This morning, I have another big doctor’s appointment at the cancer center in Chattanooga.  I’ve been nervous about it for days now, but yesterday was definitely the worst.  I kept sitting at my desk, staring at my computer screen, willing myself not to have a panic attack.

I kept feeling anger rising up in me the whole day, which is typically what happens when I’m scared or fearful.  And that’s what I am: scared and fearful.  Oddly enough, I’m not afraid of getting bad news.  I’m afraid because they’re going to do more procedures today and I just remember how I felt the last time.  It’s physically painful and, in a way I can’t really explain, emotionally painful, too.  By yesterday afternoon, I was so anxious that I literally begged God to somehow calm my anxiety.

Internet, be careful what you pray for.

L to R: Aviean, MacKenzie, Juliana, Olivia and Angelina

As I was getting ready to pick MacKenzie and Angelina up from gymnastics camp, Ryan called to ask if I could keep Juliana and Olivia, too.  I agreed because, once you’ve got two girls in your house, what’s a couple more?  As I was driving towards my house, I thought “The only thing that’s missing is Aviean.”  Ten minutes later, her mother called me and asked if I could keep her for the night.

Let me give that to you in a math equation:

MacKenzie + Angelina + Juliana + Aviean + Olivia = no time for anxiety = God’s sense of humor

But first, let’s figure out how I ended up with two girls for two weeks.

A few months ago, I called Ryan and asked if he’d want to bring his three girls — Angelina, Juliana and Olivia — over to my house for lunch.  I had MacKenzie and Aviean for the weekend and I just had this feeling that MacKenzie and Angelina needed to meet each other.  Also, I just had this feeling that Ryan needed someone to cook him and his girls a home cooked meal.

As it turns out, I was right about both of those feelings.

MacKenzie and Angelina are, within a few months of each other, almost the same age.  Both live only with their fathers, have little to no contact with their mothers and have similar personalities.  I’ve known MacKenzie far longer than I’ve known Angelina, but Angelina has bonded to me very quickly so they’re pretty much at the same place with me when it comes to being attached.  I’m not their mother, I’m not their older sister… I guess I’m just their Amy Beth, maybe?

But back to lunch that Sunday afternoon.  Ryan showed up with the girls and, while Aviean, Juliana and Olivia played in the living room, I asked MacKenzie and Angelina if they’d like to help me fix lunch.  They didn’t leave my side for the next hour.

In the course of that one afternoon, I watched in amazement as MacKenzie and Angelina became fast friends.  I overheard them talking about how they live only with their dads and swapping stories of each of their visits to my house.  I loved quietly listening to them talk about my puppies or the toys in my living room and seeing two parts of my world collide right there in my kitchen.

By the end of the day, I knew I had to figure out a way to get them together more.

Then Olivia’s accident happened and I found myself going back and forth between Knoxville and Cleveland.  Originally I was going to help with Angelina and Juliana in Cleveland, but then Ryan and I decided I would be more helpful to him in the ICU in Knoxville. I saw MacKenzie and Angelina during that time, but never together.  I would take MacKenzie to school in Knoxville on my way back to Cleveland for work and swing by Angelina’s school in Cleveland on my way back to Knoxville for the night shift with Olivia.  I relayed messages back and forth between the girls and decided that, as soon as everything got back to normal, I would get them together this summer.

And that is how I now find myself leading Camp Amy Beth for the next two weeks.  No need to worry; I’m a professional.

Except for the fact I’m not.

What I’m trying to say is that, if you don’t hear from me in the next 24 hours, send help.

Preferably of the single, unattached male variety.

I mean, it never hurts to ask.

Allow me to prove my point about my cousin Marisa never taking a bad picture.

(Click any image to view in full size.)

Two things on my mind while looking through her preview photos:

How in the world are we going to sort through over 1,000 of these?

and

I need to start planning Marisa’s lingerie shower now.

See the full sneak peek album here.

Here are the facts:

1. How do you people with children do it?  And work jobs?  And be normal people?

2. Maybe I need to appreciate my singleness more than I have been.

3. All morning, I couldn’t concentrate on work because I was worried the girls we’re liking gymnastics class.  I needn’t have worried; when I swung by on my lunch break to check in on them, they were properly horrified at the thought that I might be there to pick them up early.

