Not My Will

Written on Valentine's Day, but for some reason never posted. Oops!

Not my will, but yours be done, God.

Oh, the terrible fear that sometimes enters my heart when I release those words.

Did you know, it is not my will to be single this Valentine's Day? Did you know I almost broke down in WalMart today when I walked past the roses and balloons? I'm sure you could have guessed. It's not hard to imagine on this day, of all days.

This is not my will, but yours be done, Lord.

There are so many, many people - girls and guys - in the same place I am. Waiting and wondering if their dreams will ever become a reality, or if they're meant to simply be dreams, blowing away on the winds on time.

When will God's will miraculously morph into my will? When will I stop being selfish and give myself entirely to Him once and for all instead of having to do it multiple times throughout the day? When will I be ok with the fact that for 3 years running my life has looked exactly the same?

This is not my will! Yours be done, God.

What if His will is for me to be 45 years old, living in my parents' home, babysitting my nieces and nephews, and being the secretary at church?

That would not be my will. But if it's yours, Jesus, then let it be done. 

...and really, in the midst of His sovereign grace and goodness, would be be so bad?

I'll be honest with you, I don't want to be single anymore. Well, that's not 100% true, because I'm ok with it, as long as I can do some interesting things during this season of my life. Things like go on Missions Trips, travel to fun places... I'm not too picky.

It's the timeless fight against the old man.

I want change!

Be still.

I'm tired of everything being the same!

Be still.

Not my will? Right. Yours, Lord. Your will be done.

Gently, He shows me His patience with me. In those quiet moments when I get to be alone, just reading or thinking or writing. Those moments that I won't always have once I'm not single, moments to myself that are precious gifts to remind me that there is great contentment in the solitary.  And I realize I love these moments, and one day it will be hard for me to give them up...yes, it's been this way for going on three years, but I have come to love parts of this single life so much. Gentle reminders.

The hard moments are when I go to a wedding or a baby shower and then I leave and I come home and I sit alone in my room feeling jealous. In those moments, my life - and even my attitude -  is not my will.

And that's when He lets me daydream. Planning my own home in my mind. Naming children I dream up in the nurture-bent heart that He's given me.

I am not alone in this battle. Whatever plans you have for yourself - whether God-honoring or not - when they aren't coming to pass, it's hard to let them go. We feel like we have to negotiate with God, "Lord, I would honor you in my marriage, you know I would!" "God, I would raise my children to praise and love you, haven't I proven that to you?" Whatever you're waiting on, there must be a purpose behind the trial, a reason behind the tears. It's hard to remind ourselves of this and it gets old and tiresome, but it's not our will that matters. "Lord, it's your will that matters the most."

I don't know why it's so hard to wait. I don't know why God does the things He does or chooses the timing He chooses.

Some people say when you get to the point where you love God enough, He'll allow whatever you've been so desperately praying for to happen. But we can never love God enough. We can only strive to please Him and work to love Him more each day.

That's my biggest goal for 2014, and I thought it appropriate to share on Valentine's Day.

Release my will, and accept His with open arms. His is so much safer, and all of us can rest and accept whatever it is as long as we have His comforting security.

So as I sit here, alone, 21, single....on Valentine's Day. Again.

It's not my will. Jesus, it's yours.

"Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass."

As long as I am happy serving Him, He will change my desires to match His, and I will be happier in His will that I could ever be in my own...and this is when His will morphs into mine!

Fear

I am afraid.

There, I said it. That's such a hard thing to admit sometimes - that you're afraid. Of something, of everything. 

But then again . . . of nothing.

I am afraid of time. Weird? Everyone is afraid of time. We don't have enough, we're running out, it's passing too swiftly.

We're aging, we're getting old. Not really, but gradually, aren't we all?

"Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself."

I wondered tonight when seventeen year olds started looking young. Really, Kelley? Come on. You're only twenty. But believe me when I say that by the time I turned sixteen, I had been sixteen for five years.

I might be slightly exagerating.

When I was seven/eight/nine I wanted to be "grown up" so badly! I absolutely could not wait to be cool - or at least, what I perceived as cool. My parents tried to slow me down, and as best they could, they did. But I was determined to be like the teenagers. I wonder if it started even before the time I thought it did, because I've been carrying a purse around with me since I was young enough to carry a diaper in it . . . by the time I was able to walk, I've been able to carry a purse.

Not girly in the least.

(Pretty sure my family is rolling their eyes as they read this.)

But I wish I could go back and reclaim those years. Even the years of eleven, twelve, and thirteen, though maybe not so much the awkwardness that accompanied them. I lived those years in the anticipation of the coming ones, not stopping to enjoy the moment, and live in the day. Ever the dreamer, I could only envision my future.

These days I feel like I live only for the day, avoiding thoughts of the future and the pain it might hold. But by doing so I deny myself the thought of possible joy and elation. If my teen years were beyond what I had hoped, why shouldn't my twenties be any better?

I'm purposing to make them the best I possible can, but the fear of mistakes and failures nibble at my thoughts, and I allow worry to creep in.

And once again, I have opened the door to fear.

"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear..."

