I felt it time, for my own sake more than yours, to set it down in writing. Indeed, my fingers have been too long disengaged from recording the ramblings of their devoted, though restless, friend (that is, my mind). Some people joke on the subject I am to address. Some come at it with a sincerity to be recognized. Some ignore it, quite obviously. Others care only to the extent it affects themselves. And then, there are the dear, dear folks who approach it so whole-heartedly with my interest in mind that I cannot help but ponder if they would not be better at arranging it than I ever would be. Of course the subject is marriage. Mine in particular. Whenever it is raised, by whomever and with whatever intent, my reaction is always quite schizophrenic – which is why I was driven to write it down, for it is in the writing of things that I realize, finally, what I am trying to think. “When Kristi and her husband and children come to visit us in Israel.” “Kristi, in three months you will find a good husband, inshallah.” “Older or younger than you, Kristi?” “Kristi, I was talking to this guy the other day and I thought of you.” “So, Kristi, did you ever here back from what’s-his-name?” “When are you getting married, Kristi?” And what the speaker sees is a smile and a shrug and a “Dios sabe!” (God knows) is what they always hear. But what they don’t hear, don’t see and mostly don’t know is that I am both Pleased and Annoyed By their loving attention to my single-hood. Pleased Because deep down I am romantic – quite, romantic and Romantic – in perspective on life and dreams. I don’t want people to forget that I’m still alone. And it pleases me to hear their ideas of what kind of guy I deserve. And, in truth, it’s a small comfort when sitting with three dear married friends, that they make an effort to let me vent some of my romantic ideas for my prince and my castle. They have theirs and I suppose it’s fun to imagine for another. And though I’m not inclined to be silly about boys, it is always charming to let another suggest what potential I dare not as a prince passes by. Annoyed Because I am content. I am happy. Alone, lonely, in need of help, unable to express having found none to aide in my weakness – of course. But, deeply, knowingly, in reality - content. I want my concerned friends to accept as I have that singleness is not bad and that the anticipation I have for what I can do as a single woman in my short life in this world full of work to be done is exciting! Those words don’t stem out of resignation. They are not the gravestone of buried dreams. They are my life and dreams. Hope. Anticipation. Of how God will use my little life. Not that in their expression God will suddenly decided I have learned to be content and so finally grant me the husband He has been withholding. To be used by God without changing my last name is not to be “endured”. It is good. I believe that, as I have thought through, observed and known the blessings that result from both marriage and singleness. To be content is inspiring. In uncountable ways. Teaching in countries yet to be determined, learning cultures I've never seen - is that not Romantic? But of course, text messages from Guatemala quoting songs and calling me a princess special are romantic, too. I’m only bist-du-chor. Shmo chi? | 
