Monthly Archives: August 2012

Aug 20 2012
22 Comments
Bad Behavior, Hanging On, Hope, Moving Forward, Ramblings

While I’m Waiting

I’m impatient with my impatience.

I know better.  I really do.  Yet it still doesn’t stop me from (a) being angry, (b) feeling sorry for myself, (c) crying pathetic tears into my pillow at night, (d) trying to take things into my own hands (ONLINE DATING IS HEINOUS!) and (e) wanting to give up, altogether.

I’m embarrassed at my fickle heart.  I go from being extremely happy with my life “as is”, to completely devastated that I’m not where I want to be.

Yesterday morning I dressed myself for church, feeling obligatory, pudgy and tired, with touch of low-grade frustration.  I arrived a few minutes late and picked a new place to sit, alone.  I’ve been attending church alone for over three years now. I’m quite used to it.  I’m okay sitting by myself.  In fact, I’m getting so good at doing things alone, I sometimes forget what it is like to have a companion.

My problem is that I’m okay with all of this.  I have told myself I have to be. For the most part, I’m just fine being single.  I’m fine with not getting asked out on dates.  It’s totally understandable, because it’s not the right time, or the “right” guys aren’t asking, or whatever other stupid-ass reason. It’s okay that I have to suppress my raging sex drive (I write about this a lot, don’t I?!), because I know better.  I want to have sex when it’s right, with the right person: one who will not just use me, empty me of my full, capable heart, and then leave.

Side note:  When you’ve gone from having a very regular, healthy (except in the end) sex life to NOTHING — ?!?!?!

#((^)@M#%(O)#@T)($*&()H)*(***(E)$&^*(&(#$R)(#@=F)($@U#)(C$)(%#K@)(*E@#%)R(@#%Y*(!!!)@#%*()

F   R   U   S   T   R   A   T   I   O   N.

Tears.

Of course, it’s not just about sex.  I long for relationship.

So, I’m waiting.  Hoping.  At the same time, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be held, desired, caressed; loved – specifically, by a man.  And in those recurring moments of despair I know the answer is to turn to God for help.  Except that I feel stupid, selfish and silly, because I should be stronger than this. 

The truth is, I’m not strong at all.

I’m sick of this “single” bullshit, and pretending that it’s okay. It’s not. It sucks.

And so, a few minutes after I slipped into my seat and greeted the friendly, churchy-hipster faces around me, Joseph began his sermon.

It was about “the meantime.”  Waiting.

Oh, come on, God.  I don’t feel like listening to this today.  I know I have a bad attitude, and I’ll try to fix it.  I don’t want anything to apply to me, personally. I want to be left alone. Can’t Joseph give some illustration about somebody else?  An update on the Kenyan mission team, or maybe a typical four-pointer on how to love my neighbor, all beginning with the letter “L”?  I just feel like checking out today. 

Alas.  His intro was really good, so I decided to cast aside a little bit of my negativity.  I pulled out my journal and pen, and began taking notes.

The “meantime” is the time between wanting something and having it, I wrote, almost as quickly as it left Joseph’s lips.  We equate waiting with wasted time. If we have any hope, the meantime can bring up negative feelings.  We begin to distrust, disobey and despair. 

Sigh.  It’s so true.  I am chief of the triple D’s.

We need to wait…for the RIGHT thing.

How many times have I heard this??  Yet, I can’t poo poo it, because I know it’s truth.

I then started to think about all of the warm bodies in the room, and for what each person might be waiting; hoping; longing.

I know a few couples who are waiting to get pregnant.  They’re trying everything they possibly can, all while praying, hoping and believing that God will answer those prayers.  It just hasn’t happened yet.  Time is running out.

I know families who are waiting to hear news – good or bad – about their loved one’s illness.  What an agonizing place to be: wondering if your child/husband/brother/mother is going to suffer and die, and soon.

I know a woman who is waiting for her husband to “come around” – to see her for who she truly is, and to love her deeply; intimately.  He’s just not capable of it right now.  She still believes in the potential of the man he can become, and is waiting.  It’s caused a lot of pain and confusion in her life.

I thought about my own journey, and how I’m waiting for God to answer all of my prayers.  I’ve been praying about moving back to New York since July 2009, even when I was still married.  I’ve been praying for my dad, step-mom and sisters to plunge into a deep relationship with God.  I want to spend eternity in heaven with them.  I’ve wondered and prayed about a second husband. I actually started writing to him — whoever he is — two years ago.  It feels so cheesy.

And dare I even pray and ask for a career and children?  I do.

There’s nothing that I can do to make the waiting easier, not even with a good attitude.  I just have to sit, and wait, in the meantime.  I know I do a horrible job at it, but I also know that God is in control.  I get frustrated with myself at how small and petty my complaints seem to be, but they’re real, and I know they don’t go unnoticed.  I know God cares, and I know He’s not going to forsake me.  He hasn’t done so thus far.