My youngest nephew Tanner is a year and a half (18 months, for those weirdos who count babies ages in months) and he is deathly afraid of bubbles blown from bubble gum.

I'm talking screams, tears, bury-his-face-in-your-neck, sobbing, terrified of them. When I chew gum around him, he stares at my mouth convinced, I'm sure, that at any moment a bubble will burst forth and attack him.

He is also nearly as afraid of play dough, and Jace (a little over four years old, 52 months to be exact ;) ) greatly enjoys chasing him around the house with it.

I love him to death, as we all do, and he gets spoiled, so don't think we're mean, but when this happens, it is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. The first time it happened, we were all laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes and yes, we kept blowing bubbles.

We know there is nothing for him to be afraid of. The bubbles will not hurt him, and he's perfectly fine if you're only chewing the gum so yes, we are amused by his fear. We will always do everything in our power to preserve him from real harm, and even when blowing bubbles, he trusts us implicitly. He has nothing to fear, yet he is still afraid, and this is funny.

How then, must our fears look to the Lord? 

We know He is here and everywhere, all the time. We know He has promised to protect us, we are His children, He loves us to death, and will do everything in His perfect power to preserve us from real harm. His definitions are different from ours, but His grace will always protect us.

And yet, we are still afraid. Does this make Him want laugh at our insignificant fears? Maybe. And oddly, I find comfort in that. 

  

" Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee."

My fear of time . . . He knows no time.  He has not given me a spirit of fear, I can rest under His wings. This thought is so comforting to me, that "...when my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I."

Why Duct Tape is Important

I wrote this when I was eighteen years old and shared it with some of my friends and family. I stumbled across it a while back ago, and seriously thought I had already posted it. I'm not going to lie, it's one of those things that makes me nervous about clicking the little "publish" button. Just keep in mind that this was written 2 years ago, please! I'm still keeping the promises I wrote about, and I still stick to what it says, I just might word it a little differently these days. ;) I hope you enjoy it, please let me know your thoughts in a comment!

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Someday, I'd like to get married. I really would. I think I'd enjoy it, but first I need to find a groom.

But I'm not looking. Really I'm not. I know I grumble and complain about being eighteen and not having a boyfriend and oh, what if that never happens to me, but in all seriousness, I'm not worried. If God wants me to get married, it'll happen in His time, and I honestly believe He'd like me to. I'm not claiming that He personally told me that, but I believes He gives us the desires of our hearts.

So I'm not looking. Do I expect this Mr. Right to show up gift wrapped and perfect? Pretty much. I am waiting on him.

Yes, I have high expectations, and I believe that's ok. I suppose I expect of him what I expect of me. So to describe what he must be, I have to describe what I must be.

I must promise God to never give away a single smidgen of my heart until my wedding day. He can hold it for me while I wait! And I'll let my dad take care of protecting it.

I must promise to serve the Lord, obey my parents, and treat people right.

I must promise to use my talents for God's purpose, to treasure every moment, and choose happiness every day.

I must purpose to pray for my future husband every single day.

But what is the significance of duct tape? That's easy to answer: I wear a promise ring. They're now called purity rings, but I prefer to call mine a promise ring because of all the different promises I've made. On my eighteenth birthday I got my braces taken off, and when I got home a ring I had picked out a few days before had come in the mail. It's a Celtic design (which is a woven design) and I've decided it's my new promise ring. It reminds me to keep my heart and life woven with Christ, and He'll send me someone that I can weave it with here on earth.

But still, duct tape? Ok, so I read a book over the summer titled "Praying for your Future Husband" and it was written partly by one of my all time favorite authors, Robin Jones Gunn.

In the book, she tells a true story about her son.

I cannot remember his name, nor how old he was, but when he was a teenager he went to a summer camp. One day he was helping tear down a tent, and a girl came up to him. She told him to meet her by the lake that night, and she would let him be the one to give her her first kiss, then she walked off. At that moment, he was peeling off the duct tape that was holding one of the posts together. It occurred to him that duct tape is something so small, so seemingly insignificant, but it was strong enough to hold an entire tent up and prevent it from falling and hurting a bunch of people.

On the spur of the moment, he wound some of this duct tape together and made a ring for his ankle. He promised himself he would not take it off until his wedding day when he gave his first kiss away to his bride and let her cut it off. I believe he was fifteen. (He did not meet the girl at the lake.)

True story!

Over the years, as the tape wore thin and became dingy, he simply added more layers. People asked him about it all the time, and his mother said it began to look like a shackle. But he said it was a constant reminder not to fall into temptation, and through different girlfriends the tape remained on his ankle.

Finally, he met The One. On their wedding day he gave her two gifts: a pair of diamond earrings, and a pair of scissors. She cut through the layers and layers of duct tape and promises, and finally he gave her his third gift: his first kiss.

While I believe this is a little extreme and I would never expect someone to do this, I think it's a beautiful story. A story of kept promises no matter what other people said. A story of a love so strong that before he even met this girl he wanted to give her everything he had. It's beautiful, and if you can get past the "duct tape anklet?" you might smile too.

So yes, I wear a promise ring, and while I never expect my future husband to actually have anything that symbolizes all of this, I hope he realizes the importance of it.

I hope he knows how strong duct tape is.