the best thing

Telling the difference between the worst thing and the best thing is simple. Make the lists (mental, or - if you're me - actual lists), weigh the pros and cons, and choose. But there are sometimes more ambiguous choices to be made - between good and best. And over the past few months, I've come to see that telling the difference between a good thing and the best thing is entirely, maddeningly more difficult. It is times like these that I wish God still utilized burning bushes, or his audible voice. Not that I am naive enough to think that hearing God's voice or seeing miracles would make me less likely to choose the worst thing. I am a notoriously bad chooser.

I was talking with a good friend last night who just had her second baby. We sat on her sofa while her usually busy two-year-old was napping, her newborn crying and pooping and nursing. I shared with her my dating woes, about the search for the "best thing" in that regard. That punch of excitement that hits you in the gut every time someone comes to mind, the nervous twittering that you just can't stop when you know you're about to see them. Though I know that eventually fades the more you know a person and become increasingly comfortable with them, shouldn't you start there? Is knowing that you'll be safe and cared for and loved enough without that initial fire? These are the questions I've been wrestling with, which - for now, at least - I've decided are answered with a "yes." I want it, need it even. My friend agreed, and seeing how I adore validation, that felt really good. She had that with her husband, and now that they are five years and two kids in, she appreciates the partnership she has with him. The fact that she doesn't have to ask him to help with the children, or cook dinner when she is too tired. He is her partner in this life. Maybe not what she expected to be the best thing, but such a beautiful gift from God.

As much as I long for love and companionship, I wonder if I don't equally long for the end of the ambiguity. The constant, nagging droan of the unsure and the not yet. Not only in love, but in life. I want my choices laid out before me, and for them to be the obvious choice of worst vs. best. I want to choose and know I've chosen wisely, and move on to the next thing. But I guess that would make life too robotic and sterile, not to mention cater to my impatience and greed. In the end, I serve a king who knows the best choice, and has already chosen it for me. And to that I say, "I believe, help my unbelief."