That was my nickname for the longest six months of my life. Or DD for short. Seriously. I never really share this with people (so you know I must be sure that I’ll never meet one of you love you readers) because even now I get so embarrassed just remembering that DD was ever a thing *shudders*. When I was about 11 the kids I knew coined that term for me as I thought myself deeply in love with the one of the other kids on the playground and, ugh, it was the cringiest thing ever. I swore to never be desperate in love again.
You’d think I would have learnt from that situation but no. Here I am some twelve years later and I’m still desperate. Desperate to have the job I actually want. Desperate to fast forward from this awkward I-don’t-quite-know-what-I’m-doing-in-life-or-where-it’s-going moment to the bit where I have 2.5 kids, a white picket fence and a man that adores me. This post is about contentment. It’s quite funny because one minute I’ll be very content with life and firm in the knowledge that God has me right where I’m supposed to be, then a series of events will occur that leave me dissatisfied with life and desperate for things I wasn’t pining for the week before. No one told me contentment was something you had to work on and renew constantly when I started this Christian thing. I’m rather disgruntled.
Disgruntled. Dissatisfied. Desperate. Sigh.
When I realised I was in this space (again) I knew what I had to do (because I’ve worked through it before). This week, I set about reminding myself of God’s promises for me, of who I am to Him; remembering how far he’s brought me and all the things that he’s done for me that used to be more than enough but that I’ve now taken for granted. I’ve reminded myself that really, I’m suffering from a hefty dose of entitlement whereas I’ve been given more than I deserve (namely a eternal life spent with Jesus instead of the wages of sin, which is death). And yet, the desperation continued.
Until this evening (a few evenings ago depending on when you’re reading this) when a tiny, tiny voice whispered to me that nothing good ever came out of being desperate. Whatchu mean?!!! Of course good things can come from being desperate. Desperation pushes all kinds of people to survive and succeed. Desperation brings about action which invariably brings about results, right? Desperate for a job, so apply anywhere. Desperate for a man, so date anything anyone. Desperate for a change, so do everything within your power to be different to what you naturally are.
So often, we mistake determination for desperation. When has accepting a (terrible) job offer out of desperation, even when you know it isn’t right for you, do any good? When has finding a significant other, out of desperation, ever lead to a fulfilling relationship? Uhm. Yeah that would be never. I haven’t really had time to gather empirical evidence but I’m pretty certain that the decisions we make out of desperation worsen the situation because we believe we’re out of options and we’re not thinking rationally. It is much better, I’ve decided, to be in a position of gratitude and choice. So the climb back onto the wagon of contentment continues because quite frankly, desperation is not cute. Not even when it comes to God. As He told me this evening, don’t be desperate for me Daughter, desire me.
Determination. Desire. Daughter.