One of my favorite parts about my job is trying to think up new ways to bless the girls we serve in Starlite, but especially our leadership team.  I l-o-v-e to try to be creative and think of things to do for them that would make their days a bit brighter.  I came up with a new little thing for retreat this time around, filling four large purple laundry baskets with every snack I could imagine — one basket for each hotel room.

And yes, that’s definitely Ring Pops you’re looking seeing.  Bling, bling!

We have never — never, ever, NEVER — left on time for a Starlite retreat.  Tonight was no different as we were supposed to leave at 5 p.m. on the dot.  At 6:25 p.m., we still hadn’t left town but somehow found time to make a quick Sonic trip for some grape slushies, milkshakes and a sweet tea or two.

The best schedule is no schedule, right?

In approximately 48 minutes, I hit the road with 15-ish college girls for our start-of-the-semester retreat.  Coming along to help me “chaperone” this trip are Katie, our next bride-to-be; French Fry, my friend from childhood and, of course, Cousin Cate.

In other words, I hope you and your family are not staying in the hotel rooms bordering ours.

As I was packing my bag earlier, I received the following picture text from one of my college girls, Stephanie (who we actually call Pookie, but that’s another story for a different time):

“I’m so excited for the retreat this weekend that I’m shaving my legs for the first time in three months! Here’s a photo of the before shot.”

And yes, there was a photo.  And yes, you can thank me later for not sharing it with you.

I sent a reply that could, in some countries, be considered a threat:

“I hope you know this will be appearing on the blog.”

To which she replied:

“Oh, I’m cool with that.  I totally dulled my razor on only one leg!”

Naturally, I replied with the only appropriate response:

“I feel like I’m supposed to congratulate you on that… accomplishment?”

Her reply?

“Of course!  I just fought a huge battle and won!  I can’t wait to show you all tonight!”

I’m only 24 years old, so I’m well aware that I do not know it all.

Well, unless you’re talking about processed nacho cheese.  Of that, I am an expert.

One thing that I do, however, know a lot about is what it feels like to try to fill a hole in your heart with something, anything.  I know what it feels like to suddenly become painfully aware that, at some point in your life, you missed out on getting some vital emotional need fulfilled.

And can I just stop for a second and tell you that yes, in fact there are certain things that we need as humans — much less as females — to function as emotionally healthy people.  I will never forget sitting in a grad class — Adolescent Development, to be exact — one Tuesday afternoon when the professor began talking about the various emotional components that have been found — proven! — in emotionally healthy adolescents.  I won’t give you a lecture on them, mainly ’cause we can probably all make general assumptions: as children and adolescents, we needed to feel safe, protected, provided for…

And, of course, loved.

I’ll never forget that day because I almost fell out of my chair just listening to the professor go over what probably sounded mundane to the rest of the class.  I had spent the last few years of my life trying to “come to terms” with certain aspects of my childhood and teenage years and had in some twisted way actually convinced myself that I had never deserved to feel safe, protected, loved.  I simply couldn’t grieve the loss of those things because I truly believed I had never deserved them in the first place.

That day, on the back row of a small classroom, something shifted in my mind as I realized that those things I somehow have always known were missing weren’t just something that I should dismiss as a pessimistic attitude or the product of an ungrateful heart.  It was suddenly okay for me to acknowledge that, unfortunately, those emotional needs had never been met during those formative years of my life.

The next step was to figure out what to do with that realization.

And I think that’s where our discussion this week really comes full circle, where we get to the heart of the matter.  What is it we’re actually looking for when we fall into that guy’s arms, when we hesitantly take the first step into his bedroom?  Is what the world has told us true? Are we just looking for a good time that night, a chance to act our age?

Maybe.  But then again, maybe not.

I can’t speak for every girl, but I can tell you that this girl has spent one too many nights looking for something she’ll never find in any guy, including whichever man God has destined for me to marry. Let me assure you that this is just one of many lessons I’m learning even as I type this post — you’re getting the real-time, currently-in-the-learning-curve Amy Beth today.  It is just now in my life — seriously, within the last month or so — that God has been able to do some open-heart surgery that is long overdue.  And the biggest part of it?  Just simple questions from me — and honest answers from Him.

“God, I just need someone to talk to at night!”  Talk to Me, Amy Beth.

