I hate rain. To be completely honest, I hate water. I don’t like swimming, washing dishes, or getting flicked with water. I really don’t even like drinking the stuff. But I reluctantly do, usually as tea, though.
Nevertheless, today, outside, the rain is falling. After a very dry summer and hundreds of scary wildfires, I can’t begrudge the ground its water.
It makes me introspective though. It’s also Valentine’s week, which further makes me introspective. I’m like an unproductive, thinking, rain-hating sap this morning.
I think for a long time I've thought love was elusive to me. I’m too tall. Too short. Too girly. Too unfunny. Too demonstrative. Too. Too. Too.
But over the last 3 years, the Lord has been showing me, gently, that His ways are bigger than my ways.
I have had dynamic adventures.
I have stood on the beaches of the Atlantic and Pacific, both north and south of the equator. I have wandered the streets of NYC, Chicago, Boston, Philly, San Francisco, LA, Portland, Dallas, Atlanta, Tampa, and dozens more in between. I’ve traveled to multiple countries by plane. I’ve crossed the US by train. I’ve driven to California, Oregon, Canada, Illinois, Indiana, Florida, Mexico…I could go on. I have worked with some of the sweetest children on this planet, putting bandaids on cuts and ice packs on bruises. I have learned the skills required to save a life and am always ready to jump in and do so. I have learned that though I have the mental capacity and skills necessary to manage people, it brings me no pleasure. It makes me borderline crazy. And I’m beyond thankful that someone believed in me enough to give me that opportunity.
I believe I would not have found my way to my current job without all the aforementioned experiences. And I love being a landman.
The search for love has become less of a search. No more blind dates set up by friends, or awkward emails on eHarmony, or any of the other embarrassing things I’ve subjected myself to. At some point, it occurred to me that I could be unhappy, waiting forever. Or I could buck up, quit waiting and hoping, and get on with things.
If you’re reading this north of the Mason Dixon line, you’re thinking, “Crap, Christen, you’re 28. Not dead.” However, if you’re south, you get it. There are thousands of things I could blame it on… But bottom line, God has a different plan.
I had an epiphany this last week that my best days are still ahead of me. Whether I will fall in love and have children and get the whole “white picket fence” dream, or I’ll discover a new dream, like medical school, or living in China, or doing exactly what I’m doing today- researching families for my job, only God knows. I don’t plan anything more than 6 months in advance because I honestly don’t know where I’ll be in that amount of time, and I’ve never wanted to limit God. He can do whatever he wants with me. Either way, changing my attitude from “poor me” to “lucky me” isn’t exactly easy, but I think it’s very necessary. Who am I to question God’s timing? In retrospect, I’ve always seen the perfection in God’s timing and not mine. I believe one day this will all make sense, too.
So, why do I tell you this today? To get it out of my head, I guess. To let you know that I won’t be lying on the floor depressed tomorrow. Or sending myself flowers. Or drowning my sorrows in chocolates. Or even spending more than maybe 5 minutes on the way to work feeling sorry for myself. (Though I will allow myself those 5 minutes.)
I’m very happy where life and the Lord have taken me. I look forward to what’s still around the corner.
Much love.
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