Singles' Guilt...

I've tried to make a habit of being candid here, and today is no exception.  I have struggled with something for many years, and I think I'll call it "singles' guilt."  I don't know if I'm the only one who has experienced this or not, because no one really talks about it.  Except me, who was talking about it randomly with Bestie in the pool today.  It just sort of floated to the surface of my mind and I blurted it out, though there was no real connection between my thoughts and our conversation.

Here's the gist:  my parents have given me maybe not everything I've ever wanted, but certainly everything I've needed and more.  Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, they have given me so much.  I'm able to give them very little-- a phone call, a blog shout-out, wise decisions, holiday gifts, faithfulness to the Lord.  I may be able to give back someday when they are aged, but in the meantime, I wish I could give them more to show how thankful I am for what they've done.  It's my opinion that there is a priceless gift a child can give his/her parents, and that's grandchildren.  I know that my mom especially wants grandchildren, and I simply cannot give her the one gift she really wants.  And so I have singles' guilt.

My parents are great in that they don't poke and prod me about meeting someone, settling down, and having kids.  I think they know I have zero control over that timetable, and I also think they know how much I want the same thing.  Though they don't often voice their hope of grandchildren, I know they must think about it.  Their closest friends' children are having babies, while their own children aren't even dating.

It's one thing to personally feel behind in life and to personally want a husband and children.  That I can deal with, but to feel like the fact that my parents want grandchildren and being absolutely powerless to give them that gift is crippling.  I feel a guilt about it, as if it is somehow my fault that I can't provide that gift for my parents.  I know full well it's irrational, but it's a legit feeling.  Singles' guilt is pretty painful.  I imagine it's something like when a husband loses his job and wants more than anything to provide for his wife and family, but cannot find a job, and he watches his family scrape by painfully but with acceptance.  I would like nothing more than to give the joy and happiness that come with grandchildren to my parents.  But I can't.

I suppose this line of thought came up again from the recesses of my mind because I'm thinking about my dad's retirement.  When I think of retired men, I think of grandpas.  When I think of my dad's retirement, I think of the picture I always had in my mind: Dad on the living room floor, playing army with his grandsons, making explosion noises and explaining war tactics; Mom in the kitchen, making cookies with her granddaughters, getting flour everywhere.  And maybe someday that will be a reality.  Until then however, the pain of singles' guilt gnaws at me every now and then.

As I write this, there are tears on my cheeks (though I do admit I've been more emotional lately than I have in a looooong time), but there is also a song playing from my iTunes.  Here are the lyrics, and they say exactly what I'll do in the meantime:

"While I'm Waiting" by John Waller
I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am hopeful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience
While I'm waiting
I will serve You
While I'm waiting
I will worship
While I'm waiting
I will not faint
I'll be running the race
Even while I wait

I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am peaceful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it's not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait

I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve you while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting on You, Lord

Likes Sands Through the Hourglass...

I'm just going to warn you now that this post is a little odd and emotional.  What can I say-- I've been a little "off" in my blogging as of late.  Probably because I feel just a little "off."  Even so, this is what's on my mind.

I long nostalgically for my childhood with the same feeling I get when one of my favorite somethings is running out.  When I know that, say, my favorite perfume is running low and I can't replace it, I get this melancholy feeling of inevitability that makes me savor every last spray.

I get this same feeling when I look at old family photos or watch my parents' old movies.  I used to worry about the fact that I had this weird sadness while watching their bizarre and hilarious movies.  They were fantastic, but the pit of my stomach would wrench a little, feeling like it's all... running out, like the last sprays of my favorite perfume.  I'd think, If they were that young once, how did they get older so fast, and how fast will the rest go?

Looking back on my childhood, I remember the "feel" of it all-- the comfort of home, the security of family, the hilarity of memories, and the joy of youth.  When I'd get that odd wrenching in my stomach, I used to think that it was regret I felt, regret about the way I treated my parents and brother and regret for what I had and hadn't done.  Maybe that's part of it, but I think more than anything I look back at all the time I had ahead of me, the time I spent with my family, and the opportunities I experienced, and what I feel is a wish for more.  I wish for more time with my family, more daily interaction with my parents and brother, more growing time and learning time in that house.  But I grew up.  I left that house.  It's going too fast, and it's all... running out.  Even now I type with tears-- hard to explain, but very, very real.

This is a feeling I wrestle with, but I couldn't quite pinpoint it until this afternoon, driving home from work.  Side note: what is it about that short drive home that causes me to think so deeply?  The sudden absence of adolescents?  The sudden freedom?  Regardless, I realized today the reason for my nostalgic melancholy... and I found the silver lining, too.

While it's true that time flies and it is all running out, that which is running out (time with loved ones, memories to make, lessons to learn) will exist in endless supply someday in heaven.  The good, enduring things I love about this life and the people in it will continue in heaven, only with a surefire God-focus.  Earthly time is running out, but my eternal life is waiting.  I've got something to look forward to.