The Chosen Ones

Anytime, Ironman. Anytime.

So last night I had this great dream in which I was dating Tony Stark, and not like one of those novel-dreams where you're just a character. It was me, actual me. Dating Tony Stark/Ironman (and of course, it was Robert Downey Jr.). There was this great conversation in the dream in which he let me know that he was leaving Pepper Potts for me.


We'll leave the details there. Use your imagination.


I woke up this morning with extended warm fuzzies I couldn't quite put my finger on. I don't really have that big of a thing for RDJ. I'd pick up Captain America any day of the week over Ironman. Regardless, he is pretty attractive. I think it's the goatee.

No, the warm fuzzies came from a much deeper place: I was chosen.

This is the concept everything aimed at women hinges on: This person who is (unattainable/gorgeous beyond reason/a vampire/a super hero/an uber-power BDSM addict/whatever) chose you, normal average woman with no special characteristics of her own. He wants you.

It plays into every insecurity every woman has ever had. And it leaves you dying of fear that you have no power: It was his choice to come. It will be his choice to leave. And he will leave, because you are nothing and he is Everything.

(Good stories now depart and the woman learns she is Everything on her own without him and she makes an empowered choice and becomes a better person, and he realizes that really their strength is in togetherness and etc. Bad stories go on to be "Twilight.")


The heart of my deepest insecurities come from feeling un-chosen. Overlooked. Bad at sports. Not great with friends. Not thin. Not pretty. Didn't date. Always pinning for someone who didn't pine back. Striving for achievement so I could have Something. So I could not fail.

My dad left when I was 13, and I felt rejected. He chose someone else over us.

I ran hard after the first guy to look at me, and he changed his mine.

I clung to the next guy and fiercely defended a toxic relationship for three years because he wanted me. He chose me! Until he didn't. (And, I did get to make a slightly empowered decision and run like hell).

I am haunted by the moments where I wasn't chosen much more than by the moments I was: Not picked to be editor of the school paper. Not promoted. Not promoted. Given more duties but not promoted. Not chosen.

I am happily married to a man who says he did choose me, but I still downplay it in my mind.

Ultimately I still feel unworthy to be someone's choice. If someone chose me, there has to be some other reason.

And that's just the miracle of God, isn't it? That we all feel so unworthy, so insecure. That we all scramble to Get Picked. Be successful and happy and married or not married or kids or no kids, all of these benchmarks we create for ourselves mean we are Worthy. We've made it. Someone, some job, some thing, chose us.

All of this would be so much less painful if we could just rest in the peace that God chose us. The God who created everything. The God who made air. The God who made stars. Chose you. Chose me. For no reason more than that He loves us and enjoys our company so much that He'd like us to hang out with Him for eternity.

And we can't grasp that because it's so big and esoteric and Out There and we have a hard time holding on to it when we're feeling rejected and unloved.


But no matter how down you feel, do hold on to it: God chose you. God. Chose. You. You were picked. You are loved. He leaves the 99 on the hill and comes after you. He sought you. He wants to give you everything.

He's not going to leave when you fall down. When you are ungraceful. When you are unloveleable. He's still here.

You have been chosen.