I am annoyed. Mostly with myself. A little bit with God. But seriously, it’s with myself. This is not the story that I want to tell. But this is the story that I need to tell.
My mom has the absolute best intentions in the world. She really does. And I appreciate the intent, even if I don’t always appreciate the actual thing she does. For years, she would buy me books, or forward me stories of women who had similar stories to mine, in that I’m an old lady, and I’m still single. Even though I REALLY don’t want to be. So she would give me these stories of other women who were in similar circumstances for years and years and years. And then they meet their soulmate, and life is wonderful.
Those stories annoy me.
Because that is the life that I so desperately want to live.
Because that’s great and fantastic and wonderful that life has worked out for them. But here I am. And I’m not in the place that I really want to be. And there are days that I just don’t understand why. Today is one of those days.
Except, I really do know the reason why. Because God is telling me to write the story that I needed to read years ago. The story of how it’s possible to not be exactly where I want to be. But to still live a life full of joy and wonder and love.
At the end of the day, I am happy. I really am.
And there are days (yesterday, and today) where the loneliness weighs a little heavier on my shoulders.
Because let me tell you about my weekend. My cousin, who is seriously more like a sister to me, is amazing. Her husband is amazing. Her kids are the best, except when they shot me in the eye with a Nerf dart. Over the weekend, she was telling my mom and I about an event that they had been invited to, and someone that has hurt her was also going to be there. And her husband’s response to this was so simple, yet so powerful. They had decided that they never wanted this person to ever set eyes on their children. But beyond that, her husband told her that he didn’t want her to have to experience going to this event for her own mental health.
Later, my only comment to my mom about this was that I love how he defends her, and protects her.
I want that.
I’ve never come close to having that.
But that is how it is supposed to be.
The other thing from this weekend is even more ridiculous. Because Sunday at church, my pastor was talking about his niece, whose husband just had his fifth brain surgery in just a couple of months. But through it all, how her faith has never wavered. And she is struggling, and is tired, beyond anything you could imagine.
And one of the first things that went through my mind was “wow, I want a love like that.”
Yes, I was jealous of the love that this woman has for God, and for her husband. Not the situation, mind you. Because no one should have to experience anything like that. But the love that they have is what everyone should have.
Last night, I went for a walk. Honestly, I was content to sit at home and do nothing. Mindless, nothing. But I forced myself to go for a walk. And it was so hot that I didn’t take Cheese with me. So I walked. And I prayed. I almost wrote that I walked alone. But I really wasn’t. God was with me. And I spent a lot of time praying. Praying for God to guide me on what to do. On what to say. And praying for a miracle.
I have decided that that is exactly what it is going to take for me to find my husband. I need a miracle.
I am not one of those people you often hear about where they receive the overt and obvious miracles. I never have been. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that God isn’t working in my life. I feel Him working in my life every single day. Just in a more subtle way.
So right now, where am I at?
I am still praying until something happens. At least, I’m trying to. PUSH. Pray. Until. Something. Happens.
I’m going to be really honest, I was really hoping that I wouldn’t still be praying about that miracle I need. But I am. I pray every single day for the ways God is working in my life. And to prepare my heart. And to prepare my husband’s heart. Whoever he is.
And I am weary from still needing to pray about it. I still am. But my patience is wearing thin. And I’m not sure how much longer I will need to pray. But I also know that if I stop praying for this miracle, I won’t get it.
So, annoyed as I am. I’m still PUSHing.