It’s late Sunday evening and I’m in bed, propped up against the wall.  I’m not above telling you that I’m sleeping in the fab five’s room tonight, due to the following reasons: none of them are here tonight, so I have the bed to myself; their bed is more comfortable than mine and, lastly, what 25 year old girl wouldn’t enjoy sleeping underneath a pink tent?

I had the most fascinating, intense weekend.  Long before I knew I would be taking care of three of the fab five last week, I had made plans to go out of town with my cousin Cate and my friend Cara.  It is so difficult for all three of us to find time when we can all be off work at the same moment, so even though I had Ryan’s girls, I didn’t want to cancel on my weekend plans.  A family watched the girls so that I could sneak away after work on Friday and sneak away I did.

We went to a small North Carolina town for the weekend, a town that I’m very familiar with because I spent awhile dating someone who lived in the town.  I have a lot of memories from this town, mostly centered around my time of dating him, so I was a bit apprehensive about heading back that way.  He is happily married now and we’ve had no contact for quite awhile now, but I was just afraid of how it would feel to make that drive.  I spent most of Friday in a bad mood, dreading the drive and frustrated with myself that I was dreading it.

I had two and a half hours in my car with no cell signal, trapped alone with God.  I was listening to a random mix of music from my iPhone when one of my favorite songs came on — You Were There by Avalon.  In the song, it talks about how God was there during various biblical moments and, near the end while naming different things that God is, the words “You are the God who understands” are sung.  I am thankful for a lot of things about God, but at this season of my life, I am utterly grateful that He is the God who understands.

He is the God that understands that, while I was driving those twisty mountain roads, I wasn’t crying because I missed that ex-boyfriend.  He is the God that understands that I just miss being loved by a lover.  He is the God who knew what it would mean to me that my friend Cara’s parents took care of us this weekend.  He is the God that understands that getting an extra hour of sleep on Saturday was what I truly needed after weeks of being woken up by little girls.  He is the God that understands how fast my heart was beating anytime we ventured out to a local restaurant, one that I had memories from that dating relationship.

On Saturday night, Cara’s parents took us to a fancy resort where we had one of the best dinners of my life.  The resort had horseback trails, a luxurious spa, everything.  As we walked through the lobby to go to the restaurant, I couldn’t explain how much the beauty of it was taking my breath away.  This might sound silly, but one of the things I’ve always thought would be so great about marriage is trying to sneak away for weekends together every once in awhile.  This resort was the exact type of place I’ve dreamt about and, sitting there in the middle of it, I couldn’t help it — my heart hoped just a little bit that, one day, I would spend a weekend there with someone who wanted to love me while I loved him.

I have been trying so hard to let go of my desire to be in a relationship.  I cannot tell you how many of my diary entries are filled with me begging God to take that desire away from me.  I’ve searched scripture for examples of why it would be great to live my life single, I’ve made lists of how much more I could do for God if I was single, I’ve forbidden myself to want to be loved in that way.

But the truth is that I do want it.  I cried on my way to North Carolina this weekend because I know what it feels like to be loved and I miss it.  I miss having someone in the world to help take care of me.  I want to be loved.  I want to love.  I want to have someone to come home to after a weekend away with friends.  I want to build a future with someone.  I want someone to fall asleep beside tonight.  I have tried everything I can think of to get rid of the desire but, try as I may, it is still there.

I honestly hate writing about it anymore, because I feel like I just sound like a broken record.  I sometimes imagine you on the other side of the screen, seeing me write about my singleness, and skimming over it, knowing that it will say much of the same that many more of my posts have said.  I understand that.

But when you’re living it, it’s different.  Tonight is isn’t some blog post I can tie a cute bow on and press “publish.”  It is my reality, my very reality, the story I am living out right now at 12:08 a.m. on Monday morning.  It isn’t some miserable life; I have the fabulous five girls, my two darling puppies, a job I enjoy, etc.  I do have many good things, I know, and I try so very hard not to take them for granted, I promise.  When I press publish on this post, I’m going to feel guilty about complaining about my life.  I am blessed in the truest sense of the word.

I am also a little lonely.

“Loneliness is the first thing which God’s eyes named ‘not good.’” – John Milton