I realize people have a good heart and Christians want to witness and make contact with church members and/or friends/family that need to be in church and become a Christian. We are all to show ourselves friendly and to help others.
There comes a time though when it is wrong for a single, divorced woman to text me about my husband’s church attendance and if she can contact him and encourage him. No! 
What makes me crazed about this situation is that she should know better. We have heard the same messages at church.
How or what would you do?
There are many of us women (wives) that attend church alone, I see it all the time.
I want to text her back and might at some point or see her at church and if asked, say that her requirement as a single, divorced woman should only be to pray for him. For a woman to contact a married man is not okay in my books. This opens up a whole can of worms, as they say.
Whether or not my marriage is perfect is none of her business or others; there is still a marriage license in force.
I’m just floored that she had the gall to contact me but I guess she feels we are friends, close enough that is to either get the scoop or my permission. No! If I was not so nice, I would rip into her. If there is definite contact made, I will.
Sometimes, I just shake my head and this was one of those moments. Crazy enough and just like the Lord, I was questionning her a few months back about an interest in him, figuring it was just a fear on my part. Now, I wonder if that was a warning. No matter. No!
Pay attention to your gut instincts!
If he goes to church with me or not. None of your business. He is a grown man, too, and he has choices of his own whether to go or not. Not mine. Not yours.
As Christians, we are to pray for others.
In passing, to invite to church is one thing. There are other men in the church that should be reaching out to care and witness to other men, not a single, divorced woman. Same with women contacting other women with care and concern. It’s conservative and respectful but for a reason.
Sometimes, I am just amazed at people and crazy enough, church people.
A few weeks ago, while staying in a rented condo on vacation, it takes me a bit to get acclimated to the surroundings and sounds. While it was great to meet up with a friend so we could shop for several days, the night comes. I’m in the back bedroom and she is in the front bedroom near the outside door. I knew she went to bed and as I am lying
there in mine, I hear a screeching of a door. I look through the crack of my door to see if it was the front, outside door, while a panic within me freezes not knowing the what if. What if it is the door opening and somebody will enter. Fear.
As I look and try to talk through this situation, I look at the bedroom door and am reminded that there is a cross on the door. Trust Me. Once I realized we were in no danger, the deadbolt was on anyway, I remembered yet again how many times since a child that I have looked at the doors in our home and the Cross. Peace.
fear as it has done all of my life. I love that the six-paneled doors, I see a Cross. I was telling my friend of the screeching sound and my panic mode. She had never noticed the Cross before. Bet she does now. You, too. (Cross and Bible)
This morning while walking early, as I do often and watch the sun rise over the tree tops feeling the crisp, cool air while I start my day, I often think and pray. Many days, I meet a friend and we walk together. As I was rounding the corner, hitting my first-mile marker, the thought and question came to me as to what is my motive in doing this. Where did that come from, I thought? Lord, what are you asking me with this question so I pondered it as I continued on walking.
As a child from a home that you just existed in with no real emotional support or touch, you (or I did) tend to reach out to anyone that will give that need, that mothering, direction, understanding, etc. It was my coping skills all through life of grasping love and attention. Now recognizing since being in her counseling sessions week after week, year after year, how could I not want her to be proud of me. I have spent more one-on-one time with her (well over 200 hours) than I have anyone, whether that be my own mother, siblings, or any family/friends to really know me.
Just Pondering... 