God's Plans for Me Not According to my Plan

I am 35 and single. I've always been plan-oriented. I like to know how my days will go and be able to check things off the list. I've made certain plans that I wanted to achieve before the age of 30. Good job out of college? Yes. Married by 30? Yes. Family of my own? No. Divorced? Sadly by 30. 

Unfortunately, that's not how life works. Life doesn't work according to a plan, at least not our own. We have very little that we can control (our emotions, thoughts, feelings, opinions), but the big picture is something out of our control.

I have a lot of fear of the unknown. But I have to have faith that God has great plans for me if I trust in Him. I don't know how much time I have on this earth, but I'm 35 and I want to be remarried again and have a family of my own. I want to have a good paying job that makes me happy, related to music. I want to travel the world and meet all kinds of people everywhere.

I want so much of this life, and I hope that I can find happiness again. But maybe that's where solitude is a necessity for my recovery: I've had so many failed relationships with men after my divorce in December 2006, that I need a time out from all of that. Maybe I need to recognize the possibility that I may be single for the rest of my life. But I won't be alone. I have family and friends that care for me. What else do I really need in this life?

Michael, my Guardian Angel

Today I had a good cry. Memories of my troubled marriage came flooding. I was back to a time when I had no hope for living and tried to starve myself to death. My father in law Michael was my guardian angel: he would come over to our house and annoy me to leave and have some food with him. I had no appetite for food, and certainly didn't want to have anything to do with him. Mike was a loving and dear man. When the rest of my ex-husband's family thought I was being a drama queen, Mike convinced them that it was very real, and I needed their love and support. I regret that I never saw him in his final days: he passed in March 2009. At the time, our civic choir was singing Requiem, both Mozart's and Brahms'. I dedicated my concert to his memory. I think of him going into battle for me. In fact, I believe he is always near. I will never forget the conversations we always had about musicals: we were the only ones who knew about South Pacific (I was nicknamed his "Polynesian flower") or anything of that genre. Maybe I'm thinking of him right now because he passed on about this time. God has a funny way of doing that. But I will allow the tears to fall in memory of a great man.

I love you, Michael. I miss you. I'm sorry I didn't visit you in those last days. I was too scared to see your withered form eaten by the cancer. Forgive me. I miss you, and hope you will always watch over me every day. Please help me fight my battles as I work on my personal recovery from a troubled and broken heart.