Wrecked

**This post is long, yes, and it's raw. I didn't go back and take out the ugly things, the not-so-put-together things. I am not looking for pity. Prayers, yes. But mostly, I feel like I need to just get real with the world. No more hiding. Read if you dare. if you care to.**

Nowadays, the term wrecked is used to denote many types of situations--a sweater that has a large stain in the center, a car smashed into a pole, a person that sees traumatic, emotionally damaging scenes and is left emotionally distraught (with empathy.)

I'm sure at some point I've seen the first two, whether in person or on the news. And I've definitely been in the position of the latter description. I've been to developing countries, seen a lack of hope, and my heart has cried for those people.

But today, I find myself in a different "wrecked" situation. In my case, "wrecked" is a person emotionally distraught with self-pity.

For years, I idolized marriage. I lusted after it. I pursued it. I thought it was "God's plan for my life." So much so that I was to the point of being blindly "in love" with a person who disregarded instead of loved me, and in the midst of being taken for granted, I let insecurity control.

I hid.

I hid behind the man I loved and thought I trusted.

I thought pressing on, pushing through, "if-I-can-just-get-to-marriage" would save me.

I was terrified to live without this person who made me feel so small.

I thought I was supposed to press on.

I was wrong.

No one could have prepared me for that break-up. It was a mess. Rather, I was a mess. But, because of the grace of God, I knew where to turn. God. Jesus took me in, shielded me under his wing. Slowly, I was filled with his love, and he gave me courage. Not courage to stand up and protest in front of large crowds, not courage to start a business, but simple courage.

Courage to continue each day, trusting him to guide my steps.

Courage to walk...

...and that was enough. I followed him down a path that led overseas. I came home and followed the path to return overseas, for an entire year. I thought I had learned my lesson, had been given a new outlook; new desires.

But a year and 3 months after the break-up, I began the pursuit again. This time, my pursuit was not as strong, not as sure. I still longed deeply for marriage, but I didn't want to become entangled with something that would eventually leave me wanting. again. I didn't want the pain of last time. So I proceeded with caution.

When that relationship seemed to hit a "self-destruct in 2 seconds" button, I realized, I was not distraught. Maybe for a few days, yea. But I had become a completely different person in the past 2 years. Jesus had become more to me than a cliche. Marriage, although I desired it, is not at the center of my vision as it was before.

God's been taking me on a journey since then.

A pretty lonely journey. I am at home again, back from traveling the world, and without a job. Most days I'm on the computer a good amount. I am reading a couple books. I'm organizing events and fundraisers. I try to see friends when it's possible, but I know every one's schedule is super busy. I'm trying to let God teach me whatever he wants to teach me during this season of quiet. I have been writing a lot more, even poems and such, which I haven't done for years. An acknowledgement of my amateurism deterred me, I suppose, but I'm trying to open myself up, allow myself to speak, to have a voice again. You see, I'd become a quiet person, for fear of being ridiculed or corrected. But God's teaching me how to unfilter myself. How to be a person, raw and alive.


...But I started this post by talking about being wrecked. So, how exactly am I wrecked, you ask?

It's just that...the monotony of schedule-less days and a quiet phone and closed doors and stuffy indoor air is suffocating me. Some days I get stuck in a rut, a pit of quicksand filled with my own thoughts. Some days singleness is not the adventurous path it looked like a couple months ago. Some days marriage looks tantalizing. But why? because I desire the refining work of a life-long relationship betwixt two broken-yet-redeemed sinners?

No. It's because I want a warm body next to me.        Because I am lonely.

Part of coming back into a place you left for a year is that people go on with their lives. You experience things that others don't and probably won't understand. You have to relearn how to relate to those same people you once got and who got you. I'm not talking about people I call acquaintances. I'm talking about good friends. People I love a lot. I'm not trying to make a sad story. I don't want you to feel bad for me. I know this is part of the load. I knew this, going into it. I knew this comes with the territory. The fact is it's just hard sometimes. So, I just want to be real with you about that.

Don't get me wrong. When I talk about the fulfillment found in sponsoring a child, or the fun in spending a day reminiscing and playing kids' games, or the ways God answered prayer (like giving me not 1, not 2, but 5 free VIP tix to see AudioA), or the things God is teaching my heart through what I'm reading, I'm not lying. I really do find enjoyment in those things. I am thankful for those things.

And honestly, each time I thought I was getting closer to marriage and instead found the contrary, I also found myself thinking--"Thanks, God. I am pretty sure that I am not ready for marriage right now. I am not ready to give up my (forgive me for lack of a better term here) 'freedom' in singleness."

Still, at this particular hour, I feel wrecked. I feel like the one left behind--anyone else feel like they're watching former boy-/girl-friends getting engaged and married and have kids, as you sit there, going "you're welcome. Guess you learned a lot from dating me" and wondering what it is you still need to learn? Some days I do. I know, I know, I need to learn to be content. To be fully where I am.
I know.
Be fully where you are.
Be fully where you are.
Be fully where you are.
I know.
It's the daily lesson of dying to myself. Of picking up the hammer and driving out nails with other nails. into my heart.

And so, I write.

So I can live. So I can pray. So I can come alive to God again.