The other night I was in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling as silent tears streamed from the corners of my eyes. I was questioning and pleading with God again. All I wanted was a normal life with things I just didn’t seem destined for anytime soon, like a husband, healthcare, and a job I liked that actually made enough money to save. It was crushing me, my impending mission. I was being asked to do things I didn’t want to do. To set aside deep desires while I watched my single friends slowly slip away into matrimony and climb the ladders of their careers. There was Kingdom work to do and for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to be a part of it. In that fleeting moment of the minute hand ticking towards midnight, I wished to be ordinary. I wished for the human intimacy of a spouse, someone to cuddle up to and wipe away my tears. I wished for the security of a steady income and healthcare so that I would be prepared for the ‘what-ifs’ of life. I wanted these things, because God didn’t feel like enough.