Very excited that Converge Magazine picked up this post! Check it out here.
I’d like for everyone to take a moment and look at my left ring finger.
Yes. It is naked.
I’m going to stop you right there, like you’re a telemarketer trying to sell me a lifetime supply of gold to hoard in my non-existent safe:
I’m good, thanks.
In an effort to save energy on both our parts, I’ve taken the liberty of compiling the most frequently asked questions with my responses. (Laminated for durability given the undetermined amount of multi-year usage.)
1. Have you met any nice gentlemen recently?
Three weeks ago, I ordered something online through Amazon’s two day shipping. I received a knock on my apartment door, and I opened it. Before me was a FedEx man in a brown uniform holding a brown box. He handed the box to me, smiled, and said, “Have a nice day.”
2. Why don’t you try online dating?
Someone once told me kidney stones were as painful as childbirth. When compared to online dating, kidney stones sound like a combination of winning the lottery, going to Disney World, and frolicking in a meadow full of daises and labradoodles. While eating an ice cream cone.
3. Why don’t you move to where there are more eligible bachelors?
Are you referring to an actual place in America? Or in a utopian piece of literature?
The truth is, I’m happy. Honestly. I’m not pulling your leg — my fingers aren’t crossed behind my back because they’re too busy balancing a mountain of Christmas cookies.
While I’m thankful you’re praying God will put the right man into my life — and soon (I’m still not quite sure how to interpret that) — I’m pretty sure God knows what He’s doing with me.
Right now, I’m single.
And right now, I’m loving every minute of it.
I’m not living like marriage is my end goal, like it’s the only reason God put me on this earth. I’m here to know Him and to make Him known — in my workplace, in my friendships, in laughter, in writing, and in utilizing my gifts and talents. He has me in my current job, city, apartment, church, sphere of influence, and relationship status for a reason.
I’m content right where He has me.
(Isn’t that all that matters anyway?)
So let’s talk about other things — important things — like how many cookies you think I could shove in my mouth at once. And how Christ alone completes me. And what He’s doing in my life.
Speaking of important things and Christ, rumor has it that it’s His birthday.
If I made money every time I acted so awkward I became an embarrassment to my friends and family, I’d buy an island in the Caribbean. For today’s daily dose of awkward, I recruited some friends who encouraged me to make my first (intentionally) awkward…
The best Christmas present I ever received was a doll house my dad made for me. Two stories, the shingled roof was taller than my seven-year-old self. There were bay windows with sheer curtains. Wallpaper, crown molding, and hardwood floors. Electricity that lit up wall sconces and table lamps. My Barbies were in heaven, and so was I.
And then there was the Christmas present of yourself as a baby in a manger. There were shepherds with their sheep. A heavenly host singing heavenly melodies. Wise men and their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. You gave the gift of your son, so we could ultimately be in heaven with you.
As I look over my Christmas list full of gifts that don’t last, I know there should be a better way to give gifts. There should be a better way to give gifts like you did.
You gave yourself.
Maybe it’s giving my time instead of giving a shirt on sale from Sears. Maybe it’s making a homemade card with heartfelt words instead of a gift card to Starbucks. Maybe it’s making a doll house instead of buying one.
Maybe it just means giving myself to others like you did for me.
For the director of music. To the tune of “Let it Snow” or possibly an acoustic version of “Wrecking Ball.” A psalm of M.
The Lord turned to me,
and heard my cry.
He saw me,
in my bed underneath 6 blankets,
with my pajamas turned inside out.
He heard me join in a collective prayer,
with my coworkers,
He saw the unfortunate wiggles and shakes,
of my snow dance.
The Lord turned to me,
and heard my whines and groans,
“Why do the wicked get snow days,
Why do you forget your servant, Lord?
Why do you hide your face from me,
and force me to sit at my desk every day,
Monday- Friday with no respite for the weary!”
He broke forth from the cumulonimbus:
millions of crystals that settled onto trees,
the roof of my car,
the highway just before rush hour,
proving that His timing is perfect.
I shall give thanks to the Lord,
all the days of my life!
And sing of his glorious works,
of accumulation somewhere between,
where a day will be full of snow angels,
instead of paperwork and voicemails.
For the Lord is good,
His good acts like the snowflakes during a snowstorm:
pure, evoking joy.