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Years ago, I did what fools do. I planned out my life.
Ever heard that joke that says, “Want to make God laugh? Then tell Him your plans for the future!”
Well, I did. But I still didn’t think the saying was applicable to me. In my delusion, or umm, pride…or maybe, naivete, I thought God and I were so tight that, well, “He wouldn’t play me on my plans.” I had some learning to do about God, and, well, life in general.
The thing is, I had my life planned out, but I left room for waiting. Or so I thought. After letting go of the man I loved, I prepared myself for a “time of singleness”. Even a very long time, by some people’s standards. Still, it was not long enough.
I was taught that I should be “doing something in the meantime” while I waited for this man to come along, and so I set out to “do those things”.
I wrote books. Got my MBA. Started a business. I did speaking engagements. Counseled others who needed to “overcome heartbreak.” Went on trips. Spent time with friends. Bought a home. I created a full life. And still, no husband.
Then, the unthinkable happened. 35 hit. I was officially in my mid 30s and single. But worse. I was alone. Really alone. Not like the alone I feared (like I was just single), but the alone that accompanies loss and grief and no kids, when you are fastly surpassing the child-bearing age.
I was blessed with plenty of people who surrounded me. They were there for the times they could be, but I was no longer “someone’s only”. I was no longer someone’s point person. The way that I had been for nearly 35 years of my life. And that reality, has been a hard pill to swallow. I, in fact, have been trying to swallow it for 2 1/2 years now.
I have enjoyed the gifts God has given over the years of following Him. He has been very intentional in His blessings. The thing is, those blessings do not remove the constant ache for what I gave up all those years ago. And what was removed just 2 1/2 years ago (which was family).
Still, I wait.
Thanksgiving was a hard one. I have struggled every holiday for as long as I can remember. I was just re-reading a journal entry from several years ago where I admitted this. But I had never been truly alone. I just seemed to have less (in this area) than what others had. What my friends had. What society had.
I did have a friend eventually join me for Thanksgiving, though he was delayed. And the food was good, along with the company. So in that sense, it worked out. But those hours leading up to it, well, they were just painful.
I say all this to say, the journey is hard. I have tried for it not to be hard for so many years. But it just is. At least, in this area.
Today I was reminded that even Jesus needed help carrying His cross.
I had this thought out of nowhere, and I like to think that it was from God. Certainly it was full of grace and compassion. So the fruit of it, at least leads, back to Him. My interpretation of that thought, was that it is ok to feel weak. The word He keeps sending me in this season is actually that He is perfect in our imperfection. He is strong in our weakness. When we fail His love never does. That is a blessing, because I am unable to be strong. At least, in the way that I used to be.
Years ago, friends and I watched a documentary of black women in their 40s who were single (and did not want to be). I looked at these women who were successful in business. They were homeowners. They took trips. They lived very full lives. But, they wanted love. A romantic love. I looked at these women, and I thought, “That won’t be me!”
Now at 37, I admit to myself. It is me.
I sit here in my new home, with my cat at my feet and my wine in my glass, and I see. It is me. It is the life I did not want.
I suppose that’s what sacrifice is. Laying down what you want, for what He wants.
Choosing His way over your own, in hopes that one day there will be a reward. Either on this side, or in eternity.
But I have met my match with this path. I have realized it will always be too great for me. I guess that means He will get the glory if I overcome. He will get all the praise. It will only be Him.
I miss my mother everyday. I miss the parts of her I did not appreciate when she was here. The consistency, the devotion, the hope she had for my life. I struggle to remember that she is full of joy and love in a way that she could never be on this side. I give in to those feelings of grief and loss, even when they are untrue. I simultaneously feel grateful and disappointed with God’s plan for me. It is not like that for other people, at least, per social media. They do not mourn the way I do. They bounce back from hard things. They let it roll off their backs.
But that is not my way. And At 37, I realize, life is simply never what you expect it to be.
Here is me and BJ, after I decorated my tree with loved ones.
