This past week, I spent my time in Jamaica on a missions trip. I came in with these expectations of what I thought my week would look like, but as usual, God planned on showing me something completely different.
To everyone who doesn't already know, I don't exactly love children. Shocking, I'm sure, but the fact of the matter is, I'm not the #1 Babysitter. I've been told time and time again that "I'll never find a man if I keep doing (insert gross habit, immature humor, indepence, etc. here)." If God made me into this person, why would He want me to change to be with someone I've been told He's handpicked for me? I've made my intentions very clear about my future; my lack on interest in children and even marriage seem to surprise most women, but like Paul said in 1 Corinthians 7, you don't have to get married. In fact, singleness is a gift and those who are single are able to do so much more for God, because they have the time to do so. Don't get me wrong, I have my selfish reasons to remain single; I'd prefer a corner office, loft in the city and vacation to Europe.
This past week, I was ready for God to show me I've been lazy or something, how to fix it and in the end, I'd be closer to Him because of it. Instead, while I built houses alongside Jamaicans, for whatever reason, God kept bringing children to mind. Every night, we had courtyard and Jamaicans were invited to come to the house and hang out with us. I met all kinds of people, but kept my focus on the adult women. The next day on the jobsite, God brought up my own nephews. I thought, God forbid, if anything were to ever happen to my brother or sister, I would be willing to help out with my nephews. Not single-handedly raise them, but I'd allow them come over to my place for an hour or so on Saturdays. I shared this with the group the next morning before we went out to our serving opportunities and I got some funny looks, I know it doesn't sound like much, but that's a step for me.
That day on the job, there was a little girl at the house I was working at. Her name was Gabi and she was about 7-years-old. She helped me shovel cement, dig marl and smooth the walls--or at least she tried. In all honesty, she was in the way. She kept throwing the cement in the wrong piles, was mixing up sifted marl with the unsifted and dented a few of the walls. I knew right at that moment I spoke too soon, that's it, only a half hour on Mondays for the nephews. I wasn't exactly nice to her, either, but for whatever reason, she liked me. She wouldn't leave me alone, always wanting to hold my hand and hugging me. Eventually I learned how to deal with it and I just talked to her like I would talk to an adult. She wasn't so bad, she just didn't know what she was doing, and I wasn't telling her to do otherwise. Yet, still, I made it very apparent I don't want kids, and told more people than I ever had I don't ever want to get married, usually out of context, too. I was trying to avoid whatever it was God was trying to tell me.
If you were to ask me, I'd tell you I gave the reins to God years ago. I've become content with the hand I've been dealt, but one thing God showed me this week is that I've misinterpreted some of the things He's promised me. That just because I want a corner office and peace of mind forever, just because that isn't conventional doesn't mean that's what He wants for me. I know the waiting list for those things are much shorter for young Christiain women, but that doesn't mean it's in my future, who knows, maybe it is. But as of now, I'm no longer preparing my heart for the life I had planned out, but preparing for today, because that's all that's promised to me.
