Not a tune, really. Because ours don’t sound the same, but maybe the lyrics are similar.
Because somewhere along the way, I must have accidentally prayed for God to make me patient.
Because this wasn’t the plan.
Because I have had too many conversations with other singles who are frustrated at hearing pep talks and admonitions from non-singles.
Because sharing the conversation feels terrifying… so it’s probably also important.
Because I know what lonely feels like; I have a sneaking suspicion most of us do.
Because you need to know that you aren’t hopelessly flawed…any more than we are all hopelessly flawed.
Because every crush, every ended relationship that turns into a non-event (or a heart-melting one) is starting to feel more crushing than the last.
Because your heart matters.
Because you aren’t a recipe lacking a crucial ingredient.
Because we don’t need another sermon on singleness from a pastor who married before he started seminary.
( I can say that because 1. Well, it’s true and 2. My daddy did just that, and I don’t recall any sermons on singleness, but I’m sure if he was here to give one now, I’d struggle with it.)
Because we don’t need a marriage book on waiting from someone who tied the knot at 25. (Your story, if that belongs to you, is NOT invalid, it’s just not the story of waiting I know at 33, that my friends know into their 40s.)
Because, as many times as I have felt unseen, I want you, single one, to know that I see you. I resonate with your desires. I see the potential locked inside of you that you’re afraid won’t be discovered until it’s too late. And I’m sorry that I haven’t, we haven’t, seen you as you are and for the many times we will fail to in the future. Just maybe-maybe you became good at hiding who you are like I did.
Because I understand the mascara stains on your pillowcase, the angry conversations you hold with no one in the shower, the night drives you take in your car just so you aren’t sitting at home in the silence. The silence you can’t allow since the roar of it overwhelms you.
So yeah, because your desires are felt, they are shared.
Because what I want to see is for those who haven’t reached the other side yet to share their hearts and their struggles. For those who are holding strong to be honored for waiting well.
What I desire to see acknowledged in my community, in my faith group, in my church, is the faithfulness of those who haven’t figured it all out, who don’t have a pretty bow to tie around their story yet. Maybe they never will, because life is really messy that way.
- I want to hear from a thirty-something or forty-something single who still hasn’t met their someone (or who lost their someone) but knows that God sees their longing heart.
- I want to hear from an addict who still has relapses but knows intimately what grace means and how God provides strength beyond our willpower.
- I want to hear from someone in financial crisis who doesn’t know how their next bill will be paid, but knows they serve a God bigger than their resources.
- lI want to hear from a grieving parent, or child, or spouse, the heartbreak they are experiencing and the stronghold that Jesus is to them amid their broken life plans.
You too?
What we need is for fellow single and married peers to tell us that they see value in our waiting, in our perseverance. That the things we think no one sees, they aren’t invisible. That, in fact, they are valuable, they’re desirable, that WE are desirable.
We need to see, to hear from strong, confident singles, who still have a desire to share their lives with another who are living fully into their right now. Who hold hopes for the future but refuse to succumb to the lie that they can’t be the best version of themselves in this very season of life. Who challenge themselves to answer the question of who they want to be and how they ought to live-regardless of their life stage: single or married or divorced or widowed or any other form of relational self-identification.
From people who do it better than I do, because Lord knows I’ve had moments where I’ve all but crossed my arms and thrown a tantrum in a public place like a toddler in a grocery story who has been denied Lucky Charms (cereal choice intentional 😉).
But please stop telling us we’ll meet our person when we are fully satisfied with ourselves first, or better yet, fully surrendered to God.
Because, well, were you? And what does that really mean?
Were you completely content with your season in life and its trajectory when you met the (wo)man of your dreams? Ok, maybe you were, if you met your senior year of college. Whatever.
My intent is not to discount the validity of marrying young, please don’t receive my words that way.
As I will need your experience in marriage, I hope you will value my insight into being single.
I’m not unaware that relationships are hard, I’ve been there. I know what it is to think I’m going to share a life with someone and stand in the midst of flaming fallout and rubble.
Yet, as I don’t know the despair of a lonely marriage, the joy (after pain) of childbirth, the exhaustion of mothering, the responsibility of fathering, the lessons you learn only after sharing a life with someone for many hard-won years, I must contend that if you married young, you do not understand the weight of my longing, of our longing.
Of bitter tears over another hope dashed and another year without a second plate at the dinner table (or a third or a forth…).
Of the honest anger and despair that pour forth when someone asks your newly rejected heart what your plans for the weekend are, and all you can respond is with what feels most true:
What does it matter? It doesn’t matter, because there is no one for it to matter to. What difference does it make if I stay up until three, or sleep in until noon? If I pour a little too much wine while I binge-watch Netflix and self-indulge in on-screen romance/comedy/action, etc.? Does it matter, will it even be noticed, if I skip that meetup, or meeting, or church service this week?
It feels like it doesn’t matter because there isn’t someone waiting at those places for you (friends aside). No one to care if you go to the gym, sleep in late, finish the project that’s been on your list for a month too long. No one to notice that you need some TLC and just to pull you onto the couch and hold you close. No one who wants to shut out the rest of the world for a few hours to show you that your presence is enough, and the rest of the rushing world can wait.
Ask me how I know.
I have lots of questions, lots of misgivings, and yeah, sure, some baggage of my own to bring to the table. Yet,
I want you to know: I’m not defective. YOU are not defective.
You are here with reason and with purpose, and even when you find that someone to share it with, they cannot live the part of the vision only you were created to fulfill.
Some days, it takes all that I have to separate the way I feel from the way things are.
And on the days I think it doesn’t matter how late I sleep, what I put into my body, what stories fill my mind—I find I am becoming more willing to challenge myself with the question: Would I want to be with that version of me? Am I the person I want you to wait for?
How do I choose the harder way of claiming a calling when nobody else seems to see it, rather than wallowing in minimally effective self-pity and comfort measures?
I know that the person I want to meet has wrestled with these questions, too, and is stepping forward in hope and integrity, despite the absence of confirmation that all of their wildest dreams will come true.
My unsung song is for those who have ever been silently offended at the implication that they needed a spouse in order to live well, yea even to lead well.
It is a silent clap for those who have lived well in spite of the weight of their longings, in the midst of their longings. For the Elijahs praying for rain, believing in the deluge, before the first sighting of the cumulonimbus clouds.
For those who have ever felt like the next-step guy or girl for someone else finding their true love.
For those who have moved homes multiple times due to roommates getting married.
For those who have celebrated, time and again, the love of those they hold dear, and truly meant it, despite the ache they felt in the pit of their stomach.
For those who have been through heartbreak and know they are neither infallible nor entirely innocent and will carry that wisdom with them into a new relationship with both trepidation and determination.
To you, whose love will be all the wiser, all the more patient, all the more committed for the refining it has been through on the path to find the one your heart desires.
To you, whose eyes will swell along with your heart when your someone finally says to you,
“You have been so worth the wait.”
mojoy1494 