4. I asked them if they missed me.  They just looked at each other and broke out into laughter.  I’m going to take that as a “no.”

5. They are currently avoiding going to bed by insisting that they need to finish one more round of Wii tennis.  I am letting them think they’ve pulled the wool over my eyes so I will have long enough to write this.

6. I made them jump in the shower after we got home.  When they got out, they asked me to teach them how to wrap their hair in a towel.

7. The girls are now on my bed, pretending to be Snuggles y Cuddles.

8. I am now reading this out loud to them and letting them throw their two cents in.  MacKenzie would like you to know that she and Angelina had a lot of fun today.  Angelina would like you to know that gymnastics was the best.  There is now discussion over whether or not I am spelling gymnastics correctly.  The girls have now returned to acting like puppies.

9. I am now going to put the girls to bed.

10. I was just attacked by two tickle monsters, ages 7 and 8.

11. The girls are now in their bed, also known as my bed.  I am taking the twin bed this week.

12. During prayers, one of them prayed that they would be good tomorrow.  This may or may not have to do with the fight they had earlier about whether to watch another episode of Hannah Montana or play on the Wii.

13. The air conditioning broke in my house today.  It is really hot.

14. As soon as I’m confident that the girls are actually asleep, I’m going to go take a long, cold shower.

15. I think it is a miracle that people who already have one or more children have enough energy at the end of the day to procreate and further populate our world.

16. Every single girl should do this at least once in her life so she can truly appreciate her friends with children.

17. It is hot as fire in this house.  Would it be weird for me to sleep with ice packs?

18. The girls just got out of bed and jumped onto mine to give me one last hug.

19. I tucked them in again.  And, instinctively told them I loved them.

20. They didn’t say it back but that’s okay.  I’m teaching them how to be loved.

21. I’m going to go stand in front of the freezer now.

And here is what I did.

Worked ’til 5 p.m.  Drove to Knoxville.  Got lost on my way to photograph a baby.  Took a detour and found the place where the family was waiting.  Saw the baby’s mother, a girl who was my hero in high school.  Of course, she didn’t know it; I just worshiped her from afar.  Now she is grown up and married and has a baby?  That I’m photographing?  Whoa, right?

Called my best friend from middle school, Ashley, and asked her if I could sleep on her couch that night because I missed her.  Took 1,282 pictures of the baby, my favorite being when he was in a white onesie.  Packed up my camera and hit the road.  Stopped at Sonic and got a sparkling lemonade (for Ashley), a chocolate milkshake (for her husband) and a strawberry slush (for me, obvs… it’s the summer of the strawberry for crying out loud!).

Sat across from Ashley in her living room and talked about at least 43 different topics, including a new song by Kari Jobe, the boy we liked in middle school and the new haircut I got to try to hide the fact that my hair is falling out either due to the ovarian problems or the medicine I’m on to try to fix the ovarian problems.  Ashley didn’t say anything when I told her about the hair, mainly because her face said it all.  I was glad she didn’t tell me that my hair is thick and no one will notice but me.  People mean well, but that’s not what you want to hear when you’re 25 and your hair is falling out.

I’m glad I finally wrote about it.  It’s been the thing I couldn’t bring myself to blog about because I’m embarrassed about it.  Or maybe just scared?  But now it’s there in front of me and you.  My hair is falling out and it makes me lean against the wall of the shower and cry.

I couldn’t sleep at Ashley’s house, but I fell asleep on her couch around 2 a.m., I think.  I woke up when her husband started getting ready for work and I laid there on the couch, willing myself to go back to sleep.  I got up, got ready and drove to my dad and stepmother’s house to eat breakfast with them.  I left late and had to hurry to the town where I was photographing a wedding, but I made it in plenty of time.  I took pictures of the bride, a childhood classmate of mine, getting her hair and make-up done in the same small-town beauty salon where I had my hair done for my fifth grade dance.  The bride rode in my front seat to her wedding and, though we had not laid eyes on each other in 14 years, there we were together on her wedding day.

