30-Something in Singleville

I am far too exhausted to be blogging. I want to sleep for more than four hours tonight. But I'm in desperate need of a captive audience for a light-hearted monologue on a topic I usually try to avoid:

Singleness.

It's weird here in Singleville at 30-something. Sometimes it feels a lot like living in a Dr. Seuss book or having tea with the Mad Hatter. College guys still flirt around; older men talk marriage even before a first date.

Advice is predictable: "When you're content in Jesus, He will bring the man along" and "When you least expect it, you'll meet him!" (Well, some days contentment is an hourly struggle; other days, it comes easily. Isn't it that way for everyone in every season of life? Or have some people arrived prematurely?) Other favorites: "Maybe you should go to a church that has a singles group" and "Have you tried E-Harmony?" I've visited church singles groups and I've tried E-Harmony. Both are terrifying. Perhaps the most boggling one is: "Singleness is so much better than marriage. Be thankful you're single." (But then why did you get married? I don't understand. Am I slow?)

Set-ups are to be avoided at all costs. The few I've agreed to have been... awkward... at best.

Older men check me out now. I mean, older. That's weird.

The pool of eligible men my age is now full of divorcees with kids. That's weird, too. (Not out of the question, because we all have our baggage, but the potentials used to be young guys fresh out of college, ya know?)

It's funny here. But in the midst of the comedy (and oftentimes the tears), there's a lot of beauty in this place. I love that the Author of Life, with perfect pen in hand, writes a story worth the telling. His fingers never slip as He scripts the climaxes and conflicts, the cliffhangers, the antagonists and protagonists. He is all mystery and adventure and comedy and romance. Once upon a time I imagined a very different story, but I've come to enjoy this Author's style much more than my own.

I love what I've learned in these years of singleness. I treasure the time I've had to prepare for the Great Wedding, when all of this waiting and wondering will make complete sense. Something more than my own personal security and happiness is at stake here.

A sovereign God calls me to an adventure far greater than I could ever have planned. Adventure is made of pleasure and pain, uncertainty and risk, faith and hope. I'm still as excited as ever about marrying a godly man someday--if my God writes that chapter. If not, He is far more than all I could ask or imagine. Earthly marriage is created to be only a small glimpse of the infinitely perfect marriage that awaits us...

And so I wait on Him for both.

Three questions for a crazy week ahead...

1. What is the most important thing in life?

2. What kind of woman do I want to be one year from now? (And what choices can I make today to help me become that woman?)

3. How can I take today's stresses and turn them into thanks?

From one unapologetically proud aunt

Aaron David Langley: noun, adorable baby boy who brings joy and delight to all who meet him; a small, irresistible male child; one who has the ability to wrap everyone around his little finger.

"I can do it." (And other myths that mess me up.)

Let's take, for example, my job.

I love my job more than ever. Actually, I can't believe I get paid to go to work. This year, I'm splitting my time 50/50 between teaching English and administrative-counseling duties. I work like a dog, but at the end of each long day, it's an unbelievably happy, fulfilling exhaustion. If ever I felt like God fitted me for a task, this would be it.

BUT the insidious danger lies in that very statement. I'm made for this. God has given me strengths and giftings to serve Him in this way. And all of a sudden, "Look! I can do it!"

During the last week, I've gotten to sit with brokenhearted teen girls, kick off my heels at lunch to play soccer with middle school boys, teach Shakespeare and linking verbs, write encouraging notes to students, plan our middle school play, and sit in a dunk tank for a school fundraiser.

And creeping, creeping stealthily in is this constant temptation to rely on self, to find pleasure in my own strength, to glory in my giftings.

Which are nothing really.

Aside from God's grace, I'm a lawsuit waiting to happen. Or a stupid comment away from being fired. Or just plain ol' ineffective in reaching some really needy kids.

"Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit..."

And so the Lord graciously allows needs and weaknesses and brokennesses in my life that run so deep, I can't find the end of them. Sometimes He lets His children be "so utterly burdened beyond our strength ... to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead" (2 Corinthians 1:8,9).

He must love it when I begin my morning something like, "Today is way beyond me. I can't do anything apart from You. Help me be fruitful and effective. Strengthen me to do what brings You glory!"

And if that's found in the midst of humiliation or failure, so be it. I've plenty of those stories too... but that's another blog.

I'm in love.

Four weeks ago yesterday...


My Sis-in-law constantly amazes and blesses me... She is a beautiful, radiant mommy.


David is such a phenomenal daddy... and Aaron looks SO much like him!


Yesterday I was singing "The Ugly Bug Ball" to Aaron, and this was the look I got... Actually it was more like a stare. Just not sure if he was staring in fascination or terror.

What thrills me most

I arrived on the edge of a hurricane. It was only fitting: my girls' weekend in Washington, D.C., with Karen and Carlynne begged a dramatic beginning. It was to be the weekend of a lifetime.

I spent the majority of last Saturday safe inside Carlynne's sweet home, playing with her little Caleb, and watching sheets of hot rain masquerade as a tropical storm.



