I've been thinking about single-ness lately. It is a good way to express the longing I think about during Advent.
I know some amazing men who are yearning for a strong, real relationship and who are finding it difficult to meet the right girl. They struggle and they suffer, and I watch it with tears in my eyes and a prayer in my heart, for any woman would surely be so happy to have such good men to call their own and in some ways I can't understand it.
I know so many girls, also, who are waiting, searching, and yearning. They are finding it hard to meet men of character who they feel will make good husbands. They sort and they sift, they wait and they expect. They long.
You'd think the two would meet and voila, but quite honestly, it's much more complex than that.
Personalities have to connect. Chemistry is critical. There are sparks to be looked for, and warnings to heed. Having experienced that longing myself, I not only sympathize but genuinely relate to the struggle. At the same time, I envy them their single-ness. My husband and I always say that if we could do it again, we wouldn't. What a beautiful time of freedom and internal reflection single-ness is. What a time of peace and fun, with such few worries! What a time to build character and habits that you will need for what's ahead.
But even then, with all that joy, I know that my own journey towards hope didn't come to an end at marriage.
Marriage is hard. It's a daily struggle. For every ounce of joy you receive, a joy which fills your cup and leaves you breathless, there is an equal part deep struggle and an overwhelming sense of doom you'll have to battle to get there. It is uphill. The road is long. The loads are heavy. Most of us have not trained the way we should have.
When I was single, I used to wait for the right man to come along... unable to do anything but improve my own condition as I could, feeling that I was quite alone at times, but still quite happy and fulfilled at others.
I always thought it would one day change, but if I'm honest with myself, I still do much of that same thing in my marriage.
My husband is incredible-- probably the best man I've ever met. And yet I am still lonely, as is he, despite knowing he has my heart and I have his. Our lives are full, and our relationship incredibly rich, and yet still there are holes-- there is longing, there is waiting, there is indescribable pain that surfaces again and again. Why?
Because this is the stuff of life.
As a teenager, I remember well watching Romeo and Juliet one night, late, in my living room alone.
Moved by the passion in the story (and probably pretty hormonal, ;) ) I started to cry, wishing for that same flame to come alive in my life, wondering why all the guys I had dated had ended up wrong for me.
My parents (who, incidentally were the only couple in my entourage who were still married and loving towards each other) heard me and called me back to their room, where we talked about it.
"Do you think anybody will ever love me that much?" I cried. "Does real love even exist??"
They tried to calm me with good humor and jokes about their own relationship, but this was serious business to me and I would not be deterred from my longing.
I remember saying: "You're married! You are supposed to have this huge bonfire of passion burning all the time."
My parents looked at each other and laughed.
"Well, we have a match," my dad giggled. "One of those long ones. Maybe a candle."
I sighed. I felt empty. I knew this was a feeling I would know all my life. I didn't want a match, or a candle. When I later read St John of the Cross it left me breathless and helped me to know what God was doing in all this....
O living flame of love that tenderly wounds my soul in its deepest center! Since now you are not oppressive,now consummate! if it be your will: Tear through the veil of this sweet encounter!
So as I sang, today, I remembered the quotes I had scribbled in my journals and pored over as a young, single woman. Quotes written in tears and ink, sprawled across pages and pages as long as I could remember.
I remembered the first time I saw Elisabeth Elliot's words on the matter on paper. They shocked me so badly it took my breath away and made me retreat to my room where I remained all day to reflect and lick my wounds. She wrote:
My heart was saying, “Lord, take away this longing, or give me that for which I long.’ The Lord was answering, ‘I must teach you to long for something better.'”
Where was that "something better?"
Every year He answers that question more deeply for me.
The answer comes at Christmas. This is the Advent journey. The Lord reminded me that day that I had been converted on Christmas Eve--- nothing is ever an accident.
One night recently, around a lively fire, no less, I stood with my husband and some of his closest friends, a group of guys I lovingly call "The Chieftains," for their ancient ways and manly occupations.
We were talking stories, looking at past memories and having a giggle, when suddenly I found myself deeply amazed as I looked into the eyes of one of the Chieftains who had just said to my husband and myself: "Ten years. You've been married ten years."
