Today's guest post is from Katy Boatman over at Single, Party of One.

Katy is a 20-something lover of Jesus, music, Nashville, Mexican food, and funny people. She works full-time in the publishing industry by day, and is the author of Single, Party of One by night.

She’s never met a cheesecake she doesn’t like, and she fully believes chocolate fountains should instead be filled with queso. She’s quiet, but not shy; tall, but not mighty; and laid-back, but not lazy. Katy thinks any musical performance is made better by a back-up gospel choir in robes, she listens to Broadway shows while she works, and she really wishes she could play the drums.

Katy majored in “Talking Out Loud” at Georgia College (she has a B.A. in Rhetoric), and she hails from the home of the Masters golf tournament. She moved to Nashville in June of 2009, and Music City has given her incredible friendships, a job she never knew she wanted, a church she loves, and place she’s proud to call home.

 

[dropcap]W[/dropcap]ith a tall chai tea latte in hand and a good friend sitting in the chair across from me, I dove into the topic that so often consumes my conversations: singleness. My friend and I hadn’t seen in each other in months, and the last time we had a good catch-up, I was navigating my way through a new relationship, and she was deciding which guy from her community group would be the likely candidate for her new crush. Now, with five months behind us, and break-ups written in our journals, we talked through the usual: “What now?”

We were both happy with life’s events, and confident that being single was still a journey worth cultivating and not ignoring. As we sat there, though, my friend made a comment that made my stomach turn a bit. She said, “Well, the way I see it, singleness seems to be a disease for people our age, but knowing I’m not the only one that has it makes me feel better. It’s like an epidemic.”

While she may be correct that most people we hang out with are single, I’m not sure I want to refer to my singleness as a disease. I don’t usually find myself wishing illness on others or myself.

Let’s pretend for a second that singleness is like the chicken pox. [I mean it does make your skin crawl sometimes, right?] Are your friends catching it from you? Is that why I feel myself wishing I didn’t have it? When my friend gets it, am I excited to have someone understand how uncomfortable I am or am I sad that they have to experience the pain? Can people see the scars these pox are leaving? Can they tell I’m sick by just looking at me?

Look here, folks. Here’s the truth. You’re not sick. You’re not contagious. You’re just single.

Will broken relationships leave scars? They sure will. But God knows how to make beautiful things out of broken pieces. I guarantee He’ll do the same with your scars.

Are we experiencing an epidemic of singleness? That may only be in your head. It’s true that young adults are staying single longer, and marrying later, but I wouldn’t call that an epidemic.

I can’t promise you marriage. I can’t promise you Prince Charming. I can’t even promise you a date for next weekend. What I can tell you, though, is that if we see singleness as a disease, we’ll never be able to get past the itching, the oatmeal baths, and the scars. We’ll be forced to put socks on our hands to prevent us from scratching and we’ll find ourselves hanging out alone, so that our friends won’t catch it. No one called you to that kind of lifestyle. You are so much more than that. And you are so much more than your relationship status.

Live a life that shows you believe that.

[box_dark]If you would like to submit a guest post to illuminate, e-mail christen {at} theuncontainabletruth {dot} com.[/box_dark]

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