Learning to be happy...

        

  It’s been over a month since the last post regarding singleness.  Other projects have taken my time attention, predominately the Mission Bell, a prayer publication I edit for the parish.  The latest edition of the Mission Bell is now completed, and this allows me to get back to the series on singleness.  

          During my season of singleness it was not uncommon to hear opinions, suggestions and comments that were meant to be helpful.  The only problem is, I often found some of these remarks to be irritating.  Here is a list of them:

·       “You need to learn to be happy single.” 

·       “There are worse things than being single.” 

·       “Maybe you’re being too picky.” 

·       “You know, some people are called to be single.”

·       “It will happen when you least expect it.”

·       “Are you praying specifically?”

Over the course of a few more blog posts I will give my response to these remarks. 

For today, I’m starting with:  “You need to learn to be happy single.”  During my single years I confess to being sorely tempted to respond to that remark with a good wallop!  That remark was especially provoking when married people spouted it out.  I remember an occasion when I was in my mid-thirties and the person making the remark to me had married at age twenty-two and had been married several years.  What did he know about years of being on one’s own?

 And what exactly does “learn to be happy single” mean?  Does it mean I should feel guilty about having the desire to be “attached to a spouse?”  Is the person making the remark presuming that I think my life is a total misery?  Does it mean I should squash my feelings and be a “Good Little Soldier in God’s Army?”

Enough of the knee-jerk emotional responses and some serious consideration of the “advise.”

Yes, there is the lie we, as human beings, are prone to believe: “I can’t be happy unless I’m in love and have a boy-friend or girl-friend/partner/spouse.”  It is tied to the thought: “I have no value as a person because no one has picked me.” 

As a Christian I knew and understood that loving and being loved must first be established in my relationship with God—Father Son and Holy Spirit.  Not only is joy to be found by spending time with “The Three in One”, but also purpose, identity, and security.

Meditating on truth brings revelation.  As a human being who is made in the image of God, fearfully and wonderfully knit together in my mother’s womb, I am valuable. 

Maybe “learning to be happy single” means learning to love who I am; learning to know who I am apart from other people. We tend to use expressions we heard our parents say.  We might walk down the road and hear an off-hand remark: “She is sure her father’s daughter.”  True, there are aspects of my personality that reflect him. Or someone else might say: “She cooks just like her Mama.”  I am also my mother’s daughter.  With that mix of both of them I am a unique personality, able to think and act on my own dreams and desires. 

It would be a fault if I saw myself as only “The Barber’s Daughter”, or “Mommy’s Girl.”  And if I wanted to be married because I believed my true identity would only emerge when I became “Wife,” then there would be room for admonishing to “learn to be happy single.”

          I believe each person is drawn to a purpose that motivates him/her in life.  When actively pursuing or participating in that activity, there is a sense of fulfilment that only comes from that purpose.  Purpose spurs and fuels creativity.  God instils into His children a desire to perform a skill/talent; when that happens, “I was born to do this” is the song that sings in the heart. 

          When I write, or sew or cook my heart thrives because I am investing in developing the talents and skills which with God blessed me.  While I’m participating in the activity, there is a satisfying of mind and soul that comes from nothing else and no one else.  When I share the result, the satisfaction deepens.  For example, food tastes better when it is shared.  

          Just as I can long for companionship, I can and do also long for times of creating, “doing what I was born to do.”  Being with others who share the passion stirs and inspires even more creativity.  Living to fulfil purpose produces a deep satisfaction that is from a relationship with one’s self.  Perhaps this is another facet to the jewel of “learning to be happy single”. 

          Security carries with it, at least in part, the idea that “everything will turn out okay.”  There is no security in this world.  We can prepare for the future, but trust has to be in God and His promises. 

Citizens of Syria had education, employment, homes, and businesses until the civil war broke out six year ago.  People who once felt their future was secure are now refugees.  We don’t like to think so, but the same could happen to us.  Severe weather could destroy our homes. An accident could rob us of our heath and ability to work. 

          So, what does security and “learning to be happy single” have to do with each other?  God entered into a covenant with us, through Christ Jesus.  Our sense of security is based on the knowledge that through Christ’s shed blood we have salvation.  The foundation of covenant reminds us that if we give all we have to our Heavenly Father, He will also give to us all that pertains to life and Godliness.  Real security is resting in the peace of knowing that God is faithful to keep His promises to us—even when we struggle to remain faithful to Him. 

 Maybe well-meaning people were trying to tell me that I didn’t need to be married to be happy.  Fair enough.  But maybe they needed to understand that I needed to vent about loneliness.  And maybe they needed to understand that embracing single life is a process, a journey.  And maybe, they should have understood that when “complaining” about the disappointment of not being married, it didn’t mean I wasn’t content with while I was single. 

There is the possibility that “learning to be happy single” means choosing to live with joy, accepting myself—strengths and faults, while I wait for God to fulfil the desires of my heart in His time.   