Before this season I knew next to nothing about getting a book publishing deal. And can I tell you a secret? Even with two self-published books under my belt, I still didn’t consider myself “a real writer”. I mean, I’m a good writer (in my opinion) but I did not study writing or major in journalism (except for that brief time period freshman year, but God told me to “x” that idea). I mean, I’ve attended a few writing workshops but honestly, most of my training has come from, well, completely, Holy Spirit teaching me. 😁💕
I have read countless books and have always been an avid reader 🤓. Books were a safe haven growing up for me. I was a loner. Born an only child and struggling in the friendship department (my how things change). Most of my pre-teen years were spent with my nose in a book. I would get so excited when my mom would take me to the library to pick out a few books that I could spend the weekend reading. (Yes, I spent my weekends reading, LOL!) And even though she herself was not a reader, she supported me in my reading. She supported me in everything…
It’s funny how fast God can move in some things. Like this writing thing for example. I was just reading about a writer (one of those real writers, I mean) and how she kept submitting her manuscript and query letter to publishing companies and then getting rejected. Over and over. Until finally, she got accepted. In my mind it was a given she would get accepted. I mean, she was a real writer. (Any writer who knows how to do a query letter, and submit their work to a publishing company, well, that is a real writer to me, LOL.) So that’s why the last couple of months are astounding to me. Because out of nowhere I got a message posted on my social media account from a distant relative (someone I hardly interact with) about a publishing opportunity for black writers. Well, I’m a black writer (I use that term loosely as I’ve already explained my perception of myself as a writer), so I should definitely look into this. Well, I did, and they wanted the first 30 pages of a manuscript. Now, I had resumed writing once the pandemic hit, but had no idea how much I had written, and I wasn’t so sure I had enough written. To my surprise, at the time, I actually had 150 pages written! SMH. So, I quickly started working on my book project to get it submitted. But the company also wanted a query letter included. Hmmm, here we go with that query letter again! Well, shortly thereafter a friend slid into my DM’s with contact information for a well known published author who was offering her services (free of charge mind you) to help black authors put together a query letter for this very opportunity! Crazy. Could God be anymore obvious? LOL. So, I jumped on it, and she really was a godsend in every aspect of the word. Within a few weeks I had my query letter! Then it came time for editing. Or so I thought. I turned back to social media, put out feelers for an editor and reached out to one in particular.
Now, I am a no nonsense type. I like to get stuff done. Give me a project, I’ll knock it out. I love productivity. So when this person suggested we wait to do the editing and that I should revisit the story and dig deeper (without actually having read the story) I was a little annoyed. Come on lady, I’m tryna give birth to this thing and you telling me I’m not done carrying yet! 🤰🏾🙄. Now, she felt this message was from God and that she was hearing something. I’m not one to tell someone else what they are hearing or not hearing, but I know that if it is a word for me, then it is going to have to resonate with me. So I agreed to wait, although I was skeptical 🤔. But I didn’t have to wait too long. I sat with the story again, and Holy Spirit moved quickly. I began writing, and so much more came out of the characters. I was in awe. I sat with the story for a whole month after that and am finally meeting again with the editor (today actually). Hopefully we are ready for the editing stage (fingers crossed). I also submitted those first 30 pages and am awaiting a response from the publishing company. They have 3 months to respond so we have time (2 months left actually).
God has given me several words about this book project. I don’t know how much of an influence it will have but I know that it will have an impact. I love that it reflects my growth spiritually and where I have evolved as a person. It is relatable, down to earth but still revelatory. And to think, when I began writing it, I had no idea it would actually be a published work. I only started writing out of enjoyment.
I am looking forward to the outcome and to see the expression of the Father’s creativity through me in this season. And through so many others.
It’s our time.
I am my ancestors’ wildest dream.
I’m the writer for those who couldn’t read,
The voice for those who couldn’t speak,
I dance for justice and fight for peace,
I am free.
But only due to their bravery.
