So, Valentine's Day just passed.
Yeah.
The coffee shop was quite bedazzled with pink, and hearts, more pink, and little cupid babies with deadly weapons. My once comforting little espresso-scented home-away-from-home was now love-smothered by hearts aplenty, and contained a plethora of snuggly, starry-eyed customers, who thought cuddling while ordering was exactly what I came to work to see…obviously.
Before I sound too bitterly cynical, let me back up a few days.
Actually, I'll probably still sound slightly bitter, but at least you'll have a better understanding/idea of where I was coming from, going into this Day of Decked-Out Hearts, and perhaps find some humor in the tale I'm about to share.
In the week leading up to Valentine's Day…
I found out my ex is planning on proposing to his girlfriend (who happens to be an ex-roommate of mine) in the not-so-distant future.
My co-worker began to share details about her upcoming wedding, and received several lovely littles from her "bae" that were delivered in-person to the shop, every other day or so.
Another co-worker just began a beautiful relationship with an amazing, grounded, godly guy…who happens to be a regular customer of ours, and he comes in to see her often.
My younger sister has not one, or two, but several young specimens of the male species, blowing up her phone daily (but she keeps her cool, is polite, and doesn't lead any of them on…they just don't get the hint. Gosh, I want to be like her when I grow up).
And then, this happened:
I thought I had met my soul mate.
Yes, he who loves Jesus, and coffee, and (eventually) me.
In he sauntered through those finger-smudged glass double doors, selected a table, and opened his well-worn Bible to a bookmarked page. After setting the rest of his books down, he took a brief glance at the menu, and walked to the register.
Tall, with dark wavy hair, blue-ish sort of close to sea green eyes that were smiling as nicely as those perfectly aligned pearly whites he was flashing as he ordered his in-house latte with an added double shot. He settled himself back in at his table, and proceeded to dive deep into spiritual, godly ponderings, and other things of a holy nature.
Obviously, I assumed one of those deep considerings would be about how to properly "woo" me.
I silently saluted him, and cheered him on in his efforts.
Then…it happened.
His girlfriend walked in. And joined him.
The end.
Tell me you heard the record warp, too? I hadn't even noticed the singing angels, until "she" walked in and silenced them.
Oh, well.
But, it got me thinking. Not about how to pray her away, or anything…those thoughts came later.
But about how sad it must make the Lord that my immediate reaction when I saw a good guy come in, was to think of him as a "potential". A "maybe".
As if I'm constantly "on the hunt" for a "potential", and once I see something worth hoping for, my first response is to think of how to "catch" his special attentions. Instead of looking at him as my brother in the Lord, someone to be admired and respected for his efforts towards godliness, I begin to think of how he can be made to notice MY godly qualities (which, obviously are few and even those need working on), so he can talk to God about marrying me ASAP.
Where did this idea of a strict "marriage time-line" come from, anyways?
Is it society, as everyone says it is? That "social norm" that's referenced so often, and looked on with such distain, by our Christian peers?
Is it really a "social norm", though?
What does that term even really mean?
I don't exactly blame society in itself. I think society, our "social" surroundings, may set a certain stride for things they want to be viewed as "right" and "normal", but do they really FORCE those norms on us?
Isn't the choice to conform, or stand out, really still ours?
Us, our own INDEPENDENT selves, with our own opinion-generating minds. Don't we still have the ultimate say-so in what we think, believe, stand for, say, and how we portray those opinions through the way we live our lives?
We have control over that, don't we?
When did we forget that?
When did it become so hard, and hurt so much, to be "different"?
And why?
Because life is hard when you live in an imperfect world. Yet, there is hope in that we are loved no matter what our struggles are.
We are loved for who we are.
How we think.
What we believe.
We have an amazing example to follow, of a life beautifully lived, purposed to be "different". Thank goodness for Jesus, coming to be that physical example of spiritual perfection. We can never repay Him for what He did & gave to us, but we can honor Him by modeling ourselves, our lives, in a way that would bring Him glory.
For me, that starts with not trying so hard to be like everybody else.
Do you ever think about what it would do to your psyche, if you were able to side-by-side yourself with "one-year-ago-to-the-day" self, and put it next to "today-you're-thinking-back-to-one-year-ago" self?
What would seeing the difference make you feel, or think?
Would there even be a difference?
Would you be happy with your year, and the way you've changed (or not) the way you view being single?
Would Last Year You, who was griping about still not having a significant other, be singing the same song as This Year You?
Or would current you still have the usual complaints, and snarky little wise cracks, about singleness and how sappy and pitiful your Hearts Day would be as you watched The Notebook, ate ice cream straight from the container, while cuddling with your dog, who just happens to be the only "significant other" currently in your life.
I know I want to say that I'm one of those oober holy 20-somethings, who are still single and "just living their life for the Lord", doing all things right and spiritual, during this "waiting period" or "season of singleness". But I'm not.
I wish I could truthfully say that I'm always "completely happy and content with where God has me right now". But I struggle with that satisfied state of mind, daily.
It would be false to say "I'm so busy doing what God has set before me, that I no longer dwell on the thought of my future husband walking through the door at any second". Because I definitely do think about it nearly every time a young, attractive, godly guy wanders into the coffee shop.
Do I wish I could be just like those girls my age, who are so caught up in doing God's work, that they hardly notice when Mr. Hubby-To-Be saunters into the picture? Yeah, I really do.
Do I know that it's spiritually unhealthy to think about things that God hasn't given me yet, while I am simultaneously busy with the things He has gifted to me right now? Yes, and that knowledge helps keep me in check.
Do I know that God is a loving God, who forgives and continues to adore me each and every time I slip up and begin to idolize marriage and the thought of being loved by a man who treasures me and thinks I'm something special? Oh yes, and that is what gives me peace, calms me down, and motivates me to refocus on Him and do better each day.
God know the desires of my heart.
That's it.
That's the verse I quote to myself countless times a day, when I catch my thoughts drifting towards too much marriage-mindedness.
And you know what?
It helps.
It helps so much.
The closing scene of the movie "Gladiator" shows one half of a close, and dear, friendship between two gladiators once imprisoned together, who is now processing the separation from his friend by saying to himself "I will see you again…but not yet. Not yet".
I will find myself loved in the way I long to be loved. But not yet.
Lord willing, I'll have the family I long to invest in, love on, pour into, and raise to be good stewards of the life gifted to them. But not yet.
I'll get to that point of peaceful contentment that I admire in those girls I so desire and strive to be like. But, unfortunately, I'm not there yet.
But I'm trying.
God knows, I'm trying my darndest.
And I have full faith, confidence, and assurance from scripture, that He rewards a heart that models (or at least tries really hard to resemble) His own. In that, I find security. In that, I feel loved more than I deserve to be. In that, I trust my heart's girlish dreams to.
In that, I place my hope.
And so, I carry on.
Time for my second cup of coffee.
