Singleness--Part Six -- Embracing Singleness

          Steam is rising off the freshly made coffee, and after several interruptions, I’ve settled down to write instalment six of the Singleness series I’ve been writing.  

        

      After my return from the DTS in England in 1988, I settled into life in Indianapolis, Indiana.  

In 1989 I lived on the sixth floor of Vantage Point Apartments, a 15 story high rise apartment complex.  The efficiency apartment I lived in overlooked Indiana State Road 37, Fall Creek Parkway and another group of apartments.  The double-towered complex sat on the corner of 45^th Street and Allisonville Road; only a 20-minute walk to work on Willowbrook Parkway.

          I had just moved into the building in October, pleased that I would be close enough to walk to work should the need arise.  It also meant I could go home for lunch.  

The building had once been a luxury community, boasting of a barber shop, a beauty shop, and a dry cleaner in the second tower.  By the time I moved in, it catered to more middle income residents who wanted to be close to work in central Indianapolis, but not living in a completely urban area.  

          The complex provided a “club house” on the third floor that residents could rent.  One Saturday morning in November (1989), I rented the “club house” for a celebratory brunch for my 31^st birthday.  Six of my friends sat with me at the oversized table, enjoying egg-and-sausage casserole, bagels, coffee, juice and birthday cake.  Of the seven of us, only one was in a long-term, committed relationship.  The other six of us were single—whether through never marrying or having experienced divorce.  Each of us in the room knew the desire to share meaningful moments with a “Significant Other”.  

          My 30^th birthday must have been low-key, as I do not remember how I celebrated turning 30.  Most probably it included time with my family and a few close friends. 

 Turning 31 years old seemed even harder.  What made it such a challenge?  There was no potential groom on my horizon.  It was complicated by the famous loud ticking of MY body clock taunting me that my chance of having a family (having babies) was as elusive as ever.  

          I’m not sure at what point I had a reckoning about being single.  However, there must have been a moment when I understood that I could either wallow in self-pity, complaining about the unfairness of life.  Or I could lean into the singleness; embrace the opportunities that singleness provided.  The choice was choosing depression or choosing joy.  Choosing to embrace, even celebrate, singleness would require commitment.  So, I began a process of moving to acceptance.  It took years.

          To be honest, I’m fidgeting in my chair, while writing about this time in my life.  My thirties were a time of growing up emotionally, reconciling truths about my family and finding healing.  

          A conscience effort on my part was to give thanks for my singleness.  Moments of frustration and loneliness would tempt me to complain.  At these same moments, a scripture verse song would come to mind:

“In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God;

“In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God;

"In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”  1 Thessalonians 5:18

Being single wasn’t totally bad.  Actually there were some advantages of which I made a list to be thankful for: 

• I am free to visit my parents whenever I want.
• Mom can come and visit me anytime she and I want her to visit; for a weekend or a week without anyone else being put out or aggravated. 
• I can go where I want, when I want, with whom I wanted.
• I have sole control of the television.
• I have enough clothes so that I need do laundry only once a month.
• I can eat what I want—which means I can cook if I want to, or not cook if I am not so inclined.
• I can sleep in the middle of my queen-sized bed.
• I am freer to explore ideas about returning to missions without the concerns of uprooting a family. 
• There is more time to spend more time with God. 
• There is no one to argue with about the type of music I listen to or entertainment I watch. 
• I can stay up all night reading if I want.
• I can go to bed at 7.00 pm and not worry about preparing dinner. 
• I won’t disturb anyone when I come in late from my second job.

          Determining with my will to give thanks changed my perspective.  Yes, I desired to be with someone special, to be someone’s spouse.  But I also knew that my quality of life—single or married—depended on me acknowledging and appreciating my blessings.  Gratitude leads to joy, contentment and peace.  Practicing gratitude led me into the Father’s Presence, walking with Him and learning to love Him more every day.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”

P.S.  Vantage Point Apartments, 2855 East 45th Street, Indpls, were razed in 2011.  That location is now occupied with The Point on Fall Creek, an apartment facility.  

Feasting from the Father's Hand

Berry vines grow along the fence on the right.

God is good

God is great

Let us thank Him for our food.

By His hands we must be fed,

Thank You, God, for our daily bread.

Amen.

                Above is the first prayer my Mother taught me.  There are various versions, but this is how I remember saying it. 

           

        Yesterday I was literally eating food that came to me freely, directly from God’s goodness.  Behind the flats that we live in is a common area, similar to a square or quadrangular space that is surrounded by a building or buildings, as on a college campus.  Parts of it have been left to overgrow, as you can see in the photo above.  Around the edge of this play area are a few wild roses and what are called bramble bushes. 

        In the Midwest, where I grew up, they are called blackberry bushes.  I noticed them last autumn whilst out with Maisy.  I was pretty sure they were blackberry vines because of the shape of the leaves and sharp thorns.   

        So I waited over the coming months—March when the leaves began to sprout, the vines with thorns stretching out along the ground, around wire fences and along the high wood fencing.  April and May came and pretty white blossoms formed, then burst forth their soft petals and intoxicating fragrance.  More weeks of waiting, seeing tiny green balls form at first, then week-on-week they enlarged.  In July those green bauble-like fruit began turning red.  Then 10 days ago,  I noticed they were purple.  I gave one berry a tug—but it resisted my pull.  Not quite ready.  The anticipation grew.  

            So Tuesday afternoon (18^th August), with Maisy on her lead, I walked out the back door, heading for that fence row and the fruit for which I was longing.  At first Maisy sniffed around, not taking notice of me.

  

I reached up, closed my finger-tips gently around a black jewel and pulled.  That berry came away easily.  Straight into my mouth it went…and what bliss; only the sweetness of fully matured fruit directly from the vine delighted my taste buds.  

There I stood, feasting from the Father’s hand.  God was being Daddy, delighting in providing a simple pleasure for His beloved Child.  I had not planted those vines.  Nor had I worked to nurture them, nor pulled away weeds.  No fertiliser had been fed to those plants by my hands.  Only rain had provided water needed for a harvest.  Those berries were totally voluntary by nature’s pattern and rhythm.  

Eating the fruit was not the only joy.  I looked down at Maisy, who had come to stand next to me.  Right next to the ground were lower vines.  Since I was picking and eating, Maisy decided that they must be for her as well.  She nosed, sniffed and then tried pulling the fruit away.  Dogs have no idea as to what is ripe and what is not, so she pulled random berries.  She’d bite, shake her head, and drop it.  I couldn’t help but laugh.  Then she’d try another one.  She couldn’t make up her mind—I was eating them, so she wanted to eat it too.  I even gave her a ripe one.  She closed her mouth, dropped the berry and flicked her tongue out.  Maisy wasn’t sure what to do.  

I wanted to pick more and put them in the freezer.  Whether I get do depends upon whether it is raining tomorrow, and how long our family is here.  “Lacey” and family are coming.  

At any rate, I have been fed and I have given thanks to our good and great God.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”