Twenty-six to One Unknown

“The way to do a great deal is to keep on doing a little. The way to do nothing at all is to be continually resolving that you will do everything.” – Spurgeon

Last week, I met up with a few friends. Over scoops of delicious durian, hazelnut and teh tarik ice-cream (not all together) we got to sharing how “growing up” has changed our priorities. Eventually, four pairs of eyes were looking eagerly at me as they asked, “How about you? How has marriage changed your priorities?”

I stumbled through an answer – a decent one, I’d add, which had everyone nodding in agreement and understanding. But as it is with me, I felt like I didn’t explain myself as well as I would on paper. So here I am, sharing the longer version of my changed priorities.

It started with birthdays: my birthdays.  

When I was turning 25, I felt accomplished. Teenage-hood, high school, college, and the first day of work all behind me, I thought, “Yes, I’m officially an adult!” But when 26 neared, I became disheartened to see so little of my youthful aspirations fulfilled. Have I really done so little? Have I only this much to show?

It’s not that I’ve been bumming around all this time. I was doing much, actually – planning camps, volunteering, serving in worship teams, teaching, chauffeuring, working, studying, and fulfilling the many miscellaneous. But all has blurred together into one big memory, with little recollection of the significance behind those things.

I don’t assume this to be a bad experience for everyone. But for me, it is a sign of my weakness. As a person who struggles with saying, “No,” I constantly found myself in the same predicament: doing 101 things in a 1,000 directions. It’s in being helpful that I find my worth, because people need me. It’s nice that people need me and think me capable.

But in pleasing people, I’ve often neglected the real things that matter – seeking God, praying for His kingdom to come, building relationships, resting. “I’ve been busy” becomes the go-to phrase. I’ve been answering everyone’s call but God’s.

So how has marriage help change this?

Marriage is God’s gift to me in more ways than one, but I'll just focus on one. Because of marriage, I’ve had to narrow my commitments significantly since the beginning of this year. It was the push that I needed, to stop being the headless chicken.

It’s okay to lose out

Because of the volatile nature of my husband’s work, my career options are limited.

“Wait, I don’t understand. Can’t you still pursue your career?”

Yes, I can. My husband supports me in whatever I want to do, actually. But that’s the thing. As fulfilling as working or serving fulltime might be to me, it will not be fulfilling to our marriage. We spend months apart already; when he comes back, I don't wish to waste our time on other pursuits, just because I'm afraid of losing out. I’m not saying that I can’t do anything at all. What I’m saying is that I have to be wise with what I say “Yes” to.

It’s okay that you’re replaceable

Those roles that I was afraid of letting go because I didn’t think there’d be anyone to take over? Well, I'm wrong. There are so many capable persons out there, more capable than I ever can be. I am not irreplaceable. I’m not the Saviour. In the end, there are only the few who truly need me, and these are those who need my all.

It’s okay to simply be

Oftentimes this year, it appears that I’m doing nothing. And, yes, sometimes, I get really restless because I haven't been "useful". But when I properly reflect on the first half of the year, I realize there’s nothing I want to change. Spending time with family, sorting my life out (It’s amazing what one accumulates over years of scattered-ness), and settling into marriage – as “slow” as these pursuits are, I’ve loved every minute of it. I’m happier and healthier than I’ve been in a long while.

So this is what marriage has done to me. It's made me understand the meaning of redeeming time. It's given me the rest to settle the fizzed mind I didn't even know I had. It's provided the space to finally pursue the dreams that's always been on my heart. It's taught me the lesson of having faith by letting go.

part 8 Unknown

Just kidding! =P

My dear friends and readers, I just want to take this time to thank you for your kind words on our story. We are amazed and encouraged by the response! Our journey is only at its beginning, but already we are blessed with such a supportive community.

Do pray for us from time to time, should our names pop up randomly in your mind.

