Biding Time

This is something I've been turning over in my mind for awhile, and Jen's recent post, and quaere verum's comment on that post, sparked further ruminations.

Those ruminations run along these lines: I'm living a great life, I have a great job, great friends, great apartment, great cat. I fill my time with hanging out with others, smiling at people, cleaning my apartment, reading good books, and (most Sundays) going to church. I watch a lot of good movies, maintain important long-distance friendships, talk on the phone with my family, dress well, wear make-up every day, walk the neighbors' dog, go to bed early, get up early, cook interesting meals, pay my bills (mostly) on time, and am even starting (slowly) to write again. I journal, read my Bible, talk to God with increasing frequency, care with increasing depth about the people I know, go for long walks around the neighborhood, stop and smell the crocuses (which don't smell like much), bask in the sunshine that appears, and leap for glee at the coming of spring.

In short, I fill my life with a lot of meaningful, enriching activities and interests. I maintain myself in appearance and health. I manage my budget better than I've done in years. But when it comes to the end of the day, and I think back on everything I've accomplished, I continuously return to one thought: I'm just waiting.

It's all filler, folks. What I really want, I have wanted since I was twelve: A family. I want a husband and children, a house, a dog and cat, a minivan. I want hungry people to cook for. I want to raise a family of yelling, rambunctious, complicated children on my husband's income while I stay at home, keep a hearty, warm, welcoming house, and write.

I plan to generate some income from my writing, but in the long run, I don't want an 8-5. A year ago, when I knew I needed to get out of retail or tumble back into depression, Marianne asked me what my ideal job would be, to help get me started on the search. A split second of blinding clarity passed before I answered, "Not to have one." That's when I knew, without shame or apology, that what I want is a family. I don't need fame, or recognition (except in the literary world), or the success of a brilliant career. I don't particularly care where I end up living (as long as it has distinct seasons; but even that's up for debate). I really want connection, community, and family.

In the meantime, I have a fabulous job. God has clearly directed me to the Center, and I know beyond doubt that for this season, I am where I belong. But that's in a temporary sort of sense; I don't see myself retiring from the Center in forty-five years.

Now, I also don't see myself becoming a desperate housewife. I believe in the need for "a room of my own," my own space, my own friends, apart from my children and outside my home. I plan to foster that through friendships, helping out around the community, gardening, and writing.

So yes; it's good, in the now, to avoid the brittle emptiness of losing a relationship with a man by filling my life with meaningful, worthwhile things outside dating. But the thing is, I already do that. I am happy with my life and work. I love my friends and the community I'm building here in South Bend. I love being "second wife" at Meg and Phillip's house. Anyone looking at my life can say along with me, Wow. This is great.

But the things I've accomplished so far -- career, living solo, financial independence, being debt-free, gourmet cooking -- those are all stepping stones toward what I really want. I'm working hard on living a good, rich life in the place I am, right now, for myself. I'm also unapologetically waiting for the fulfillment of my truest desires, which I'm finally, clearly owning up to: family. People with whom to share my life, on a binding basis.

All other relationships are transitory. People come and go. Some of my favorite coworkers will be leaving in the summer to pursue other aspects of their lives. MP won't be around in South Bend forever. My two dearest friends from childhood live across the country. Community is beautiful and necessary, but it shifts, ebbs, flows. It changes over distance and time. It's family that gives you roots, an emotional grounding, even if you and your family are constantly pulling up stakes and moving to a new place. In a relational sense, family is the still point of the turning world.

And that's what I'm hanging in, and holding out, for. I'm working on perfecting myself as much as I can in the meantime. I'm developing good habits and good traits. I'm doing everything I can. But in the end, I'm biding my time until the man comes along with whom I want to share and build the rest of my life and love. I'm biding my time until the children come along into whom I can pour my love, time, and energy.

All of this, what I'm doing right now, is great. But all the accomplishments (not the relationships), while exciting and great and worth being proud of, and (some of) which I will certainly continue throughout my life, with or without marriage and family, are just filler. I'm not desperate, I'm not in despair. I won't give up my identity when I finally have what I'm waiting for. But I am biding my time. I know what I want, and I don't have it yet. So I'm doing the best I can, looking to God for continuous direction...and waiting.

Which can be incredibly frustrating. I'm doing everything right. And family hasn't come to me yet. But at least I know what I'm looking for, even though I still haven't found it. So while I gladly do what is given me to do in the present, I have my eyes fixed on the goal.

That's just the way it is.