I took her picture and her groom’s picture and made sure her veil was straight before she walked down the aisle.  I snapped, snapped, snapped straight through a memory card and then left for the town I grew up in where my grandparents still live.  I drove past my elementary school and, on a whim, decided to see if I could get in.  Someone had left a door unlocked, so I walked through the hallways until I got too creeped out by the fact I was alone in a really big building.  I drove to my grandparents house and went to bed at 7:38 p.m.

I had nightmares all night and then woke up to my grandmother’s voice on Sunday morning.  I laid in bed, contemplating how I could move myself and my puppies into the second floor of their house because it would be fun to be taken care of again.  I then thought about how I should be taking care of my grandparents, not the other way around, and got out of bed.

I ate a peach in the kitchen while my grandmother looked at the pictures I had taken.  My grandfather carried my bags to the car and gave me a kiss on the cheek.  I drove to Knoxville and met my mother and her husband at a restaurant to eat brunch because I was too late for church.  I almost sat down at the wrong booth, twice, and contemplated how my mother manages to look gorgeous every day of her life and why Marisa is the one who ended up looking like her, not me.  I mean, that just seems a little unfair doesn’t it?

I left lunch and went to pick up MacKenzie from her dad so that she can spend two weeks with me.  She argued with her dad about wearing a pair of shoes until I said “Actually, I think those shoes are really cute, MacKenzie.”  She immediately put them on while her dad looked at me in amazement.  I winked at him.

I drove away from MacKenzie’s apartment and, before we could get three miles down the road, I was being questioned about when I thought she should get to wear a bra.  She demanded to know when I got to wear one and so we decided that maybe when she’s 11?  Or 12?  We’re not sure on the age, but we did decide that I would take her to buy it because, in MacKenzie’s words, “it would be, like, totally awkward if my dad took me.”

We drove to Cleveland and went to Wal-Mart so I could buy groceries, including all of the things I would need to pack her lunch this week (and an extra lunch, too, but wait just a minute).  We took the groceries home, put them away and then I dropped her off at one of my college girl’s apartments so I could take Marisa’s engagement pictures.

I took 1, 321 pictures of Marisa, which gave me ample time to study her through the camera lens.  My findings?  Marisa doesn’t take a bad picture.  Like, ever.

I picked up MacKenzie and drove across town to pick up Angelina.  She is seven and is Olivia’s oldest sister.  I enrolled MacKenzie and Angelina in gymnastics camp for the next two weeks.  At night, they will attend Camp Amy Beth which is going to involve making smores, playing games and chasing Snuggles y Cuddles around the house.

I finally got the girls asleep at 11:20 p.m.  I packed their lunches, did some laundry, cleaned up the kitchen and figured out what to fix for breakfast the next morning.  At 6:42 a.m. today, I was awoken by two giggling girls who were fully dressed and ready for camp, even though it didn’t begin until 8 a.m.  I got ready myself, put them in the backseat and took them to the gymnastics center.  On the way, I made them memorize my phone number and taught them how to say “goodbye, beautiful!” in Italian (they already know how to count to 10 in Spanish).  I signed them in for camp, paid for this week and asked the camp director, for the seventh time, if they would call me if the girls needed anything.  I watched them run towards the balance beams, wearing their matching outfits and began grinning so big it made my face hurt.

And that, my friends, brings us up to date.

My landlord called me yesterday to let me know that she had finally rented the house next to mine.  The good news is that the new renter is a single guy.  The bad news is that he’s 40, sings gospel music for a living and wants to plant a garden in my backyard.

I posted this development on Facebook last night and it created quite the stir (25 comments and counting).  I thought I was obvious why I was disappointed (hello, he’s in the same decade as my father), but quite a few people commented that I could play my cards right and end up with a whole bushel of fresh vegetables.  As tempting as the bountiful garden of vegetables may sound, I’m going to have to go with a delicate HECK, NO.

Since I’ve been back from vacation for nearly a week now, I suppose I should tell you about it, too.  A large part of the paternal side of my family went to Hilton Head Island and, because I have no boyfriend or husband to bring with me, I was granted the special privilege of bringing Aviean, age four, as my beach date.  As expected, taking a four year old on vacation significantly wore me out, which was my plan in taking her.  There’s nothing like avoiding being alone with God by bringing a kidlet along who feels like swimming should be a morning, noon and night activity.

