Hovering

Recently, several friends of mine got engaged. Sure, I might be just a tiny bit jealous. But I am happy for them. An engagement is a major reason for celebration. But to be completely honest, it can be pretty obnoxious if you're just on the outside looking in at somebody else's happiness. It isn't uncommon for me to unfollow someone on Facebook (hide them from my Newsfeed) while they are engaged. Usually they stop throwing every tiny little milestone in your face a few months after the wedding. OK, YOU'RE IN LOVE! I GET IT!!

Please understand that I really do rejoice with dating/engaged/newlywed people. I also hope that you can understand that anyone on social media has the right to see/not see or post/not post whatever they want. (I'm sure any readers who have hidden my ranting status updates from their Newsfeed (or unfriended me altogether) can vouch for the fact that I can be pretty obnoxious, too.)

Years ago, long before social media went mainstream, I knew an engaged couple that was pretty much joined at the hip before they got married. While they were dating/engaged, they were inseparable, and they held hands constantly. After they got married, they were all over each other, right? Wrong. After the wedding, they would walk a couple of feet apart from each other and wouldn't even hold hands. As far as I know, they are still married today, and I don't think they had any marital problems at the beginning of their marriage. But it was like... so, you two finally got a room, and now it's all out of your system? What was up with all that anti-climatic stuff?

The purpose of my rant is to build up to an analogy, of course.

"I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I could wish you were cold or hot. So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth." (Revelation 3:15-16)

"I know your works, your labor, your patience, and that you cannot bear those who are evil. And you have tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars; and you have persevered and have patience, and have labored for My name's sake and have not become weary. Nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love." (Revelation 2:2-4)

Many years ago, I heard a guy preach a sermon about "first love." He said that when he was dating his wife, he was crazy about her. One time, he dropped to his knees in the middle of their high-school hallway, and he serenaded/belted out the song "You Are So Beautiful" to her, totally embarrassing her but totally expressing how he really felt. "That was first love!" he explained to us during his sermon. Years after they got married, he said that he would lazily lounge in their living room and groggily ask his wife to bring him something to drink. The romance was gone... perhaps very much in the same way that the "hot"ness is too quick to leave many of our relationships with Christ.

Speaking of preachers, I've noticed that many of them nowadays hate cats. I think this is unfortunate, because you can definitely learn a lot about God's character by observing felines. Anytime I hear a pastor or church teacher compare God to a feline, he/she has my attention. I mean, Jesus is the Lion of Judah, right?

I consider myself extremely blessed to own two extremely adorable cats who have taught me a lot about how God sees me, how He treats me, and how He wants me to treat Him.

For example, one thing that I've seen my cats do is hover. They don't just show up on your lap and neatly sit down like civilized humans. They hover. In fact, I decided to snap a computer photo of Choochie hovering over my arm while I was typing just now.

 

Why do felines do this? I'm not exactly sure, but I think -- as one observant pastor pointed out once -- it's because cats are territorial. I think perhaps felines hover as a way of claiming their territory before they finally settle into it...

...as Choochie did right before she finally settled in front of my computer.

This hovering characteristic of felines reminds me of Someone I know.

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters." (Genesis 1:1-2)

"For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is loyal to Him..." (2 Chronicles 16:9a)

And, of course, there is a copycat loser who also tries to act like God.

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour." (1 Peter 5:8)

While I was trying to write this post, my cats competed for the snuggle territory near my lap.

 

Choochie won, of course.

Macho may be twice her size, but you can't deny a feisty little puma that spot between her mama's shoulders.

Regarding our relationship with God, different things in this world and in our lives come between Him and us, and they compete for our affections all the time. Jesus knew all about this.

"When anyone hears the word of the kingdom, and does not understand it, then the wicked one comes and snatches away what was sown in his heart. This is he who received seed by the wayside. But he who received the seed on stony places, this is he who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet he has no root in himself, but endures only for a while. For when tribulation or persecution arises because of the word, immediately he stumbles. Now he who received seed among the thorns is he who hears the word, and the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and he becomes unfruitful." (Matthew 13:19-22)

From what I understand, an engagement can be a very critical, delicate time in a couple's relationship. The relationship can break up permanently during the engagement period. I've seen people's hearts get terribly broken during an engagement.

