I grew up watching love. Love between my parents. The love my sister’s held. Love on the silver screen. There was never a moment I didn’t dream of it. Dreams of the boy next door who would move in and romance me. Dreams of a high school sweetheart. Dreams of the college romance. Where I meet him in class and he asks to borrow my notes, or a friend of a friend introduces us and its love at first sight.
One like my parents. Where he calls me up to ask me to the dance and never stops calling upon her. One like my sisters. Where roots of friendship lead to romance.
A romance at church, where he sees me worshipping and can’t look away. Or at bible study, where he speaks truth of scripture, and I can’t help but fall.
I always wanted love.
And now, as I am entering a new chapter in my life, the hope of love fades. But not the hope of love. The hope of young love.
At the time, I didn’t see the theme in my fantasies of late-night Walmart runs and getting asking to the prom. The excitement that I found in songs saying, “Everything will bring a chain of love” and “We were both young when I first saw you.” Dreams of Strawberry Wine and Tim McGraw and notes passed back and forth. Dreams of being young and in love.
The two formative relationships of my upbringing, the ones I hope to emulate if I do
someday wed, were my parents and my sister. Both were wed at twenty-three. So, when twenty-three came and went, I wrestled with God. I begged Him to send me the husband I felt that I was owed. That day has yet to come.
I had big plans for my life. To move to someplace amazing. To pay off my debts. To have an apartment and the cat that my parents wouldn’t let me have growing up. To become a published author. To make a difference in the kingdom of God.
All these things, I had no doubt, would happen by twenty-seven. Then when I had my life together, I would find a husband and settle down. Bringing only good things to the table and none of the baggage. And when twenty-seven came and went, I wrestled with God. For despite my great efforts to achieve these goals, I was no closer to my dreams than I had ever been. No closer to that love that I desired.
I looked at Ruth and Rebekah and sited scripture to God as evidence for why it is biblical for Him to provide me with the love that I desired.
Then God put me on a plane and sent me to the far reaches of the earth and reminded me that His timing is greater than my own.
I do not regret any of the choices I have made in the past decade, and though God and I have had many discussions about my relationships, I know that I can trust in Him with these things. I no longer believe that I am promised a spouse, nor do I still think I should be compensated by God for my singleness.
I have achieved some of my dreams, though I have not nearly touched the list of things I wanted to have done by this time in my life. I have seen some beautiful places and met some amazing people. I have come to a place of peace with my singleness and for the first time in my life, I’m not in a hurry to find the man of my dreams.
Now that I am thirty, the envy and the loneliness have faded substantially. My priorities have been preoccupied with my own mental health and imagining a future where I can care for myself. The sorrow is not at the idea of being alone.
But now that I am thirty, I am mourning the loss of the love I had always imagined. The innocence of childhood is gone. The hope for a sweeping romance is hard to hold onto. All the romances I pictured no longer fit into the narrative of my life. There is not a boy next door. There is not a prom. There is not a class within which I can lend out my notes. There is just me and my God who has given me no indication of a different life than one in which I must be obedient to Him. To Him I will be true. I have no doubt about that.
So now I will say goodbye to the stories I have written in my head about what love should look like. I will save the dreams of adventure and intimacy with another human but set down those that are on the silver screen.
Young love is not just for those who possess youth. It’s not exclusive to the innocence of children, but it allows the childhood you left behind to be known by another person. Young love is budding. It’s new and still building roots. It’s beautiful because it’s hopeful. It washes over you like a rainstorm. Chaotic and full of symbolism. Covering the ground and bringing it back to life.
There will be new stories that form and new paths to take. I hope one of them leads me to a love that is refreshing and new.
I know God will lead me down the path that is right.
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