I’m getting ahead of myself.  Before heading to the beach, I photographed Blake and Ally’s wedding in downtown Chattanooga.  Aviean’s dad met me in the reception parking lot to hand over Aviean, her car seat and approximately 37 of those ridiculous animal-shaped Silly Bandz.  In other words, we were ready for the beach!

On our way, however, we decided to stop by Eric and Katie’s where they were having an anniversary party.  Can you believe it’s been a year since I was driving down the road to her wedding rehearsal with velcro rollers in my hair? I was a little nervous about bringing Aviean to the party since she hadn’t taken a good nap, but Katie told me she wanted us to come, so come we did… bearing gifts, of course.

You pull those pieces out and put photos in them!   Do you love it?  I love it.  And I think Katie loved it, which is what really matters.

Aviean and I had a fantastic time at the party, if you believe the definition of “fantastic” is having a four year old child lay down in the kitchen floor and begin throwing a fit that included screaming, beating the floor and kicking various cabinets.  In other words, I — the single, mid-twenties girl holding a flailing child tucked under her arm — was the life of the party.

Until we left approximately eight minutes after we arrived.

After an early bedtime for both of us, we headed towards the beach.  We spent the week playing in the pool which centered around me diving for pennies in the deep end as frequently as possible because sometimes I like to pretend like I’m a deep sea diver.  We had a great week there and, on one of our last nights, I took Aviean down to the shore for a few pictures of the sweet girl.

(To see more pictures from our evening on the beach, click here.)

At the end of the week, Aviean and I woke up early to head deeper in South Carolina so I could photograph the wedding of one of my college girls!  A whole group of my other college girls drove to the wedding from Tennessee and, thankfully, they watched Aviean while I photographed the wedding.  At the end of the reception, while we were waiting for the bride to change her clothes before leaving, there is a slight possibility that I took her veil and bouquet and snuck into the men’s restroom with one of my college girls so I could have a little impromptu wedding portrait session of my own.

Oh please, you would do it too.  Wait, wouldn’t you?  Surely you would.

I mean, what was I supposed to do?  Just let the veil lay there?  I was protecting it.

Also, while we’re on this topic.  Marisa?  Oh, cousin and roommate of mine?

When you left to go to work last night, I went into your bedroom and tried on your wedding veil.

I’m sorry.  I promise not to let it happen again.

At least until next week or so.

When I got back from vacation, I pulled your comments from my Friday night post about God as my husband and copied them into a Word file so I could print them off and read through them.  It ended up being 35 pages long.  In 12 pt font.  Single spaced.

What I’m trying to say is thank you.  And this response post will probably be long.  In fact, it’s going to be so long that I think I’m going to break it up into a couple of posts (I’ll write the next post sometime next week).  You may need some strawberries (remember, we’re in the middle of the summer of the strawberry, people) to sustain you as you read.

As I read through your comments, I kept underlining things that you said that I wanted to mention, comment on, etc.  It would be great if I could write a coherent post about it, but since I probably can’t tie all of that together, I’m going to literally sit here in my bed with your 35 pages spread out beside me and go one by one, mentioning my thoughts on different things that made me think.  There’s no way I can hit every comment, but I’ll try to get to as many as I can before I fall asleep.  Shall we begin?

Cyndi mentioned that she was in my same spot but a lot less mature about it.  Cyndi, I feel you should know that, just two nights ago, I danced in my kitchen to a Justin Bieber song.  If you feel the need to rescind your comment about my maturity level, I will understand.  Also, you mentioned that you “hope my Prince Charming rides up soon.”  I would like to go on record as saying that I really don’t care what he rides up on (horse?  donkey?  zebra?) as long as he’s willing to do the driving so I can rest comfortably in the passenger seat back of the zebra whilst singing Justin Bieber songs.