And yet -- contrary to that strange joined-at-the-hip couple that I mentioned previously -- an engagement can be a precious precursor to a wonderful marriage. Thankfully, I've seen couples become joined at the hip AFTER the wedding, which makes more sense to me.

Anytime anyone walks away from God, He hurts. And anytime anyone grows closer to Him as they stick by Him through the years, well... they become more like family to Him than ever before.

As for me, my relationship with God doesn't get "hot" when I try to be as distant from Him or as polite to Him as I can. It gets "hot" when I plunge into everything He has for me, when I throw myself at Him, when I believe that He is who He says He is... when I try to treat Him the way He wants me to treat Him, and when I let Him treat me the way He wants to treat me. Even if nobody else understands our relationship.

Thanksgiving was just a few days ago. As you probably know, I don't cook. (At least, not anymore.) I hate cooking. I hate spending time in the kitchen preparing the food, and I despise having to clean up for myself afterwards. I find no joy in taking an hour or more to cook something that only takes a few minutes to eat.

But I'm not like everybody else. Many people love cooking. They tremendously respect the culinary arts, and they take great delight in preparing food and, especially, in serving it to others and letting them enjoy it. For these cooks, the joy is in the preparation.

Before Jesus left this earth, He told His disciples that He was going to prepare a place for us. I've heard pastors preach about how in many ways, we're engaged to Jesus. After all, we're the Bride of Christ, and one day in heaven, we the Bride will be presented to our Bridegroom. I think all of this stuff we've been going through on this earth has been preparation for living the rest of our lives with Jesus in heaven as His Bride. I think for Him, the joy is in the preparation.

But before the Lion of the tribe of Judah settles down with us in His rightful territory, I think He's going to hover. Which spot is rightfully His? Where are His affections wanted? Where is He welcome?

I think to a degree, we the Church need to fixate our affections on our First Love so obsessively and so thoroughly that the world will scream at us, OK, YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH GOD! WE GET IT!! Hopefully not in an obnoxious way -- hopefully in a way that the world will want what we have... that they will want to join us and let the King hover over them and settle with them as well.

Why stay on the outside looking in at somebody else's happiness? Come on. You know you want Him.

For His name's sake

I've had the idea for this post in my head for a while, but my pastor's sermon this weekend -- as well as my life's events today -- solidified it even further. And in case you're reading this and wondering, "Why is she making such a big deal about getting a flat tire?" that's just how I am. And I also wanted to glorify Somebody's name. Please allow me to explain...

In my life, anytime anyone mentions the concept of "family" or talks about praying for your "family," etc., etc., etc., I think about these two little felines who beg me to feed them several times a day. My two cats and that small spot on my couch where I have DVD marathons, watch YouTube videos, and play video games -- that is "family" to me.

And Somebody else considers me to be His "family" as well.

"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me." (Psalm 27:10)

I've known for a while that I need to buy new tires for my car, but I thought my current tires would last me for at least a couple more weeks. I think the road trip I took yesterday finally wore them out, because one of them got flat this morning while I was driving to the grocery store. At first, I thought the low-tire-pressure light on my car just meant that I needed to put some air in one of my tires, so I squeaked over to the gas-pump area of the store. But the tire in question had a nice little tear in it. I called a couple of trusted friends to ask for their help, but of course they didn't answer because it was 10:30 a.m. on a Sunday. I mean, that's church-and-family time all across America.

So, I whipped out the owner's manual for my car and located the section that explains how to change a flat tire. I had never done this before. (The only other time in my life when I had a flat tire was many years ago when I was driving a different car that happened to be hissing air when I happened to be meeting some friends who happened to take care of it for me.) I compared what I read in my owner's manual with what I saw on my wheel. It seemed way too complicated (as does anything that is over-intellectualized), so I went inside my car and regrouped.

