Oh, How Things Have Changed...

Bestie and her husband are leaving the youth ministry to lead the college ministry.  Last night at youth group, we spent time honoring their service.  They were asked about some of their most memorable moments, and Bestie mentioned that morning three years ago when the two of us boarded a bus full of strangers, headed to camp.

And all I could think was, Oh, how things have changed.

We dived in head first into summer camp, not knowing anyone besides each other.  I was dreadfully uncomfortable and therefore painfully shy.  What am I thinking?  Why am I here?  I knew I was supposed to be there but if I were to be perfectly honest, I didn't entirely want to be there.  It was stretching and oh so scary.  We had been hired to teach in the fall, but we hadn't even moved yet.  I thought I was being tested to my limits, but unbeknownst to me, the testing hadn't even begun.

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My attic room was dark, the hall light casting shadows on the barren walls that had been so perfectly decorated.  I sat up in the bed I'd slept in for most of my life and looked around at the emptiness.  I cried.  I sobbed.  In the morning, I was leaving the home of my youth.  I sobbed for the life I would leave behind.  I sobbed for the people I would leave behind.  I sobbed for the uncertainty of the future and my new life.  It was the night of Independence Day, and it was my independence day as well.  In the morning, I left my hometown in Illinois and made my way to my new life in Florida.  The homesickness lasted a long time.  My body was in Clearwater, but my heart was in Midlothian.  Again, I knew I was in the right place, but that didn't mean I wanted to be there.

I think a year passed before I even really smiled.  I remember thinking about Bestie and how easily she seemed to fit in, make friends, and be herself, and I couldn't figure out why I couldn't seem to fit in, make friends, and be myself.  I had been lonely, unhappy, and discontent.  Yet things started to change over time.  I had become comfortable in my ministry and had made friends, but the testing wasn't over.

Bestie began dating.  Then the real challenges began and late nights alone, crying, much like that night before I left for Florida.  But miraculously, what had become the greatest test and strain became the greatest opportunity for growth.  My attitude, my spirit, and my life changed, only because of the Holy Spirit's work in my heart.

Then Bestie got married, and I got my own place.  You find me now, not the girl I was in the empty room in Midlothian, but a woman who is content with her life and can smile at the unknowns of the future.  A woman who loves her job, her ministry, and the people in her life.  A woman whose heart has changed more over the last three years than maybe ever in her life.

Three years ago on July 5, I made the greatest leap of faith I've ever had to make thus far.  And though it was a most painful and stretching experience, I would not and could not change a moment, because God used each and every moment to make me into a godly woman, and that's what I have asked Him to do.  When I think about what has happened in the last three years, I smile with the anticipation of what God will do in the next three years.  And it's a real smile.  A real, contented, happy smile.

2007:

2010:

Miss Independent...

This Thanksgiving season I decided to think about the reasons I'm thankful for singleness. Usually my cons outweigh my pros on this topic, so I thought it might be time to try to tip the scale the other way. The following is the first thing for which I'm thankful:

Yesterday, after about 13 1/2 hours at work, I walked up my three flights of stairs wearily, turned the key in the lock, dropped my purse, and sighed. I was home. I was home in my own place, my very own place with my very own things, kept clean in my very own OCD way. At that moment, I realized that was one very big reason I'm thankful for singleness. I love everything about my apartment.

I love how I can watch whatever I want to watch whenever I want to watch it, and as Lucy from While You Were Sleeping so astutely noted, I have "sole possession of the remote control... that's very important." Nobody can make fun of me for watching a goofy Lifetime movie, and I don't have to feel bad about watching "Glee" instead of some sports game, probably involving two college teams about which I couldn't care less. I love my yellow lamps I picked up at a thrift store because I couldn't afford new lamps, but I love more than any new lamps I've ever seen. I love my Breakfast at Tiffany's poster which would inevitably come down if a husband were to occupy my dwellings. I love that I can burn whatever fragrance I like in my candles and no one can complain that it smells stinky or girly, because I have the last word about the odors in my household. I love that my house is impeccably clean (well, besides my bedroom, which will be littered with clothing until Jesus returns). I love that there are no vestiges of man in my bathroom-- little hairs, especially. I love that I can have lace curtains and shabby chic floral patterns in my bedroom without feeling bad about emasculating a husband. Perhaps most of all, I love that I have a whole walk-in closet to myself, filled with wooden hangers holding fashion potential of biblical proportions.

So really, I suppose my love of my apartment is mostly selfish... but I think there are definite benefits to living by oneself for a period of time. I like that I can pray aloud. I like that I can sing loudly in the shower. I like that I don't have to wear pants. I like that I can dance like a spaz. I like that I can eat my healthy food that most people hate and watch my goofy movies that most people hate. This is my season to live alone, one that I at some point may give up forever. I'm thankful for it.

With that being said, it brings up a concern I've wondered about when it comes to having my own place and being independent. I've always been very independently-minded. Some would call it strong-willed. OK, my parents would call it strong-willed, as that kind of child is what they raised. But as I grew, my independence grew. My college roommate and I used to muse that our Independence had to have been a big reason why guys didn't ask us out-- we were too intimidating for them, I guess. Too much for them to handle. Ha.

But truly, as I become more and more independent-- paying my own bills, cleaning my own house, buying my own groceries, fixing my own problems-- I wonder if this independence really may be too intimidating for most men, and even worse-- will this independence make it harder for me to submit as a wife some day? Probably. Which is why I have realized that the more independent I become, the more dependent I must be on God. When I depend on Him, then it's not about me leading my own life. It's about God leading my life. So when and if that man comes along who is strong enough to handle this "too much to handle," I'll already be used to submitting to and following my God, so submitting to and following my husband will be less of an issue.

So for now, I will continue to work on depending on God, and I will continue to love living on my own... one of the blessings that comes with being single!