Amanda mentioned that she’s single and has “gone to the ‘important independent career woman’ mindset and stopped thinking about it all together.”  I get that.  As it is right now, I happily work from home, vacation, etc. just because I can… and sometimes have nothing else to do.  Last night, I stayed working in the office late… because I can.  There’s no one waiting on me at home, so why not get the work done?  Sometimes I tell myself that, if I’m still single at age 27, I’m going to move to a big city and live in an apartment downtown and work in a job where I get to the office early and stay late.

Jennie was the first commenter to mention the issue of contentment.  Do any of you single girls ever feel like you’ve nailed contentment one day and then you’re lacking it the next day?  Or is that just me?

Bekah brought up the fact that not only have her friends gotten married and had their first baby, but they’re now on the second round of babies.  I loved that she brought that up because I’m at the exact same place, too.  Whenever I start thinking about how far ahead of me they are, I remind myself that the more babies they have, the less time they’ll have to hold the newest offspring therefore leaving Aunt Amy Beth with plenty of baby holding time.  What can I say?  I’m trying to make the best of it by living vicariously through my friend’s labor pains.

Amber was the first to compare my situation with that of wanting a child and being infertile.  I can’t tell you how often I’ve compared the two issues in my mind and came to the conclusion that no new mother would stand holding her swaddled baby in front of a childless woman and tell them to be patient and to remember how young they are, etc.  I think it’s just more taboo to say something like that to a childless woman than to say the equivalent to a single woman.

Rachel admitted to the fact that, while she was single, she “Facestalked” boys she was interested in some nights and, on other nights, she had intimate quiet times with God.  I can completely identify with that.  I think it would be so fun to Facestalk during your quiet time.  I mean, you might could get a revelation from God about what that mysterious status the boy you have a crush on really means.  And you should read your Bible and pray during your quiet time, too.  Definitely.

I loved what Carolyn mentioned, about there being “a danger in that way of thinking — that we’re single right now because we’re not focused enough on God.”  I think we do have to be careful about not assuming that about single girls, because I know that I’ve personally heard that quite a bit myself.  I mean, I certainly haven’t “arrived” in my relationship with God, but I’m not planning on being to that level until I arrive in heaven.

Amy mentioned that she’s not sure that “someone who hasn’t been married can truly understand.”  I’m glad she brought that up because I think it’s very true and I’m honestly surprised to not have seen more of that in the comments.  For some reason, I just get the feelings sometimes that there’s a whole lot of married women who would rather be single than married right now but don’t dare say that, especially publicly.

I loved Lindsey’s comment about having to wait for her to heart to heal after a bad relationship mainly because I was Lindsey’s college roommate during that year of her life and got to see her go through that and come out stronger than before.

Michelle mentioned that she can “remember graduating from college and feeling like something was wrong with me because I wasn’t in a serious relationship, engaged or married.”  I can relate to Michelle’s comment since we did, after all, go to the same University as each other at the same time.  Michelle, we need to ask about getting our money back since that whole “ring by spring guarantee” didn’t happen for either of us.

Jennyfer mentioned that she’s glad that I’m not “jaded and bitter every single day.”  I think that’s one of the saddest things that has happened to me — the fact that my heart has grown more jaded towards the idea of love over the last couple of years or so.  The ideas of love happening in my life that I had as a 21, 22, 23 year old aren’t the same that I have today.  I think a lot of that comes from the fact that I don’t want to build up hope inside of me if that hope isn’t going to be realized.

Whew.  I think that’s all I can get through tonight, but we’ll tackle the rest of them next week.

It is Wednesday morning.

I’m about to enjoy a delicious blueberry Pop-Tart.

I slept with rollers in my hair last night to see what would happen.

The results were disastrous.  I look like a poodle.

However, my hair is kind of big.  Which means God and I will be tight today.

The higher the hair, the closer to God.  Amen.

– — –

Do you like when I write in the center of the post?

It means I have to use less words.  You probably do like it.

Last night, when I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep,

I kept thinking about that scripture that I can’t get away from:

“The Lord is my portion, therefore I will wait for Him.”

Lamentations 3:24

I was laying in bed, whispering it to myself over and over again.

Because I got sun poisoning on Sunday and I needed someone

to put aloe on my back and I didn’t have anyone to do it.

