Single

I wrote this a long time ago. When I was trying to figure out where I belonged in life. Right now, I have some amazing, beautiful, godly friends that are single. Now... being happily in love I can tell them that I KNOW that I KNOW that I KNOW their turn is coming because mine did. And I am the least deserving, least perfect person I know! But they are in a "What's wrong with me?" phase in life that I get. I wrote this before I met Andrew. Most people won't get this, but those that have been there or are there will and in all honesty, that's all I care to speak to on this subject.

I was in my room looking through old photo albums and it struck me. As I glanced at myself with my closest friends from all walks of life-grade school, high school, college- I suddenly realized that I’m the only one left. Everyone has moved on. Everyone has taken another name. Everyone has been chosen by some man. That is, everyone but me. At first I shook it off. After all, I have my entire life ahead of me. I’m young. I’m healthy. My opportunities are endless and being single makes me boundless. My married girlfriends envy my freedom, but even still, I can’t help but hurt. I don’t know what it is, but no matter how skinny I feel, how successful I get, no matter how cute I dress, and even how much I love Jesus, it still hurts. I could tell you a million reasons why it shouldn’t hurt, why I shouldn’t yearn for a thing, but it still hurts.
Some people tell me I’m wired to want a husband. That the reason I hurt is because God created a hole in my heart, a longing for a mate, a place waiting to be filled. Others tell me that my biological clock is ticking. It’s socially acceptable to want to raise a family and nurture another human soul. Some may even go as far as to say that women are created for marriage. God created Adam and Eve. God honors marriage. Two are better than one. But no matter what I’m told, no reason seems to hold up. And for the life in me, I don’t seem to buy it.
As I stared deeper into my picture, the stories came flooding back. There’s Suze, the girl who wore “I want to be married” on her forehead. Suze was always in a relationship. She was the girl who was always loved, was always adored, and was always noticed. Suze never learned to be content with Jesus, much less herself, but she never had to. Then there’s Melanie, the girl who shacked her way through college. The girl who transferred schools because she ran out of guys to date. I worried about her virtue, I prayed for her reputation and her safety. I guess those prayers were answered. Then there’s Vic, the girl who presented herself as my friend. The girl who dropped off the face of the earth whenever the male species was involved. And lastly, there was Kate, the girl who didn’t even go to church. The girl who pretended to love Jesus, the girl who was Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, even Buddhist for a while. It all depended on who the man in her life was. She married a pastor.
Please don’t misunderstand me, I love these girls. I would give my life for any of these girls, and I’d like to believe that they’d do the same for me. But my point is that they did it wrong. They all did it wrong. I waited and prayed and cried out to God night upon night. I went the prom with a good friend. I skipped the sorority formals. And I stood by each one of them in their perfect, Gatsby-esque weddings and I couldn’t help but think that they reaped the benefits of my discipline. As I look at this picture, I can’t help but become angry. Why am I still standing in the crowd begging to be seen? Why am I dying inside every time I watch someone else walk down the aisle and into matrimonial bliss?
If I could close myself off, I would. If I could make myself not want that, life would be so perfect. If I could just fast forward past all of this. If I could get to the part where the love fades away and everyone is content. I think I could handle that part. But not this part. This part is excruitiating. I used to pray that God would call me to Africa. Isn’t it best to be single when following God to foreign countries? “I’m here, Lord, send me,” I’d say. But He won’t. God won’t not let me run from this battle. This long, drawn out, exhaustingly, ridiculous battle that I’ve been fighting way too long.
Though I hate to admit it, the longer I fight, the more it makes sense. I am realizing that this is something I have to fight. It may seem so stupid to most people but those out there that feel as I do, it means the world. They get the fight. And hopefully, like me, they will get the reason behind the madness. You see, God doesn’t want me to escape this. He wants me to walk through this. Some days I think He is so cruel. Some days, like the day I picked up this picture, my stomach fell to my toes and I felt gutted. And betrayed. This is why sometimes I need some reminding. Some days, I want to throw in the towel and run like Jonah did. Some days I want to be in a big city partying away my pain. But as much as I try to run, I can’t seem to not trust God. Truth is, I don’t want to get swallowed by a whale. I don’t want to live all Sex and the City. And as ironic as this sounds, I don’t want to be married until I really get it. I don’t want anyone to see me until God works this out in me.
Some days I wake up so excited. I anticipate the day I turn the corner and bam, my life changes. The day I get that phone call that sends me to my knees in gratitude because finally, my turn has come. I can’t wait for that day. But strange as this sounds, I also crave these times with God. The days that life is so scary. The days that He looks down on me and tells me that He sees me. The days that he holds me. Sometimes I think I want to be loved too badly. Maybe I’d love someone too much. Or maybe God loves me too much. Maybe He doesn’t want to let go of me. So here I am. An insecure girl writing out her heart, hoping someone out there gets what I’m saying. And hoping they too can be encouraged, even on the hard days. Though I live a very blessed life, sometimes I’m just a girl doing her best to get through the day.
Sometimes I think my day will never come. But even if that were true, I know that I have everything I need. And some days, on the rare occasion, I am able to listen to the Holy Spirit tell me, “Am I not still God?” If I take a breath, stop my whining, and cease on the “Woe is me garbage,” I can actually feel Him. I can feel Him so intently that sometimes I take comfort in the fact that it’s in these lonely days like today that I am able to meet with Him. So I guess the question isn’t, “Will I have babies? Will I join the PTA? Or will I be a grandmother?” The question is, “Am I willing to follow God, even it’s down a path loneliness? Am I willing to give up life’s greatest blessing to have these moments, these precious moments where God literally touches my heart and tells me that He adores me, that He sees me, and that He is crazy for me? Am I willing to let this be enough?”
The answer is, “yes.”

