Every once in a while, I go through a period where I just don't want to be single anymore.
WARNING: Yes, I am going to talk about my love life...or lack thereof. Feel free to mosey on to someone else's blog if you don't want to read any further. I don't mind. There's probably a lot of entries far more worth reading than this one.
When I was growing up, I had this dream guy. He was tall, well-built, and had an incredible smile. It's funny, but I could never see the rest of his face. I couldn't see his eyes, or what color hair he had, or anything else - just that smile. I still have a dream man. Certain things have changed in what I see as someone I could spend my life with, however.
The thing is, I'm almost 30 years old. Yeah, it's hard for me to believe, too. It's also hard when family and well-meaning friends ask me if there's a special someone in my life - and they don't mean Christ. Certain holidays come and go, friends marry, then they have babies. Time is rushing by.
I've always been a traditionalist when it comes to guy/girl stuff. My older sister and other girls I've known have told me that it just isn't like that anymore. No one so much as blinks when a girl asks a guy out. I prefer to wait for the guy to make the first move. My sister tells me that I could wait forever if I handled it that way.
Well, I tried it. I scared him off. He's now married with kids, and I hope he's very happy.
The next time, I made it obvious I liked him without outright telling him. He figured it out real quick, but was nice enough to ignore my foolishness. When we finally did talk about it, we parted as friends who would never be anything more to each other. He's also married now. I hope he's happy, too.
I'm afraid of doing that again. I'm also afraid of just being a good friend, a "buddy", and nothing more.
My mother recently talked about a Purity conference she and my brother went to last year. The speaker pointed out that in Proverbs 31, it says that the woman did her husband good all the days of her life. That means even before she met him, she was doing him good by preparing her heart and her life to be his. That really struck me. Here I was focusing on my dream man and all the he was supposed to be for me when instead I should be focusing on myself and all that I'm supposed to be for him.
Wait for it.
Here it is.
You ready?
*smacks self on forehead* "DUH!"
I shouldn't be worried about it. God's got it covered. He's shaping me even as I write this. There's someone out there for me, but God is the one to bring us together, not me.
I still have my moments, like now. I really want someone to hold and to hold me. One day I will, but until then there's my teddy bear, Tufty.
We've been through a lot together, Tufty and I.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
You Never Let Go
This is another past blog post, originally posted in May of this year. Oops, I mean last year!
I have been reading the book of Job this last week or so. What struck me first, and this is really just a side note, was that even when God Himself is impressed by your righteousness, it's still not enough. You still need a Redeemer.
However, what has really rung true for me is that even in the midst of Job's pain, his sorrow, his suffering-- both physical and mental (his friends didn't really help), and his discouragement, he still knew that God was there and that He would deliver Job from his torment.
Some of us can relate. Man, I know I can. For several years I went through a period that I now call The Dark Times. Seriously, if you were given a chance to compare me now to me then, you just might not see much similarity.
I was depressed, yes. There were times I was even in despair. I lost nearly everything, eventually living in a motel, trying to make ends meet from week to week. There were nights that, if it hadn't been for the kindness of friends, I would have had to sleep in my car.
It wasn't because Satan wanted to test my righteousness. No. God was refining me. And it hurt.
I blamed Him, of course, along with my parents (my mother in particular), my jobs, my living situations, my landlords, roommates...you name it, I blamed it. Except myself.
In all this time, God was working me, shaping me. I railed at Him. I'd shake my fist at Him, telling Him that since He obviously didn't care for me, then I'd forget about Him. Yet, I knew deep inside, where Truth doesn't hide, that He did love me, and that no matter what I said or did to Him, He had a tight hold and He wasn't going to let me go no matter how much I hurt Him. And, believe it or not, even in the midst of my anger at Him, it still comforted me.
When God finally revealed who He was in my life, I was at the end of my rope. Maybe I was just too tired to fight Him anymore. Maybe He had me right where He wanted me, right where I'd listen.
He used my mother, of all people. The one person I fought just as hard as I'd fought Him. This time, there was no fight. I didn't go down swinging. This time I allowed myself to really examine my life and I knew that something had to change.
Long and short: I chose God.
So much power in those three words! I chose God. You know why? Because He chose me. Little me, yet He knew, through the blood of His Son, that I was worth it. He wouldn't let me go, and I can't think of a better end than to love and serve Him for eternity.
