction. They thought I was crazy.

“I can’t explain it,” I said. “I just know in my heart that I’m meant to marry a Bill.”

And so my search began. After I put out the personal ad, a few Bills responded. I went out with all of them—but clicked with no one. Just as I knew I was destined to meet my Bill, I knew none of them were right. None of them…fit the Bill.

Meanwhile, Pam was encouraging me to put myself out there in a more conventional way. She’d learned of a singles’ ski trip to Taos, New Mexico. I was a Texas girl through and through. My idea of a fun vacation was relaxing poolside, not speeding down a mountain in the snow. But Pam was insistent. “Just try it!” she said. “You might like it. And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet your Bill on the slopes!”

Why not? I decided. I’d never been skiing before, but Pam was a skier and let me borrow her equipment.

Pam was right—I had a great time! By the end of the ski trip, I still hadn’t graduated from the bunny slope but I’d discovered a love of skiing. I had met a lot of people too, but none named Bill.

The bus back to Texas was scheduled to leave the resort at 4 P.M.  Anyone late would be left behind, we were warned. Everyone arrived on time. Well, almost everyone. “We’re waiting on one more person,” the bus driver told us as we sat idling in the parking lot. Apparently, this man had called ahead, saying he would be unavoidably late.

Eventually, the man in question burst through the door of the bus, his snowsuit still on. The only seat left was right next to me. He sat down, still panting from his sprint to the bus.

“I’m Don,” he said. I introduced myself and asked what happened. Don said he’d been stuck on the side of the mountain. A skier had broken both of her legs, and he’d waited with her until the ski patrol arrived to take her to safety.

What a gentleman! I thought. And handsome too…

We actually had a lot in common. The conversation between us flowed easily. Don and I chatted for almost the entire 12-hour drive to Fort Worth. At the end of the trip, we exchanged phone numbers. We went on one date. Then two. Then three. Don was everything I’d ever wanted in a man…except for his name, of course.

“Nobody’s perfect,” Pam said with a laugh. I had to agree. But Don sure came close.

Then Don invited me to attend a banquet with him. It was being held by the crisis intervention hotline where he volunteered once a week, answering calls from people in trouble. Many callers intended to commit suicide. It was Don’s job to connect them with the help they needed. It was a worthy cause, and Don was a dashing date.

That night at the banquet, there was a registration table at the front door. On it we found preprinted name tags for each guest. Don picked up one with Billon it. As he affixed the name tag to the lapel of his jacket, a chill crept up my spine.

“Why does your name tag say Bill?” I asked.

“Oh, we don’t use our real names at the center,” said Don. “It’s for privacy. So around here, I’m Bill!”

I don’t think I stopped smiling that entire evening. When I got home that night, the first thing I did was call Pam. It was late, but she picked up.

“Hello?” she said, sleepily.

“I’ve found my Bill!” I cried out in delight.

“Bill” and I have been together for almost 30 years now and got married in 2001. Deep down, I knew he was the man God intended for me since the moment we first met. It just took a name tag to prove it.

Did you enjoy this story? Subscribe to Mysterious Ways magazine.

View Comments