It seems to me that the theme of this blog could easily turn into a lament of my single state, and the variations could simply become new reports of my current state of affairs (or lack thereof). Nobody wants to hear too much of this sort of thing, so I'll prevent that from happening, but humor me from time to time when I wax philosophic about the single life, (and thank your lucky stars I don't blog about it as much as I think about it--I'm doing you all a favor).

I'm 36 and single, and I'm not too happy about that. I suppose anyone who reads this blog has already figured it out, but I really have grown weary of the single life. Someone posted a comment on my blog awhile back, telling me that they are sorry I feel lonely. Loneliness doesn't capture the feeling. I'm not lonely--I don't mope around the house, pining for company. I go about my daily routine, live a fulfilling life, and am generally happy. I'm not lonely in the typical sense of the word. In fact, I would never describe my feelings as being rooted in loneliness. Loneliness is too generic a term, too pedestrian, too common--too inadequate to describe how I feel. Loneliness seems to me something to be pitied, something tragic. This is not how I feel about my current situation. In a word, I feel incomplete.

It is remarkable to me how keenly I sense this void in my life. I am now ready to marry, for the first time in my life, and I am impatient to see it done. I am not desperate, but I am in earnest. Today, as I drove down the highway thinking about this, I realized that I feel as if a piece of me is missing, as if I'm missing a limb, a limb I didn't know I didn't have until I became aware of a longing for its presence. My life, though fulfilling, does not feel complete. I believe that I am called to be married. I'm on a quest to find this woman, this companion, this soul mate who God has in store for me.

Waiting on God is difficult (in case you didn't know). For much of my life, I can recall playing games with God in my mind, and dictating the rules that he was supposed to follow. It never seemed to work out as I expected, since for some reason, God never chose to play by my rules. One of those rules was that God was charged with dropping my future wife into my lap, just so long as I followed all the rules myself. This was all supposed to have happened long ago. God dropped the ball, apparently.

But then there are moments like yesterday, when recollections of God's promises come to mind. That oft quoted verse, Jeremiah 29:11, popped into my head as I was raking the leaves. Do I believe that God has plans in store for me regarding my wife? Plans to prosper me and not to harm me? For a long time, I dreaded the notion of who God had in store for me. The image of the "perfect" Christan wife, planted in my mind long ago, was boring and uninteresting to me. An unattractive, Bible reading, praying woman who listened to James Dobson everyday over coffee. Yuck. It was strange that I thought this way, but it was deeply ingrained in me that I shouldn't be concerned with things other than a woman's walk with God. Frankly, that's not enough.

Honestly, I have a very hard time trusting God in this area, though ironically, I want him to send that chica my way, and soon. I suppose my biggest fear is that the woman God has in store for me is a woman He knows will be "good" for me, which doesn't necessarily equate with the list of desirables I have in my mind. But then there is always the passage asking that if a son asks his father for a loaf of bread, would his father give him a stone? Clearly, the message is that God goes above and beyond our feeble attempts at making plans for the future. I have to believe this includes a future spouse if I believe Jeremiah 29:11.

I have never wanted to believe a promise of God more.