| Some stories don’t preach; they just walk up beside you and smile. Market Day is one of those small moments where ordinary people, dusty roads, and quiet glances remind us that God is still at work in the simple things. Not every connection begins with thunder—sometimes it starts with a farmer’s stand, a passing look, and the courage to step toward what might be good. This little tale is just a reminder that grace often shows up in everyday places, and sometimes the truth is kinder than we first assume. |
Saturday sun at the farmer’s stand
Dust on his boots, dirt on his hands
She caught his eye, then looked away
He gave a smile that seemed to stay
Heart skipped once—she didn’t mean it
Just a glance, no need to keep it
Then she came and took his arm
Led him off with easy charm
She laughed it off, “Don’t be a fool”
Some things you don’t pursue
Oh—he had that something
You don’t forget
Oh—she felt it coming
Not hers yet
So she let it go
Like a passing flame
Just another face
Without a name
Next day, same road, same old scene
There he was in worn-out jeans
No ring she saw—her heart leaned in
Then told herself, “Don’t start again”
She came back just like before
Took his arm and out the door
She shook her head, let it fade
Some dreams are never made
Felt the heat rise to her face
Like she’d crossed some line
Oh—he had that something
You don’t forget
Oh—she felt it coming
Not hers yet
So she let it go
Like a passing flame
Just another face
Without a name
Friday night, the music plays
Lantern light and summer haze
She almost stayed, but something said
“Go on out—don’t hide instead”
There he stood in a clean white shirt
Same calm eyes, same quiet sure
She looked around—no sign of her
No soft voice, no whispered word
He walked up slow, said soft and low
“I’ve seen you twice, thought you should know
You’re standing here all on your own—
Mind if you’re not alone?”
Then she walks up—
He laughs and says, “Don’t you mind…
This is my sister.”
Oh—it all made sense now
What she thought was wrong
Oh—he took her hand then
Pulled her into the song
Round and round
All night long
What began with a glance
Turned into a song
Saturday sun at the farmer’s stand…
Funny how it all began
