Monday, January 30, 2012

Single, Not Desperate

I'm single, not desperate.

If you ask an experienced runner for advice, the very first thing they will say is to pace yourself. There is no way anyone can keep a sprinter's pace for twenty miles, and it is downright crazy to even try. When you run too fast, you either end up injuring yourself or you become so worn out that you lose your desire to run at all.

Someone will catch that in a minute.

Pace yourself, work on your stride and toss that stopwatch in the nearest trash can. Whether you finish first, last or somewhere in the middle, the victory lies in getting there.

I'm single, not desperate.

Why is he with her and not with me?

Maybe it's the way she laughed at his jokes. Maybe it's the way his name sounds when she says it. It might even be because she's a Lakers fan (though I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to date someone with such poor taste).

Does it really matter?

You could write a dissertation on all the reasons why you believe he chose her, but it won't earn you the Pulitzer. Instead, you'll be rewarded with a non-stop playlist from the Trauma DJ, playing your greatest hits:

You're not good enough.

You're not smart enough.

You will never find love.

Don't fall for it. Change the channel before the commercial break ends. There is victory in letting go.

I'm single, not desperate.

In fourth grade, I was head over heels in love with Arthur Miller. I did everything to get his attention: I teased my bangs within an inch of their life; I borrowed my sister's purple leather jacket to wear at recess. I even made him brownies, though unsweetened cocoa with no sugar probably made them taste like mud pies. When none of that worked, I went to my fail-proof plan....

I chased him across the playground, tackled him and tied him up with my jump rope.

Now, we're older and wiser;yet some of us are still using the same tactics to garner the attention of the opposite sex. Maybe we're not tying people up with jump ropes, but we are tearing others down in a misguided attempt to call attention to ourselves. In the words of Dr. Phil: "How's that workin' out for you?"

Grow up. You know I'm serious because I ended with a preposition.

I'm single, not desperate.

During yesterday's sermon, my pastor-dad recounted a portion of our family testimony. As he detailed some of the darkest days in my twenty-nine years, I couldn't help but cry. I was not crying because of what I have lost; I was crying because of all that I have gained. Sometimes, you need to hear someone else tell your story before you realize what God has truly done in your life.

Like you, I'm human. There are days--and especially nights--when I struggle with loneliness. There are adventures I want to experience with the love of my life and no one else. There are times when I see couples very much in love and my heart feels like it's in a vise grip.

But then, I remember.

I remember all the many times in my life when I cried out to God and He heard me. Not only did He supply my needs, He did so in a way that left me speechless. He has healed my heart repeatedly, and even when I had to go through the fire, He made sure I came out unscathed. If God says He is writing my love story, I'm going to step back and let Him do it. Though I'm cold with a pen, my skills pale in comparison to the author of love.

The next time someone inquires about your relationship status, don't just tell them you're single. You are so much more than that! Make eye contact, smile, use your professional voice and confidently proclaim:

I am single, not desperate.

Shirts and bumper stickers will be available in March.

Be Encouraged,


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