This was one of those life-crises that turns an I-have-it-all-together woman into a freaked-out little girl. I prayed and told God I was scared. He told me to go for it, and He said we could bond over this situation.

So, I carefully drove my car to a wide-open empty section of the parking lot, honestly so that any passersby could easily identify me as a damsel in distress. My strategy worked. As soon as I had removed my spare tire and its accessories from my trunk and had set them on the ground, a vehicle pulled up beside me. A married couple (who I later gathered were empty-nesters) asked me if I needed help. I replied yes and, with my car's owner's manual in my hand, explained that I had never done this before. They laughed, and the man exited his vehicle. He said, "This is where I failed as a dad," and while he jacked up my car and removed my flat tire, he taught me how to do it myself if I ever needed to in the future.

Well, sir, where you perceive that you failed in your past, I believe you succeeded with me.

They cheerfully acted as if helping out a perfect stranger was a normal thing. It was as if they had done it before. After the man installed my spare tire, he asked his wife to drive their vehicle since his hands were greasy. As I re-parked my car, I thought about a quote from the Sense and Sensibility movie: "The unkindness of your family makes you astonished to find friendship elsewhere." I went inside the store and proceeded to shop for groceries, and I saw the Good Samaritan couple from across the building. I avoided them because I knew that if I were to talk to them again, I would bawl like a baby.

A short time later, I drove to a safe place to cry -- church. The parking-lot attendant picked me up on his golf cart and drove me straight to the front door. The worship team happened to be singing the song "Good Good Father" when I walked in, my church happened to serve communion that day, and my pastor happened to preach about God's Father-heart. I was so overwhelmed with the way that God took care of me today -- the way, place, and manner in which my tire became flat and temporarily replaced -- that I ugly-cried off and on. Actually, I'm still choking up as I type this.

"He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake." (Psalm 23:3)

"A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, loving favor rather than silver and gold." (Proverbs 22:1)

When I was much younger, my birth mother would kinda give me a hard time about the way I looked, the way I would dress, and they way I would do my hair. She was a hair stylist, so she had a beauty-quality reputation to uphold. Anytime I would fail to live up to her standards of appearance, she would say that I was making her look bad. Well, excuse me for not inheriting your glamour genes, Miss America.

Speaking of glamorous -- in case you're a new reader to my blog -- growing up in a Pharisee's house was a terrible experience. Helping motorists in distress wasn't normal. Criticizing everybody for everything was normal. Putting down everybody else's family because you believed that your family-raising skills were superior was normal. Always wanting to be better than everybody else was normal. Patronizing people was normal. Pride was normal. Shame was normal. Fear was normal. Inviting God into every little detail of your life was unheard of.

So, the concept of having "a good name" is something that God has had to rewire, repair, and heal for me.

Sometimes if I'm feeling condemned or guilty about working through an issue, or if I'm apologizing to God about working through something, He reminds me that He leads me in paths of righteousness for HIS name's sake. He reminds me that working through my issues is more important to Him than it is to me, that my safety is more important to Him than it is to me... that my life is more important to Him than it is to me.

As for the people who I used to claim as my family, their opinions of me seem drastically different than God's opinion of me. "You're not polished," He told me recently. "You're rough around the edges. That's how I designed you."

So there. And that's worked for me.

You can say what you want about the institution of marriage and how it needs to be redefined by the demands of today's culture, but I say it doesn't need to be redefined at all because God knew exactly what He was doing when He designed it, and He knew that it would work. He knew that someday, a traditionally married couple would cross paths with a rough-around-the-edges frightened woman who needed them. He knew that their union was solid enough to temporarily support her through a mini life-crisis.

You can say what you want about the institution of church and how it is unnecessary to participate in an antiquated tradition in today's culture, but I say it's still relevant today because God knew exactly what He was doing when He designed it, and He knew that it would work. He knew that someday, an I-have-it-all-together woman who temporarily became a freaked-out little girl would need that institution to be there for her one afternoon like a trusty, well-oiled machine. He knew that its faithful weekly presence would be the exact safety net she would need for her Father to catch her in His arms and gently rock her to comfort her.