My mind drifted back to the sermon, and I continued taking notes.  I started to tear up a bit when Joseph pointed out, “As long as we are breathing, God is not done with us.”

Okay, God.  I surrender.  You got me. And I KNOW You’re not done with me yet.  

As if that weren’t enough, Joseph “landed the plane” (hilarious pastoral terminology for wrapping up a sermon) with a 5-minute film. The lights dimmed, and a beautiful, blind teenager named Alyssa was projected onto the screen.  She’s been blind since birth.

Great.  I feel even more like an ass.  My life is good, and this poor girl is blind.  She wins.  I suck at being a Christian.

“If I could see,” Alyssa said, “I don’t think my faith would be as strong.”

The camera then cut to her walking onstage and sitting down at the piano, and Alyssa played and sang – like an angel — an inspiring, beautiful song that she had written.

I started to cry harder at this point, and heard a few other people sniffling around me.  The woman sitting one seat away from me dug in her purse for several tissues.

“I have so much joy and so much anticipation,” Alyssa’s voiceover soothed the congregation, “because I know the first face I’m ever going to see is Jesus, and that means the world to me.”

Wow.

I realized something at that point:  Alyssa will never see.  Not in this earthly life, at least.  She is waiting for something that you and I take for granted, daily.  Her whole life is a “meantime”.

Yet she still has hope.  She still has joy.  She still has an impact on — and purpose in — this life.  She literally walks by faith, not by sight.

I have struggled with this post simply because it doesn’t feel poignant or special.  I have no “plane to land”; no physical evidence of my hope and faith, or even my prayers being answered.

Yet I still hope.  I wait.  I trust.  I believe.

Over two years ago, a friend of mine made me a CD to help encourage me as I endured the real-time pain of my divorce.  I never used to listen to Christian music (I was way too cool for it).  Now that the scars have begun to fade, certain songs pop into my head.  Today, “While I’m Waiting” is on replay in my mind.

I’m waiting
I’m waiting on You, Lord,
and I am hopeful
I’m waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience

While I’m waiting
I will serve You

While I’m waiting
I will worship

While I’m waiting
I will not faint

I’ll be running the race
Even while I wait.

It’s hard to wait.  The meantime can really suck.  But may we keep moving forward, with boldness and confidence; may we keep running with endurance the race set before us (Hebrews 12:1), and hold unswervingly to the hope that we profess, for He who promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23).

Aug 04 2012
16 Comments
Hope, Ramblings

Thirty-Five.

It’s my birthday this month.

I love my birthday.  I really, truly do.  On that blessed day, I make a point to excitedly scream at every single person I encounter, “IT’S MY BIRTHDAAAAAAYYYYY!”

I advertise my birthday by wearing T-shirts, banners, crowns, pieces of flair – whatever I can do to get the most attention. It’s totally obnoxious, but come on.

IT’S MY BIRTHDAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!

This year, however, I’m not quite sure how I feel about it.  My birthday will land on a Thursday.  I’m not planning a party.  (I actually think it’s gross to plan your own birthday party.) Most everyone is out of town for Labor Day weekend, anyway.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not feeling sorry for myself (okay, maybe a little). The truth is, I just don’t think I’m all that excited.

I’m going to be thirty-five.

I’m not at all where I thought I’d be.  If life had gone as I planned/fantasized, I’d already have a Tony award, TV series, a budding film career, a couple of albums and books out, a devastatingly handsome and devoted husband, and be pushing out my second baby – all by the age of 35.

I know.  Laugh it up with me.

The career stuff is not to be bemoaned.  I am talented, and I am successful, even if I haven’t completely “made it” yet.  I still believe that we never, truly “arrive”, else we’d be terribly bored. The nature of my career affords me the luxury of not being time-sensitive.  With the help of perspective (and therapy), I’ve really learned to calm down and enjoy the ride.  I can do a whole bunch of things.  I write.  I sing.  I act.  I direct.  I teach.  I design.  I perform.  I lead.  I play.  Surely I can make a living with at least one of the talents God has graciously bestowed upon me.

The truth of the matter is, my body is a time-sensitive machine, and the desire for sex (oh, LORD have mercy!) and babies is at an all-time high.

I can’t help it.  It’s how I was made.

I want to have a baby.  Or two.  Or several.

But I can’t.  I have no husband, and I would never choose to be a single mother just to fulfill some biological or egotistical reproductive desire.  So, in twenty-six days I will turn 35, and officially be labeled “high risk” in the childbearing department.

It just is what it is.

