Whoever asked me out was doing me a favor. Horrible, ugly little girl I was, I was lucky
to have anyone ask me out.
And I kept owing and paying until it was given and until
He said stop.
And I stopped.
It’s been 198 days.
And something miraculous happened two weekends in a row.
After six months of never being asked out, I was asked
out.
Two weekends in a row.
Two men that, in a former life, I would’ve weighed the
little options I had, and said yes.
Instead I said no—though not because of the OYC, although
it gave me a strong foundation that without I would have never had the strength
to decline the same path I once traversed.
For once in my life—for twice in my life—I had
standards.
What once was a pendulum, a melodic swinging of shifts, swinging
between worthless and undeserving, was
instead a scale. On it, was me. The new me.
New decisions. New hope. New standards. New desires.
On the other side, was the old me.
The old decisions. The old
comforts. The old deceptions.
So I said no.
And saying no birthed two trains.
One, I really am changed and new in Christ, and can be
stronger through Him.
But, two, with this new ability to walk away, I realized could
very well be single forever.
I think this dawned on me Sunday while sitting in
church. Pastor was talking about
marriage—praying about it for the congregation at the end of his sermon—and it
took everything in me not to cry.
Why would I cry?
Because all I could hear was…
He’s not talking to
you.
This isn’t meant for you.
This will never be you.
This isn’t meant for you.
This will never be you.
And sometimes I feel like I take ten steps back for every
step forward. Saw this on my Twitter feed:
And after all this, after all He has brought me through, I still struggle. Still struggle to believe He is capable—beyond capable.
Less than six months to go and so still much to learn.