You can say what you want about me and how I might make you look bad, but I say I'm created in the image of my Father who knew exactly what He was doing when He designed me, and He knew what would work for me. He knew that someday, all those trials He allowed me to experience and all those metaphorical slaps in the face that He allowed me to endure would cause me to rise up and metaphorically scream, "GOD IS REAL!" to anyone who would listen. He knew that I would let Him lead me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake, and He knew that His name would be glorified in the process.

And He knew that I would enjoy bonding with Him in these types of situations. He knew that I would bear His name and be His family.

Knowing the Storm-stiller

"Therefore whoever hears these sayings of Mine, and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock: and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it did not fall, for it was founded on the rock." (Jesus talking in Matthew 7:24-25)

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble... He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two; He burns the chariot in the fire." (Psalm 46:1, 9)

With all the crazy weather we've had in my area lately, I've been reminded of how the concept of "storms" is a nifty analogy indeed. (I snapped the above photo in my church's parking lot a few days ago.) Living through a weather storm can be a great way to learn how to survive a life storm.

For example, sometimes the best way to survive a (physical) storm is to just take shelter and stay there. Rainy downpours are merciless, sometimes dangerous, and they won't stop until they're good and ready. Why drench yourself running through the sky-waterfall or kill yourself driving through the floods? Just wait until it lets up a bit before proceeding with caution.

Similarly, if you know that a (life) storm is raging all around you, just find your Shelter (God) and stick with Him. Some circumstances just need time to run their course. Why kill yourself by leaving your Shelter and trying to conquer the trials all by yourself? You won't make it unless you cling to God and follow His directions as closely as possible.

"The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty." (Proverbs 22:3 AND 27:12, NIV)

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they handle a storm. Do they ignore the warning signs, trek through life as if nothing were wrong, and then wonder why their life is falling apart? Do they crumble during a crisis and disappoint the people around them? Or do they look for their Shelter, find help from people they trust, and surf through the storm like a pro? Or do they look for their Daddy's lap and snuggle into it and let Him hold them until the storm is over?

Several years ago, I was visiting my birth parents, and we all went out shopping. Dad was feeling ill, but he finally experienced excruciating pain that brought our excursion to a halt. Unfortunately, I discovered that day that Mom was useless during a crisis. While Mom was driving us home and Dad was literally writhing in pain, I urged her to find a hospital; just turn on the emergency lights and look for a sign with a blue "H." It turned out that Dad had a kidney stone that kept him in the hospital for a couple of days. They complained about not having taken him to a hospital that was closer to the house, but I think perhaps if someone had taken charge of the situation sooner, maybe they could have made a decision sooner in that regard. Why let your circumstances (or the people around you) make your decisions for you?

You can also tell who's close to you by the way they're there for you during your storm. Just as a silly example, I have a relative who lives several hundred miles away, and they always tell me when it's going to rain in Dallas. Uh, thank you, but I don't live in Dallas. They often text me and tell me to be careful because it will be stormy in Dallas... but a frickin' tornado touched down in my suburb earlier this week, and I didn't hear from them at all. I know they love me and have very good intentions, but... uh, thank you. Heh.

Lately, while God has continued to bust my paradigm about "quiet times," He's told me that if I won't hear Him when it's quiet, then I won't hear Him when it's noisy/fiery/stormy. He's my Shelter. He's my Life Source. He's my God. I have to hear Him at all times, especially during the storms, or I'm toast.

I used to have a coworker who visited my church once after I invited her. I had about one or two conversations with her about God, religion, etc. She had been to church in her past, and she said that now she would often experience an "inner peace" that she didn't need a church to help her with. But she told me that she would rather go to hell where all the fun people are. She wasn't joking; she was serious. The more I interacted with her, the more uncomfortable I felt around her. The way in which she conducted her life was ungodly, codependent/irresponsible, and very dishonest. I asked God if I should keep inviting her to church. He basically shrugged His shoulders and said, "She claims she already knows Me." OK, then. Shaking the dust off my feet and moving on.