And yes, maybe one day we will write books together. ;-)

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

CH²

the unfolding story, part 7 Unknown

(Well, here it is! The second half of the cute young man's side of the story, and the last part of the series. [Do I hear sighs of relief and shouts of "Finally!"? ]

Thanks for sticking through this with me!)

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2010

                Our correspondence had lasted for 5 years now. I had a clear view of what this woman stood for, and I admired what I saw, nonetheless I was still quite happy to remain friends for the time being.  But alas, I was a guy, i.e. oblivious, ignorant of the glaring signs she was hurling my way. The huge neon light was flashing right in front of me, but I just traipsed along with my proverbial blinkers on. Little did I suspect: she was ready.

2012

                “Wah, so 3 of your best friends are getting married this year.” A not so subtle insinuation from my mom, in thattone of voice that I knew all too well. I was 28: still single, still a big fat zero on my relationship counter, probably approaching basket case by some standpoints, plus a few “are you gay?” jibes from my irreverent friends for good measure. No, I was just waiting for the right girl, even if it meant being single at 28. She was starting to pop into my head everyday. Yea, everyday. It was a day after my best friend’s wedding that I was to fly out to India for a company trip for a fortnight. I couldn’t take it anymore: on the whole of week 2, I shut myself in my hotel room after work in the evenings. I won’t pretend that I’m a super spiritual person who can pray for hours, but this time, I needed an answer from God. TV, internet, even music – I cut out everything in one desperate attempt for a clear sign. But no answer.

One Sunday evening soon after getting home though, an old childhood friend – who knew the both of us – called me out of the blue. He gave me the low-down: “It’s time to get moving. If you don’t, you’re going to lose her.” That was all I needed to hear. So, the answer turned out not to be in the form of a divine voice thundering down to me - it was a kick up the rear from an old friend.

                A nervous drive up from Malacca to Subang, a pensive night spent talking things out with said childhood friend till five in the morning, and an antsy morning of confiding in another close friend brought me to the afternoon of May 17^th. My heart only beats this fast after a lung-bursting run, but there I was sitting completely still in my car waiting for her, and it was going berserk. I tried to rehearse a speech, but all I managed was gibberish – I was going to have to just wing it. Maybe God, by now, had become a little annoyed by my tardiness and decided, “Oh no you don’t. Let’s have some fun and see what you can come up with on the spot.” What I came up with, reader, I’m afraid is only for Charmain and I to know, but you can take my word for it: it wasn’t very eloquent. I finished my speech; I waited for her answer. And so, all the years, all the e-mails – thousands of words flung back and forth through cyberspace, the awkward hellos, the waiting and wondering, the praying,  it had all led up to her answer:

                “What took you so long?”

And that was that....

                I thought it would be awkward to begin with, I thought it would take time for us to be comfortable being together. I thought wrong. We were barely able to predict the depth of emotion lying beneath the surface – prudently held in check all these years – waiting to be expressed. Words fail to describe what this woman has done to me: she has captivated me, heart and soul. I know now that I caused her years of frustration, waiting for me. I saw for myself as the tears flowed one night, and it cut me to realise what I had put her through. But wait for me she did, and I will never be able to thank her enough.

                Perhaps you, reader – being a close friend or maybe a relative of Charmain – would wish to tell me to take care of her, because you want me to realise what a special girl she is, and that I don’t know how lucky I am to have her. All I can say is: don’t worry, because believe me, I know. I know.

the unfolding story, part 6 Unknown

Hello Charmain’s blog readers. I hope you enjoyed Charms’ story as much as I did (though if you’re anything like me, you were in agony waiting for the next post!). I was Skyping with Charms the other day, and thought that it’d be pretty cool if I penned my version of events for you guys – many of whom I have never met, but would certainly like to get to know. I think it was inevitable: we both love reading and writing so much (I’d say it’s one of the foundations upon which our relationship was built), so it’s natural for us to want to put our story into words. But what started as merely a blog post has turned into a labour of love for her. So here goes, hope you guys enjoy it.

