What the Missing Means

March 10, 2017

There's a missing I feel constantly somewhere deep in me. It's a weird kind of feeling, one I don't really have a name for and never quite know how to describe, so I rarely acknowledge it. I try to keep it buried so I don't have to try to untangle what it means.

I find myself now with a plate more full than I can manage, having said yes to more roles and responsibilities than I have time for. I think I said yes to try to make the missing go away.

I find myself loved by communities of people I'm deeply grateful for, yet I often say "I haven't found my people yet" because it helps hide the missing.

I buy new clothes, I purge old clothes, I embark on wardrobe challenges, all to try to make myself look like I'm not really feeling this missing.

I follow the Bible reading plans, I read more books than anyone I know, I attend every church event, all to try to fill the void that's there from this missing.

But it's there.

Deep down, there's a missing.

THE BEST I CAN DESCRIBE IT IS A LONGING FOR A PERSON I HAVEN'T MET YET. 

It feels silly to admit. It seems to go against everything I believe about women being strong and capable and all these amazing things on their own. Yet here I am, missing a person I haven't met yet. Feeling a longing for someone I don't even know. Feeling a missing that is deep and real and hard to describe.

I've heard every line. The "it will happen when you least expect it!" and the "God has someone out there for you, just keep praying!" and the "just don't worry about it!" lines that really don't help at all.

I've tried the apps. I've put myself out there. I've said yes to dates, said yes to social events, said yes to being set up.

I really have tried. I'm still trying.

But the missing is still there. I haven't found a way to make it go away.

I don't have a solution, I don't have an answer, I don't have a line that makes it better.

The missing? It feels like tension. It feels like anticipation. It feels like expectation. It feels like a little flame in what usually seems dark, and it feels like holding on to hope. It feels like believing the best in people, and giving people a chance. It feels like asking questions and staying open and learning to let things go. It feels like a reminder we were never meant to be alone, and it feels like a line drawing me back closer to my Maker. It feels like a whisper of things unfulfilled, and it feels like a prayer on repeat, too. It can feel overwhelming, and it can feel reassuring too. It can feel like a nudge to say no when things don't quite click, and it can feel like a gentle push to say yes because who knows what might happen. It feels like a reminder He has more for me than I've dared to dream for myself, and a promise that He is faithful even in the waiting, like He will still be faithful even if the missing never goes away.

So, there's a missing I feel somewhere deep inside me.

I'm learning nothing will quite erase it or replace it, but that I can live in the thick of the tension. I can even dare to thrive in it, despite my wanting to be rid of it.

The missing is there.

I'm learning to talk about it. I'm learning to acknowledge it, to appreciate it, to accept it. I'm learning to live with it, to live through it, to live in it.

And maybe one day, the missing will be gone, and there will be a person that replaced it, and I'll realize this missing mattered. Or maybe the missing will be a lifelong companion instead, and I'll realize even then, the missing matters still.

In all that the missing means, may it most of all mean I'm holding on to hope, clinging to Christ, staying faithful to follow Him, and staying open to opportunities as they come.

May I live in the missing well.

May my heart still stay soft.

May I stay open.

And while the missing may matter, may it never lessen all the rest life holds for me.