All the fun people are in hell? What the heck was she talking about?

Until you've danced with God around your living room with an ABBA song on your phone and Psalm 76 on your Bible app, you haven't lived. That is my honest opinion. When I experienced this, Jesus was like, "Jews dance better than Gentiles." (Because Jesus is Jewish. And I'm a Gentile.) Oh, OK. I see how it is. You know the King of Kings is your Friend when He starts zinging you. (Kinda reminded me of all those times that God would dance the tango with me.) Heh.

"And suddenly a great tempest arose on the sea, so that the boat was covered with the waves. But He was asleep. Then His disciples came to Him and awoke Him, saying, 'Lord, save us! We are perishing!' But He said to them, 'Why are you fearful, O you of little faith?' Then He arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm." (Jesus doing His thang in Matthew 8:24-26)

Sometimes life's "storms" can come at you really quickly, with little or no warning: Your boss is yelling at you, your cat is sick, your emotions are choking your insides to death, you're lonely and depressed, and all your friends are too busy to hang out with you, much less encourage you. Who are you going to turn to?

God my Storm-stiller, of course. He's the only One who's always going to be available to help. He's the only One who's always going to be powerful enough to stop the storm. He's the One who's most qualified to instruct me during the storm, whether He has to whisper or yell the instructions to me over the noise of the winds and the waves. If I don't bond with Him and get to know Him for who He really is (just by being myself and letting Him be Himself), my storms could possibly take me out for good.

God is not useless during a crisis. He is the most important Person you can cling to. And yes, He's fun.

All's fair in love and laundry

Disclaimer: I hope the reader understands that I am not pressuring anyone into embracing a certain theology or becoming exactly like me or anything like that. I mean, this is my blog. This is where I process stuff (the stuff that I'm comfortable sharing publicly on this particular forum). Meanwhile, if reading about my life helps you process what's happening in your life, then glory hallelujah, and mission accomplished. Regardless, thank you in advance for reading.

The title of this post ran through my head while I was at the beautiful coin laundromat this afternoon. For the past (nearly) 3 years, I've lived in a small apartment without a washer or dryer, on purpose, because the rent is cheaper, there isn't any dryer lint to clean, there isn't any electricity or water to use on laundry appliances, and it gets me "out of the house" once a week.

Since I've been doing this for (nearly) 3 years, I should know by now that this is the time of year when everybody comes out of the woodwork to wash their blankets. This wouldn't be a big deal, except that the people who do this usually use about 5 or 6 washers and dryers simultaneously. Sure, it's convenient for the seasonal blanket-washers. But it's inconvenient for us small-apartment people who show up at the beautiful coin laundromat every week just so that we can have clean clothes to wear. Today, I had to wait a fairly long while for some dryers to become available. There were about 5 or 6 dryers that had finished, but the owners of the blankets/clothes were taking their sweet time to claim their garments. (Whenever that would happen in the college laundromats, it was perfectly kosher to empty the finished dryers, set the clean clothes aside in a pile somewhere, and claim the dryer for yourself; however, I don't think that type of thing would fly at the laundromat in da hood.)

So, today, when the laundromat was very crowded, I had to do some sneaky and fancy footwork to wash and dry my clothes, barely beating other people to the open appliances. Next week, I'll try to get there earlier in the afternoon, but this week as I was hanging some of my nicer clothes on my hangers in the parking lot, the phrase "All's fair in love and laundry" ran through my head. I hope the people traveling on the adjacent highway appreciated the fact that I wasn't folding my underwear in the parking lot.

I think my brain got the idea for the abovementioned phrase from an episode of The Cosby Show where Heathcliff steals Rudy's orange juice and justifies his actions by saying, "All's fair in love and breakfast." (She vindicates herself by doing the same thing to him later in the episode.)

Of course, the original saying is "All's fair in love and war." If you were to look up the definition of this original saying, Google would tell you that it means that you do what you gotta do to reach a certain goal. In other words, if you see someone/something you want, go after him/her/it, and don't let anything or anyone stand in your way.

