I had about three-quarters of a post all typed out.  Singing the single woes…hugging that old ‘father wound’ of insecurity like the prickly pear cactus it is.

And then I went to kickboxing.

Nothing like a little (or a lot of) kicking and hitting to rid oneself of frustration.  (Plus, I’m learning how to defend myself should the need ever arise.  Heaven forbid.)

It’s no secret I want to be married.  Would I call myself desperate?  No.  If that were the case, I would have settled long, long ago.  I’m a big girl with my own mortgage and my own toolbox full of drill bits.

I’ve been single for quite a while now.  I know how to navigate the aisles of Home Depot and I know how to sleep in an empty bed.

Though I admittedly told the Lord just the other day through tears, “I want someone to see me…to love me…to choose me.”  Because even the most independent of women still wants to be picked.  Yes?

I know He does all of those things.  Better than anyone.

And yet, as much as I want that to be enough, sometimes it just doesn’t feel like enough.

I don’t quite know what to do with that.

It’s more than possible I’ve written these very words before.  But, I can only write about the goings on of my heart.  If this is repetitive, so be it.  And thank you for hanging in there with me.

Here’s what I would normally do…I would start an inner dialogue, a sermon to myself.  I would quote the Word, with “faith over feelings” and such.  I would remind myself of the Lord’s goodness in the ‘even though’ and ‘if not.’  I would tell my heart to cheer up, for none of us are ever really alone.

That’s what I would normally do.

But I feel like I’m entering a new space.  A space just to be.  I’m aware of how yogic it sounds.  Honestly though, I’m so quick to try to jump the hurdles of doubt that I take myself out of the ‘feeling space’ and propel myself into the ‘Truth space.’  It all happens very quickly.

As if sitting, breathing-even camping out in the feeling space is roped off with a “Do Not Enter” sign.  Now…I’m not saying we live there forever.  But what if we took the time to visit?  What would happen?  Could it be possible the Lord might sit with us there too?

Dear reader, I think it’s a given.

He’s not afraid of or offended by our questions…our fears…our anxiety.  He’s not uncomfortable with our tears.  He isn’t awkward with our grief.  He created us to feel.  It’s part of our emotional make-up.

How often do we ‘suck it up’ and skate right past the very One who is called Comforter and Counselor?  I think we miss a part of His character when we move too quickly.

All in the name of Truth.  Because that’s what good Christians do, right?  Truth, Truth, Truth like the pounding of hand on pulpit.

And yes to Truth.  Always yes.  But I don’t think it has to be independent of the brutal honesty of our hearts either.  Truth is where we land, where we end up.  But even the Psalmist talked about walking in the “valley of the shadow of death.”

I don’t know about you, but when I’m physically walking long distances, there are times I must stop.  Catching breath and stretching tired muscles, the pause allows me to keep going…keep walking.  Respite, my friends, is more than a suggestion.  It’s a requirement.

So let’s not wait until we are aching with fatigue.  Let’s rest when we need to.  Let’s sit on park benches of emotion and allow our Savior to sit next to us.  Let’s rest our heads on His shoulder as salty tears roll down our faces.  Let’s even sit in the silence, when we’re too angry to speak.  When words have lost their meaning and we’re mute with fear.

Always the gentleman, He waits with us.  Never rushing, never prodding us along.  He sits until we’re ready to get up and start walking again.

Then He moves with us too.