Never underestimate the necessity of a bubble bath.
Light the candles.
Play slow music. And force
yourself to sit for two seconds.
Suddenly the real world seems far away, and you can see
it as if you’re 10,000 miles away, looking from above down into your busy life.
You watch yourself as weeks pass, becoming more and more
dedicated and excited for the East Outpost.
You sense your anticipation of change, growth, and use of your spiritual
gifts. You feel the reality that life is
about be very, very different.
Relationships will be very, very different. And you’re okay with it. Because you don’t grow staying where you
are. You grow in movement and change.
You glide along the tightrope of 9 months, watching as
relationships with men begin to change.
The validation you once sought—no more.
You see the friendships you’ve made with men, and how, for the first
time, you have no other intentions than to be friends and glean from their
biblical leadership and experience. You
don’t crave companionship, but, rather, simply enjoy the community shared.
You can cook for friends, watch movies with them, shop with them, laugh
and joke, and really, truly be just friends. You wonder at this new feeling and know this
in itself is reason enough for the OYC.
But you also see the women relationships you’ve
formed. The opportunities to glean from
not just older women, but your peers.
God is finally putting loyal women in your life, and you realize that
maybe it’s because you’re finally being loyal to women. You’ve prioritized and realized the
importance of women friendships. How
much they matter and how much they can shape and uplift your walk with
God. Priceless. Irreplaceable. And you realized that even if you do get
married, friendships matter. Women just
aren’t placeholders until your husband comes along—no, they are much too
precious and far too valuable. And you
enjoy that new feeling of choosing a plan with a girl friend over hanging out
with a guy. It’s new to you. And you enjoy being in this unfamiliar, but
warm place. Another gift of the OYC.
You sink under the water as you wonder about
Twitter. Over the weekend you deleted
almost all your tweets and vowed to be more attentive to your postings—if you
posted at all. You realize that the
friend who tweeted something that unintentionally hurt you will never realize
the depth of hurt that their 140 characters caused, and know that it doesn't really matter. What matters is the conviction it set in your heart,
which is really why you decided on the change—a new understanding that cyberspace is a dangerous place
where anyone can say anything and not be held accountable for those words. Well, you said, I’m changing.
Your mind drifts from thought to thought, and it lands on
s•i•b. God’s plan for you. The plan written in invisible ink. God,
how am I supposed to read this?! you cried.
Truth is, it was a play. There
was no invisible ink. There was no plan
at all. Just a prompting from God to
follow Him. And what you received out of
it was a hint of what you’ve been searching for a long time. Fellowship.
Openness. Intentional time with
other young women believers. And this
experience taught you—once again—to trust in God’s faithfulness.
As the water drains and you blow out the candles, you
stand and look at yourself in the mirror.
No, not the prettiest thing, you think.
This is the most you’ve weighed in years. Your skin is terrible. Teeth crooked, fingers fat. The list of flaws too long to name them all. But why would you? You’re happy. For the first time in your life you see these
things and they don’t make you. They are
what make you, you. But it’s not a
worth-determinant. You still feel
confident in who you are. And you know
it’s because the Father has been working diligently on your heart. Like a coal miner. He’s been going down into the depths of the
caves of your soul, retrieving diamonds for you to behold. See, look at this and how it shines? Though you know it’s only a reflection of the
light in his cap, you see the beauty He sees in small moments. The diamonds are kept in caves, waiting like
gifts to be given, tools to be used. And
you feel loved and treasured, and know it’s because you’ve finally opened
yourself up to seeing who you are through Him, through the light He’s casted
through you.
...and the thoughts keep coming.
Thoughts of praise.
Thoughts of wonder. Thoughts of simple
curiosity and anticipation. Each one
like a cloud, blanketing you in a soft haze of an almost-midnight hour.
And soon the blanket turns into quiet murmurs that sing
you to sleep like a distant lullaby. Your eyes close and you whisper your
final praises to God for the evening and drift off in a safe sleep.