Well, sometimes life works that way, and sometimes it doesn't.

 

Lately, Choochie has developed the habit of staring at Macho while he eats. She finishes her meal (which I serve in another room), and then she trots over to Macho and stares at him while he finishes his meal. A few times, she has successfully reached around him and stolen some bites, and other times I'm afraid she's bullied him out of his spot. Perhaps she's finally paying him back for all those years that he bullied her nose out of her bowl and ate her food. But I try to come to Macho's defense whenever it seems feasible. I tell Choochie, "That's not yours." I already fed her the food that I purchased specifically for her. Her nose doesn't belong in Macho's bowl.

 

However, there are many places in my small apartment where Choochie is welcome. My multimedia library is just one example. See how roomy it is? I had originally planned to put a nice cat scratcher/playground there in the middle of the floor, but I changed my mind and opted for pillows instead. Choochie has a good view of the kitchen and the living room from her little perching spot there. And Macho is welcome to hang out in there as well.

For my cats, there are so many hangout options in my small apartment. There's no need for them to obsess over the areas that are forbidden to them.

Of course, it's the same way with me in God's house.

"Then Peter, turning around, saw the disciple... Peter, seeing him, said to Jesus, 'But Lord, what about this man?' Jesus said to him, 'If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you? You follow Me.' " (John 21:20a, 21-22)

"But I want you to be without care. He who is unmarried cares for the things of the Lord -- how he may please the Lord. But he who is married cares about the things of the world -- how he may please his wife... A wife is bound by law as long as her husband lives; but if her husband dies, she is at liberty to be married to whom she wishes, only in the Lord. But she is happier if she remains as she is, according to my judgment -- and I think I also have the Spirit of God." (1 Corinthians 7:32-33, 39-40)

If you've followed my blog for the past several years, you know that I haven't had a date in more than 21 years, and that has NOT been voluntary. So, I've had to process it a lot over the years, and some of my posts on this subject have been pretty whiny. (Hey, when you grieve, that kind of comes with the territory. I think to a degree, grief-whining can be healthy.) But hopefully today's post will be the least whiny of them all.

Paul the Apostle was notorious in the Bible for being single and insisting that everybody else should be, too (unless they couldn't control their sexual desires). I've read the above passage in 1 Corinthians where he's like, "Eh, you don't need to get married; just stay single and be happy; it works for me, so it can work for you, too," and I'm like, "Look, buddy, that's easy for you to say; you don't have 39-year-old female hormones sprinting through your veins."

But now I think I understand what Paul was talking about.

Several nights ago, I had a surprise meltdown with God. I guess even when you spend 21+ years working through the rejection and bitterness of being involuntarily single, you still have huge Old-Faithful geysers of pain that spew out every once in a while. Well, the other night, I had had enough. I drew a line in the sand with God. I told Him that I don't want to spend any more of my heart dreaming about something that may never happen.

I'm done. I'm tired of dreaming about getting married someday -- about Prince Charming breezing into my life like a fairy tale, or stumbling into my life like a romantic comedy, or just calmly walking into my life like a regular guy, and doing all the right stuff to win my heart.

So, God talked me out of it, right? He rebuked my doubt and my unbelief, and He exhorted me to believe in His miraculous provision, right?

Wrong. He told me, "Why would you want a husband? You have Me."

I was reminded about the story in the Bible (1 Samuel 8) where the Israelites stubbornly wanted a king. But God didn't want Israel to have an earthly king; He wanted to reign over Israel Himself. Samuel the prophet tried to talk the Israelites out of demanding a king, because a king would tax them and impose all kinds of government stuff on them. But no, the Israelites wanted to have a king, just like all the other nations had. OK, fine. So, God gave them a king, who turned out to be a jerk (not God's fault). From then on, sometimes Israel had good kings that set excellent examples for worshiping God, and other times Israel had bad kings that set terrible examples and opened the door for Israel to get attacked by all kinds of enemies. Yeah, that's right. The type of authority you're under can make ALL the difference.

