Tag Archives: Hope

A New Year or Just Another Year?

7 Jan

Anonymous asked, “What happened with KS?” (from several posts back).   Answer:  nothing.

 

Let me also tell you what is happening with Bronxman (who appeared in the same post at KS several blogs back, and again in the post before this one):  nothing.

 

Finally, as for WB (my perpetual crush), what happened in December was:  for the first time in many years (10+) he did not send me a Christmas gift, he did not make a Christmas (or New Year’s) call to me, and he has yet to return my call asking him (in an absolutely kosher way)  if there’s some kind of problem.   What will become of him and me:  nothing.  I get it already, Lord. 

 

Moving on…

 

It’s 2009!  The year that Hope makes a jaw-dropping comeback!  This is going to be a fantastic year for Singles everywhere, I’m convinced.  We are approaching a tipping point in the way that Christian culture approaches the issue of singleness, and it’s only to our benefit.

 

Thus, my plan for 2009 is to focus a little more on the Christian Culture’s dealings with all things Single,  and to focus a little less on my personal travails.  Just a little less.  

 

I plan to begin with a few Captivating posts.  Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul

A must read if you haven’t.   The woman who gave me this book is going to post a guest column here very soon.

 

I’ll also mix in a few observations about issues raised in Plumbline Ministries’ Free Audio Downloads for Christian Singles.   I don’t know this ministry at all, but they seem to be the only ones dealing with the spiritual implications of protracted singleness, and that alone is sufficient to warrant my consideration.

 

God said so many wonderful things to begin the year that I’m still intoxicated by His voice.   Hurray for a New year, and not just Another year!

Holiday Cheer?

15 Dec

The first week of November, after the election, hope had the audacity to rumble through my world like an earthquake, shaking everything up.

The second week of November I traveled to visit relatives.  My long time friend, and number one draft pick to marry, (and ex), lives twenty minutes from my relatives.  I debated letting him know I was in town–a) because I need to move on already, it’s been years; b) because back in June I promised myself that I would not call him, at least until the end of the year, because I need to move on already; and c) because if he cared at all he would call me, or email, or something, and he doesn’t.  I finally decided to split the baby and text him.  If he wanted to see me while I was in town, great.  If not, no biggie; my weekend was packed with family stuff anyway.

He did want to see me.  I invited him to meet my relatives and me at church.  After church he gave me a ride back to their house.  Then he stayed (without a hint of a suggestion from me).  He left when I left to return home.  He’d spent the entire afternoon in my aunt’s kitchen talking and laughing. 

Elation thy name is, I mean thy initials are, WB.   The time that he gave me felt loving.  And just knowing that he still has some kind of love for me, even if it’s not the go-to-Tiffany’s-today-and-buy-a-ring kind of love, comforted a part of my heart and helped me to let go of the idea of him just a little bit.

The following weekend I went to my friend’s baby shower.  At the shower I made a new friend, Pamela.  Pamela is Called to Singleness (more later).   She and I shared a solemn and prophetic moment at the shower that culminated with her looking me in the eye and saying to me, “You are getting married.”

Elation thy prophet is Pamela.  In the days that followed, one thought headlined all others in my  mind, “Who is he, Lord?  Who will I marry?”

The last weekend of November, six days after I met Pamela, Bronxman blindsided me by declaring to me, “We could have an epic love if only you would give us a chance.”   He, for the first time in the many, many months that I’ve known him, revealed his heart to me.  Bronxman was not even on my list of potential draft picks to marry.

Panic (“Not him, Lord!”) gave way to openness. 

 

My heart’s wings fluttered.

 

And then December came…

The Audacity of Hope

5 Nov

hope2

 African-American Barack Obama has won the Presidential election and will become the 44th President of the United States of America.  It is an historic moment.

 

On the news an email from an Italian national was read, “This means that anything is possible in America.  Welcome back American Dream!”

 

After his victory was announced, in my breast embers of hope that I believed long banked, glowed and became a burning flame.  And I want to cry.  Not because I am happy.  But because I did not ask to hope.  I did not call hope forth or seek it.  Hope, for me, really is the cruelest emotion of all.  It is the hardest to endure.  Such a great hope as this victory signifies terrifies me.

 

On Election Eve my dear friend DJ called me from Chicago.  We have not spoken in months.  Since she moved as a newlywed from New York, she and her husband have purchased a large, beautiful home and their family has grown to include four children.  Six or seven years ago we were prayer partners and would pray fervently for her family and for me.  That I would marry and become a mother.  Even when we stopped praying together, knowing how greatly I desire these things, DJ was a steady source of encouragement to me over the years. 

 

When we talked two days ago, she updated me on news about her and her family.  She told me of all the weddings that were taking place around her.  I updated her on what was going on for me, and told her of all our NY friends who have had babies.  At one point DJ mentioned something about a wedding and me and I did not engage her on the issue.  I distinctly recall stifling the part of me that tried to assert the thought, “Don’t patronize me with talk of my wedding.  We both know it’s not happening.  I’ll never have children like you and your husband.”  I made some pleasant, acceptable Christian responses to all she said, and ended the call.

 

That I don’t want to talk about getting married with DJ, my friend, who only wants to continue to believe God for my future, is a very bad sign.  After that call I faced the truth of my waning hope; my diminished faith in God to ever bring my desire for marriage to fruition. 

 

I used to hope.  There were years of hope, with nothing but disappointment following.  Hope deferred has made my heart sick unto death it seems.

 

Many will say that being single and over thirty is good.  It’s Oh.Kay.  They will say that they are content and that they enjoy their lives.  I say, being single and over thirty is like being in the school yard and never being picked to play on anybody’s team.  It’s knowing the game is challenging fun and wanting to play; gathering with all the other kids on the field where the captains will choose their teams.  It’s recess after recess after recess of being passed over while watching other kids get chosen. It’s watching the others run, and catch, and get tagged out, while sitting on the sidelines knowing you would play just as well as they if only you were given a chance.  After a while the ones who are never picked stop gathering with the other kids.  We pretend that we don’t really want to play anyway.

 

Because I am still single, and for dozens of other reasons, I have urged hope to die.  But with this election victory, instead of dying, hope has unilaterally determined that it will live and grow.  It urges me to live and grow.  It dares me to believe that anything is possible.  Even marriage.