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Often the pain that accompanies singleness is a deep, sudden jab into my heart. This time, it’s been a slow razor, cutting lightly at first, pressing in deeper over time. The pain is familiar and I commit myself once again to handling it better this time, with more grace, with less bitterness. Though I’m at all not sure I can.

One of my closest friends, a woman with whom I have trudged through the singleness muck, recently entered into what could be a significant dating relationship with a wonderful man. I know he’s a wonderful man because I introduced them. Score one point for the matchmaker, zero for my ability to match myself. I’m here to attest that yes, it is possible to rejoice for a friend and weep for oneself at the same time.

The pain comes from the realization that once again, I was not picked. Someone else was. God decided He was ready to provide this amazing thing for her, while He continues to insist I wait. And I am genuinely happy for her. She has waited a long time too. Yet in the reality of my heart, I am full of questions. Do you see me, God? Do you have no regard for the desires of my heart? How long, O Lord? I have tried and tried, but I don’t know how to fully surrender this desire. How do I surrender it and yet maintain hope that you may yet answer?

God spoke through a memory. I was probably 10 or 11, away for the summer at Camp Seafarer on the coast of North Carolina. Our counselors planned an initiation ceremony for all the girls in Cabin 12. We were blindfolded and led away from the cabin to a grassy area a short distance away. They had us sit in a circle on the grass and instructed us to wait silently until Christy, one of the counselors, came and touched us on the head. Then, when you felt your head touched, you were to get up and you would be led, still blindfolded, back to the cabin for the exciting initiation celebration. Excitement hung in the air as Christy tapped the first girl on the head. I heard the girl stand and quietly walk away. A short time later, Christy returned. I held my breath in anticipation as she quietly placed her hand on the head of another girl, who then stood and was also led away.

Every time I heard Christy returning, I remember hoping she would pick me. Time after time she would come and pick another girl. Each time my heart sank just a little bit. As the group got smaller and smaller, I started to get sad and scared. Why wasn’t I being picked? I wondered. What was going on in the cabin that I was missing out on? How long would it be before it was my turn? It seemed like hours (though of course it could not have been) that I waited as one by one, sixteen girls were touched on the head and led back to the cabin.

Finally, I had to peek out from underneath my blindfold, to see how many more girls were left. As I’d suspected, it was now down to just two of us, another camper and me. As I heard Christy returning, my stomach clenched with both anticipation and fear. Would I be passed over again? Maybe, just maybe, it might be my turn this time.

I heard her steps getting closer. And then silence for a moment. I held my breath until I heard it-the sound of the only other remaining girl standing, and being led away. No words were spoken. I was left blindfolded. And alone.

It was then that I began to cry. Silent tears flowed from my eyes and streamed down my face. Why was I last? I didn’t want to be last. It’s wasn’t fair. Why wasn’t I important? Couldn’t she see how much I needed to be picked? How much I needed to be noticed?

When I heard Christy’s steps coming my direction just two minutes later, I was too disheartened to care. I was last. It was a fact. It could not be changed. Silently, I stood as she touched my head. She led me all the way into the cabin full of cheering girls before she removed my blindfold and noticed my tears. “Oh sweetie,” she said gently, “Don’t cry.” She gave me a hug, realizing instantly the reason for my tears. “I chose you to be last,” she said. “I thought you would be able to handle it better than anybody else in the whole group.”

Though I still carried the lingering pain from waiting, the knowledge that my going last had a purpose somehow eased my sorrow. I wasn’t last because I was unimportant or overlooked. I was last because my counselor had viewed a quiet strength in me. Even though I view her assessment of my strength as incorrect, the point is still valid. There was, in the mind of my leader, a purpose in her method of choosing.

Remembering the feeling of waiting in that circle for it to be my turn, I realized it was the same feeling I get today watching as my friends are chosen and led away from the circle of singleness, while I remain.

“I chose you to be last.” The words echoed through my mind. Is that what God is saying to me about being single? That I may have to go last, that I may have to continue to wait on marriage as other people continue to receive, but that He has a definite and specific purpose in it?

The truth is, I still don’t want to be last. But the question remains: am I willing to wait for as long as God chooses? Am I willing to remain single for another year? For another five years? For another ten? Forever? The questions get harder to answer in the affirmative, yet I know that is the answer the Father seeks. Not my will, but Yours, Lord. As hard as it may be. I know He has a purpose greater than I can imagine.

As my friends continue to fall in love and I continue to wait, I can choose to embrace the opportunity to lean ever more deeply into the arms of my God. Yes, He sees me, sitting in the grass, blindfolded and waiting with faith. The fact that I don’t understand His ways doesn’t negate the trustworthiness of His plan. Yes, Lord, I will go last if You call me to for I am reminded of your words to your beloved disciples, “But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first.” (Mt. 19:30)