Decisions That Are Different, But That Are Right For Me

Conversation with my Bishop the other day:

Me: "Bishop... the thing is.... like... how much longer do I have to keep trying?"
Bishop: "Oh, you're not even close."
Me: "Ok, but think about this logically; half the girls in our ward aren't going to get married..."
Bishop: "No, not half!"
Me: "Ok, like a third..."
Bishop: "No..."
Me: "... a fourth..."
Bishop: "... I refuse to believe that..."
Me: "Ok, but really, logically, it's the truth. So... what if I'm one of those fourth? I'm ok with that! Really! I honestly feel like it would be so much easier to let go of that and just focus on the rest of my life. It would make decision making so much simpler. And I just never meet guys who catch my attention longer than a week or two. Really ... how long do I have to keep trying? And what does that even mean?"

Last fall I wrote a blog about coming to terms with my struggles and bad days, and realizing that God knows what's going on in my life, and has it all under control. In that blog, I aired one of my fears - "Don't you know I'm growing too independent to get married?"  The echo of that fear is what keeps ringing in my head.

..... Have I grown too independent to get married? .......

Shhh! Don't speak that too loudly; people will look at you weird. People will judge you. People will wonder how they were able to find someone 5 years ago, and you're still single... People will think something is wrong with you when they realize you aren't married yet. People will tell you to keep trying; "you're such a great person! I'm sure it will happen eventually!"

A roommate from college of mine just went through a divorce, and wrote a blog about it. As I read it, I thought, "huh, this is basically what I'm always writing about in regards to my experience of being single." That fear of judgment as I make life decisions that are different, but that are right for me.

I'm different because I graduated from BYU-Idaho without getting married. I'm different because I didn't serve a mission. I'm different because I went through the temple because I was ready, and not because I was getting married or going on a mission.... and I loved it. I love the temple. I'm different because I'm obsessed with the temple. I've never found any of it weird or different; I find it very much like home. I'm different because I love wearing my garments all the time! I'm different because I got a degree in History but work in IT. I'm different because I'm 26 years old and I'm still single.

And yet.... gosh, I love my life. I love who I am! And when I'm at church, with all my other single friends, I'm really not that much different. We're all in the same boat - single, and trying to figure out our lives. Granted, some of us have gotten here on different paths - some are divorced, some have suffered broken engagements, some have depression problems or suffer from high anxiety, making it hard to be in relationships, some have just started coming back to church ... we all have different stories, but we're all traveling on the same boat, and to us, we're not different. This is just how life has panned out. This is the road we get to travel on. These are the adventures we get to have, and the friends we get to meet. That doesn't make us different, in the sense that we are not normal; it makes us different in the sense that we are all mortal, and we all go through different paths in life! Life is not a cookie cutter - Go to college, get married, have kids, be a stay-at-home mom. Life is sometimes - Go to college, move to Salt Lake, get a job in IT, stay single, travel the world. Not bad, just different than what I planned.

This semester in institute choir our theme was tender mercies. We sang a version of Amazing Grace that is one of my absolute favorites, and it resonated greatly with me every time we sang it.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear 

And grace my fears relieved.

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed.

The hope of marriage is what causes a fear of making any big decisions in my life, and yet that hope is what drives me forward, and pushes me to keep trying. It's a funny thing, that hope. It's funny because I keep moving forward, and trying, even when it has failed so many times before. I saw this fortune cookie earlier that said "experience is what you get when you don't get what you want." I tell my mom every time I go back out into the dating world that if it wasn't for that hope, I wouldn't keep trying. I would give up, and forget about marriage; it's too painful to keep failing at something that is supposed to bring us the most absolute joy and help us reach our ultimate potential. But, that hope that it will one day all work out, whether in this life or the next, is what keeps me trying.

And that's how most of life is, right? We hope that we are making the right decision. We pray and hope we will receive an answer. We go to college and hope that we can get a good job. We get a job and hope we can pay the bills. We came to this earth with the hope that we can endure to the end and return to our Heavenly Father. Hope is powerful. It pushes us forward. We hope for things which are not seen, which are true (Alma 32:21).

And with that hope comes our faith that in the end the Lord knows exactly what will bring us the most joy. He knows what will help build us into the best versions of us. He knows it's hard to be alone, or suffer from infertility, or struggle with a mental illness, or get passed over at work for a promotion, or be diagnosed with an incurable disease.

He knows the big decisions I'm about to make, and the changes I'm working on. He knows I'm super independent. He knows I'm making plans for my future right now. And He also knows that I will stay strong, regardless of my marital status.

So, here I am, getting ready to go on many more awkward first dates; pushing myself to swipe right more on Tinder; forcing myself to go to those game nights that might allow me to meet someone that knows someone that knows someone that is perfect for me; falling for more younger men; hoping that it will all work out. Here's to being normal for me, but different for you. Here's to being human.