Chester

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“What took you so long?”

Well, it took 6 and a half years of close friendship, plus 8 years of ‘acquaintance-ship’ before that to get here, so yea, I took a long time. But let’s back track, way back...

1998

                “Oh, captain and family are back, welcome home,” said my pastor one Sunday in church. I peered around curiously to see four unfamiliar faces, smiling, a little sheepish - glad to be acknowledged perhaps. No, there wasn’t a bolt of lightning, cherubs didn’t descend and serenade (I blame movies for all that); my first glimpse of the girl who would turn out to be the girl of my dreams was rather perfunctory.

                During school holidays a year later, our church youth group arranged an outing to Port Dickson. The affable family – as I thought of them – were to come along. I saw her again, a year older now, but still a girl, 5 years my junior. However, I did think to myself, “Gee, I bet she’s gonna be a real looker when she grows up.”

2001

                Perhaps – no, surely – it was fate that her father had such a huge bearing on how my life would turn out, encouraging me to pursue a career at sea. And so off to Singapore I went to study.  3 years later, I graduated and was home. And lo, the girl was still there, but she was no longer a girl – she was a young woman now. I took notice. This time, it wasn’t so perfunctory.

                She intrigued me, this quiet, thoughtful, graceful girl; she seemed much more mature than her years suggested. I didn’t know much about her, though I wanted to. But I never had the guts to approach her. Forest Gump would have done a better job at striking up a conversation (he had chocolates). My sailing life had begun. Being out at sea for months on end, I loved – as I always have – corresponding; I would eagerly reply anyone kind enough to write to me. Then, out of the blue, one evening as my ship sailed out of New York, a familiar name suddenly popped into my inbox: the intriguing girl had e-mailed me. I was glad. Nay, I was secretly ecstatic.  

                So far, I was 2 for 2 on my assessment of my new e-mail buddy: she had indeed blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and she certainly was intriguing. But intriguing slowly gave way to beguiling, as her e-mails revealed that she was more than just a pretty face. This girl was intelligent, intellectual, she had great penmanship, she read a lot (smart is sexy!), she loved God, she had great taste in music, she was endearing. The spell was being cast.

                The years rolled on. We continued our polite (sometimes overly-polite), politically correct correspondence, as if our parents were peering over our shoulders as we wrote. But she had her daring moments too: “I’ve always wondered, don’t you like anyone?” she brazenly asked me once on MSN Messenger. “Wow, this girl’s pretty spunky,” I thought to myself at the time.

2008

                “If I ever get married, I see in her character the kind of woman I would want to be with.” I remember distinctly, clearly, those words I spoke as I confided in a close friend about her one day. Our friendship had grown and matured; I was starting to consider the possibilities. I was 25, still having never been in a relationship. “Marry”? Was I getting ahead of myself? Hardly. I always told myself that if I ever pursued a girl, it would be because I saw myself marrying her someday. I had a front row seat to the failing of my parents’ marriage, and I promised myself that I would never let that happen to me. Fast forward to the present for a moment: I should clarify, reader, that I am not proposing to my girlfriend on her blog! I’m just stating my convictions and beliefs when it comes to relationships. Back to the story: so it was obvious that this girl was really starting to make an impression on me. Quite strange then, that after voicing that impression to my friend, the next few years – from my vantage point at least - would see us shift into a peculiarly-balanced status quo in our friendship. Perhaps God was preparing me.

the unfolding story, part 5 Unknown

"I'll be in KL this week to hangout with N. Maybe you can join us if you're free," the text message flashed.

The day did not go quite as planned. I was flustered from surviving a dreary class, chasing down people, and walking in the sweltering heat. Wearing heels - wedged though they be - did not seem as great an idea as it was that morning. Hence when the cute young man came into view, it was difficult to determine whether the quickening of my heart was from the marathon or him.

