quick fingers and a ready mind, the authoress will now attempt to share her
heart within fifteen minutes . . . seeing that tardiness for biology class is
not an option.
me. Ever since I turned the spritely age of twenty-one, my girlish hope of
marriage have blossomed. However, unlike many of the females of my day, my hope
is a little different. I do not hope to date around till I find the one. I do
not hope to experience the wonders of hand-holding or smooching before
marriage. I do not hope to fall madly in love with the one who I find
smolderingly handsome or dashingly debonair. I hope for something else–for
hope to be led into a relationship when I am ready, when he is ready. I hope to
be guided by those wiser and older than me. I hope to keep my body and every
wonderful, fascinating experience for him alone. I hope to fall fully in love
with someone whose character is smoldering and who is daringly living for God. Sure,
I do have physical likes (as in I do
like brown eyes and I do love a good
sense of humor) but I’ve found my sitting and dreaming over Mr. Right gets me
nowhere except to a restless spirit and bugging out eyes. (Which we all know are NOT attractive.)
checking out every cute guy for a wedding band? (Admit it, you do it too!)
Continue spending hours dreaming about the day? (Guilty as charged.) While these
things aren’t wrong, I wonder if they are the best? What in the world is a
girl to do?
authoress’ fifteen minutes have come to an end. Tune in next time for the
conclusion of this fascinating article. (Don’t
you love promoting?) J
Since I think I qualify for female normalcy, (hmm?) allow me to be transparently honest. Love hurts; or rather, waiting for love hurts. It’s the vast unknown, the what’s-behind-the-corner outlook which causes aches. Aches which lead to daydreams, expectations, and silly gossip. And when these are unfounded, when there is no love to give place to dreams, pain comes like an active pulse. The terrible Marianne and Elinor syndrome of bursting spontaniously into tears, falling carelessly ill, and going about one’s business in a state of pensiveness.
And I know what that pain feels like–I’ve been female long enough to know that we were created to give love and to receive it. It’s natural.
But I’m learning to depend on something unnatural: The tender, all-knowing love of Jesus. You see, He knows me. He knows my thoughts without my sharing them and He knows my dreams. He knows how badly my heart aches sometimes and instead of chiding or mocking he gently brings His word to mind He speaks.
“Trust in the LORD
with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.In all thy ways
acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. “
“O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.
Thou knowest my
downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.
Thou compassest my
path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.
For there is
not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether”
“How precious also
are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!
If I should
count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with
I look to the amazing love of Jesus and I know that I am safe–safe to cry my tears of fear or self-pity and safe to place myself in His hands. Odd enough, when I do so, I start to see my life falling into place and full of purpose . . . even without someone special. I begin to see that He has a marvelous plan (whether that includes my current dreams or not, He is good!).
I rest in His unfailing love and know that whatever I plan is second best when compared to His plan. I know that He gives me enough grace to boldly set aside mine for His. Therefore, I sing.
perfection in human form?
courteous and thoughtful
into failings, thoughtfulness into forgetfulness, and right choices into rebellion.
were formed in the womb; loving while we were in sin. He first loved me when
love was the last thing I deserved.