Let me tell you something true. If you know a woman, anywhere over the age of 30, single without kids and still breathing, there are moments when she is alone in her bed with the piles of blankets on top and she feels totally broken.
Her style has come into and gone out of fashion more than once. She is no longer cutting edge. When she mentions The Love Boat to kids in their 20's, they look blankly back at her secret "old school" reference. Wrinkles have started to show on her skin. She weighs more than she wants to. (Or less.) She wonders if her "child-bearing" hips will ever be put to use. And often she finds herself telling stories of her past: drinking stories, adventure stories, boy meets girl stories . . .all old stories.
And when she roles over in the darkness and sees that still there is no one there to anchor her, she almost drowns amidst the quiet night. I know that sounds melodramatic, and yet, I am her some nights.
And in recent years, it's been harder for me to come back from the drowned feeling. It's been harder and harder to return to the bouyancy of hope. I question myself. I question my coolness. I questions my core beliefs. If I am no longer cutting edge, am I mainstream? Am I really smart? Or is it just a lie I tell myself? Is my faith real or am I buying an opiate because I have nothing better? If there is no Prince Charming yet, arent't the statistics starting to be my enemy? Am I Kink-FM? Am I Banana Republic? Or worse, The Gap? The questions come in torrents like tiny tsunamis and I fight to keep my head above the wave.
Yet, recently I have been remembering some things. I have a God that is in control of all things and He is just refining me each day to be more like Him. In that is love, peace, joy --the nontangibles that can make each day beautiful no matter what storm I am weathering.
And in the context of holding onto Christ, I begin to see myself in a different light. I can let go of the questions and see some truth. Um, I am cool. I am funny. I am smart. I have a heart that loves well and someone some day will probably be lucky enough to call it their own. I am weird. I am strong. I am probably even beautiful.
And last night I spent a few hours with Wendy, Jenn and Diane. All recently have ended relationships one way or another. All were feeling broken. And initially we were kind of a pathetic bunch, but then something happened. A great 80's song came on and Di started to dance. Then we all started swaying. I grabbed the camera and started shooting photos. The interpretive dance song by Verve came on. Di and Jen interpreted a new dance for Liser including a "baby" (aka my purse) in the interpretation. Jason came home and began playing tunes on the baby grand. We all started to sing and before long I couldn't sing for laughing. And as I drove home after singing The Rose, the Whitney Houston Body Guard theme and some song from Titanic, I was humming. And I was full. Full of laughter, friendship . . . full of ramminess. And full of hope. And I realized, I am not broken, but rich. So very rich.