Bob Baker was chair of the deacons at Ruffner Valley Baptist Church in Irondale, Alabama where I was Interim Pastor. Bob invited my wife and I to dinner and Cindy was his “plus one.”

I was married to a smart, charming, pretty woman, but Cindy was awake and alive in ways I had never experienced before. There were no “special moments” or lingering glances at dinner. We all had a good time and then went our separate ways.

Bob and I remained friends over the years and would have lunch or dinner every once in a while. It was Bob who told me Cindy had developed a rare form of cancer.  Later, after my divorce, Bob told me that Cindy was doing much better after months of chemotherapy and he wanted me to take her out to lunch. He told me that Cindy had kept up with me ever since that dinner, now seven years past.

Cindy and I met for lunch. She was still smart, charming, and pretty, even with the helmet hairdo wig she wore to cover her baldness. And Cindy was more alive and powerful than ever.

Cindy and I began dating. She wore me out on the dance floor at a gala. Dinner parties at her house were a riot. Cindy introduced me to a friend one night as a venture capitalist because some friends and I had just invested $35,000 in a mother-of-the bride dress store. Cindy’s friend started pitching me to invest $7 million dollars in a start-up company that was developing synthetic skin. I realized that friends of Cindy Collins were taken more seriously than I was used to being taken. On another occasion, Cindy spotted Floyd walking down the sidewalk. She knew Floyd from volunteering at the Firehouse Shelter and worried that he might miss the cut-off for getting in that night. I loved how Cindy was friends with millionaires and homeless people.

Cindy and I had some issues. I asked about her cancer and she didn’t want to talk about it. I told her it was embarrassing that people asked me how she was doing and I didn’t know anything. So she told me a tiny bit. I told her I was afraid she and I were not compatible because I was a very physical guy and she and I did not have a physical relationship. She pointed out how she had been sitting with her legs across my lap. That she wanted to be close to me, but that a hug was physically painful for her.

We were making progress and then I got a call from Bob. Cindy died of a blood clot. She was 35 years old.

My friend Robyn asked me to pray for a friend of hers. I prayed every day for a month and then asked Robyn for an update. I don’t ask for updates about people I don’t know, but this person became important to me. She has a husband and two young children and is being treated for cancer that was in remission. I pray for most people by asking God to bless them however God thinks best, but I ask God every day to cure this woman, to let her raise her children, and enjoy them to a ripe old age. I know exactly what I want and will keep asking until God answers (Luke 18:1-8). I did not understand why this young mother means so much to me until I finished writing the last paragraph of my story about Cindy.