The Goodness: How to Remain Patient in Your [Painful] Singleness

I don't know about you, but I find that God speaks to me through music. I guess it's because I'm a musician and a worship leader. I guess it's because of all the endorphins released when music is played, like oxytocin and serotonin. But most importantly, I believe it's because God moves to the sound of our worship. Like a pleased Papa, he sways to our worship of him. Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about is the goodness.

The goodness can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Maybe for some the goodness is being surrounded by the ones that you love. For others, it may be soaking up those few and far between alone hours. I'm in a particularly hectic season right now. I work 30+ hours a week as an insurance Claims Coordinator. I create, edit, and revise approximately 30-60 claims per day. Some I write myself, but mostly I'm reviewing fellow team members' work and coaching them on how to do their very best work. I'm also taking an 84-hour accelerated Paralegal Studies course at the University of Georgia. It's basically like going through a whole graduate semester in eight weeks. All for what, a certificate of completion so that I can work in the legal field once I'm finished. To say that the goodness for my life at this very moment would be for me to soak up those few and far between alone hours would be an awful understatement.

But also, the goodness also brings something else to my mind in this season of my life. This particular piece of goodness carries a profound overtone of sadness with it. A sadness because this piece of the goodness is currently missing from my life. A sadness because I want so badly to have this piece of the goodness to complete my life, yet I'm stuck without it. 
Yes, stuck. That's just how I feel. 

I'll be 28 at the end of this year. That's 196 in dog years and a thousand in Old Maid years. In society, single [men] and women are treated like the diseased. We don't get invited out. We don't get mentored by the cool, older, married couples. Instead, we get tossed aside; left to mingle with other forever single people to be mentored by cool, older, forever single adults. And because everyone is so damned afraid of commitment these days in order to oblige to the FOMO syndrome we are all addicted to, it's no wonder nobody is getting hooked. We're all just hooking up, instead.

I'll admit, I always looked down on forever single older women. I always pitied them, felt sorry for them. I thought, what's so satisfying about spending all of your time alone? What's so satisfying about never HAVING SEX? I pitied them because I thought they were missing out life's most beautiful gift to humanity. I pitied them because they had to face the agony of loneliness and also the burning desire of wanting to have sexual needs filled with no [healthy, appropriate] outlet. But most of all, I pitied them because deep down in the darkest recesses of my soul, I was absolutely terrified of it happening to me. 

And it has.

So what am I doing in the meantime to "trust God?" Moreover, what does it fully mean to "trust God" in this season of my life? 

It means that I have to embrace the gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach when I kiss little hands and feet that aren't mine. I have to embrace the heartache of knowing I have to give precious little boys and girls back to their respective moms and dads when I've just spent all day playing with them because their parents grew tired of them and just wanted one minute to themselves. It means that I get to silently resent said parents for wanting time away from these precious gifts from God when there are women like me who are dying [inside] from the nagging thoughts of "this may never happen for me." It means that I have to stifle back steaming, hot tears from knowing that the decisions I made in early adulthood, which led to decisions made on my behalf against my consent have more-than-likely caused me to never be able to conceive a child. "This will never happen for me," doesn't become a passing thought. It becomes a mantra.

It means that I have to smile and pretend every part of my life feels whole and complete, even though I know that no worthy man thinks I'm fit to be his queen. It means that while everyone around me [it seems] is holding hands, getting engaged, and planning weddings, I get to twiddle my thumbs, engage in introverted activities alone in my room, and plan my meals and outfits for the next week. "This is the goodness," I think to myself, "this is as good as it's going to get." 

But I'm conflicted. Because, on the other hand -- 

It means that I get to sleep all across the bed without worrying that I'm suffocating anyone. It means that I get to eat all of the chocolate, french fries, and pizza without having to say "no, you can only have just one." It means that I get to go wherever I want, whenever I want. It means that I get to be successful at shattering glass ceilings by myself without having to "one-up" my partner within the replies of, "how was your day?" It means that if I want to take off to Italy for a year, I get to take off to Italy for a year. It means that I get to eat all of the Halloween candy without trick-or-treating for it. Or, if I want to trick-or-treat, it's okay if I do because I still look twelve, and therefore, no reasonable adult would question why a full-grown adult would be trick-or-treating at this stage in life. "This is the goodness," I think to myself, "this is as good as it's going to get." 

Moreover, it means that in the eyes of God, I am a prize. I am THE Prize he bought with the price He paid. It means that I don't have to be a man's queen because I am the Queen of Heaven (I know this because this has been prophesied over me a couple different times from a couple different people). It means that while I'm not tied down to the financial, sexual, emotional, and physical well-being of another person, I am free to serve God in so many vast ways. In so many, many places. Heaven is the limit. 

But there's still a longing.

And to tell you the truth, the longing will never go away. It will always stay there. Even when [NOT if]  I get married and have children, the longing will still exist. But instead, it'll be a longing for Heaven. For my real home with my real Father. 

So, in the meantime...

I keep hogging the whole bed and eating all the food. I keep shattering glass ceilings. I keep playing kickball with the little boys and drinking tea with the little girls. I keep counting little fingers and little toes and inwardly lament upon returning them. I keep eating all of the Halloween candy and trick-or-treating at age 28 because, "this is the goodness," I think to myself, "and this is as good as it's going to get."