It did my heart no better to discover that the hangout consisted of he... and I.

Okay. Don't freak, Charmain.

Two nervous people do not good navigators make. After what seemed like hours in the sun, we decided on a familiar eatery - the one with air-conditioning.

For someone who loves food, I had trouble finishing mine. Obliviousness describes my state, for I had no inkling that my last spoonful was so crucial a piece to the game. When I finally pushed my plate away, the young man spoke up.

"Actually, the reason I came is to see you."

Dear readers, I beg your leave for the lack of details hereon, for in all honesty, I cannot remember all. What did retain in memory, I shall refrain from revealing, for some things are better left in mystery. Suffice it to say that every word he pronounced only added to my sense of the surreal. When he finished his speech, I was still drowned in wonderment at what just transpired. 

"Do you have anything to say?"

Maybe it was a second, maybe it was longer. My empty plate appeared to have developed new designs in the last few minutes. As my finger traced the edge of the table, the words tumbled out, "I told myself on the way here, that if you do talk to me today, the first thing I'm gonna say is - or rather, the first question I'm gonna ask is..."

I looked at him pointedly, and couldn't resist a grin.

"What took you so long?"

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And that's how it came about, our friendship that blossomed into something more.

I add as postscript that my dear father was graced with a most enlightening conversation soon after. It means a lot to me that the cute young man so eagerly and valiantly acknowledges the important role my parents have in my life.

I thought a lot about whether I should write about our story. It may seem a bit premature in telling it now. But the unexpectedness of our relationship is cause for a longer commentary. Also, I long for you to know, my friends, that this man is a person I have treasured dearly.

Writing this has helped me, for it serves as a reminder of how much God had been involved in yesterday. It also serves as an encouragement for today and tomorrow, to continue to put Him first in this unfolding story. Because He was the Author of this beginning.

And if this is the beginning, I wonder what God has in store ahead.

Oh, and if you're wondering...  We can talk now. A lot. =)

the unfolding story, part 4 Unknown

"What do you want?"

It is not often that such a question is asked so pointedly, nor so blunt an answer needed. What more if the moment of deliberation was set up by God Himself.

It was before the cute young man's frequent guest appearances in my mind, when I found myself resting in the presence of my heavenly Father. What was initially a refreshing of the spirit evolved into a bewilderment, when in the last minutes of repose, God spoke Luke 11:9-12.

So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened. If a son asks for bread from any father among you, will he give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent instead of a fish? Or if he asks for an egg, will he offer him a scorpion?

Disheartenment did fall upon me, for the passage did not fit with things pressing on my heart that day. It was incumbent on me to pray for an explanation, but God said nothing further. Thinking that the end, I made my way to leave, the burden of the Word abiding.

So it was, my foot halfway in my shoe, about to exit the room, when it struck me.

"But no, God. What a strange thing to ask. That would be selfish of me."

"No. I want you to ask. What do you want?"

What came upon me, I know not. In spite of my doubts, I found myself bursting out a prayer for my ideal man.

"Lord, I just want someone who's not afraid to love me. Someone who would love me for who I am, and with whom I would feel safe, not just to be who I am, but to grow in being the person I'm supposed to be. And I pray likewise for him, that with me, he would be safe to be who he is and to grow into the man You called him to be."

And the burden lifted. I thought it the strangest occurence, for it was the first time that God specifically asked me to pray for a future with someone. Yet I knew that praying today does not translate into an answer tomorrow. In truth, I had settled it in my heart then that Mr. Darcy would present himself only some years hence.

But God does love to delight in the most surprising ways, and He brings help most unexpectedly. We now forward to the time when the young man's name had become almost constantly on my mind. A mutual friend who, being of the sharp and curious breed, came to know of my interest. Deeming the subject very much worth his while, he brought it upon himself to take on a task only soldiers can do.

"You want me to ask him?"

"What?"

"You heard me. You want or not?"

