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December 1, 2003 Dear Gabby, I think I may be the most indecisive girl in the United States of America. I have been engaged before, and I am on the brink of engagement once again. Now, I am starting to second-guess myself. I see happy couples head over heels for each other all around me. They all seem so picture-perfect. I have known my boyfriend for several years and, up until last year I would not have thought twice about dating him. But he never gave up on me and I've now started seeing things in him that I want in my future husband. We share the same life goals and dreams. I know he loves me more than anyone on earth. I love him also, and I know I would be completely happy with him. My question is--where are the butterflies? Where are the stars in my eyes when I look at him? I think I get confused when I compare us to the other couples around us, the ones who are "head over heels" for each other. Is that the way it is supposed to be? Sincerely, Hopelessly Indecisive in Hawaii Dear Miss Hawaii, When I learned to drive at 48 years old, my dear Harry taught me on his beautiful brand-new "toy," a buttercup yellow 1953 Mercury Montclair convertible he'd christened "Buttercup Baby." Baby and I bounced happily along the roads in our town, taking the curves wide and barely missing countless other cars, trees, signs, and who knows what else? Harry was constantly nervous about his Baby and usually preferred to drive me around himself. I was perfectly happy with that arrangement since I loved spending time with him. It was twenty years later, just a few months before he went to be with the Lord, that Harry decided that I needed a car of my own. I think he probably knew that he wasn't going to be with me much longer and, because he loved me so much, he wanted to be sure that I'd be okay. (And he probably thought that, if I had my own car, his might continue to survive--even after his own demise!) Buying a car was a trying experience, I must say. Harry was a detail-oriented kind of man, and he came home with information about all kinds of cars. He sat me down and inundated me with facts about engines and tires and cylinders and lubes and gauges and every doo-hickey you can imagine. It was more than I could take in. Besides, what did I care about how it worked, as long as it did? After awhile, he saw the glassy look in my eyes and realized he'd lost my attention, so he changed tactics. The next week, he took me out to a couple car lots in town and showed me what was available. There was a blue one I liked and a white one with very nice chrome that I could imagine myself driving. There was also a red car with a very loud horn. (I scared Harry and the car salesman when I tested it out, and it's a wonder that Harry didn't expire right on the spot!) The problem with taking me to the car lot, though, was that there were so many wonderful possibilities that I couldn't decide which one I liked. My poor dear Harry was exasperated with me. The next week, he took me to the table, set a sheet of paper and pencil in front of me and announced that I was to write down everything I wanted in a car, to write down the things I cared most about. He'd pick out a car for me using what I wanted and what he'd learned. So I did. While Harry hovered over me, reading over my shoulder, I wrote about how I wanted the car to look nice and to start every time I needed it, whether it was cold or hot outside. I didn't want to have to constantly take it to our town's mechanic, Mr. Skip Lindahl--even though he was a nice man and his wife and I traded recipes all the time. I also wrote that it had to be comfortable to sit in and have convenient controls. I wanted four doors and a nice big trunk for my purchases. I wanted a radio and a loud horn. I looked at the paper for a few minutes longer, chewing on the end of my pencil, and then set it down, leaning back in the chair. "That's all?" Harry asked me. "I can't think of anything else," I said. "No wonder you couldn't choose," he said. "You didn't know what you wanted." Harry picked up my paper and, telling me he'd be back soon, went out the front door. He returned a couple of hours later driving a pretty red car. He walked in and handed me a set of keys. And that was that. From that day to this, I've driven that car, although I don't drive much any more. I haven't looked for another one. My red car has everything on my list, as well as things that Harry made sure I had--even though I didn't know I needed them. I still don't know what kind of car it is, although I know I could look at the paperwork and find out. But it doesn't matter to me. It's what I wanted and that was enough. When other people show me their cars and the exciting things their cars do, it's been interesting, but not interesting enough to make me want to trade my car for theirs. Who needs bells and whistles when you already have what's perfect for you? Miss Hawaii, it sounds to me like you don't know what you want. I truly believe that when you get that figured out, you'll quit looking around at what other people have and be thankful for what you have. This man in your life may be God-made just for you. How can you know? Maybe you should follow Harry's example with me and sit down with a paper and pencil. Then take a good look at the man you have and see. Just remember, stars in the eyes have a tendency to blind you to the reality of God's true gift. Sincerely Sincere, Gabby Dear Gabby, I'm a young woman who feels called to missions but I've heard over and over that it's not right for women to be in ministry. What do you think? Confused in Connecticut Dear Miss Connecticut, Our church's youth department has a program where the young men and women visit the widows for two hours a week to help them with whatever needs to be done. It's a wonderful plan that's designed straight from the scriptures. The kids help with cleaning, painting, moving things, raking leaves, cleaning out gutters, any household chores that are difficult for the widow to accomplish alone. I've been a widow for almost three decades and have enjoyed the assistance of many, many young folks during those years. Some have arrived with enthusiasm, anxious to get a lot accomplished. Others have come with a bad attitude, forced into the program by their parents. Those young folks spend the afternoon dragging their feet and trying not to break a sweat. Which ones have been the biggest help to me? That's easy. The ones who arrive with a heart of a servant. I don't care if they are young men or young women, as long as they came ready to work. I believe, Miss Connecticut, that God doesn't have a preference for missionaries of one gender or the other, either. He just wants a willing worker with the heart of a servant. If you feel called to missions and want to work hard in your service to God, go ahead and make yourself available. There's plenty to do! Sincerely Sincere, Gabby
ninetyandnine.com © 2003, ninetyandnine.com --------- Gabrigail VanBurden has been offering advice for longer than most of you have been alive. Email your practical Apostolic life questions to Gabby@ninetyandnine.com and be prepared for some straight answers! |
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