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”  

Singlensss Part Four

The Lesson I Needed To Learn

“And you shall [earnestly]remember all the way which the Lord your God led you these forty years in the wilderness, to humble you and to prove you, to know what was in your [mind and] heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not.  And He humbled you and allow you to hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know nor did your fathers know, that He might make you recognize and personally know that man does not live by bread only, but man lives by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of the Lord.” Deuteronomy 8:2-3

        

       When I read that verse this morning, it confirmed that the next thing I needed/wanted to share about was one of the lessons I needed to learn about trust and provision.

      

As I mentioned in an earlier post, one of the things I wanted to do prior to getting married was to have the experience of living on my own for at least six months to a year.

          As an older teen, I remember discussing independence and responsibility with my parents.  These conversations were usually around the dinner table in the evening.  

          The conversations may have sounded something like this:

Dad: “Sis, you should know how to take care of yourself, even if you do get married.  Something could happen to your husband and then you would have to pay the bills, take care of your home and everything else involved with that.”

Me:  “What do you mean about something happening to my husband?”

Dad:  “If your husband is in the military, he might be sent out on TDY (Temporary Duty Assignment) for three to six months.  You’d be left ‘holding the fort’.  Or, you husband might be in an accident where he would be unable to work again, so you’d have to be the one who earned enough to pay the bills.  Or you might find yourself divorced, with a family to support.  Any of those things could happen.”

          I saw the wisdom in this advice.  “The List” was born—‘Things I want to  achieve before I know that I’m ready to get married’ list.  There three primary ones—but they had no specific priority.  

1.        Live on your own.  This means to have the practical experience of:

• How to be financially responsible
• Acquire the confidence to own and maintain a car;
• Dealing with landlords regarding home repairs
• Learning to make due with the resources that I have
• Manage my time

2.     Write a book. 

3.     Visit England

 

In January 1977 I began studying at the School of the Ozarks (now College of the Ozarks) in Branson, Missouri.  By December 1977 I knew that it was pointless to stay in college any longer;  I had no idea as to what area of study in which I wanted a degree.  Over the Thanksgiving break I discussed the issue with Mom and Dad. We all decided that I should join the military.  

The insurance company weight charts (that have ruined many a life by their unscientific conclusions and unrealistic standards) put paid to that.  At five-foot, three-inches tall, the accepted weight chart declared that the perfect weight to be met was 115 pounds/52kgs.  A healthy weight to suit my build and body type would have been about 135 pounds/61 kgs.  But the military are adamant about meeting standards and there was no way I was going to reduce my weight to 115 lbs/52kgs without falling ill.

Through prayer and knocking on doors, I found my way into barber college.  It took me nine months to get my apprentice barber’s license.  A year later I earned my master barber’s license.  This gave me a skill I could use to earn money anywhere I went.  It is a skill that has served me well over the years.

 I had depended on my skills and ability to work to earn a living.  I was thankful for the talents God had blessed me with.  When I went to Youth With A Mission DTS, I had saved up the part of the money to pay for it.  It was supplemented well by my home church.  

Each day we had spare time and I’d brought my haircutting equipment.  It provided a way for me to earn money to pay for the use of the washing machines, buy the occasional chocolate and other personal items I needed. 

In 1995 I was accepted onto Staff with YWAM, University of the Nations/School of Writing (SOW).  The facilities were in Texas, and I could not work as a professional barber unless I passed a Texas state exam.  Being on school staff meant there was not time to work a second job.  

My home church was just beginning to understand and support foreign missions and missionaries.  But the structure of that support was based on cell groups adopting missionaries who had been a part of the group prior to leaving for service.  

I had a few supporters who were not a part of my home church.  But the amount I needed was more than those who had pledged to help me.

In the months leading up to the School of Writing, the other staff and I worked in the office preparing for and recruiting students.  One Monday morning I’d gone into town to collect the post for the SOW office.  My staff fees and rent were coming up and I was hoping to receive a support cheque from my home church.  I didn’t want to become indebted to the base or my landlady.   There were no support cheques in the post—not from church and not from any of my other supporters.  The savings in my bank account had been used up.  I felt I was in dire straits.  

Emotional turmoil pressed me into seeking a hiding place.  Once in the bathroom, I sat with tears rolling down my cheeks.  

“God, I don’t understand.  Why aren’t I getting any financial support from my home church.  I’m trying not to be hurt.”

“Too late for that.”  The Father’s voice whispered.  

To get beyond the pain, I needed to acknowledge it, press into it and then forgive the ones I felt had let me down.  In those moments, I realised that I was looking to the church to meet my needs.  After all, they were my spiritual family.  

Unfortunately, relationships bring with them expectations.  My expectation of receiving financial support was not met.  I needed to forgive them for not meeting my expectations.  More than that, I needed to realise that by putting my expectation on people, I was not putting my expectation in the correct place—which was my trustworthy Heavenly Father.  

