Rejection

I've had my fair share of rejection in my life. Maybe because I've always been so bluntly honest. (My name does mean Truthful.) Whenever I liked a guy, I always ended up telling him, usually to find out that he just saw me as a "sister." And despite the fact that a couple of these guys even said things like "any guy would be nuts not to like you," I guess they identified themselves as nuts...because they didn't reciprocate my feelings.

But this never really got me down longterm. Of course, the sister line was heartbreaking in the moment, but it never made me feel more guarded in the future. My policy has always been to just be honest. If nothing else, it alleviates the game playing, the wondering, the ambiguity. Even the rejection provided a closure for me, a chance to know "nope, this isn't happening, so I can start to get over this now."

But things are different now. I realized recently that I'm much more guarded than I used to be. The rejection of the end of a marriage is far different than telling the guy who sits next to you in chapel that you're into him and having him say he's not into you. Even though in the case of my marriage, I was ready for it to be over, whereas with chapel-guy I didn't want to hear his rejection...it's still somehow harder this time.

Because when I got married I thought that was it. I was playing for keeps. This wasn't something that would end in rejection. This was for life. Or so I thought. To know that even my supposed life-long relationship ended in rejection left me a little more guarded. A little more jaded. A little more hopeless. Could I ever find a guy who likes me for me...even when the butterflies fade? (And yes, Bachelor and Bachelorette contestants, butterflies fade. Sorry to be the one to burst your bubble. No one lives happily ever after all the time.)

Most of this post-marriage period has been so good for me. So healing. Such a wonderful journey of empowerment and self-discovery. A journey toward a wholeness that I never had before. But then there's this part. This part that leaves me a little paralyzed, a little more fearful. A little less honest-ol'-Ali and a little more reserved, guarded Ali. It's a wound that may never fully heal.

But this is where I've been relishing: Ephesians 1 says that God chose me. In love he predestined me to be adopted. And get this—not just for my sake but for his pleasure. God delighted in me so much that he wanted to choose me. There will never be any rejection from God, of that I can be sure.

Singleness of Heart

My whole life, I just wanted to get married. In college for a bit, I went to a liturgical church that always ended with a prayer about going off "with gladness and singleness of heart." And even though not dating wasn't the kind of singleness the prayer meant, I used it as a reminder to me to try to be content with no significant other. But it was always a struggle to be content with that status. It never came naturally.

Now that I'm re-single, I'm finally truly content with it. I feel so blessed, so joyful, so whole. I've finally come to a place where in the core of my being, I really get that I am whole without a man.

I never used to enjoy solitude. I always fell right in the middle on introvert/extrovert tests, because I hated being alone and I hated being in big groups. One-on-one was my sweet spot. And while I still prefer one-on-one time to groups, I've discovered that being alone is pretty enjoyable. Refreshing.

I've enjoyed the time to just sit with God, to let him redefine me as the me he created me to be. And I enjoy the company of my puppies. I think one reason it's hard for me to make friends is because Peanut and Biscuit set standards too high for any human to compete with. They always get so excited to see me, are delighted to spend time with me, think I'm the greatest person ever to live, and are intrigued when I talk to them. Every time. And is there anything as heart-warming as a tail wag at your very approach? What human would ever love me like that?

But despite realizing that I'm more introverted than I used to think, I'm challenging myself to get out of my comfort zone and try to build friendships. I know that solitude is good, but not a place to perpetually be. We are made for community. Community with humans, not just puppies.

And I've realized I have some fears about the possibility of future relationships. About a month ago I started talking about Tim Tebow as a big crush. It wasn't even so much that I had a crush on him, it was that he felt safe. Because I knew that I'd probably never meet him, and the chances of any kind of relationship with him were astronomical. But, as a strong Christian man, around my age, he was a good pick. So it felt safe for me to talk about dating him because I knew I'd never have to face my fears and actually do it.

As for facing those fears? If and when God brings another man into my life, I know he'll help me conquer those fears. With most of my crushes, I've done a lot of manipulating of situations to try to make a relationship happen, and I'm done with that. God's got full reign of my love life (or lack thereof) from here on out. So if he sends a guy for me, I know he'll help me knock all those fears down. And if he doesn't? That's OK. I'll go forth with gladness and singleness of heart.

Come Define Me

"I'm an already but not yet resurrected fallen man
Come break this limbo.

I know you know just who I've been,

Come define me."

- Switchfoot

We all define ourselves some way. And I've been realizing lately that I define myself a lot more by other people than by God. I struggle with feeling whether or not people really care about me. Not strangers or acquaintances, but people I care about. Am I worth their time? Do they see me as "worth it"? Do they see past my masks to the person I am on the inside - and do they like what they see?

It's not a new thing. I'm realizing I've let guys define me for a long time. And friendships. And my job. It goes back quite far, actually. In the summer before 6th grade I made a survey to ask people whether or not they liked me, and why. And I made adjustments accordingly. Talk about letting people define you!

And even when the opinions are good, like when I've gotten some encouragement at work this week, it's not good to let those things define me.

But when I read verses like "he is slow to anger, abounding in love," my heart skips a beat. Or "I will never leave you." I leap a little inside. Even if everyone in my life abandons me, God won't. He just won't. Even if everyone in my life is angry with me, God's love abounds. No matter what other people think of me, God thinks I'm worth it. He sees past all my masks and thinks I'm beautiful. That's what I want to define me.

"I want to hear you say
Who I am is quite enough

I want to be worthy of love, and beautiful."

- Bethany Dillon