Now Is Not Forever

On Saturday, I had a conversation with someone about the fear of growing old alone. For her, it was a big fear; for me, it’s just a thought that occasionally pops into my head. I’m single, and right now, dating is completely out of the question. Meeting someone is literally the very, very, very, very last thing on my to-do list. I have other fish to fry first. But of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally wonder what things will be like later when I’m old. If I don’t have children (and the chances of that are getting exceptionally slim, given my 36 years of age), will anyone ever come to visit me? Still, I never set up camp in those thoughts: I know I can’t predict the future or have any control over it whatsoever. The way things are today could look completely different tomorrow (or fifty years from now, in this case). Only God knows if, say, ten years from now, I’ll meet someone who has kids, and I’ll become a grandmother to their children without those little ones ever feeling like we’re not related by blood. Or maybe I’ll be part of some super loving (religious?) community and get more visitors in the nursing home than the average senior with two kids and five grandkids. Or maybe I’ll get hit by a car tomorrow, my funeral will be next week, and I’ll have wasted precious minutes today on this not-so-pleasant future-tripping.

Topics like getting old or whether or not I’ll be single in the future are things I’m pretty good at letting go of. Today, I’m young and happily single, and since I only live in the present, it’s easy for me to choose not to worry too much about tomorrow. If tomorrow turns out just like today in those specific areas, I have absolutely no problem with that. Unfortunately, it’s a different story in situations where I’m unhappy today. When something in my life is going poorly right now, causing me pain today, I easily extrapolate that into the future. Then it feels like today will never end, like it will always stay this way. To me, that feels like the ultimate truth, and that supposed certainty makes me twice as miserable.

I told the person I was talking to yesterday that there’s a reason life isn’t just one big, continuous block of time, but that God divided time into 24-hour chunks for a reason. A day and a night. That is all I need to focus on today. Tomorrow, next month, next year, things could be completely different. I simply cannot project my current situation onto the future—I just can't.

On Sunday, I attended a service at a large international Protestant church. It turned out to be Baptism Sunday. Before four people were baptized (which was truly a joyful occasion!), they shared their testimonies. Every single one of them, from the first to the last, shared a story filled with pain, loss, and spiritual death. Some were already believers when those losses occurred, which left them wondering where God was. Not an illogical question when you have to bury your toddler, if you ask me. Yet, they all also spoke of His goodness—how He turned their lives around, and how they can now see that everything happened according to His will (including the passing of that child. Yep.)

I cried. I cried during all four testimonies. Not just because I have known pain, loneliness, and brokenness myself, but because the suffering isn't over even now. I am sober, I am a believer, and I live according to God’s will, and yet situations or relationships don’t always go the way I want them to, which causes me immense sorrow. Why? Why?! Because now is not forever, that's why. Today, there seems to be no solution in sight; today, there is so much pain and sorrow that it feels like there’s no way out. But as long as I hold on to God’s will and live the way He wants me to, things are bound to work out. Maybe not the way I want, but much better. This is what I cannot see right now, but what I can choose to trust in.

In Christian songs, you sometimes hear lyrics like, "If it's not good, then it's not done," or "It's not a breakdown, it's a breakthrough." It doesn’t always feel that way, but it is true. Today’s testimonies were a reminder of that. I know well enough what kind of miracles can happen. Six years ago, I could never have imagined that I would one day no longer be depressed, suicidal, or addicted, yet today that is my reality. Two years ago, I could never have imagined ever getting over the death of a very close friend, yet it happened. Healing happens. God happens. So who is to say that my current pain, my current situation, won't lead to something beautiful, genuine, and authentic? Since when can I see into the future?

Now is not forever. Now is only for now, and the rest I must let go of. Hard, but possible.

It reminds me of the long version of the Serenity Prayer. The short version is known by many, but the long version is cherished by me. It is the prayer that will lead me whole through this storm, I trust in that.

God,
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can, 
and the wisdom to know the difference. 
Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time.
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace.
Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it.
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will.
May I be reasonably happy in this life,
and supremely happy with Him forever and ever in the next.
Amen

Am I the only one who seems to easily live in the ruins of the future? Do you ever struggle with this too? And how do you keep your feet firmly planted in the here and now, so your emotions don't take over? Feel free to let me know!