I had my runaway bride dream last night. It’s been a while since I’ve had that dream. It used to be my reoccurring dream, along with the one where I’m driving down the highway and my brakes don’t work or the one where my teeth fall out and I’m screaming “but those weren’t baby teeth so I can’t even get a quarter for each!”
It’s always variations of the same dream—it’s the morning of my wedding and I don’t want to do it anymore. And I never know who the guy is. Never. Sometimes I get all the way to the front of the aisle, other times I don’t even get the dress on. And I’m filled with anxiety, a sense of dread that I’m not ready for this. It happened too fast, too soon. And who is this guy? Where is he? Why don’t I see him? The dream last night I remember looking at my phone wondering why I didn’t have a text from him saying he was excited to marry me that day. Jerk. So I told my parents who were sitting in the living room with me that I wasn’t doing it anymore and I apologized if the caterer wouldn’t be giving a refund but at least they could freeze everything and feast off it for the next 10 years.
I guess a Psychologist would say I have a latent (or blatant) fear of marrying the wrong person. I feel it is the biggest, most important decision I will ever make (aside from following You of course). We’re talking about spending the next 50-60 years with that person. Starting a whole new line of generations like you read in Genesis:
This is the account of M and [insert name of unidentified husband here] who themselves had sons and daughters four years after their travels around the world and attempting to pay off all their schools loans.
The sons and daughters of M:
Hayden, Alexandra, and Arden, Riley, and Jordan (triplets who were not planned but were “divine intervention”).
The sons and daughters of Hayden:
Nathan, Emerson, Caleb
The sons and daughters of Alexandra:
Robert, Roxanna, and Kayleigh
The one and only child of Arden who was spoiled rotten:
The sons of Riley:
Eric, Jonathan, and Brian
The sons and daughters of Jordan:
Madison and Matthew
The region in which they lived stretched out from the Upper West side of Manhattan to just left of a bison in Wyoming. These are the clans of M and [insert name of unidentified husband here], according to their lines of descent, and within their United States of America.
No offense, but you know I just begin to glaze over those genealogies after a while. They just go on and on. Just like the generations I could create. That’s a lot pressure.
But there is no right person out there for me. They are all going to be wrong.
They are all wrong because they are all imperfect. Just like me. Because we’re human.
And that’s where you come in. I do believe you have given me the chance to choose, and I can choose to follow You and let You lead me to your best (Proverbs 3: 5-6). Including a husband. Especially my husband. He won’t be perfect, but he’ll be your best for me.
So how will I know? How long will it take of dating said unidentified husband before I know? Hearing about people who met, date, and get married all within a year of meeting each other seriously makes me feel like I’m going to throw up from anxiety all over this letter.
How can I make sure I won’t be running away and leaving my parents with an industrial size freezer full of stuffed chicken?
I’m not sure. Because I haven’t been sure before. Because it hasn’t been your best for me before. I’ve always been running away. So I’ll just wait. And be patient. And have faith you’ll let me know when I’m following your best for me. When it’s time for two imperfect people to come together as one. Preferably with a proposal where the ring is snuggled amongst 8 count nuggets from Chickfila.