The men and women who went before,
And paved a road of liberty.
Laced with sacrifice, and suffering.
Families tattered and torn by a system of oppression,
Brutal beatings armed with lynchings filled with aggression,
To prove they were lesser than their oppressors.
But we fought back you see.
And lifted arms under its weight until the system was dismantled.
We used our Hope and Faith as weapons.
And sliced through the enemies camp of fear,
Set out to keep us under.
Instead we went down under,
And met Fear face to face.
We looked him dead in his eyes
And found, he was really the one afraid.
I am my ancestors’ wildest dream.
I dance the dance that David did,
With feet of a King.
And lift my head up high like Esther.
Exuding the exquisite stature of a queen.
I march and shout like Martin and Harriett, Malcom and Sojourner, Frederick and them.
Their blood races through my veins at a considerable rate,
To fight in the war I was born to face.
The eyes of our hearts now having been open,
It was never about our skin but our purpose!
It was never about our race but our image!
And Who’s we were created in.
They passed the torch to us to win!
We run not for ourselves but like they did,
For our next of kin!
For houses built and businesses owned.
For laws that protect and injustices atoned.
We are our ancestors’ wildest dream,
And they now find their rest, their joy, their love in the manifestation, of such a miraculous thing.
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My relationship with food has always been a focus. I remember going on my first diet at the tender age of 10 years old and the person who influenced me the most to do this was in my home. She was someone I looked up to and highly esteemed.
I also remember being told I was overweight by my physician and that my family needed to monitor my eating. They then replaced my after school snacks with healthier options and informed my after school child care faculty this new regimen. Although I’m sure the intent behind their efforts came from a good place (they only wanted me to be healthy) I still remember feeling different from my peers, and even somewhat ostracized. Normally if we finished our milk with our meal we could have a second. Now I could no longer have seconds, but others could.
Middle school was full of dieting. Weight was an issue for the woman who had the greatest influence on me. Then in school I was surrounded by my more slender, caucasian peers. By sixth grade I had developed my first eating disorder. Anorexia. It didn’t start out that way. Like any addiction it was a gradual progression. I watched shows that depicted the women I wanted to look like. I went to school and was surrounded by these types of girls. And then in my home, my petite and lighter-complected influences were a constant reminder that I was not them. I was dark, and “bigger”.
The only thing that brought me out of anorexia before it really complicated my health was my grandmother, my biggest influence. She said, “You have to eat, this isn’t healthy.” Thankfully that’s all it took. I started eating again, but the poor self image and insecurities with my body had already been deeply rooted. My first bout with an eating disorder would not be my last.
Part of the reason this was the case was my own distorted self image. But the other reason was the attention and affirmation I received from outside influences. All of a sudden after losing weight in the 6th grade, the popular boy I had had a crush on was flirting with me. People wanted to be my friend., and I grew in confidence. This all happened from losing weight. The problem was, my confidence was superficial. It was predicated on something as flighty as my physical appearance, not on the internal value I had as a person. But at 11 years old who has that type of deep rooted confidence? Even as an adult we can still struggle…
To make things even more interesting, middle school was socially rough. In elementary school we were all friends, then in junior high people started clicking up. I found myself on the outs and while going through puberty, I was experiencing bullying and rejection. My home life was also a wreck during that time. Reading became my consistent outlet and books were my best friends.
High school was better socially but again I fell into my old habits of feeling that my weight was the precursor for self confidence. My junior year I found myself enthralled within the grasp of another eating disorder, this time it was Bulimia. My family tried to help me, taking me to counseling and talking to me about it. I only lied and said I would stop, but I didn’t. They didn’t realize the seeds were so deeply planted that I could not simply stop because they wanted me to, or even that I wanted to. I was experiencing a sense of control over myself when I couldn’t control my external environment. And again, I was getting a lot of attention. I was now “fly”.