The following Sunday, the Holy Spirit awakened to my mind and heart that I had been proud of being able to work to earn money.  Hidden in my heart was the sin of self-sufficiency and pride.

When I had come the Texas, the Lord had made it clear to me that I was not to go looking for employment—even part-time employment to meet my needs.  I had answered the call to work with YWAM.  

The talent and skills that God had given to me were to bless others—not necessarily to meet my financial needs.  I needed to repent of smugness and prideful self-sufficiency in order to obtain grace. 

I had been led into a financial wilderness in order for my heart motivations, wrongful expectations and self-righteousness to be exposed.  And God was proving my faith.

          When a baker allows bread to prove, the yeast causes the bread to increase.  But for the bread to be really good, the bread needs to be “knocked-back” and allowed to rise again. 

          The Lover of my Soul had allowed the ‘first rising’ of my faith to be flattened.  I needed to be free from the misdirected hope in myself and other people.  In the days that followed, I meditated upon the faithfulness of God, the promises of His word and gave thanks for all His provision in the past.  Eventually I was blessed with other partners who were not a part of my church family.  And several misunderstandings were straightened out so that my church family were able to help provide resources.

          It was good for me to experience life on my own and facing the daily practical acts of paying rent, grocery shopping, balancing a cheque book and looking after a car.  But the deeper, more needful lesson I needed to learn was a fuller, deeper trust in God as a Father who lovingly supplies. 

  

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”

And from the beginning...

Childhood choices

          From the day of our birth until we are mature enough to make all of our own adult decisions, our adult lives have been influenced by decisions made for us by our parents, our teachers and even the laws of the land.  Yet, the skill of decision making begins in our “tender years”; we observe and learn through experiences that bring us to conclusions that affect us in adulthood.

          My long-term singleness as an adult was created by what I learned by watching my parents, our family experiences and even listening to what other people said when I was a child.

          It was November 1958.  As an Air Force family, my parents and older (half) brother were moving house, as Dad was to begin a new training assignment.  Between Shepherd Air Force, near Wichita Falls, Texas to Travis Air Force Base, near Fairfield, California lies over 1,600 miles. 

  

        The Air Force was responsible for moving the household furniture; the only thing in the car was the family of three and luggage for clothing.

          Other men from Dad’s unit, including good friend, Alan Balance, had been transferred to Travis AFB as well as my Dad.  He and his wife, Joanne, made arrangements to travel in tandem with my parents; driving cross country with another family meant mutual support for both families should a troublesome situation arise. When the need for stopping arose, they would signal by flashing headlights.

The two cars followed the blacktop across the panhandle of Texas, the plains and into the mountains of New Mexico, through the dessert of Arizona, up into the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California.  About eighty-percent of the distance to their new home had been covered. 

          My mother was about eight and a half months pregnant with me.  She’d been instructed to lay down in the back of the family estate car (station wagon) the whole trip.  But, she was too curious about the landscape of the Great American West, and sat up.  She’d always wanted to see California, having grown up in the Midwest.  The journey was through states she’d never seen before—she didn’t want to miss it. 

But the trip was taking its toll on Mom; exhausted and uncomfortable, she began spotting blood.  Dad flashed his car headlights to signal the other family over.  When they discussed the issue, my parents learned that Barbara Balance’s sister lived in Bakersfield, California.  Finding a payphone, Barbara called her sister.  The sister told them to make their way to Bakersfield.  Once there, they took my Mom to Mercy Hospital.

After examining my Mom, the doctor, (a Catholic nun), informed my Mom that she had two choices:  1) remain in hospital until the due date.  2) induce labour, as she was sure the baby was developed sufficiently to have a healthy birth.

Now, seeing as how waiting for natural labour could be two or even three weeks, and my father had to report for duty at the new base within the next day or two, it was decided that Mom would have labour induced.  I was born at 5.12 pm, on Wednesday, 19^th November 1958 in a Catholic hospital.

My father’s military career affected the timing of my birth.  His military career also created in me a desire to travel and experience different cultures, different countries and even different kinds of work.

Dad actually worked two jobs while he served in the Air Force.  During the week he was a parachute packer, working on base.  On Saturdays he worked as a barber.  He was very good with his hands.

In my teens I did not trust that I could find another person who would share my love of travel.  My concern was that if I got married young, the children would come along quickly and there would never be enough money or time to travel, to see England and parts of Europe. 

Both of my parents had been married to other people and divorced.  They were in their early 30’s when they met and married.  Dad was 35 when I was born and Mom was 32.  In my mind I didn’t need to worry about having children in my late teens and twenties, because Mom had children in her thirties. 

Knowing a bit about both of my parent’s stories led me to conclude that by getting married young, one could marry the wrong person. 

In my mind, getting married when I was about twenty-seven seemed wise and highly desirable.  Only, I lived through my late twenties, my thirties and into my forties before the desire to married was fulfilled. 

It is very likely that I needed those extra years to learn all the lessons I needed to learn before I could have the marriage of which I always dreamed.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”