moments...

A few weeks ago, at the shelter, we did a "drive in" movie night for the families. I took my projector from home, we hung a sheet on the side of the building, set out chairs, divvied out popcorn and lemonade, and just generally made it a little event of it right in the mission parking lot. The clients had such fun and it was a blessing to everyone involved.

That night, I had a moment...

I mentioned in the first post I wrote, just by way of introduction, that I am single. I felt that it was important to express that (and the others things I told you about myself) because it is something that shapes the very core of who I am. 

As a single woman, I have all kinds of "moments." 

Some are moments of gladness, because I am free to do things like descend upon a friend who lives two and a half hours away when she is sick or overwhelmed with life or take a day and drive to Kentucky to pick my niece up for Christmas.

I can drop everything and drive two states with very little thought when my best friend goes into labor or decide spur of the moment, without consulting anyone, to go to the beach for a sunset or taco tuesday with the girls. 

I'm able to be on call 24/7 and flexible to help with things like a crisis at work or babysitting for my niece and nephew. 

In short, as a single woman...I have a lot of freedom. Nothing is really there to stop me from doing what I want, when I want. 

But there are other kinds of moments.

There are the moments when kids I taught voice lessons to when they were in middle school, text me to tell me they are engaged and I'm happy for them and try to laugh off that little ache that rises but its still there and I cant make it go away.

There are moments when I find myself crying at a wedding for no apparent reason and I can't seem to make the tears turn off because they come from a deep and painful place that I lock away and try not to think about.

There are moments when I dread getting another bridal or baby shower invitation because, even though I love the person and want to celebrate their joy, there is a part of me that would rather sit for 3 hours and listen to someone scratch nails on a chalkboard then try to smile and oooh and aaaah over another cutting boards or some onesies. 

There are moments when I get to a wedding reception early and sit in the car for 15 minutes until another friend or even my parents show up, so I don't have to walk in alone and look as pathetic as I feel.

There are moments when clients come and tell me they are pregnant...again...and my heart cries out to the Lord, "Will it ever be my turn?!" while I try to smile and speak words of celebration and encouragement. 

There are moments that, if I hear a friend complain about their, husband, children or pregnancy one more time, I might lose it.

And it stinks...

It stinks because I WANT to celebrate joy with people. 

It stinks because I WANT to be able to listen to and commiserate with my married friends about stuff that is going on in their lives. 

It stinks because I KNOW that my value doesn't lie in whether or not I ever become a wife or mother but rather it lies in how I serve my Lord who, for the time being, has not called me to be either of those things. 

I bet you are wondering what the "moment" I had the on the drive-in movie night was. 

That night, I found myself sitting in a lawn chair, watching "Enchanted," with a beautiful curly haired, big beautiful eyed ball of chocolate in one arm and a young lady, about 11, with a special heart and precious spirit sitting on the other arm of the chair with her head on my shoulder. 

It felt like home to me. It was so sweet and peaceful that I didn't want it to end. I loved every moment of it and yet, there in the back of my heart, was a dull agonizing ache. 

How could a moment be so precious and so painful at the same time?

I have had to lay this issue in the hands of my Lord time and again. I have to, on almost a daily basis, surrender the thought that all the love I have in my heart may be reserved for people who aren't "mine." 

But then again, in Christ, aren't I called to make all people mine? 

My Lord knew a moment that was both precious and painful because of the sacrifice He was making but in doing so He gave everyone the chance to become His. How can I not love others without restraint, when my Lord loved me with such a passion that He went to a cross on my behalf? 

I cannot.

So even when it aches, I will fight for these moments.

Moments like tonight...

When the same 11 year old from the movie night, needed help with her homework and as we scrolled through the computer together once again, she sat on the arm of my chair and put her head on my shoulder. 

Or when a scared older woman with health issues grabbed my arm so tightly, because she was unstable on her feet, and ask me to help her into her bed. She let me tuck her in just like I would my own child, if I had one. 

These are the little moments I will cherish. 

I will call upon them when the ache rears its ugly head, because even if I never have a family of my own, I have an Abba Father who calls me His own who has trusted me with some of HIS most precious children.