Sunday, November 18, 2007

The evening John Mayer wrote about

"No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmas time."

The day started with rain and lots of it, and by this evening, the drops decided to be snow, but not the kind that makes marshmallow worlds, but the kind that melts on the ground. I was doing my normal Sunday evening routine -- watching a Christmas movie and eating some treats -- when I was swept over by the fact that, well, here's comes another Christmas where it's just me.

I think this stings a little more because in the last two weeks, there have been hints of possibility in the guy realm that have fallen flat: 1) my friend Lisa gave my number to a guy who works at her gym with whom she's quite chatty and he said he'd call, and he hasn't. Then, 2) a couple in my small group brought an out-of-town guest to our small group this week and he was attractive, engaging, amusing. So I hosted a games night with the purpose being getting to spend more time with him. Bold move. Go me. Yeah... they didn't come. (No real fault to them -- they were visiting his extended family in Portland.)

So I feel like the sound that little kids make when they stick their tongues out and blow. And I feel like there won't ever be the fireworks of mutual attraction bolstered by the foundation of faith and friendship. I feel hunting down the hope that lives in my heart -- the hope that causes me to bloom with possibility and optimism -- and clock it over the head with a shovel so that I don't have to feel the deep gray of being passed by.

Most of the time I can combat the onslaught of these warring thoughts with the perspective shift that I'm not alone. I have a great family, terrific friends, an invested life. But there are times, like tonight, when I don't feel like fighting. Can one lament one's singleness in a blog that could be read by just about anyone? Probably not the wisest thing to do. But those of you who really know me... well... then we've probably had this conversation before. :-)

(Insert reflective pause here...)

While I don't feel like fighting, I also don't feel like starting the holiday season under this cloud. I want to truly be thankful, not try to numb the ache in my heart by consuming half the pumpkin pie. I want to experience the joy of the season, not go through the motions. And if I want to do that, then fight I must.

So I declare the I am thankful for my God who made me, who loves me all the time, and who gives wisdom when I ask for it. I'm thankful for Lisa Ann (my marathon buddy) and the YMCA and the fact that I have discovered the fabulousness of racquetball and can laugh like crazy with Lisa when I absolutely whiff it. I'm thankful for a long-term subbing job with kids that are soaking up the love I have to give (even if I do have to give it with the stern teacher voice sometimes) and a paycheck that will compensate for all the vacation days between now and the end of January. I'm thankful that my little brother turns 26 this week and getting to celebrate it with him and my fantastically clean and sober sister. I'm thankful for the Egglestons who have made 2301 Eleanor my HOME. I'm thankful for singing in all its forms and the gift of being able to hear and sing harmony. And I'm thankful that I don't have to be a victim of my circumstances, which aren't really all that bad when I really think about it.

And so I sign off tonight...

with hope...

marah jean


  1. Sweet Marah...I love your spirit. In the past couple months or so, I just had two friends get engaged who thought it would NEVER happen, and then, the right guy came along when they weren't looking. It is going to happen to you, it is. Do you know why? Because you want to get married and you're a hell of a catch...when he comes along, he is going to be in awe that you are still available and waiting for him. I love you. Happy Thanksgiving!

  2. And we who know you love you and are thankful for the privilege.

  3. Thanks, J and Colin. I truly appreciate the encouragement.