Today, I don’t have time to grieve my singleness, as I watch from a distance the deterioration of a dear friend’s husband. Now in a medically induced coma with multiple organ failure, Jim’s doctors no longer have much hope.

It’s not often you get to witness two soulmates meet and fall in love. But that’s exactly what happened when Brenda met Jim. We’d been friends for several years & I had watched her turn down one guy after another. She wasn’t a flirt, but with her long blonde hair, quirky sense of humor & passion for God, she did get quite a bit of attention from men. But Brenda believed God had something else in mind.

Then Jim showed up. We called him Happy Jim. Mostly because he was always smiling, but also because we had three Jims in our group at the time: Just Plain Jim, Tall Jim ... & Happy Jim. I don’t know what it was, but there was something about him that drew Brenda from the beginning. All her life, men had pursued her. Now, she saw what she wanted & she wasn’t afraid to let him know how she felt.

Of course, he fell pretty hard, too. A few dates in & they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. They adored spending time together — heading up into the mountains to see the moose or ski or just cuddle by the fire. Most of all, I remember a lot of laughing. They were head over heels and that October, I slipped into a gold bridesmaid dress & rejoiced as they said their “I dos.”

I didn’t get to see Brenda as much after the wedding. Their lives changed as did mine, but the time we did get to spend together was precious to me. Then I got laid off of my job & ended up moving to another state.

Last fall, I received the news that Jim had been diagnosed with cancer. It seemed too unbelievable & heartbreaking & just plain wrong.

And now my friends are there, 1,200 miles away, suffering, & I’m here — helpless, sobbing alone in my car & trying to pray ... anyway. I wish I could be there; I wish I could help; I wish I knew magic words to say that would convince God to heal my friend & make things right again.

But I can’t & I don’t.

So we wait. . . .


Life ... in Moments

Today's sucky moment ... & prayer request: Finding out one of my best friend's husband has been moved to ICU & put on a ventilator. Please pray for Jim & Brenda.

Today's Oh Crap! moment: The car pulling out right in front of me on the way to work.

Today's simple pleasure moment: Fizz from a fountain drink of Diet Coke tickling my nose when I took a sip.


A Word of ...

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick ...

But when the desire comes, it is a tree of life."

~~Proverbs 13:12

Strangers on a Plane ... Almost

The airport waiting room overflowed with travelers by the time I arrived for my 4 p.m. flight Monday. So, I grabbed the first seat I saw, near the front & next to some guy.

“Some guy” — I quickly surmised because I was eavesdropping — was on his way to Chicago on business. There seemed to be some confusion regarding boarding, so I offered information based on the fact I’d had the same question earlier. Turns out, “some guy” has striking blue eyes and great hands. We chatted briefly about flying and how, on this airline, having to pick your own seat meant that by the time we boarded all the good seats would be taken. Your basic easy-going banter, but nice enough to lead me to look for him on the plane, just in case there was an empty seat next to him.

But I saw a decent aisle spot before I saw Blue Eyes and decided to grab it. And though we chatted briefly after landing, that was pretty much it.

That’s not the sad part of the whole thing, though. The sad part is that I no longer hope for more. Years of “meet and greets” that have led to nothing have trained me to feel differently about possibilities. Not too long ago, I would have hoped for more, even daydreamed about it. Now, it all seems like such silliness. What an unfortunate girl.

It is so hard to sense that hopeful, romantic side of me slipping away. I only pray I never give up on hope completely.



I must admit I've become quite comfortable with my 3rd, 5th, 7th-wheel status. Not saying I like it, just that I seem to have made peace with it ... to a certain extent. Since I spend so much of my time with couples and, currently, have few single friends to hang with, being the odd girl out isn't as rough as it used to be, or as it would be for someone who was part of a pair but isn't anymore.

If it sounds, however, that I've moved into the realm of complacency about the whole thing, then I'm not expressing myself well. I suppose I'm in denial about just how much I hate going to game night and being the extra player. Or having to paddle alone 'cause I don't have a canoe partner. Or strolling down to the beach amidst a gaggle of hand-holding pairs, listening to them sigh about how lovely & wonderful it all is while I try to laugh about rotic "romantic-without-the-man" experiences. But after 40 years of rotic nights, it's not funny. It just sucks.

Still, I act like it doesn't--& even convince myself it's all perfectly fine--'cause that seems to be what people want to hear. Besides, would I really want to go to game night & complain about being an extra? Isn't it far better to enjoy each experience as it is, even if a part of my heart is holding out for something more, someday? When I'm with family & friends, I can choose to live & laugh in the moment even though I know--deep, deep down--that I'll be crying in my pillow later that night.

I know this post is all up & down & over the place, but that seems to be how life is for this single, over-40 chick. Guess you could say that's just how I roll. . . .