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So many times, as a single woman, you ask yourself if you really know your purpose in life. For me, those early foggy fall mornings on the way to work envelope me with questions of identity and purpose. Is life really about getting married? Does it bring fulfillment different then what I have now? Is that what my true purpose is? But what if I never marry...I most likely won't... should I go work at an orphanage? Why do we always think orphanage? I just don't want to be a lonely, bitter, aimless old lady.
***
My thoughts drifted to my closest guy friend. He was the closest thing to a best friend I could imagine in a guy. We could talk. Pretty much about anything. Recently, it had become increasingly different. Little things, nothing too spectacular, just a closeness that wasn't there before. He started to like me in a different way, or maybe he always had. I too had been changing, or noticing change, I don't know. Did I like him? Maybe. Yes. I loved him in someway, but I wasn't planning on this. Was this right?
***
The rain was very fitting. Streams of silver droplets poured down my windshield, side mirror, and even when I looked at the pavement, the red reflection of the stop light shone ugly on the dank, dark, slimy tarmac. I sighed. Yes, the rain was very fitting. It was crying for me. Crying instead of me. I couldn't cry, I was too tired. Too weary. Just dull inside. Was I grieving? No, not really. Depressed really. I didn't have anything to cry about and I knew it. He had asked to make it more serious, and changed his mind. It was over. I laughed softly, almost bitterly, to myself. Whatever it was. Somehow, I knew we were still friends, but now forever at a distance.
Why had I gotten myself into this? Why did I let this happen? What I am to do now? What does life hold? The orphanage seemed far away and yet somehow maybe the only road. Tibet. Tibet was far.
Now, why in the world - Tibet? I asked myself. And realized it wasn't Tibet, Nigeria, or overseas that lay on my heart - it was my own selfish wish to ease an ache that clung to my heart and cried out to my brain. I could hear it's pitiful wail - "I'm broken! Broken in two! Pity with me, for no one can fix this now."
No, I said to my miserable heart, You are not broken. Maybe bruised, definitely tired, but not broken. Besides, I knew that God is the healer of the broken in heart, and He is only one and He was in control. Since the beginning of my friendship (years), I had been praying - calling out to God to direct, stop, or help, whichever it was we needed. This I knew. God was in control and it was the only thing I could cling to.
***
To be continued.....
I am contemplating writing a book, but am not sure exactly how to start, so I think I will draw on my own experiences, and maybe work in the details of my heritage and past that is full of strange little stories, real heart breaks, mystery, and of course romance. And here I have decided to practice.
Maybe, I will indeed be able to write and finish writing this book:
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title to be determinded
