For Years I Held the Bottle Upside-Down, but Every Last Drop was Gone.

You cry to me to haul up your rope, but I'm at the end of mine.

My fingernails scrape the bottom of the barrel, searching for something more to give. But all I find are dirt-stained hands.

---

Put your trust in me, and watch how we destroy each other.

(I am drowning, trying to save you.)

Place your hope in me, and we will die together.

(I will hold you close, I will pull you under.)

---

I met a Man and fell in love; His name was Water-Walker.
He told me not to be afraid; He said my name was Daughter. 

He told me things I'd never known; I knew His words were true.
He said He's searching every ocean, dear; He promised me He'd rescue you.

I Ask the Stars.

I'm learning to take comfort in my backwards life.

I still struggle sometimes, with the desire for "normality". People with normal lives aren't questioned, cautioned, asked to justify themselves. Instead, they are applauded, praised, considered a success. Rather than having a panic attack when asked about their future, they can calmly give a response detailing their educational, financial, career, and marital goals. They know the kind of car they want to drive, the kind of house they want to live in, and have already begun a college fund for their 1.5 children.

And when my own response is an awkward shrug of the shoulders, I'm already inwardly cringing at the expressions of disbelief I know I'll receive in return (their thoughts, loud enough to hear, what is wrong with you, what are you thinking?), and a (large, loud) part of me wishes that I had my life together, neatly packaged and ready for send-off into a big, bright future I've sculpted with my bare hands.

But I'm learning to take comfort, in this rather unsettling brand of insanity that is my life. I'm learning to set up my sails and trust the wind that carries me. I'm learning that I love you, but I don't need you, to tell me I'm alright.

I've placed my compass in better Hands.

It's been a long time since I've seen it. And there are moments, stretching painfully long, when my faith wavers. On those dark and desperate nights, I look up with pleading glance, and ask, Where, oh where, am I?

And the stars reply, with their twinkling eyes: Little child, of little faith. Do not fear; you are on course. These waters are drawing you, ever North.

Why I'm Single.

I don't listen to love songs anymore. I avoid romantic movies, when I can. I scroll quickly through "I <3 him" Facebook statuses and "waiting for a godly man" memes. I cut off imaginings of my future husband. I often fight any feelings of affection for the men in my life. And I stubbornly refuse to "date" or "be in a relationship."

It's not easy. And it's not forever. It's not out of bitterness toward couples--some need to rebel against the culture and charge ahead with a banner declaring my singleness. It's not out of resentment toward men--my respect toward them has only increased, not decreased, in recent months. It's not out of a holier-than-thou mentality that seeks to create rules in order that I might feel better about myself.

No. The reason I'm staying away from romance is because I struggle with it so. It's because this root of my insecurity goes down deep. It's because I've spent years despising my singleness, even hating myself because of it, certain that it was my own irredeemable flaws that left me alone. It's because some part of me still believes that marriage will save me, though my Spirit knows it's a lie. It's because my desire to "fall in love" is an idol I must cast down every day.

It's because my heart is deceitful, and it is always telling me that now is the time love desires to be awakened.

That was why, when I received my second confirmation that now is not the right time, I felt the emotions simultaneously, in equal measure--the disappointment, and the relief.

Because no, this path isn't easy. But it is right.

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. -Song of Songs 8:4

Tall Tails.

The other day, I was watching the cartoon classic An American Tail with a group of friends (yes, we're all highly mature, intelligent adults--don't judge). Near the end of the film (for those poor souls among you who have not seen it), there is a scene in which an evil cat who has been masquerading as a rat is stripped of his false identity, and a crowd of mice denounces him in anger and disgust. And the cat, who refuses to admit to the lie, says, "Who are you going to believe? Me, or your own eyes?"

Of course, in the context of the movie, the question is ridiculous. No mouse with any sense in its (admittedly tiny) brain would believe the words of the deceitful cat over the clear evidence set before its own two eyes.

But suddenly I thought of the quote in an altogether different scenario. I heard the words again, and this time they were spoken by the voice of God: Who are you going to believe? Me, or your own eyes?

Because sometimes, the things God asks us to believe are a great deal more far-fetched than a cat claiming to be a rat. But unlike the cat, when God speaks, it is not a charade--it is truth. When God speaks, it is not to hurt us, but to give us life. Paul was so confident in this, he said, "Let God be true, and every human being a liar," (Romans 3:4).

Honestly, now. Do we trust God that much? Over the opinions of every person we love and respect? Over the perceptions of our own senses? Over the reality that we have constructed around ourselves since the day of our birth?

We should. Because God's reality is far truer than our own. His ways soar higher, His thoughts dig deeper (Isaiah 55:8-9). The world we see around us is experienced as if through a glass, darkly, but when we are brought up to Himself, we will see everything as it truly is (1 Corinthians 13:12).

God is calling us to a higher faith. He is calling us to believe Him with everything, regardless of what anyone else says, regardless of our own thoughts or emotions or circumstances.. The rest of the world will call us crazy. They will use words like impossible. But we will not understand, because such words do not exist for us. We are children of the Infinite; there is no impossible for us. We will never say never again.