How should I answer that? What do I want?

"I want, but I'm scared." Scared of finally knowing that he would have no interest at all. Perhaps, thought I, hanging in the balance is best after all.

"No such thing as maybe or scared. You want or not? Yes, or no?"

It was a moment of awakening . I realized suddenly that come what may, be it a favorable or unfavorable reply, knowing the truth would indeed set me free. Still my mouth took a while to form the word.

"Yes."

"Okay." And we parted ways.

What errands I had for that day, second-guessing the audacity of the act became my main task. I had just decided to retract the plan, when I discovered it was too late.

So it was, my foot halfway in the shoe, about to leave my house, when the call came.

"Okay. So I've called him."

WHAT?! So soon!

"And his answer is... yes."

the unfolding story, part 3 Unknown

Before we go on, I'd just like to apologize for the lateness of the third post. Making sense of a myriad of things that took place over a long period and squeezing them into one post is hard. Also, as much as I tried to make this particular part colorful, the second half is not up to par. But I want to finish the story also lah - so here it is!

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"I'm currently reading Jane Eyre; I'm pretty sure you've read it, what with it being the quintessential female heroine novel in many people's eyes, or would that be Pride and Prejudice?" the cute young man wrote.

The reader would be pleased to know that this writer, a person of words obviously, understood what he meant by quintessential. Walking to the bookshelf, blowing dust off the dictionary, and thumbing through the Q section was an act of inconsequence, undertaken merely to affirm her intelligence. Such explanation she would perpetuate in the instance of the other words he had penned in the years of correspondence - words like avarice, curmudgeon, and rambunctious.

The cute young man proved himself to be the sublime intellectual young man he appeared to be. And the blank screen proved to be our frame of comfort. No words were lacking as we wrote eagerly and expectantly. Books, movies, God, work, studies, family. Not a stone was left unturned in our cyberspace ramblings.

No stone save for that one topic I was perplexedly pressed to ask, but never did.

Writing revealed much of this man that I grew to admire - His devotion to God, his integrity, his scope of general knowledge, his level of thoughtfulness, his manners that reflect time gone by. Ah, thought I, here is a man I could follow.

But this young man was guilty of one thing all good men have that both attracts and frustrates all women - the disability to lead a woman on. He was too careful in protecting a woman's heart. His cause was further assisted by the continued character of awkwardness whenever we met. Yes, for all the length and creativity we threw into our emails, face-to-face always became a climb up the Mountain of Silence.

Hence, after one occasion when my heart suffered too great a pain from dashed hopes, I made myself move on. I got into one relationship, then swore off any more. It was years of growing, healing, overcoming failures, and rediscovering purpose. And it was in those years that my friendship with him was purified, in the sense that I really learned how to love him more as a friend rather than a "prospect". Furthermore, I had acquired the most necessary skill of destroying the annoying weeds called Hope.

When the doors of my heart were finally ready to be open again, God thought it a perfect time for a test of humor. Interested men - plural - showed up outside the doors.

It was a confusing time, one that moved my mind to the point of struggling to stay on point. Then God saved me, reminding me to focus on Him. So I did. Then He spoke.

"Okay, now I want you to hear very carefully. I know you learned to care for these men as a sister would, and I know you don't like hurting anyone. But I need you to tell them No."

So I did, and thought that the end. But it appeared not to be so. This cute young man began to make more frequent appearances center stage. One would think that the young man was the one who couldn't take the hint, but it was I who only realized we had been writing for six years. I also realized that everytime I read his email or replied, as much as I hacked away at the weeds of hope, I was, in truth, already entangled. To continue on as it were, walking on the line of always never knowing for sure, was the case of unhealthy.

So I was about to say no, too.

But God said, "No. You. Wait."

WHAT?!

"Wait."

By then, I wasn't sure where God was going with all this. Still I waited... with an ultimatum.