For me, the possibility of getting married someday has probably been THE vaguest area of my life -- in terms of hearing God's voice, in terms of knowing where to step, in terms of guarding my heart, etc. But lately while I've been embracing the possibility of remaining (involuntarily) single for the rest of my life, I feel like I've been able to hear God much more clearly in this area. He's impressed on my heart, "If I wanted to provide a husband for you, I would have done it by now." Indeed. Menopause is right around the corner. I'm about 80-90% sure that this marriage window of opportunity has closed for me.

And yet, it's the 10-20% chance that haunts me a little bit. There's always the possibility that God could change His mind and surprise me with a Prince Charming who wouldn't mind marrying a crazy cat lady whose idea of fun is playing video games on her phone on a Saturday night. If God were to make that happen, of course it would be awesome, and this entire blog post would be officially rendered as crap.

But meanwhile, there's work to do. Like Paul notoriously said in the Bible, we single ladies are free to focus on the things of God, rather than always having to worry about pleasing our husbands. Honestly, I can't imagine being able to do the things that I do in my life with a husband and/or children in the mix. I think if a husband were to suddenly fall out of the sky, I'd probably just treat the poor guy like arm candy -- some sort of trophy husband who looks good, stays at home, feeds my cats, and cleans house while I work 8 to 5 and spend gobs of time at church.

God recently spoke another clear thing to me while I was driving home from work one day. I was thinking about how this was a cool season for me, and God was like, "This isn't a season; this is your life."

This IS my life. Maybe years ago, God intended for me to get married, so maybe He placed that dream in my heart while I waited for Prince Charming to wake up and smell the coffee. But maybe the metaphorical coffee was never brewed, and Prince Charming either pursued other women, secretly became gay, or just never showed up for whatever reason. Why should God have to wait on some clueless guy? God designed a life for me to live, so He's going to help me live it, even if He's had to completely remodel my life and redesign His plans in the process. And why wouldn't He? All's fair in love and war. Perhaps at one point, God wanted me to fight this battle called life alongside a life-partner; but perhaps now, He's had to readjust His plans and reposition me on the battlefield. OK, world. Here we go. Give a warrior-princess some room to clutch her shield and swing her sword.

I repeat: I'm done.

When a dream dies, there's always some grieving involved, of course: the loss of something that will never be, the loss of someone who will never exist, the loss of lives that will never be touched. But sometimes when a dream dies, there's relief in releasing something that's already been in the process of dying for decades... especially if that something has been weighing heavily around your neck like a rotting albatross. Egad! Remove the putrid carcass from 'round my weary neck and allow me to run freely and fight valiantly without being weighed down in stench and death! I claim life!

No more "waiting for God's best." I'm already blessed with His best. No more wondering if I'm going to be domestic enough for a husband. I'm already plenty domestic for myself and my cats. No more feeling like I'm "going to waste" as an old maid. I'm already too busy "wasting" myself on Somebody who's already way more interested in me than any clueless boy could ever be.

"For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it." (Matthew 16:25)

Speaking of my readjusted life, God has poked His head into my day a couple of times and asked me, "Do you like it?" I'll be like, "Do I like what?" And He'll be like, "Your life." Yes, Father, thank You. I like it very much.

I'm sure that there will continue to be well-meaning people who show up in my life -- just like the seasonal blanket-washers at the beautiful coin laundromat -- and unintentionally wreak havoc for me by saying things like, "When you get married" or "When you have kids" or even "You won't be able to spend an hour getting ready in the mornings when you have kids." But I don't live to please them. I'm sorry if my life doesn't live up to their particular standards, but if they have a problem with it, perhaps they should take it up with the One whose idea it was in the first place.

I'm done comparing my life to other people's in the same way that Peter compared his life to John's. I'm tired of staring into other people's lives in the same way that Choochie stares at Macho's bowl while he eats his own food. I'm going to enjoy the place that God has set up for me in His house. I'm going to enjoy the food that He especially designed for me, served to me, and intended for me. If I don't eat it, who will?

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a banquet to chow down.