“I just want to know that someone cares about me.”  I care about you, darling.

“No one will ever want me!” You were wanted by Me long before you were born.

“I don’t feel loved.”  And yet you are loved, by Me, the very One who created love.

I won’t lie to you — I don’t always get it right.  Just this week, I called Cousin Cate far too late one night to ask her to keep me accountable from making a choice that was a direct attempt to offset loneliness.  Was the loneliness real and maybe even valid?  Well, yes.

But was my attempt to counteract those feelings what I needed to be doing?  Absolutely not.  I was taking a need in my life and trying to fill it myself by looking to another human to fill it instead of taking it straight to God, the only One who can truly fulfill all needs in my life — the physical needs, the spiritual needs and definitely the emotional needs.

Does He work through human hands and hearts to sometimes fill those needs?  I think so, but the point is the same: He is the one doing the filling. And you better believe it’s something I need to learn now, at age 24.  I’m well aware that, when I one day walk down the aisle wearing a white dress, my needs will not cease to exist.  I suspect I’ll still need Jesus just as much as I do now, probably even more than I do now.  I’ll still be having to choose to protect that good thing, even when I’m married — don’t EVEN get me started about how I’m convicted that bad emotional and sexual tendencies when you’re single can, when left unchanged, turn into major problems when you’re married.

Why yes, my married girlfriends, I did hear that amen from all the way over here.

And it’s just another reason in a very long list of why I’m so glad He isn’t willing to leave me how He found me.  One glance at my heart shows that He’s not done with me yet.

But we sure aren’t where we started.

In less than 24 hours, we’re loading up the college girls who form our leadership team for Starlite and heading out of town for our spring retreat!  I spent some time this afternoon writing each of them a little note to tell them how excited I am to get to spend a whole weekend with them, especially at the particular place we’re going to (promise to dish details when we’re back next week!).  I got these notecards several months ago and have been waiting to use them for a special occasion.

And I do believe that special occasion has presented itself, no?

Cousin Cate and I met up yesterday afternoon at the local Dairy Queen to try to finish our Esther Bible Study homework for this week (is anyone else sensing a Wednesday afternoon pattern beginning to form?).  After a few minutes of silence, I heard her unmistakable voice say “Mmmhmm, that’s RIGHT!” I naturally asked what she had just read, knowing that she was working on the section about the concubines being sent to King Xerxes, something you would think (or at least hope!) I wouldn’t be able to identify with.

And yet you’d be wrong.  Beth writes:

“I’ve never competed for a king’s attention, but I certainly know what a person feels like who has given herself to someone in unhealthy and ungodly conditions and ended up feeling more rejected and misused than ever.” Esther: It’s Tough Being A Woman, pg. 46

Well, then.

I’d like to say that I can’t identify with the statement above, that I have chosen to never give parts of myself up under those circumstances.  I’d like to be able to, as one of you wrote in the comments of another post, be able to look every old flame in the eye and know no shame.  I’d like to say that I have no regrets when it comes to this area of my life, that I protected that good thing each and every time it was threatened.

Unfortunately, I can’t say those things.  But thanks to a God who is able to turn the wicked into wonderful, I can say a whole lot of other things instead.

I can tell you that what you read in the quote above is true: giving parts of yourself away under circumstances outside of God’s divine will for your life will leave you feeling more rejected and misused than your mind can even begin to comprehend.

I can tell you that giving something away in an attempt to keep him around typically only sets the stage for him to do just the opposite, taking with him whatever it was you offered in those last few desperate hours as he walked out of your life.

And I can also tell you that it’s hard not to give yourself away like that when you need love.

I crave love, probably because I have a serious deficit of it in some very vital family relationships in my life.  I’m not used to being loved in an unconditional, affectionate, stable way.  That just hasn’t been my experience so far in life.

And so when love in the form of a romantic relationship does come around, I literally blossom before your very eyes.  The smallest things mean the world to me, probably because I am not used to them. You have never seen a girl get more excited over being called affectionate pet names — ANY AFFECTIONATE PET NAME — than your ABB.  I once dated a guy that called me “girlie” and I promise you every single time I saw that word pop up in a text message from him, I seriously thought I would faint.  It probably wouldn’t mean very much to most other girls, ones that are used to being spoken to in an affectionate manner.