It wasn’t until my college years that I was able to be free from Bulimia. It was a supernatural experience where I didn’t have to go to counseling or through a long drawn out process. It was God. He was showing me my identity and purpose, neither of which had anything to do with my weight. I was finding my worth, and I wanted to treat myself accordingly, so no more vomiting.
I did put on a lot of weight as a result and my highest weight in college was 185lbs (I am 5′ 4″). I was a size 18 but I don’t remember even being too upset about it because I was so in love with God. I was experiencing a happiness I never had before. Nothing else seemed to matter.
After college I got my weight down to around 165lbs. I was very active and got into running. I was maintaining a healthy size 12 and I felt that I was the best version of myself. I didn’t want to be extreme anymore. I didn’t want to starve myself. I was learning that our culture tries to depict the normal weight of a woman to be different than what really is. And I was learning that in the black community curves were “in”.
It wasn’t until my Pastor started teaching a health coaching class that I felt led to eat even healthier. I participated in her detox plan and experienced a change in my perception of food and my desire for it. No longer did I crave sugar; it was too sweet. All of a sudden I wanted to eat food as if it were fuel for my body, not out of pure pleasure. I had developed self control over my eating in a healthier way then I ever had dieting or battling bulimia, and as a result I dropped down to a size 8. I hadn’t been in the single digits since I was a kid! I couldn’t believe that my body could even be that small. That is when I knew that I was manifesting more of who my true eternal self was and not who I thought I was. God was revealing me to me.
I maintained that size 8 for about 7 years with my healthy eating lifestyle but when I started dating I gained about 15lbs. All of a sudden I was fearful because it had been a long time that I was unhappy with my weight. But God met me again. He showed me different ways of eating that would help me lose, but not go overboard. Even though I was experienced with eating healthy there were some changes I needed to make in this new season of my eating journey. In the midst of this I had gotten into strength training. Although after college I had been pretty active, up until 2 years ago I had never done strength. I learned that strength training boosts your metabolism even after you are done working out, unlike cardio where you only burn while you are working out. I learned I need more protein to build and tone the muscle groups I am targeting. I also need to eat more frequently to fuel my body for the workouts I do (I usually eat every 2-3 hrs).
After losing the 15lbs I had gained, I was satisfied that my body was where it was supposed to be. After all I was comfortably back in my size 8’s and at a strong 158lbs, (which is where I had been for years). Then more recently I found out I had unexpectedly lost 4lbs. How did I lose 4lbs without trying? I wondered. I have been very “in tune” with my body for several years and just believed I was where I was supposed to be without being extreme and staying active. Yet God is showing me again that my body is changing and it is a new season. Now I am intrigued as to where my body can go given my new regimen of strength training and a higher protein diet. I am excited!
I am so grateful by the Father teaching me the best diet and exercise regimen for me. I have received the affirmation and attention I did when I was younger and smaller but now my confidence is not superficially based on that. It is based on knowing who I am to Him. My value to Him. And His love for me.
I know many struggle with their weight and women have so much pressure to be a certain size just like men are pressured to be a certain height. I can share that my experience is that we can overcome our weaknesses and be free from addictions, however it is rarely an overnight occurrence, and it truly does not happen without discipline and intentionality (although I did randomly lose that 4lbs, LOL).
The unique thing for me is that I know my discipline and desire for fitness comes from Him. The self control I have is His fruit and I can taken no credit.
My health and fitness is truly a byproduct of me manifesting my true identity in Him and I’m glad He has revealed such an important concept, especially when as a youth my view was distorted.
He does great things.
And loves giving us the desires of our hearts.
It’s been 2 years but it feels more like one. Every day I think about you and since that day life hasn’t been the same. Things moved swiftly foreword yet at the same time stood still. So many days I thought the pain would never end.
It hasn’t ended but it’s dimmed.
I see you at the store, on tv, while running errands. You are everywhere and anything can trigger a memory; a time when we were together in the physical. I realize how quickly my childhood passed and how you and gramma were the bulk of it.
And its over.
