Day 87

I, I love you like a love song, baby

I, I love you like a love song, baby

I, I love you like a love song, baby

And I keep hittin' re-pe-pe-pe-pe-peat

Like a Love Song, Selena Gomez

So here’s the thing.

I don’t care about the ring.  I care about who’s putting it on my finger.

And I don’t care about the wedding.  I care about who’s standing at the end of the aisle with me.

And I don’t care about a grand house.  I care about having a home.

Everyone has different preferences.  Many girls have an idea of what they want.  A man who can afford a large diamond.  A man who can afford a large house.  A wedding comparable to Kim Kardashian’s.

Well, all of that is nice.  It just isn’t me.

What I want is someone who loves me when the money is gone.  What I want is someone whose love grows deeper even still after our wedding day.  What I want is someone who, when we’re too old and grey to maintain the house, loves me and the life we lived together.

It’s not the money the man makes.  It’s not the mansion he can buy.  It’s not the glamour of the wedding.

The man I love will be the man whose heart connects with mine beyond the worldly wants.

This ring?  My grandmother wore it every day of her life.  No diamonds.  But an inscription that lives on even after both hearts have passed on.

Love.

Take the ring.  Take the money.  Take the house.

Give me true love, a heart for God, and I’ll never ask for more.

Day 12

Tired and lazy tonight.  I just want to curl up and go to bed.  Can’t really think, so here are some “bullet” thoughts for you.

I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.  Holidays are always difficult.  I don’t have family in Memphis.  I’m fine with it—I know that seems weird.  My family is on the west coast.  “Oh, don’t you miss California?” strangers ask.  No, I don’t.  I appreciate my past, but California really didn’t offer me much of anything.  It never felt like home to me.  Moving to Memphis was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.  This is home, five years and counting.  Dorothy crashed in Oz and wanted to go home.  Going to back Cali—hmmm, I don’t think so.

If you could only see.  As you get older it becomes that much more difficult not only to find friends but to keep them.  That’s not one of the perks of moving to a new state when you’re older.  My pride is hurt the most when I try and reach out to people and they don’t reach back.  I’ve felt the sting before—it’s kind of like dating a man, thinking I’m not good enough—but part of me knows that’s not true.  God puts specific people in your life at specific times for specific purposes.  To force a friendship is not to have a friendship at all.  You're stretching out your arms to something that's just not there.  So, I am going to focus on the friendships I have, not be hurt about the ones not evolving, and appreciate the grace God has definitely delivered within the last couple of months. 

To my husband.  Last Sunday, listening to Andy Stanley was really difficult.  It broke my heart.  He told us one day we would meet someone we want to marry, which means one day we will have to reveal our story.  All of it.  Pain and everything.  “So what kind of story do you want to tell?” he asked.  I wrote down what he said next (which is funny—if you know Andy, it took me about 20 times replaying sermon #3 to fully write this down).  This is who I want to be:

I decided my story was going to be a different story.  And in spite of my past and my guilt and my sin that day I decided I want to learn to honor God with my body, and I signed up that day in my heart from this point forward as difficult as it's going to be, as strange as it's going to be, as dateless and as quiet and as lonely as it's going to be I want to honor God with my body specifically in the area of my sexuality—and that day you'll be able to say to your future spouse, you ready for this? I'm telling you this is a good story, that day you will be able to say—from that day forward I prepared for you, from that day forward I saved and reserved myself, my affection, my love and my body, for you.  From that day forward I dated with you in mind.  And as I have learned to honor God with my body before I say I do to you, I am ready to honor God with my body after I say I do with you...I have been from that moment on preparing for you.

Way before I heard this message, I started to keep a journal for my future husband.  Yes, a journal for my future husband.  I began in June, one of the most difficult months of my life.  I started praying for him months ago.  Not just to have him, but for his heart, for his walk, for his struggles.  I pray for us, for our marriage.  I write down scripture that’s important to me.  And one day I’ll be able to share it all with him.  One day, I’ll share how I waited for him in more ways than one.

The journal I keep for him.

Commercial appeal.  Last night I was sitting on my couch, watching TV.  I had this warm feeling come over me, and I saw, like a dream, a vision of me standing outside under a tree.  It was night and before me was a man on one knee.  I started crying.  I can’t explain it and I know that sounds crazy, but in that one moment I felt like God was reassuring me.  I’ve felt this same feeling twice before—this warm, light, loving feeling.  I can’t explain it.  And it’s funny, because after I opened my eyes on the television was a Kay Jewelers commercial.  That was funny, God. Thanks for that moment.  Reassurance.