TEST OF LOVE

‘’LOVE  IS   NOT

                LOOKING AT EACH OTHER 

BUT

            LOOKING IN SAME DIRECTION ‘’

John Blanchard stood up from the bench straightened his Army

uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through

Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he

knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose.

His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida

library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued,

not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in

the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and

insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the

previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort

he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her

a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The

next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II.

During the next year and one month the two grew to know each

other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a

fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a

photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it

wouldn't matter what she looked like.

When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they

scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 p.m. at the Grand Central

Station in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the

red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the

station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face

he'd never seen.

I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell You what happened: A young woman was

coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay

back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as

flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale

green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward

her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a

rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.

"Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably, I

made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She

was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past

40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more

than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.

The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as

though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her,

and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had

truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her

pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a

warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped

the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify

me to her.

This would not be love, but it would be something precious,

something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I

had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and

saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I

spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. "I'm

Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so

glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"

The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know

what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in

the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose

on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I

should tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant

across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"

It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's

wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the

unattractive. "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I

will tell you who you are."

Author Unknown