"Okay, God. I wait. But if he doesn't do anything this time he's back, it's a sign that I need to let go. Completely."

the unfolding story, part 2 Unknown

"You should write to him."

Time did its usual run, and the demands of teenagehood required much attention. Occasionally, I noticed him, the teen who had become a man, sitting at the back left corner of the church.

It fell upon one year when we began to keep the same company. How that came to be, I know not. But alas, proximity did little to benefit, for two quiet people do not a conversation make. It did not help that this intellectual young man intimidated me to the point of overpowering muteness. I do recall, though, one conversation on haircuts.

Time continued to run, and the young man had to leave again for the seven seas. It was subtly brought to my attention that mermaids are not real and hence the young man was lonely. I was then encouraged to pick my pen - or in this case, my laptop, and inscribe something to him. The sources of such encouragement I shall not disclose, but should Mrs. Bennet have a Twitter account, she would have no few followers.

"But what can I write about?" I ask. What similar interests would a teen have with an adult? Records of past encounters confirmed my doubt to prospects of an acquaintance that would go past awkward.

Still I wrote. Just a short one, ending with, "Well I don't know what else to say."

It turned out that he wasn't as lonely as depicted, but being the nice friendly cute young man that he was (and still is!), he graciously obliged a reply.

And it then turned out that there was more, very much more to say. As Rick of Casablanca went, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

That was December 2005.

the unfolding story, part 1 Unknown

Well hello there, blog readers. It's been a while, has it not?

Since most of you are my Facebook friends, I am rather certain that most of most of you have been waiting for me to update with a particularly special post.

So I'll get straight to it and oblige that request as best as I can. The following few posts will be the short version. Do note that there may be things I won't disclose here, as a blog is still too public a space for certain details. Maybe if you ask me privately, I may answer. ;)

And here it is - part one of the unfolding story. Enjoy the read!
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It is a truth universally acknowledged that a girl of 11 or 12 can give complete attention to a lesson for only so long a time. Especially when there is something else worth equal, if not more, attention.

It was that usual time, when I was ushered to Children's Church - more commonly known as Sunday School - with the rest of the kids. The reader should note that as much as I was unfortunate enough to be categorized a kid, I was but a senior, a class above those young immature ones. So it was only right that I was part of the most rambunctious group for Bible lesson.

We didn't always have the same teacher every week. In fact, the older ones - I believe they were called teenagers - were often given this most privileged opportunity of guiding us firsthand. On that particular day, a teen of 16 or 17 was granted that privilege. His name was not unfamiliar, but that's about all I knew of him.

Being the good child that I was, I tuned my ears to that one message from God I could bring home to change my life forever. And as I continued to focus on the teen speaking, one thing did stand out. It was a light bulb moment, a moment that should be as radical as any audible calling from God.

Wow he's cute.


Again, this writer wish to reiterate that I was always the attentive kind. So yes, even as I noticed the teen make light jokes to break the ice, while trying to maintain some sense of quiet, while diligently going through the lesson with us, I did go home learning something more about my Lord and Saviour.

I simply blame age for not remembering now what that something was.

But the teacher of that lesson I most certainly remembered.

love and a slice of cake Unknown

A friend is working on a project and has been asking for personal thoughts and stories on the expressions of love. So this is what I "scribbled" out when I needed a respite in the middle of a lecture.

Love is a many-splendored thing. That's an oft-quoted quote bordering on cliche. But it's so true. Because the more I learn of love, the more I realize it's more colorful than a rainbow, more multi-faceted than a diamond, more fluid than water, more sustainable than food. And because of the beautiful intricacies of love, it means and is expressed different ways to different people.

One way I see love expressed is in a good conversation over a scrumptious slice of cake and a steaming cup of coffee. But it's not in the talking that I see it (nor is it in the food). It's in the listening. By that, I don't mean the polite lending of an ear, but a complete engagement of mind and heart to focus on the other. If a person listens to you, it means that he or she is willing to set aside his/her time, opinions, and personal troubles for yours. Listening is a quiet but powerful way to express self-sacrificial love.

