Confusion swirls as the thoughts are pondered. Unanswered questions fill mind space. As I close my eyes I hear a familiar sound overhead and my lips stretch into a smile. The roaring engine of a plane, soaring thousands of feet above the earth.
Flying releases a sense of freedom; I've jumped out of a couple of airplanes, but usually I find myself securely fastened and journeying from one place to another. Once as I was soaring 36K feet up in the air, deep in thought, tears began pouring, uncontrollably. My focus was on the nakedness of a left hand finger. The very finger that I figured, by this point in my life, would be adorned by a symbol of love, a till-dealth-do-us-part commitment. Tears still streaming, breath short, *the man sitting uncomfortably next to me*..unable to pull myself together.
Looking out into the wispy white I silently lifted up a prayer. Deep breath. Then a peace, not audible or spelled out in letters and lights, but a cradling of my soul, a deep caring for my heart. A reminder of the promise given years ago.
In truth, I've worn the label single as an embarrassment, shame. Because, you see, most of my friends are past the marriage stage, and are having or have had their children. How many times have I stood beside dear friends as they committed their lives to another? Rejoicing with laughter and tears. And then welcomed their sweet little ones, while feeling the piercing desire to one day gaze upon my own. Or held hands and petitioned expectantly for those who could not conceive, wondering if they realize the depth to which I understand their sorrow.
The whys are unrelenting. Where do I belong? And how much longer must I wait? In my head I know that this season is producing endurance and perseverance, but my heart aches.
And then the questions of *when are you going to settle down and start a family?* as if settling has anything to do with it. Settling is not an option. I have a calling and a purpose; I have not wasted my life recklessly on this world, but rather have offered a life of reckless abandon to my Maker. My longing to live an extraordinary life for him trumps my willingness to be content with the status quo. He knows what is best for each one, and it is in the comparing myself to others that I begin to dwell on my have nots.
Yet, when hope seems like a distant memory He will often lift my head and remind me of his love..with airplanes, promises. Taking me to days much like the one where He romanced my heart high above the clouds. He is working it out. He is never early. He is never late.
Like the pilot He sees what's ahead, He knows where we're going. So, I can either rely on my limited window view or trust in His all knowing-ness. I choose to trust. I choose faith for what is still unseen.
So, audaciously, expectantly, boldly I pray for this desire to be fulfilled. Even when others have given up, I choose to believe that He is able. He knit me together, He knows every hair on my head, He knows my every thought. He has not forgotten me..
nor has He forgotten you.
For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, "Fear not, I am the one who helps you." --Isaiah 41:13
Flying releases a sense of freedom; I've jumped out of a couple of airplanes, but usually I find myself securely fastened and journeying from one place to another. Once as I was soaring 36K feet up in the air, deep in thought, tears began pouring, uncontrollably. My focus was on the nakedness of a left hand finger. The very finger that I figured, by this point in my life, would be adorned by a symbol of love, a till-dealth-do-us-part commitment. Tears still streaming, breath short, *the man sitting uncomfortably next to me*..unable to pull myself together.
Looking out into the wispy white I silently lifted up a prayer. Deep breath. Then a peace, not audible or spelled out in letters and lights, but a cradling of my soul, a deep caring for my heart. A reminder of the promise given years ago.
In truth, I've worn the label single as an embarrassment, shame. Because, you see, most of my friends are past the marriage stage, and are having or have had their children. How many times have I stood beside dear friends as they committed their lives to another? Rejoicing with laughter and tears. And then welcomed their sweet little ones, while feeling the piercing desire to one day gaze upon my own. Or held hands and petitioned expectantly for those who could not conceive, wondering if they realize the depth to which I understand their sorrow.
The whys are unrelenting. Where do I belong? And how much longer must I wait? In my head I know that this season is producing endurance and perseverance, but my heart aches.
And then the questions of *when are you going to settle down and start a family?* as if settling has anything to do with it. Settling is not an option. I have a calling and a purpose; I have not wasted my life recklessly on this world, but rather have offered a life of reckless abandon to my Maker. My longing to live an extraordinary life for him trumps my willingness to be content with the status quo. He knows what is best for each one, and it is in the comparing myself to others that I begin to dwell on my have nots.
Yet, when hope seems like a distant memory He will often lift my head and remind me of his love..with airplanes, promises. Taking me to days much like the one where He romanced my heart high above the clouds. He is working it out. He is never early. He is never late.
Like the pilot He sees what's ahead, He knows where we're going. So, I can either rely on my limited window view or trust in His all knowing-ness. I choose to trust. I choose faith for what is still unseen.
So, audaciously, expectantly, boldly I pray for this desire to be fulfilled. Even when others have given up, I choose to believe that He is able. He knit me together, He knows every hair on my head, He knows my every thought. He has not forgotten me..
nor has He forgotten you.
For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, "Fear not, I am the one who helps you." --Isaiah 41:13