"V.1-Even though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death
Your perfect love is casting out fear
And even when I'm caught in the middle
Of the storms of this life
I won't turn back I know You are near
PreChorus-And I will fear no evil
For my God is with me
And if my God is with me
Whom then shall I fear?
Whom then shall I fear?
Chorus-Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me.
V.2-I can see a light that is coming
For the heart that holds on
A glorious light beyond all compare
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
We'll live to know You here on the earth
Bridge-Yes, I can see a light that is coming
For the heart that holds on
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
Still I will praise You
Still I will praise You"
~Words and Music by Matt and Beth Redman
I have been reading the book of Job this last week or so. What struck me first, and this is really just a side note, was that even when God Himself is impressed by your righteousness, it's still not enough. You still need a Redeemer.
However, what has really rung true for me is that even in the midst of Job's pain, his sorrow, his suffering-- both physical and mental (his friends didn't really help), and his discouragement, he still knew that God was there and that He would deliver Job from his torment.
Some of us can relate. Man, I know I can. For several years I went through a period that I now call The Dark Times. Seriously, if you were given a chance to compare me now to me then, you just might not see much similarity.
I was depressed, yes. There were times I was even in despair. I lost nearly everything, eventually living in a motel, trying to make ends meet from week to week. There were nights that, if it hadn't been for the kindness of friends, I would have had to sleep in my car.
It wasn't because Satan wanted to test my righteousness. No. God was refining me. And it hurt.
I blamed Him, of course, along with my parents (my mother in particular), my jobs, my living situations, my landlords, roommates...you name it, I blamed it. Except myself.
In all this time, God was working me, shaping me. I railed at Him. I'd shake my fist at Him, telling Him that since He obviously didn't care for me, then I'd forget about Him. Yet, I knew deep inside, where Truth doesn't hide, that He did love me, and that no matter what I said or did to Him, He had a tight hold and He wasn't going to let me go no matter how much I hurt Him. And, believe it or not, even in the midst of my anger at Him, it still comforted me.
When God finally revealed who He was in my life, I was at the end of my rope. Maybe I was just too tired to fight Him anymore. Maybe He had me right where He wanted me, right where I'd listen.
He used my mother, of all people. The one person I fought just as hard as I'd fought Him. This time, there was no fight. I didn't go down swinging. This time I allowed myself to really examine my life and I knew that something had to change.
Long and short: I chose God.
So much power in those three words! I chose God. You know why? Because He chose me. Little me, yet He knew, through the blood of His Son, that I was worth it. He wouldn't let me go, and I can't think of a better end than to love and serve Him for eternity.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
I Gave My Life Today
I was looking through my Blogger blog at some old posts and found this one. I originally posted this on November 9, 2005, after giving blood earlier that day.
I've donated many times before, willingly and happily. I've never had any complications arise nor have I ever felt any ill effects (except once when I didn't eat beforehand and thus felt quite light-headed afterwards - my fault, not theirs), so when Mom told me she had signed me up to give blood (knowing I wouldn't mind) I was all for it.
We had a 1:30 appointment today and we arrived just in time. After going first to the bloodmobile (where they told us we had to "register" before we came there), we went into the office building and waited for about 30 minutes. Mom got to go, and I sat in a room full of people I didn't know. Not a good situation for me, but fortunately I had a book to escape to.
Finally, after another 15 minutes (or more), I was called to the "bus." Wouldn't you know it? I had to wait some more. Not so long this time, only about 5 minutes. Then I had to in for their little interview they do. Not a big deal, normally. Well, today my blood didn't drop. What I mean is, when the man took a blood sample from my pricked finger (yeee-owch! I can handle the big needle with no problem, but not the little ones for some reason), he put it in a special liquid. If the blood drops to the bottom of the liquid, then there is enough iron in the blood. As I said, my blood didn't drop. It just hung out there at the top. I sat there thinking that I wouldn't be able to give blood because I didn't have enough iron!
He decided to spin the blood and based on that we would continue. Apparently, you need a 32 count of something to be safe, and after he spun my blood, I had a 43. So I was safe there. Don't ask me what the numbers mean.
So next came the questions. Before, I've always done them on my own, then the interviewer would either go over them with me or just check to make sure that I had answered them all. They've cut out the first step. Now, they just ask them. I told the guy straight off the bat that the answers to all the sex questions were "no." He said okay, but he still had to ask them. I guess he's required by law or something. Whatever. The answers were still "no."