Somehow God saw fit to surround me with so many who are not blood related but who love me just as fiercely. Sisters who are steadfast, spiritual parents who fill the gap, brothers who care… I still yearn for my own but I so appreciate that they are there. I never would have made it if they weren’t there.
Just a few moments this past year…
I moved. And moving was bitter sweet. I laid in your bed for as long as I could before I had to pack it and relocate. I kept the mattress. It’s like laying in your arms. And literally this home is hugging me with its warmth and comfort.
God is the best comforter.
He comforted me these last 2 years for sure. Using people and circumstances and financial blessings. I have been so blessed. But there has been so much emptiness and loss. It feels like the holes are just now being filled.
And now we are struggling with a virus. The whole world is struggling. They call it a pandemic. And it’s kind of crazy to me its a virus that is related to the illness that you yourself battled some 20 something years. Those last few days were horrible. I don’t even like to think about them. And some would say you lost the battle, but I know better.
I saw you in your glorified body in a dream I had right before your passing. I had no idea what was to come, but the dream has been one of many comforts.
Thank you for being great. I would not be who I am without you. I wouldn’t have made it this far. I’m so grateful for your sacrifices and how you poured out your life for me. Even when things were rough between us, you were always for me. I appreciate that now. I didn’t know our time would be so short and the only regret is that I didn’t know.
But even in the not knowing we knew. And spent those last few months together. And I will forever treasure them. It is a gift of the Father who knows when we don’t know. Who sees when we don’t see. And who is always for us.
Thank You Father for providing these 2 years. For keeping my mind and teaching me mental strength. For being with me even when I felt alone. For being the net when I jumped by faith. For catching me when I fell. Over and over again.
Your love is miraculous. And it is that love I pray that somehow others will experience in the midst of such uncertainty. Such difficult things happen in this life and yet You are the hope.
You are the light in the midst of darkness.
And now we are the light.
Forever and always Alayna Miller, you are loved.
I am sitting in my living room on an overstuffed cream chair with a cup of green tea and a book on grief. The crackle of the candle on the window sill is almost drowned out by the ocean wave sounds coming from my speaker. I can smell the scent of pumpkin roll coming from said candle and wish once again that it would never run out. It’s the perfect setting to wind down to.
I had a networking event today of which another introvert called me out on being introverted. She voiced my inner thoughts on being grateful that I had made it out and yet I was simultaneously looking forward to when I would leave.
I did get involved in a few good conversations on travel and such and was encouraged enough that I only left a half hour early. But then, so also did the host…
I am becoming very aware of my introverted ways particularly when I compare myself to my more extroverted friends. When I receive lengthy texts flooding my phone with information I get overwhelmed. When I am invited to several events at once I feel the same. I even do not scroll often on social media because taking in so much information on a variety of people (most of which I never talk to in person) is too much for me. Normally I post. I post about me and the people in my direct sphere. I can handle that. But anything more, feels too much.
Still I love connecting. Usually it happens in small groups like this past weekend when I hosted a friend to share on Mary Kay products. I was able to offer appetizers and a warm and cozy space. I love hosting. Especially in this house which perfectly fits me.
This house has been such a comfort. It is cozy and warm and I feel like I am being hugged at all times. I finally got my bookcase up and tomorrow my loveseat will be delivered. The living room will be complete and all the furniture is now purchased. It is just a matter of wall decor…
I never dreamed I would so enjoy interior decorating or have such a knack for it. But God knew. I stand in awe that He had a place for me. I think about all the places I wanted before I found this house and they were not for me. But it was not because there wasn’t a home for me, there was. It was because they were not the right fit. There was one particular home I really really wanted. I had fallen in love with that house. It hurt me when it did not work out but there was a lesson in that. He was teaching me something even in it falling through.
He has purpose in all things.
Tomorrow I have a long day ahead and I know I will need to get as much rest as I can. I know myself. I know my energy levels. I know when I will reach my end and when I have the capacity for certain engagements.
