Peter and I have been married for almost a year and a half. We pulled away this week to write and dream and plan. It’s one of our rhythms. Checking in, evaluating, and prioritizing our values in each season.

Marriage has been really good to us. I have an advantage though. I waited a really long time.

It took me a while to change my name after I got married. I dreaded the hoops and forms and processes and red tape. So I put it off.

But I’d waited a long time to be a wife. Long enough that I eventually made my way to the Social Security office to start the process. (Confession: That's as far as I got.) Government offices have a reputation for a reason.

 

Take a Number

When I got there, I signed in and "took a number." Number 492. That seemed high, but I guess it all depends on where you start. I made a fatal error at this point though. I assumed that the numbers would go in order.

I was wrong.

You guys. They called number 485. And then 1142. And then 29J. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to their process and I sat there and felt waves of frustration wash over me.

It wasn’t fair.  So I started keeping track. I calculated who had come in before me and decided it was ok if they were called first. I saw a mom with five kids called back. She had come in after me, but she did have five kids with her. I could let that one slide. But then I watched a new woman walk in and take a number. Her tush barely hit her seat before her number came up. She was in and out in less time than it took me to write this blog. That was not ok 

And I started wondering. Did they forget about me? Should I go say something? Maybe I should tell them they’re messing up the order. I sat there for hours.

Then they started a new line for everyone requesting a name change. No numbers. No tickets. No order. Just go stand in another line and start over. I didn’t know whether to leave or cry.

Mostly I just wanted to climb up on my chair in the middle of the social security office and yell,

 

“IT'S MY TURN! I was here first. I've been waiting longer. It’s.my.turn!”

 

And that felt pretty familiar. My turn got skipped a lot. 

When both my younger siblings got married before me.

When I read success stories that were supposed to be mine to write.

When I sat across the desk from hundreds of college students processing their singleness. I handed them tissues while they cried and encouraged them that their time would come. And then I celebrated when their time came before mine.

When I went after a dream and watched someone else achieve it.

When I threw baby showers (and lingerie showers and wedding showers and engagement parties) for friends 10 years younger than me.

When I sang dozens of my own friends down the aisle.

When she got the opportunity I wanted.

 

It was my turn. It was my turn. It should have been my turn.

But it wasn’t. And sometimes I did yell. Sometimes I yelled and cried and begged God to let it be my turn.

But on that day at the social security office, I didn’t yell. I didn't cry. I simply got in line and resumed my wait from a different location. 

Because sometimes my turn gets skipped. Or more accurately, we’re not actually taking turns at all. Did you think we were?

That's a dangerous place to live. Because if we're taking turns, then everyone else's success means my defeat. Someone else's gain puts me farther behind. My story becomes attached to theirs and the only way for me to get what I want is to hope that they don't.

One of the hardest parts of waiting for me is watching someone else get what I want. And (confession) I usually start to measure and compare. I justify why I deserve it more. I reason that I've been waiting longer. And I'm certain that I want it more. Ugh. It’s not pretty, but it’s true.

If we go through life ready to measure our progress against everyone else’s, we will always come up short. There will always be someone ahead of us. There will always be someone who comes out of nowhere from behind. Or, best case scenario, there will always be someone we’re trying to “beat.” Which, turns out, isn’t a very healthy way to live.

 

Faith or Fear

And here’s the thing: When someone else gets what you want, it can stir your faith or feed your fear.

It can provoke all your insecurities. It can trigger your jealousy. It can overwhelm you with bitterness, and judgment, and doubt.

Or it can remind you of what God is able to do. What if her victory actually reminded you of who He is instead of reminding you of what you lack? Cause, He’s still in the business of answering prayers. He is still, today, right now keeping his promises and giving good gifts. Even in your waiting. He will not let you fall through the cracks.

And if I’m going to climb up on a chair and shout something, these are the words I want to yell. Whether or not you see it right now. Whether it makes sense or not. Even when it seems completely out of order:

He’s still good. He’s still good. He’s still good. He hasn't forgotten you and you haven't been skipped over. Something good is coming. You can’t miss your turn!

 

So, don’t give up. Don’t leave or settle or quit. It’s just getting good.

Choose hope. Reckless, violent, unbridled hope. Hope that doesn’t fix her eyes on the other people coming and going, but on the God who still pulls off miracles. The God who is writing the most incredible story with your life.

Say it with me. This isn’t about her. It’s not about her timing or her story or her success. Her win doesn’t equal your loss. Her victory doesn't actually have any impact on your story at all. And just because her turn came first doesn't mean yours isn't coming soon. This is between you and Him. No one else.

And He hasn’t lost your number. He’d just rather call you by name.

Be honest. Do you struggle with jealousy when someone else gets what you want? How do you stay out of the comparison trap and keep your eyes on your own path?