The last few weeks have been truly draining. So many conflicts, both internal and external, waged war on my spirit and the grueling tests that ended the year were no help. As much as I love my community and all that I do in Joplin, I had to leave. I looked forward to leaving. Though I did not realize the extent of the damage that the last month inflicted, I did know that it wasn't healthy for me to stay there - the feelings that I had been suppressing were bound to roll over the top. I know suppression is rarely healthy but I think that it was in this case. I have a habit of imposing unfair expectations on people and then becoming quite disappointed when they fail to live up to them. While holding in all of my thoughts towards the end made the last days a living hell at some times, it saved the people I love from my hurtful words, and for that I am grateful. It was important for me to leave and process everything, in order to heal and be able to contribute to the community again.
Then the storm hit. If my emotions had been in shambles before such an event, the wreckage was far from distinguishable after. I have no claim on anyone's pity, because I was not there, nor do I have any right to call what I felt even a glimmer of survivor's guilt. Yet there was an emotional attachment to the city that made my heart turn within my chest. The few days I spend at home turned from a Sabbath to days of walking around with a heavy heart and great sadness. Hours were spent staring at the wreckage, trying to mentally map the pictures flashing across the television and computer screens. The time that wasn't poured into grieving and praying for Joplin was devoted to studying to become a re-certified lifeguard, and then I almost immediately shipped out to Oklahoma, a girl running on empty and ready for distraction. Even my quiet time, my time with Jesus, suffered greatly.
But in this home I have found greater peace than what I could anticipate. In the delighted smiles of my nephew and the long talks with my sister-in-law about love and marriage and family, I have felt joy. It is wonderful to feel someone pouring into me in the way that Erin is. It is wonderful to talk to someone who has been in my shoes and felt as I do, to talk to her about the beginning of her and Nathan's relationship and things that pertain to love and self-image. As I watch their little family together, I see a "someday dream," one that has come to pass for her and one that I still fervently pray for.
While I think I could remain unmarried for the rest of my days and survive, I know that I crave a marriage. I want to be a God-honoring woman no matter where I am or what my relationship status is, and so I pursue God first and foremost. Yet there are days when my someday dreams crop up and get the best of me. I want to embark on the adventure of marriage, of serving God together for life, of furthering the kingdom by two people, divinely unified for all days. But I think the God part is far more important than the two people part.
These thoughts (not regarding a certain someone, but in general) began to chyrstalize after a recent trip to the movie theater. I rarely go to the movies (before this one, I think I saw Toy Story in June). It's a lot of money for something that doesn't retain my attention well. And a long time to sit still. But some friends were going, and I decided I was in the right mood. We saw the movie Something Borrowed, with Kate Hudson and John Kransinski and a whole slew of other talented people. The story is that Kate Hudson is engaged to this guy who's evidently had feelings for her best friend forever but thought they were unreciprocated. The night of the friend's 30th birthday, truth is revealed and so begins the affair. For a long time it goes back and forth between them feeling awful about sneaking around and painting Kate Hudson's character as the bad guy. Surprisingly, months go by before the fiance makes a choice between the best friend and Kate Hudson. I mean, who saw that coming? A guy who's good enough to sleep with the best friend of his fiance doesn't have the stones to give a definite answer to either woman? Wow, crazy.
The movie really got under my skin for some reason. I'm sure part of it was my emotional vulnerability, though I wouldn't discount the annoying habit I have of analyzing everything that come through my mind and philosophically dissecting it in terms of everyday practicality. After wrestling with it for a few days, here's what it came down to:
I have come to disdain chick flicks. I'm tired of movies about desperate, lonely girls who do stupid things in pursuit of a forbidden man, who in turn loves them for their immoral and selfish ways, claiming great emotional connection as the end all be all.
That's not the woman I want to be. So am I doomed to single-dom? Since I want to have a man nobly and God-fearingly pursue me, respect me, love me? Since I want to fall in love once and have Christ at the center? Since I want to be in love with a man who loves me in spite of - not because - my character flaws, a man who pushes me to be a better, more Christ following woman? Since I crave more than an emotional connection, but a moral, intellectual, and spiritual connection that preludes any sort of physical or emotional vulnerability? Am I facing a future full of lonely nights and endless bags of cat food because I want the man I love to enable me, to push me and challenge me in serving God? Because I want a partner in ministry and a man to help in bringing glory to the King, the Creator of the universe and the Redeemer of souls? Does that rule our the possibility of romance and passion and deep, deep love?
Doubtful.
As much as I crave this experience, this connection, this love, as I much as I desire to be a wife and confidante and lover and servant to a man to whom I have given the days of my earthly existence and the trust of a life together, I could not be happy in a relationship lacking such things. I'd rather live the singe life forever.
Rarely am I comfortable sharing such intimate thoughts, yet there is a point in all my rambling. I'm tired of the lowering expectations for romance and building a life together. I feel like girls are falling prey to the myth that men can't be better, can't change. I'm not suggesting that withholding all affection and intimacy is the answer to a morally degenerative society, but I do think that - to some extent - when ladies have high expectations, men rise to meet them. I can't help but wonder how many men would become better leaders, better husbands and fathers, if woman could accept their identity as beloved daughters and sisters in Christ rather than pursuing an identity as a wife, mother, lover, girlfriend, etc.
It'd be an interesting experiment, I think. I could be wrong, I don't know. But that knowledge does not compel me to change the way I'm living. If my expectations are that morbidly incorrect, I think I'd rather miss out on the whole thing anyway.
