I’ve got no words, I’ve lost my “muchness,” and there isn’t much wonder in the journey anymore. I’m trying to recapture the amazement I once cradled in my hands, and I think the only way to do that is to dwell on things that never fail to amaze me. Today I determine to be awed and amazed and purposely thankful for…
Family that is never far away, though we live many miles apart.
People who have entered my life for a brief season, but left permanent imprints on my heart.
Bird songs and butterflies (and those other tiny miracles that inspire the largest of smiles).
Little children who shape my heart with their messy, world-changing hands.
Music created by a rippling creek.
Thunderstorms rolling in over the marsh.
The tender, fragile sound of an infant’s cry.
Cool grass under bare toes.
Cheesecake. (Need I say more?)
A world that is much smaller than it first appears.
“Bicycle flowers” and the sweet scent they bring.
Ocean waves lapping against the shore.
The soothing, healing qualities of human touch.
Stories that tell truths.
Things that rock and swing and spin.
A voice that sings and feet that dance (and musicals that set them in motion).
And for a God who lowered Himself into the darkness to bring us a hope that would carry us through each day.
Today, I am thankful.
It has been over ten months since I’ve prayed a heartfelt, in-depth prayer for my future husband. That may seem crazy to you as it does seem to go against every book you’ll find on waiting for Prince Charming. I thought I was crazy myself, at first. But it can’t be any more crazy than how crazy I felt back when I was faithfully praying for my knight in shining armor. I didn’t stop praying because I got the impression that the man I will one day marry is above falling, but because I know how prone I am to fall myself. When I was consistently praying for my future husband, I was constantly thinking about him. And because I thought of him so often, I got to a point where I wasn’t content with living without him. That’s why I dropped the specific prayers. That’s why I shredded the list of things I wanted in a husband. Maybe it’s the novelist in me, but when I write a guy out on paper, he becomes real and eventually becomes all I think about. But he shouldn’t be all I think about during this stage of my life. That’s why when it comes to this delicate subject of waiting, I decided to, well, stop waiting. If I’m going to live in this moment here and now, I can’t be dwelling on a future with him. 
Beyond Waiting 