Saturday night cleared up just in time for our outing to Wolf Trap to see my favorite musical, Les Mis. Then Sunday came, and I found myself standing three feet away from our President, Karen Hughes, and Rascal Flats on the Front Lawn of the White House.





Monday night was a dream-come-true Celine Dion concert, and Tuesday morning was a breathtaking breakfast in the West Wing of the White House.



I don't think I'll ever again experience anything like those four days. (All compliments of dear Karen. Unbelievable.) My head was spinning by the time I strapped myself in on Delta Flight 847 to return home Tuesday afternoon.

But as I sat in my blue-vinyl aisle seat with a complimentary bag of peanuts and my knees up to my chin, I was struck to realize that these thrills paled in comparison to the thrill I experience when I spend time in my Lord's presence. And I'm not being hyper-spiritual here. I constantly struggle to study the Word, to pray, to seek the Lord with all my heart. Why it's a struggle will always boggle me, though, for when I do spend time with God, my heart is softened, my mind is sharpened, and the innermost places of my soul are filled with peace, wisdom, faith, joy, hope, healing, and purpose.

West Wing breakfasts, political power, and divas who can bring down the Verizon Center a cappella, can't hold a candle to the King of kings--who alone prepares a feast that will never leave us hungry (John 6:35), gives us the power of His Holy Spirit (Acts 1:8), and whose voice strips the forests bare (Psalm 29).

If I was invited to have Saturday brunch with Celine in her home, I wouldn't miss it for the world. (Are you kidding me?!) But I am daily invited to so much more: to share all of life with the Creator of the world and the Savior of my soul.

Tonight let's accept the invitation, enter into the presence of Almighty God, and know the thrill of knowing Him more. He puts all other thrills to shame.

(In less noteworthy news, today my middle school counseling responsibilities included cleaning up a food fight involving a birthday cake and a bunch of hormonally imbalanced 13-year-olds. Last weekend already feels like such a distant memory.)

I hate when I hurt people.

And I hate letting people down, disappointing them, or knowing someone is angry with me.

I guess I just hate being a sinner. Falling so far short of perfect. Wrestling with weakness...

Rachel Tulloch poignantly confirms that "this is why God’s love is terrible. Think of what it includes: us, with our best and our worst, with our failed attempts and outright cruelty, with our wrong motives for right actions and our right motives for wrong actions... us, with the mess we have made of the world, with our brokenness and despair, with our rebellions and inadequacies. We are the ones included in and redeemed by the deep and wide love of God. Paul is astonished by this reality when he emphasizes that Christ died for us while we were still sinners! (Romans 5:8)."

God's infinitely perfect love is not simply a sweet, storybook love; it's a disturbing love: He loves me even when I inadvertently or willfully hurt someone else He loves. And He loves them when they hurt me.

His love forgives and forgets my sin. It's not sin swept under the rug; it's sin that was heaped on the body of Jesus. He didn't just cancel the debt; He paid it. As Tulloch explains, "The master takes the loss." And I walk away rich.

That's truly terrible love. And love that makes me love right back with all of my heart.

Prayer in temptation

Make no provision,
Not one small glance;
Shut the door fast
So there’s not a chance
Of compromise,
Of one “small” sin
Or diversions that
Let immoderation in.

It will not do then
To just ignore
The sin that beats
Down on my heart’s door.
Sin must be dealt with,
Ruthlessly killed
Utterly abandoned—
Oh, grant me the will!

The will and power
To love Your ways,
Hate what You hate
And run to obey.
You are a refuge,
Immovable, strong.
Fountain of pleasures,
Help me desire and long…

For You alone.

A few more pictures...

He's here!

Aaron David Langley was born at 3:35 p.m. today, weighing 7 lbs. 13 oz. He had a rough start (came out blue, cord wrapped around his neck, and had to be resuscitated), but he is doing beautifully now. He's just perfect.

Dad and Mom are doing well, too, despite a long and difficult labor. Heather was amazing--as always. She is going to be the most incredible mommy. And David is as I had imagined--a natural.

So another Langley boy has graced our family, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he won't need a crib. No one's gonna wanna put him down for five minutes...

Going for the gold (and a baby update)

Like many of you, when I was young I dreamed of competing in the Olympics. But should I admit that I firmly believed I had the potential to run in the '96 Games? After outrunning a handful of girls on the soccer field and then watching Chariots of Fire for the hundredth time, I committed myself to an intense season of training: I ran up and down the block really fast, timing myself with a stopwatch.

During this brief but rigorous training stint, one thing was obvious: if I wanted to run fast, I needed to dress light. No parkas. No boots. No earrings or glasses or belts. Just a pair of shorts, a tank top, socks and shoes.

In his beautiful book The Grand Weaver, Ravi Zacharias (brilliant Indian philosopher and Christian apologist) writes:

"Susanna Wesley was a remarkable woman who gave birth to nineteen children. One can only guess the inner strength she must have had to raise John and Charles, two among many others who sat on her knee and learned from her to walk with the Lord. One day, John asked her to define sin. I doubt any theologian could have done better than she did: Son, whatever weakens your reasoning, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your sense of God, or takes away your relish for spiritual things; in short, if anything increases the authority and power of the flesh over the Spirit, then that to you becomes sin, however good it is in itself.

