Knowing that it'll happen, that's nice. In fact, it's wonderful. To live under a cloud, a shadow of doubt, always wondering if dreams are meant to be, that sounds like Hell to me. To know, to have confirmation, to hear the voice of God, the voice that tells you, "It'll happen," that's wonderful. It's fantastic. But when the voice doesn't say when, when the voice just hangs out there and makes you wonder, "How long will I have to wait?", that's tough, too. I think I know why He does it, though. He wants me to have faith. He wants me to trust. It's really hard. To be made like this, and to feel this way, without any outlet, without any visible deliverance on the horizon, that is a horrible feeling. I have equated it with the feeling of having battery acid poured into the ventricles of your heart.

Do I trust Him? Yes. Do I have faith that He will come through? Beyond words. But that doesn't take away the ache. When the Israelites knew they would reach the Promised Land, did it make their feet hurt any less as they walked? Did it make their homesickness go away? Did it make their desires for living in a place other than desert vanquish? I don't think so. But they trusted God. They put their faith in God. God's dependable. He doesn't back down on His promises. If He says it, it will happen.

It is hard. I won't ever deny that. I may tell people, "It's easy," but I'm lying through clenched teeth. It's hard. Every day it's hard, and sometimes it is almost so hard that it's suffocating. Is it a test? Perhaps; for these moments draw me closer to the heart of God. It is hard because I once was in a circle of friends who were just like me in desires and circumstances, yet now I am alone... alone again. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy--ecstatic!--for my friends who romance lives are looking up. I am excited that God has reached into their lives and blessed them (as I know He will do for me one of these days, sooner or later).

I've just been waiting six years, and it's been a hard six years. Every year gets harder. I know there's light at the end of the tunnel, but I just can't see it. I am suspended in darkness. I pray that God will guide me in the darkness, for I am blind alone. Perhaps she and I are in the same tunnel, and He will guide us right into one another, with such bluntness that it will hurt. Maybe we will be in this tunnel together, and we will cling to each other for dear life (and maybe He will smile and laugh in joy over it all, because it's what He had in mind all along).