Or to make me eat dinner, something I had forgotten to do earlier that evening.

And so I was laying there, reminding myself that the Lord

isn’t partly my portion

but is my entire portion, whether I feel like He’s enough or not

when I suddenly thought about the fact

that I had foam rollers in my hair.

And so I whispered

“The Lord is my portion, therefore I will wait for Him…

with foam rollers in my hair.”

I cracked myself up.  And then I fell asleep.

– — –

Blake and Ally got married in downtown Chattanooga a few weeks ago.

During their ceremony, the pastor told Blake that it was now

his responsibility to care for Allison.

Except he said it more eloquently than that.

But I can’t remember the exact words he used.

I do, however, remember having tears in my eyes.

Their wedding was, in a word, gorgeous.

But you can see for yourself.

(Click any image to view in full size.)

Want to see more of Blake and Ally?

Click here for their full sneak peek album.

Aviean loves to come to work with me.

Especially if I’m managing an event that requires the use of golf carts.

When I look at these pictures, I think about how one day I’ll blink

and she’ll be 16 with a driver’s license.

Can anyone tell me how to make time stand still?  Please?

It’s Monday morning, but you wouldn’t believe the last 48 hours of my life.  I’ve gone from vacation to shooting a wedding to driving to North Carolina then onto Tennessee and it didn’t stop there.   After seeing my dad yesterday morning, I spent the whole day with a few of my college girls and then, last night, Ryan called to ask if I could keep Angelina, Juliana and Olivia overnight and take them to daycare this morning.

I am, as you might guess, looking forward to an early bedtime tonight.

Which won’t exactly happen since my college girls are coming over at 7 p.m. for Life Group.

Nap during my lunch?  I think so.  But for now, another round of questions from Monday Mail!

1.  Best part of being 25?

I’m unsure about nearly everything in my life.  I don’t know if I’ll get married, if I want to get married (oh yes, that post is to come), whether I could ever have biological children, what I will do for a career and how I’m going to fix my hair tomorrow (I’d say that a ponytail is a safe bet).

More than anything, I just feel like God gets the biggest laugh out of me right now.  One minute I’m giving Him the silent treatment over something and then next I’m laying in bed saying “God?  What did that boy mean when he texted ‘we should get coffee sometime?’  Do you think he meant ‘we should get coffee sometime?’ or ‘WE SHOULD GET COFFEE SOMETIME?’ because, You know, those are two totally different things.”  I cannot even begin to imagine how often God looks down at me and just shakes His head slowly back and forth while saying “What am I going to do with that girl?”

I’ve heard it said that you change a lot during your twenties and, from what I can tell, truer words have never been spoken.  I’m not the same girl today that I was at 20, 22 or even 24… which begs the question of what girl will I be at age 26?  We’ll have to wait and see, I guess.

2. I’ve never seen you mention politics.  Are you conservative, liberal, independent or uninterested?

I’m conservative on a lot of issues (shocked?) and perhaps liberal on a few.  For the most part, politics make my skin crawl.  While I have opinions about all kinds of politic-related issues, the only one I would ever really comment strongly on is abortion.  I don’t get how we allow abortion — and I don’t mean that from a religion standpoint, either.  Even if I had no religious ties, I still wouldn’t understand abortion.  I understand the issue and why it is an appealing option for many women who feel that there is no other way out, but I just don’t get it.  As a human, not even as a Christian, I just don’t get how that ever even became an option in our country.

3. Where do you like to shop for clothes?

Because I don’t care for my appearance, I really don’t like shopping for clothes (sad, but true).  With that said, I suppose my favorite place to buy clothes is probably Target.  If I could buy clothes wherever I wanted, because I’d definitely fit in them, I’d choose H&M, Anthropologie and my cousin Marisa’s closet.

4. Where did Cousin Cate go?  I noticed she’s engaged.  Will she hop on the blog and give us a sweet dollop of her Cate-kickingness?  I miss her.