There are so many joyous times in this season and still sad times. A friend said that watching my life is like reading a good book. I concur. I feel that way sometimes. Like when I go on amazing trips with friends or shopping and catch a good deal or meet with a new client for my business. It is a fabulous life indeed. But still not without its difficulties.
I realize the difficulties have made me more compassionate. I have such a heart for those who experience tragedy or loss or suffering in a way that I did not before.
Again, He has purpose in all things.
Even in the hard things.
Especially in those…
It is Christmas morning. I’m sitting on a comfy couch near a cozy fire drinking a cup of coffee. The tree is small but welcoming and although there are only two presents under it they are wrapped in love. I’m visiting with a woman who goes back to my childhood. She’s the only one I was able to bring with me from that time and for that I hold on to her fiercely. She is mine. And she, like me, did not want to face the holidays alone, so we are facing them together.
I have to admit this life the Father has painted is full of marvelous things. Like yesterday when we drove up the Rocky Mountains and let them take our breath away. Their voluminous size were terrifyingly exhilarating. At once I was reminded at how great the Father is and yet at the same time, so intimate.
It is a wonder.
We laughed and drank and skated and cooked. We did what people talk about doing with their families. Visiting historic landmarks, taking car trips to the mountains, basking in being a family…
Our sisterhood is something I will always be grateful for. This woman walked me down the aisle not on the happiest day of my life but on a day when I needed to do what was most difficult. She stayed two weeks longer when everyone left to make sure I would be ok for my birthday. She has been my rock when I couldn’t see Him anymore…
I could still see Him through her.
And of course she is not the only one. But I want to honor her in this moment in time because she is worthy of being honored. I don’t know what my plans would be if she had not extended her love. If she had not extended her time…
As I get older I hear about others who spend the holidays alone. I have yet to have that experience but I finally realize it is not something I am exempt from. Life is never what we think it will be.
But for now I see the Father’s provision. My dear friend came over and took Christmas pictures of me in my new home, stayed over for hours of fellowship and then came back the next day to drop me off at the airport. I had been visiting with her family previously and was the recipient of more fellowship, more community, more love.
I have known their family for quite some time. They have seen me transform into the woman I am today. They too were there that day I walked down the aisle. They have been there every step of the way.
As life moves along and friends date, get married and have babies, I deal with the weight of my circumstances. I have none of those things. And that is the “rocky” part. The pain, the loss, the trauma…
But this is what I do have…I have snow tubing near the Rocky Mountains Christmas Day. I have waking up to a fire, a cup of coffee and a dear friend who loves me unconditionally. I have a woman who is lavishing a mother’s love upon me in a way that is desperately needed. A new home that came when I least expected and is perfectly tailored for me. Women who have been on this journey with me for more then a decade and even though their life circumstances have changed, they include me in them. They invite me into their family traditions for the holidays. We play spades and bake cookies and enjoy each other. I have provision and style and love. The love is not in the form I thought it would be in. It does not negate the grief and trauma I am still recovering from. It does not fulfill the deep longings of my heart I experience every day and have experienced since that faithful day I submitted to Him at age 19. Giving up the man I wanted to marry at age 22. But it does give me HOPE.
Everyday I wake up, I look at the home He provided and I have hope. He does give us the desires of our hearts. He does manifest His eternal promises in the natural. He does want us to have good things in this life.
He does give His children good gifts…
And that is the reminder of this season. The true meaning of Christmas. A celebration of God sending Yeshua to offer hope for the world. I am always in aww that somehow He chose me to be His. I know I couldn’t have “earned” that right by any great efforts of my own. Believe me I tried. But still somehow I got adopted. I got engrafted into His family. For that I am eternally grateful.
He is my ABBA and I know out of all the gifts He has given me, I am most grateful for that one.
To be His daughter. To be His Love.
To be His.
Merry Christmas from The Rockys☺️☺️☺️.
Yesterday I made the move. And it was right after I spent the holiday out of town with dear friends.