Zacharias continues: "As a young man, David Livingstone prayed, Lord, send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me. Sever any ties but the tie that binds me to Your service and to your heart."

Sever any ties.
Get rid of whatever weakens, obscures, impairs, and takes away.
Even if it's "okay" or "good" or "permissible" (1 Corinthians 10:23)...

Lord, give us the desire and discipline to "lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us" (Hebrews 12:1).

Because, in the end, don't we all want to win that gold?


P.S. - WE'RE STILL WAITING
Did I mention that Little Langley was due TODAY?! I've taken up singing to Heather's adorable pregnant tummy--songs like "Aaron, O Aaron, You're Darling but Tardy."

[Long, reflective silence.]

I just realized that I'm gonna be the weird aunt.

.

Live the Life

Yes, I'm a huge fan of Coldplay's new hook song, Viva la Vida. Accuse me of joining the bandwagon, and I'll unabashedly agree. The song has a terrific sound, reminiscent of U2. (I can never forget when a friend introduced me to Beautiful Day as we sped through a balmy autumn afternoon with the top down on her convertible. It was love at first sound. But this is a tangent.)

Whether you like the song or not, the lyrics--just dripping with biblical metaphors and references--are worth the read and some analysis, or at least a good discussion.

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never
Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become

Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter will call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter will call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

(Written by Guy Rupert Berryman, Jonathan Mark Buckland, Will Champion, Christopher Martin)

I know. You need to go listen to the song again, too. It's okay to program it to "repeat." Years later, and I'm still not weary of Beautiful Day...

Two chicken sandwiches and a slice of humble pie

Some poor people stir within me a deep compassion, a mercy, an immediate desire to reach out and do whatever I can to help them.

Other poor people bug me. And then it bugs me that I'm bugged. Do you know what I mean?

A couple of weeks ago, I was walking out of a pet store (where I had gone for my occasional pet fix: every other month I wander through the bird, fish, and small rodent aisles--comparing prices, weighing pros and cons, and silently bemoaning the fact that I can't get a puppy) when a lady approached me to ask for money. She and her daughter were stranded and needed a hotel room for the night. I told her I don't give cash but would love to provide a meal for them.

It's always at this point in the conversation that I feel slightly self-righteous and incredibly discerning. I'm far too wise to contribute to a drug habit (as if "they" all have one), but I'm so full of mercy and love that I'll break the bank to buy "them" a meal.

With my halo sparkling atop my head, I offered to get two chicken sandwiches at the Chick-Fil-A across the street.

Suddenly, she had a husband in need of a chicken sandwich, too. This irked me.

With my halo now tipping precariously to one side, I started to head to the Home of the Original Chicken Sandwich when she added, "Oh, and if you get a meal with drinks, could you make it a Dr. Pepper and a Sprite?"

My halo made a lot of noise hitting the pavement. Are you kidding me, lady? I inwardly fumed as I caked on a good Christian smile. Ain't no way you're getting a drink, and you'll be lucky if I come back with your two (not three!)chicken sandwiches!

I stormed through the drive-through, I paid in a huff, and I drove back to that lady with her undeserved dinner.

And then it hit me. I am no better than this woman. In fact, she and I are very much the same. I too am poor, a beggar, in desperate need of stuff I can't afford. And my Lord does not ride by on a high horse, with fanfare and spiritual airs. He gives freely out of perfect mercy and grace--at great personal expense (His only Son). And while I demand a Dr. Pepper, He waits to give me much more than all I could ask or imagine, that which I need most: Himself. He, the spring of living water, promises that I will never go thirsty.

He doesn't distance Himself from me, never walks away irritated or disgusted, never withholds. He loves and gives, and then loves and gives some more.

Lord, teach me to live in the fullness of Your mercy... and then give away my mercy-filled life (not just chicken sandwiches) to other beggars like me.

Not much has changed.

It was a kids' birthday party, for crying out loud. Two weeks ago, Christopher and Nathan had twelve of their friends over for water wars, and the party ended in a fight between siblings.

It was Jonathan's fault. He demanded a second ice cream sandwich, and I refused point-blank. No, sirree. You can be a glutton elsewhere, but not at your little brothers' birthday party. Save some ice cream for the kids, buddy!

The fight in pictures...








Thank heavens for Heather. Just look at the peace and serenity on my face as I sit with my sis-in-law... The Langley family desperately needed another female.

Order the Dehli Durbar!

I'm overly excited about my new find. Last night two of my friends and I discovered a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant on Sunset Boulevard: Paru's Indian Vegetarian Restaurant. It's amazing.

www.parusrestaurant.com

Entrees are around $12, with plenty of food to feed two, and the ambiance is enchantingly and authentically Indian. I was giddy the whole time I was cramming the tasty fare down my throat.

Hope some of you can make it in the future... Or join me for my next visit. ;-)