We finished and I went out to the main area where the lady (we'll call her a nurse for lack of a better term) awaited me. After all the preliminary stuff, she began to prep my arm. She had no problem finding my vein (I have good veins) to mark it. She then went to help another person who was finishing his pint. She came back to me and when she was ready, she stuck the needle in my arm - and missed my vein. She missed! Come on, people! I have good veins. No one has ever missed my vein. I shudder to think of it even now.
Anyway, she half pulled the needle out, re-found my vein, and pushed the needle in. The sensation I felt was something I had never felt before and never want to again. It wasn't painful so much as it felt like an invasion. It rippled through my entire body and back to the entry point in less than a second, but it felt longer. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The nurse noticed and apologized profusely. I could tell she really felt bad, so I didn't have the heart to make a big deal about it.
The whole pint took 5 minutes. The clock was right in front of me, so that's how I know. All of that waiting and hassle for 5 minutes.
So now you ask me, why do I do this? Well, in Leviticus, it says that "the life of the flesh is in the blood." (Lev. 17:11). In John, Christ said, "Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friend." (John 15:13). So it's a bit literal when you look at it this way, but I do believe it's Biblical. After all, Christ also said, "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 15:12). Christ gave His blood for us that we might live. Knowing that, how can I not donate my little pint every 56 days if it might mean saving someone's life?
(All Scripture references from the New King James Version.)
I've donated many times before, willingly and happily. I've never had any complications arise nor have I ever felt any ill effects (except once when I didn't eat beforehand and thus felt quite light-headed afterwards - my fault, not theirs), so when Mom told me she had signed me up to give blood (knowing I wouldn't mind) I was all for it.
We had a 1:30 appointment today and we arrived just in time. After going first to the bloodmobile (where they told us we had to "register" before we came there), we went into the office building and waited for about 30 minutes. Mom got to go, and I sat in a room full of people I didn't know. Not a good situation for me, but fortunately I had a book to escape to.
Finally, after another 15 minutes (or more), I was called to the "bus." Wouldn't you know it? I had to wait some more. Not so long this time, only about 5 minutes. Then I had to in for their little interview they do. Not a big deal, normally. Well, today my blood didn't drop. What I mean is, when the man took a blood sample from my pricked finger (yeee-owch! I can handle the big needle with no problem, but not the little ones for some reason), he put it in a special liquid. If the blood drops to the bottom of the liquid, then there is enough iron in the blood. As I said, my blood didn't drop. It just hung out there at the top. I sat there thinking that I wouldn't be able to give blood because I didn't have enough iron!
He decided to spin the blood and based on that we would continue. Apparently, you need a 32 count of something to be safe, and after he spun my blood, I had a 43. So I was safe there. Don't ask me what the numbers mean.
So next came the questions. Before, I've always done them on my own, then the interviewer would either go over them with me or just check to make sure that I had answered them all. They've cut out the first step. Now, they just ask them. I told the guy straight off the bat that the answers to all the sex questions were "no." He said okay, but he still had to ask them. I guess he's required by law or something. Whatever. The answers were still "no."
We finished and I went out to the main area where the lady (we'll call her a nurse for lack of a better term) awaited me. After all the preliminary stuff, she began to prep my arm. She had no problem finding my vein (I have good veins) to mark it. She then went to help another person who was finishing his pint. She came back to me and when she was ready, she stuck the needle in my arm - and missed my vein. She missed! Come on, people! I have good veins. No one has ever missed my vein. I shudder to think of it even now.
Anyway, she half pulled the needle out, re-found my vein, and pushed the needle in. The sensation I felt was something I had never felt before and never want to again. It wasn't painful so much as it felt like an invasion. It rippled through my entire body and back to the entry point in less than a second, but it felt longer. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The nurse noticed and apologized profusely. I could tell she really felt bad, so I didn't have the heart to make a big deal about it.
The whole pint took 5 minutes. The clock was right in front of me, so that's how I know. All of that waiting and hassle for 5 minutes.
So now you ask me, why do I do this? Well, in Leviticus, it says that "the life of the flesh is in the blood." (Lev. 17:11). In John, Christ said, "Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friend." (John 15:13). So it's a bit literal when you look at it this way, but I do believe it's Biblical. After all, Christ also said, "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 15:12). Christ gave His blood for us that we might live. Knowing that, how can I not donate my little pint every 56 days if it might mean saving someone's life?
(All Scripture references from the New King James Version.)
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