For Real

I haven’t put anything up on this blog for a long time.  I’m not really sure why, truthfully.  It was a good challenge for myself—trying to write something short about once a week-- one that was healthy for building my writing muscles and satisfying personally, and didn’t take up a tremendous amount of time.  But I stopped. 

So when I was considering this and trying to decide what, if anything, else I should put up, I had a thought.  A crazy, terrifying thought.  What if I wrote about the things that I was really feeling, the things that were really going on in my life right now.  Not some small thing that I could observe from afar, not something from my professional life that I could hold at a distance, not some small compartmentalized piece, but the raw, difficult parts of my current life.

It was an exhilarating late night thought that I fell asleep determined to do and woke up afraid of considering. 

It’s strange, because I value vulnerability in my life—I value people who are willing to be real with me and transparent about the hard things going on and how they’re overcoming or struggling with them.  I wrote a piece about how vulnerability, even among close friends, really takes practice and how incredibly valuable it is for us.  Though I didn’t share that piece with anyone.

So let me be a little more real, let me share a little more fully.  I am in a rough season of life right now.  It’s not a disaster, it’s not a pit of despair, but it’s pretty tough.  And I’m not entirely sure why I’m in this particular season or when it’s going to end.  But it is the season where everyone in my life who is really important to me is currently in a different phase of life. It’s not tremendously surprising that at almost 31 years old my closest friends are married, having babies, and/or are in love.  But, I am not any of those things.

It became clear to me this weekend when I went on a triple date with people—most of whom I know pretty well and enjoy—that it was going to be rough.  It had nothing to do with the people there and everything to do with the reality check which sounded a lot like, “You’re totally alone,” ringing through my brain.  The single buddy I’d had for more than a year was now one half of a couple, and frustratingly, to a guy I still don’t feel like I’ve really had a chance to get to know. 

I want to know him, I want to be excited about him for her, I want to fully understand what’s so great about him so that I can rejoice with her, I want to be able to spend time with him and love that she’s found somebody great.  And I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to do all those things before too long.  But, having only known him a week, I still feel like I barely know him.  I certainly didn’t help my cause that I was distracted by the raw suckiness of the situation of feeling like I was the odd man out on a triple date rather than feeling like I was hanging out with friends. Because to be totally real, I’ve spent most of my life feeling like the tag along friend, the extra person on a date and it’s not awesome but not always awful.  But the feeling I had at that moment—the one that said it would be my future forever-- was particularly sucky.

Normally, if I get to spend time with people I love, no matter what we’re doing, I’m in good shape.  But for three days I spent time with all sorts of people I love, doing things I normally enjoy and kind of hated life.  I didn’t really understand why at the time.  I don’t fully understand even now exactly why it hit me so hard.  I just know that it did. 

I got up early to talk to God about it.  Jesus may not have suffered through his closest girlfriends getting married, but he knew what it was like to feel alone, to feel forgotten, to feel misunderstood.  So we talked.  At no point did a great light shine down and illuminate my future path clearly enough for me to say that in two years and four months, I will be wed.  That’s the sort of thing I still don’t know.

Speaking of things I don’t know—I have a pretty long list of them: I don’t know why I have to go through this particular season. I don’t know why it hurts quite so much right now. I don’t know what I need to learn from this or how it’s going to grow me.  I don’t know what’s so damn wrong with the idea of me falling in love. I don’t know why I have to always feel like it happens for everyone else but me, and I don’t know how long I’m going to have to walk this out.  I don’t know how this season is going to end.  I don’t know exactly what God’s timing is.

Despite that, there are a few things I do know: I know this is not for nothing.  I know, that, like every other season, it too will pass.  I know I wouldn’t trade any of the friendships I’ve built to avoid feeling sadness when something happens for them that I want for myself. 

I don’t know why God has me in this moment in time or what he’s doing through it.  But I know my God. I know that He is good. 

Ash told me this weekend something true that gave me such great comfort (though it might not sound like it at first): He didn’t promise us that it would be easy.  He didn’t promise us that it would be comfortable.

What he promises us is that He loves us.  He promises that he will provide more than we can possibly ask or imagine.  He promises that he works all things to the good. 

The list of what I don’t know might be longer.  The hurt might be sharper.  But what I know is enough.

“I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of living.  Wait for the Lord.  Be strong and take heart.  Wait for the Lord. “

P.S. The correct response to this post is not sympathy.  If you say, “I’m so sorry!” to me, I will punch you in the face.  Also, the equally, or perhaps even more annoying, sentiment that is something along the lines of: “You’ll find a great guy/God will provide you an amazing husband” is also totally unhelpful.  You do not have the authority to promise that.  Not for me or for anyone.  More on that soon :) If you’re not sure what the correct response is, but want to say something, how this made you feel is a great start.