The second expression I treasure is physical affections. I grew up in a home filled with many hugs and many more kisses. Again, it's a quiet but powerful expression. I'm an introvert, and there are many times when I struggle with sharing what's really on my heart. Sometimes, I myself don't understand what's going on inside. Nonetheless I can get lonely, and long for that simple assurance that someone is there for me. So a home-scented hug, a cuddle, a squeeze of the hand, a happy peck on the cheek gives me enough of that assurance, of a sense of solidarity with others.

I will always welcome a hug and appreciate the person willing to listen to me as I struggle with verbatim. And I do forget periodically, but I try to express my care in the same way. But these aren't the only ways of expression, of course. They're just two little colors, two facets, two streams, or two ingredients of that many-splendored thing called love.

day 12 - musical artist's life Unknown

This online radio I've been listening to airs one particular commercial frequently. The ad promotes engagement rings. (Yeah, way to go for constantly reminding single girls what we're missing.)

Anyway.

The thing that irks me is this line that goes, "Celebrate the most romantic time of your life!"

Wait, what? The more I listened to it, the more I realize how wrong that idea is. Because romance shouldn't be only in the season of courtship and engagement. Yes, it's the lovey-dovey period, but the wedding doesn't signify the end of romance. It's only the beginning.

Marriage itself should be the romance of a lifetime. Yeah, maybe the feelings would evolve, but only to change to a love stronger than before. I'm confident it's only going to get better as time goes on. I witness it in my parents' marriage and in several others. 

And so I tie this to Rebecca St. James, the musical artist whose life I admire. Because she was willing to forsake all counterfeits and wait for her romance of a lifetime. And God honored her commitment, because this year in April she got married to her Jacob Fink.

*sob* So happy for her!

So maybe there was a reason why I had to listen to that ad countless times.

10 ways to be marriable, part 1 Unknown

I subscribe to a webzine called Boundless. It's for single people, and so dealing with single people, talks a lot about relationships and marriage. Today while reading the blog, I came across one of the webzine's old posts on qualities that would make one marriable.

If I haven't told you, I should say now that this relationship/marriage issue always gets to me. And I've decided I'm going to be more open about it on my blog. So yes, out of the spur of the moment, I'm going to give my take on the 10 qualities that was listed (and along the way hopefully discover if I am indeed 'marriable').The first listed was:-

1. Contentment
I realize that contentment does not mean complacency. I imagine complacency as a little kid on a parkbench who somehow got so taken up by the magnificence of the bench grains that when his father comes to take him away, he refuses. He doesn't trust that his father, who actually wanted to take him to the playground, has funner plans in mind.

Contentment also doesn't mean impatience. Impatience is like the little kid who heard that his father had a surprise for him, but instead of waiting, runs off to find the surprise on his own. He gets lost, the father gets worried, and in the end, because no one is in the mood any longer, the surprise doesn't happen or fails.

So what is contentment? Contentment is but like the little kid who is on the bench who knows his father has a surprise, but is willing to wait for his daddy to come show the way. Meanwhile, he might as well feed the birds and watch the ripples in the pond. But when his father comes, he's ever ready to follow.

I wonder if I make sense to you. But this is the only analogy I can think of now.

Am I contented? Honestly, I have a tendency to be the impatient kid. I keep wanting to run off ahead of my daddy. This year, when I feel finally ready to be involved in love again, God says, "Give 6 months to Me". I'm then like, "But I'm going to be 22... That's OLD!"

But I've really grown a lot this year. Through His pruning, I can finally say, "You know what? My desire for marriage is still as strong as ever. But I've finally learned what it means to trust God with my love life. I finally see that His timing and the person He's chosen - can only be the best."

So contentment is trust. Am I contented, then? I can sincerely say - I am.