How Flowers Saved My Relationship

Yesterday was a bad day. Wait. That's the understatement of the century. Yesterday sucked a big, fat toe. Sure there were reasons for my emotional outbursts. I mean, I woke up sad and angry, but it really was a crappy day. I know, I know, I could have made the best of it. But every now and then I like to feel sorry for myself. I woke up crying. I woke up mad at Andrew. I woke up not wanting to go to work. I woke up feeling ugly, mean, unimportant, you name it. I probably should have never woken up! Shortly after getting to work, I did what every selfish person in the world does when they're upset. I started lashing out at my loved one. It's Andrew's fault I moved to Texas. Away from a cush job with incredible opportunities. Away from my family and friends. Away from my awesome condo. Shame on me for moving here without him first proposing to me. by 9 am, I had started doing that psychotic thing he and every man in America hates. I blew him up with angry texts. Through tears I told him he can no longer sleep on my couch. (After all, why would he wanna marry me if I'm too available?) I told him I'm moving to Austin near my sister or back to Memphis. I told him I was so offended he hadn't proposed to me yet. I pretty much blamed him for my unhappiness. On the way home from work I laid into him. I have never screamed and cried like that to him in my life, but I did. I told him I'm miserable and that I guess I had to jump off the cliff for him to realize that. Then I hung up on him. When I got home I found flowers and a precious note. It was what I needed. The note revealed his love for me. It showed me that he loves me and wants the best for me, even if it meant moving. Even if it meant him being miserable (because he loves it here).

And that's all I needed. (He also left me a Ziploc bag with flowers that Belle had chewed up!) I needed to know I was loved. I went on a long walk and did some soul searching and came to a few realizations. I love Andrew. I love him so very much, and I don't want to break up with him. There is no one else for me (though he told me I could make out with my choice celebrity if given the opportunity). I can't imagine life without him, but at the same time I am meant for more than marriage. More than being a loving girlfriend. I have always felt called to be more and do more. I have always felt the need to change people's lives, and I can't do that when I'm turned so into myself. That's when I realized that the problem is me. It's all me. And if I love him, if I truly love him the way he loves me, I have to try harder. I have to try before I pack up my toys and leave the sandbox. I can find friends. (I joined a book club yesterday). I can make a point to go to Sunday School. Because a lot of this stems from me not prioritizing my relationship with the Lord. I am not filled by God so every day I have been walking over to Andrew with my huge barrel to be filled. I am not prioritizing exercise, and I need that. The problem is me.

Today may bite. The next week may bite, too. And I may try and try and I'm just not supposed to be here. The point is I am gonna try. Flowers and a note are just gestures. They are not the breaking or making point of a relationship. But they are exactly what I needed to wake me up from my self-pity trance. So stay tuned.....

What Kind Of A Guy?

Let me set the scene:
My house smelled like pee (Belle!!!). I felt fat. I was tired. I had blood running down my face because Belle mistook my nose for a chew toy. And I missed Memphis terribly.

Enter Andrew…
Poor guy never had a chance. He came at the wrong time. Mt. Kim had officially erupted. I won’t get into the details, but let’s just say that I used him as a punching bag. And my baby is no pushover. He doesn’t let me go off on him without speaking up for himself. But this time, he was silent. He said nothing. He cleaned the blood off my face and sat quietly on my couch. Meanwhile I went upstairs and cried in the closet. He didn’t shout anything at me. He didn’t even turn on the TV. He gave me quiet time. A few minutes later I heard him come up the stairs. He didn’t open the door to my safe place (probably because he was afraid he would get a stiletto in the eye). He didn’t scream a few things back at me (which I so deserved). He sat on my bed and played “Don’t Think I Can’t Love You” on his IPhone: So girl, I can't buy you a big diamond ring. No house on a hill full of life's finer things. And I'll tell you right now there's a whole lot that I just can't do. Oh, but baby, don't think I can't love you.

When I came out of the closet he told me to get dressed. He had fed the dogs and wanted to take me out. He held my hand while walking to the car. (He never holds my hand in the complex because technically he is at work). But he knew I needed it. And when he grabbed my hand I knew his intention. I can’t remember what we did for the next few hours, and it doesn’t really matter. All I know is I came back to my apartment happy. Did it still smell like pee? Yes. Did I still miss Memphis? Yes. But I didn’t care because I felt loved. And nothing….not a bad day, a huge cut under my eye (thanks Belle), a pee-smelling apartment…..nothing could shake me after that. Because he loved me to the core and that’s exactly what I needed.

WHAT KIND OF A GUY DOES THAT??? What kind of a guy lets you use them as a punching bag because they know deep down you may break if they put you in your place? When you’re clearly in the wrong, what kind of a guy says nothing when you attack them the moment they walk in the door? What kind of a guy shows you affection when you show him anger? What kind of a guy takes time to read your soul? What kind of a guy gives you time to cry without offering words you don’t want to hear right away? Maybe I’m asking the wrong question. Because obviously I know what kind of a guy does all these things. The question I need to be asking is why on God’s green earth would God bless the mess out of me by giving me this kind of a guy?