But for the rest of us, the ones who somehow didn’t get the love they needed during those important, formative years… well, even just one word affectionately spoken can cause us to become unbelievably attached to the person who spoke those words to us.

Which is why it matters just which voice we’re listening to — especially if it isn’t His.

Everyone else just saw black and white polka dot wellies when they watched me splashing around in puddles today (and yes, I actually do jump into puddles — 3 so far today). But I? Well, I knew the real secret that makes these wellies my favorite: the hot pink lining on the inside.

It’s almost enough to make you pray for rainy days.  Almost.

As promised, I’m bringing you all kinds of perspectives on this week’s topic. And how could we dream of not including Dr. Frank, our resident expert on all things love? He’s got a special message for all you single gals that are wondering just what the average guy is looking for in a girl.

Or at least what he’s looking for right here on MinistrySoHarmony.com.

Don’t all sign up at once, everybody. There’s plenty of Dr. Frank for everyone.

Also: seeing as I am STILL getting emails from concerned blog readers wondering if I really am planning to hit up the local church singles’ groups, I feel the need to tell you that IT WAS A JOKE. I would like to tell you that your genuine concern that I not begin mass church dating touched me deeply and elicited many giggles from the girls in the Starlite office each time I’d yell “JUST GOT AN EMAIL FROM SOMEONE WHO THINKS I’M GOING TO CHURCH FOR THE BOYS!”

However if you happen to see me in your very own church fellowship hall this Saturday night, let’s just keep it between us, m’kay?

And now, Dr. Frank with yet another lesson on love.

I think it’s safe to say that not every girl who reads this blog is just like me.  And for that, WE SHALL GIVE THANKS TO OUR GOD.

With that said, I’m going to tell you about my experiences in trying to fill certain needs all whilst knowing that I can’t make generalizations because you aren’t necessarily like me.  For example, you don’t insist on using the word “whilst” as if you are British when you are, in all reality, a southern hick belle.

So.  Here we go.

I have found there to be two sides of me in the whole physical aspect of dating.  The first is the Amy Beth who engages in physical stuff because it’s fun.  Because, in breaking news, IT IS FUN.  This may be a little too much information for some of you, but the only sport that I find myself wanting to sign up for season after season is KISSING.  I own the uniform, show up early for game days and would love to one day be team captain.  I like to think that, if it was to be added as an Olympic sport, I would get a personal call asking me to be in London for the 2012 games.

I don’t want to brag or anything, but if practice truly does makes perfect, I’m bringing home the gold medal for the good ‘ol US of A.

The physical side of a relationship is also, at least for me, a big stress relief.  I was once in a relationship during a very stressful time in my life both personally and professionally (that is, if you can call dealing with processed nacho cheese a profession).  He lived out of town and, due to his job, it was easier for me to come to his town for the weekends (I stayed with a family I knew there).  By the time I showed up on his doorstep each Friday night, I was ready to leave a week full of stressful work situations behind.  On his couch.  With the lights way too low.

My advice to you single girls out there?  BE YE NOT SO UNWISE.

But there’s another side to this girl you know as Amy Beth, one that began being cultivated years before I kissed my first boy on the playground.  And that side looks a lot like a little girl who is somehow still waiting for her daddy to come tuck her in at night, to tell her that she looked pretty at her dance recital.  I couldn’t tell you what day it happened, but at some point, it clicked in my mind: maybe I can find him in some other man.

And so, I started looking.  I wasn’t looking for an actual father, of course.  I was just looking for everything that a father brings along with him: love, affection, attention.  As I began dating, I quickly realized that I could use my manipulative nature to get at least a counterfeit version of what I was looking for, especially when it came to the physical side of things.

Of course, I haven’t always had to manipulate the situation; sometimes it just naturally worked out, an equation of sorts that kept whatever guy I was with and I both happy.  He wanted to make out, but I just wanted to be held?  No problem — while we’re making out, he can hold me.  Problem solved.

Except for the fact that eventually, at the end of the night, whichever guy’s arms I had been in that night would always have to let go.  I’d go home and fall asleep hours later, confused as to why I didn’t feel, well, filled.

And wondering how that hole had somehow grew far wider, miles deeper.

You know you’re working a bit too much when you realize you’ve eaten that day’s breakfast, lunch and dinner at your desk.

I think it’s time to go home for the night, no?