divine discontent

"Being single is a gift from God." 

Oh, this phrase pissed me off whenever I heard it. 

If this is true (a point I won't entirely concede): as a college student and then as a young adult, I reacted to this axiom as a young kid might react to receiving clothes as a birthday present: technically useful, and yes, technically a gift.

But let's be honest: Not all "gifts" elicit the same joyful gratitude, for good reason. 

When and where this gift of singleness can become tiresome:

-When the slow songs start at the formals, the dances, the weddings. That's when some of you head for the bathroom (or outside, or to the bar, or anywhere else but on the dance floor).

-Walking on campus or down a sidewalk ... seeing couples walking together, holding hands, or happily chatting with one another.

-Nights and weekends. Somehow, any loneliness experienced during these times distinctly agitated my heart and inner monologue.

-Holidays. Especially holidays that involve seeing family and loved ones. Arbor Day is probably OK though (unless you're crushing on a horticulturist).

-National Boyfriend/Girlfriend Day on social media.

-Third-wheeling it with the friend who seems to always be dating someone, or is in a situationship that's looking solid.

-Engagement parties for friends.

-Valentine's Day. Enough said.

-Hearing about someone's situationship, and wondering when (or if) someone will ask you out. 

To be fair, I did not acutely feel this ache of singleness all the time, every day.

Some weeks and months felt easier.

Other weeks and months felt harder.

Different people will offer different perspectives on this, many no doubt wiser than mine. So please take my words alongside those of others in your life whom you trust.

As a young person who didn't always enjoy being single, what did it often feel like?

It felt like I had more capability as a person than I could show. Wanting an opportunity. It was as though I knew I could run faster than what my shoes could sustain, if only given a chance. A divine discontent stuck with me -- sometimes quieter, sometimes louder.

I say 'divine' discontent because it felt like my discontent was part of how God created me. I wanted what I felt built to do -- to love someone with my whole heart.

To be all in.

To be known fully and fully loved, anyway. 

To have inside jokes and quirky backstories.

To be my actual weird self, and have someone say 'Yep -- that's what I'm looking for.'

Waiting, praying, and hoping for that slowly got easier (emphasis on s l o w l y). 

 

In the meantime, my unofficial mindset became: "I might as well keep busy, have fun, learn new stuff, stay grounded in my faith, and do meaningful work while I hope and pray for this."

 

If I met my future wife along the way? Splendid. If I met a bunch of cool people who brought much joy to my life by their presence and antics? Also splendid.

Being single included bountiful amounts of joy. Friends, trips, experiences, concerts, relationships, learning, laughing. My joy co-existed alongside this divine discontent of wanting. The waiting commingled hope and exasperation to varying degrees -- wondering when, how, and who.

Life was good, and I hoped for more. Both of these facts stayed true.

Is it possible to be single & happy? 

 

Absolutely! Our lives teem with examples around us every day that shout this truth.

 

The happiness will surge, and will fall back, like the tide. So take wholesome advantage of when you can contentedly build a sandcastle or dig for seashells. Eventually, the tide will surge again, and wash it out.

 

 

It can stink to watch the tide take away your sandcastle. There's no getting around that. 

 

And yet ... there'll be more chances to build new castles, find new seashells, and to see another shoreline sunset and sunrise.

 

 

 

Useful Reading:

Boundaries in Dating by Cloud & Townsend (Link here)