I breathed deep.
His eyes expressed the same kind of wonder and awe that I felt in my heart when he said it.
Ten years?! How could this be??!
I went over my inventory of married life-memories. So many wonders. First kisses. Babies, sacraments. Touches. Tears. There was darkness there, too. But just as the flames before me seemed to rise from the ash pile beneath themselves and reach into the darkness around us, leaving us warm and aware, I saw that the flames had touched us the same way. There was darkness at times, but still we were warm and aglow. We just needed breath -- fresh wind-- to be OK again. We needed PRESENCE. We needed presents. Something to sacrifice in the flames.
I remembered reading and copying these lines from Elisabeth Elliot as a young woman:
“I took it for granted that there must be a few men left in the world who had that kind of strength. I assumed that those men would also be looking for women with principle. I did not want to be among the marked-down goods on the bargain table, cheap because they’d been pawed over. Crowds collect there. It is only the few who will pay full price. "You get what you pay for.”and
“I realized that the deepest spiritual lessons are not learned by His letting us have our way in the end, but by His making us wait, bearing with us in love and patience until we are able to honestly to pray what He taught His disciples to pray: Thy will be done.”I learned this lesson late in my marriage... that there would always be temptations for him or for me, temptations which called us to promises of fulfillment or satisfaction "elsewhere" and in something other than in ordinary life. More than many women, perhaps, I have never felt that being a mom or a wife suddenly fulfilled or satisfied me. I have other needs and interests that I constantly yearn to express and explore. I often feel unappreciated, and unwanted. Or too wanted and feel like I just need to run away. These are common feelings in marriage and motherhood.
And yet as I have struggled with these, I've learned more deeply that anticipation, waiting, hunger, longing-- these are much more fruitful and satisfying than anything I can dream up.
True to His Word, in which He has promised me that he can turn "what was meant for evil" into something good, when I have remained faithful to my vocation to love without care for what that sacrifice costs me, he has given me glimpses of what true love looks like and feels like and that love has been life-changing. It has, indeed, set me on fire.
For years, I have clung to this passage in scripture:
"I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord... In the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord." (Psalm 27)
Did you catch that? In the land of the living.
You see, I have learned that we are not only CALLED to wait and long--- but called to wait silently:
“Waiting silently is the hardest thing of all. I was dying to talk to Jim and about Jim. But the things that we feel most deeply we ought to learn to be silent about, at least until we have talked them over thoroughly with God.” (Elisabeth Elliot)
Whether I was single, or now as a married woman, to speak to God and turn to Him in the turmoil of my longing and yearning and waiting.... to accept that THIS is part of the experience.... to accept that
almost every time what He wants from me is to die to myself, to turn my desires and my weaknesses and my wants and my needs into gifts of love for those from whom I want the most......
THIS has been the catalyst for joy and fulfillment again and again, whether in my love life, in the raising of children, in my friendships, in my career. This has been the spark, the embers, the flame at times. It never burns out completely and is only as strong as I let it be.
With the lessons of advent I can serve others and feel satisfied. I can love others who can't or won't love me back and still feel fulfilled. I can love with real love. This is Advent in action.
Only when I commune with God about these opportunities, and allow him to transform my "waiting" and emptiness will He make it into a holy, pregnant time of new growth and new birth.
Then and only then my "Silent Night" turns into an "Oh, Holy Night" and His presence becomes known. Then, and only then do stars and rock, earth and hay, an uncomfortable-- even painful-- journey through the night, doors slamming in our face..... these become a living, breathing miracle that gives life to the whole world.
We will never be competely satisfied in this world. We will never know complete joy while we are here. We will never have complete fullness this side of heaven. We will always hope, always wait, always long, always yearn for something more.
But the King, our friend and savior, walks among us, in the ordinary things of daily life. He is in our coffee pot and in our woodpile. In our dishes and in our song. And in Him is the fullness of life eternal.
So I sing.... Rejoice!
You always sound as if you're trying to convince yourself of something.
ReplyDeleteNailed it.
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