I had packed everything ahead of time because I didn’t want to be stressed the night before trying to get things together (after my flight got in). I am a great planner and I knew planning was going to be key to getting ready for the new season. Still, there are some things you simply cannot plan for…
The night before the move, my good friend picked me up from the airport and we enjoyed our fleeting moments together. She will be entering her own new season soon which also involves moving so I am savoring all of my time with her. She agreed to spend the night and we started the next day at 7 am. I needed to pick up the U-haul truck and make it to my house by 9am. We were making good time and decided to stop for coffee and breakfast. Little did we know we were going to need the sustenance! I had a few other friends coming to help but I was relying on the movers I had hired to be the real muscle. In the past my mom and I always hired movers. We did this because we did not have family, or men, to help. We were always doing things on our own and independence was ingrained in me at a young age. I had friends who had large families and men in their families that would help them relocate. I always envied that about them…
Well about 30 minutes after my friends and I started moving I realized the movers I had hired were MIA. I called them and was initially told they had the wrong time down (even though they were the ones who had chosen the time). Then I was told they were stuck in traffic (which I knew was a bold face lie because we had been out and there was no one traveling the day after Black Friday). So I cancelled the movers and my friends picked up the slack. They were amazing. For 2 and a half hours we created assembly lines, passed boxes to and fro and took trips back and forth between houses. We even stuffed ourselves in the front of a U-Haul truck due to lack of space! (Shout out to Lo for being a real G) LOL. And the crazy part about it all is, WE HAD FUN. We laughed and sang to the music and talked. It was a great time of fellowship and comraderie and I knew it was the Father. He was giving me people. He was giving me a longtime desire of my heart.
There have been several things that have happened in this moving process that has shown me His love and one of them is His use of people. There were some things I simply could not plan for and He has shown me He is the ultimate planner. People would pop up at just the right time. My neighbors who I needed to borrow plyers from. My pastor who’s time is already limited and yet has made it a point to fix anything at my house and breakdown the large items I need to get rid of. His sister who has been so much like a mom to me in this season has been present to look at houses and rejoice with me when I found the right one. My friends, who cleaned the house and helped me physically move. My realtor who took some appliances I needed to dispose of last minute (not to mention the one who actually found this house when I had given up). Even my personal trainer who was squeezed in front of the U-Haul who I’ve only known for 2 months. People, people, people. God has given me people.
God will fill up the lack. He will provide and meet the need however He so chooses. And this is how He has chosen in this season with me.
There were some hard times this week emotionally. The holidays usually are hard for me and now even more so. I am still working through my grief and disappointments. There are changes in my relationships due to the new seasons. There are changes in my relationship with God. But every morning I wake up in this new house and I feel His peace. I walk upstairs and my breath is taken away all of over again. This house is symbolic of hope for the future.
My friends and I are walking out a different path then those who are not chosen. We struggle with how different it is. We so want to be “normal”.
“Singleness is getting awkward,” she said. I laughed but I knew it was true. It has been awkward, I thought. I am a little older and so I knew that that played into my perception. It is also painful, I thought, but didn’t share. I didn’t want to project my pain onto her although, I have so appreciated that I have been able to be completely honest with her in my journey. I have so appreciated that while others transition into building families and focusing on their loved ones, I have people around me who are still in it. They are still walking out this path of waiting. It is comforting to have others who understand and empathize with the journey.
I am grateful for how the Father has moved in my life. He has been very intentional with what He has blessed me with and the opportunities He has given. He has also been intentional with what He has not allowed. Only He knows how we are wired. The intimate desires of our hearts and what will bring about His best in us.
I have changed a lot in this season. Life does that. While some may think it is not for the good, I disagree. I think we need to be balanced out in our perception of life. I think we need to understand the sufferings of humanity to understand the compassion of Christ. If we don’t go through dark times we will never be relatable. I have had to learn how to be relatable.
Thank You Father for how You have moved in my life. Thank You for showing Your Hand and making it known that I am Yours. Even when I feel alone. You are always there.