When she’s not busy trying to chase down drunk men in airports, Cate is spending as much time with her fiancé as possible.  He deploys for Iraq in the next few weeks, so she’s going back and forth between here and his base in South Carolina right now, but I think she’s going to try to stay in South Carolina for the rest of the time he is in the U.S.  We talk almost every day, at least by phone.  I know that she’s really dreading the deployment and I’m dreading it for her; I can’t imagine how hard this is going to be.  If the deployment lasts as long as she’s been told it will, she and I are going to have quite a bit of bonding time together over the next few months.  I’m sure that, as soon as she’s back in town more, you’ll be hearing many stories about adventures we go on to cheer her up.

5.  Would you like to do a trash the dress session in K-town?  I have been married for two years… and have always wanted to do one… and I might be able to cram myself into my dress.  Might.

I didn’t have a name left with this question, so I’m not sure who this came from… but I was just telling some friends recently that I can’t wait to do trash the dress sessions.  If you’ve never heard of them before, it’s where you basically trash your wedding dress (though most are able to be dry cleaned and are perfectly fine) either by doing a photo session in water, on train tracks, in a tree, etc.  I’m assuming that K-town means Knoxville, so whoever you are, let me know because I happen to have five sessions in Knoxville coming up soon, starting this coming weekend with another wedding!

But for now, I’m going to go wake up three sleeping little girls and get them dressed and to daycare before heading to my office where I will attempt to get caught up from a week off while simultaneously trying not to fall asleep at my desk.

Have a question for Monday Mail?  Submit it here.

After writing last night’s post, I got the most fascinating email in response from a woman I don’t know in real life.  I receive hundreds of emails a month, but this one really caught my attention because it dealt with a view of singleness that I think is really interesting.

The email was very sweet and I’m certain, without a doubt, that the intentions in sending it were good.  In no way do I mean to suggest that this woman’s opinion was wrong; it’s just that her line of thinking really has me thinking.

She told me how her heart broke for me when she read about my disappointment of being single at age 25.  She then told me about how she had never walked in my shoes, mainly because she married her high school sweetheart.

She went on to talk about how my focus on having a man to love me could be taking my focus away from God’s love with me.  She also mentioned how no man can live up to the fairytale we imagine for him, nor can he live under the pressure of being the key to our happiness.  She suggested that anyone God gave to me right now would have to be “Superman” and that, since no man is worthy of that label other than God, “maybe [I should] stay married to God for a little while longer… and walk on the beach with Him… have Him hold your hand.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard that type of response; from what I know of my other single friend’s stories, that’s a pretty common response in many Christian circles.  I think that, at the base of it, there’s some truth.  If I focus on having a man to love me, that will take my focus away from God’s love for me.  If I plan to have a man fulfill a fairytale image or be the key to my happiness, I will end up gravely disappointed.  If I’m looking for Superman, that may be why I find myself still single.  I don’t argue with any of that.  To be honest, I can’t even really argue with the idea of being married to God, especially when I study the book of Hosea.

My problem is that, while I might can agree with those statements, I have a hard time seeing them active in real life.

Okay, so if I’m single and I’m supposed to be married to God right now, does that mean He’s going to fill up the other side of my bed tonight?  Is He going to mow the yard for me this weekend?  Can I expect to receive a sweet text from Him this evening?

I’m not being bratty or sarcastic; I’m just genuinely wondering how in the world the whole “being married to God” thing is supposed to work in real life because, as for me and my other single friends, we’ve never been able to actually understand it.

I mean, for those of you who are married — would you mind if we substituted God for your husband for the next few months?  Are you good with going to bed with only Him tonight?  Do you feel comfortable staying alone in your home indefinitely without your husband there with you?  Would He be enough for you, would He fill the physical void that the disappearance of your husband would leave in so many areas of your life?

I genuinely want to know what you — both single girls and married girls — think about this, so comments are open on this post.  The last thing I want is for the comments on this post to bash what the woman emailed to me because she was in no way trying to hurt me.  I just genuinely want to know if there’s someone out there — single or married — who has an answer to the question of how a supernatural being such as God can fill the role of an earthly mate.

Got any answers for me?  I’ll see you in the comments.

Update: Wow — you had a lot to say!  I’m closing the comments section now and, in a few days, I’ll do a post about your responses.  Thank you!