I feel like I don’t have the right to complain.  I had the opportunity to have children in my marriage, and I chose not to.  In fact, I was terrified.  I did everything possible to prevent pregnancy.  I used birth control and condoms.  Part of it was due to my own immaturity and selfishness, but deep down, I never felt safe enough to have a baby with X.  Even though I wanted kids, I just couldn’t do it, and I’m so glad I didn’t.  My divorce would have been much more painful; involved; devastating, and I’d be tied to X and his family forever.

God is good.

As much as I rejoice in my newfound identity, and the perspective, wisdom and humility I’ve gained throughout this journey, I’m still turning 35 in a few weeks.  I have no prospect of even a date in sight, much less a boyfriend/husband/child.

I find myself in a common predicament.  There are many amazing, 30-something, successful single women in the city who want exactly what I do: a stable husband and family, and a career.

Having been married, I know that life isn’t “complete” when we find a partner.  Yes, those first stages of courtship and romance are blissful; exciting, and you can’t even breathe when the other person is out of your arms.  I long for the day when my heart and stomach flutters in the presence of a man.  I ache to feel lovesick again.  It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

But real love quickly grows out of its infancy of “feeling”, and becomes complete in maturity, and the constancy  — almost the difficulty — of it, is what makes it so special.

I can’t wait for the day when a man chooses to love me, no matter what.

Yet I can.  I’m willing to wait.  There’s no rush.  I want it to be right.  I do not want to get divorced again.  Oh, HELL to the no.  (And, please, no more Sister Wives.  They’re amusing, but ultimately tiresome.)

At the same time, I don’t have a lot of time.  I would like the opportunity to physically bear children.  I also do not want to be in my 40s when this potential arises.  This is obviously completely out of my control, and, as the clock continues to tick, I am accepting of the very real possibility that I may never have children.

Per usual, my casual musings invite the following commentary:

Most Sensible, Cliché and Inarguable Statement:  “I don’t understand why someone as beautiful, talented and smart as you could be having such a hard time finding a date. Don’t worry.  You’ll meet “The One” when you least expect it.  He’s out there, somewhere.  And you have plenty of time to have a baby.  Enjoy your life as it is right now!”

Smug Marrieds with Smug Babies: “I’m too busy posting Instagram photos of my amazing, happy life to bother with your sad, single one – AREN’T MY HUSBAND AND KIDS THE BEST IN THE WORLD??! — but if you want my input, refer to the aforementioned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish these cupcakes – I found the perfect Pinterest recipe! —  for my MOPS meeting.”

Smug Pregnant People:  “Ohhh, my goodness, I can’t wait to get this baby out.  One last date night with the ‘hubs’ before Junior arrives!  Did you get the invitation to my baby shower yet?  Make sure you check the registry: we want the bathtime Sophie the Giraffe, and organic nipple cream.”

Tired Marrieds:  “I am so living vicariously through you.  Take.  Your.  Time.  There are plenty of good men out there, whose vas deferens are still functioning. Plus, kids are expensive.”

People Who Overspiritualize and Ignore the Reality of the Situation, But Are Also Inarguable Because They Pray for You:  “God will give you the desires of your heart.  I’m praying for a husband to come your way. I’ll pray for your future children.”

Random Male Advice:  “Invest in a new vibrator and be glad your boobs aren’t leaking.”

Divorced People With Kids:  “I’m just so glad I can focus on me now.  I have all the time in the world to find the right relationship, especially since my ex has the kids half the time.”

Other Divorced People With Kids: “God, if I didn’t have my kids, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Single 30-something Friends: “If I have to go to one more wedding or baby shower, I’m going to vomit.  I wish I could experience the joy of a happy life, with a family.  What is wrong with me; why won’t anyone choose me?  I have so much to offer, but I’m all alone.”

Other Single 30-something Friends:  “Here’s the deal: when we hit 40, I’ve got dibs on a Chinese baby girl, and you adopt an Ethiopian one.  Else we’re headed to the sperm bank with our frozen eggs.”

Actually Helpful and Accurate Statement From a Real Married with Real Babies:  “The grass is always greener.  You want what I have, and I want what you have.  So often we look at each other’s life and imagine the other’s blessings for ourselves, completely overlooking that in our own hands, we are in possession of answered prayers.”

Here’s the truth: I am actually very happy with my life, as is.

I also want more.

I understand that we don’t always get what we want, when we want it.  And as far as God fulfilling the desires of my heart?   Well, I now know that His desires for me astoundingly surpass anything I imagine, dream, or want for myself.

So, as my 35th birthday rounds the corner, I rejoice in the fact that I am, indeed, in possession of answered prayers.  I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.  What is more, God has done incredible things for me.  It took me losing everything to gain a real life, and I trust that life will be nothing short of amazing, no matter what.