The other night’s conversation has been brewing on my mind. I was asked about what I really want in a guy or in a relationship and to consider these that I might pray in specifics.
I want an abundance of teaching moments. I have a great love for learning, particularly when it comes to the things of God. I didn’t grow up having mature believers as parents and it would be nice to have that spiritual feeding within my future family.
I want someone who is missions-minded. I have been working on letting my money do the work so that it might become self-sustaining someday. I have also been exploring geography-independent (but coffee- and WiFi-dependent) work so that I won’t necessarily be office-based. The dream is to die doing missionary work.
I want lots and lots of laughter. I love crazy people and I love people who could communicate a joke with just a look. I want someone who can pull me back to sanity when I get too serious and I want someone who can get inside jokes and geeky or nerdy references. I adore wit.
The gist of those three were what I shared and they are based on visions of the future. But last night, I went to a user experience society session and both speakers mentioned history, personal and accumulated. Historical data influences the story.
I forgot to mention that I want someone who is physically attractive, but perhaps I didn’t need to. But I find it important because in the only committed relationship I had been in, he had eyes for another. I want to be content with whom I’ll be with and I do realize that this is only the external circumstance.
I want long drives and sound trips and conversations. I want spontaneity. I had these with someone I was almost (and shouldn’t be) with. I want togetherness in a journey.
I want adventure. I want waterfall treks and music festivals.
I want tears. I want rebukes and confessions. I want the sharing and sharpening of souls. I want vulnerability and comfort. I want the lending of strength.
I haven’t given these much thought for some time because I had too many close calls to love and to death. But I’m still here and He makes me whole. Maybe I should dare draw near to the One who bottles my tears.