It was a huge honor. And, honestly, a fearsome thing.

When Larissa, the editor of Christian Single magazine, called and told me they wanted to feature me on their cover, I was pleasantly shocked.

And then slightly horrified. Mainly due to the timing. Before the interview and the photo shoot took place, I got laid off from my job of 15 years. Then I went to China for 16 days for a church trip. So by the day of the big photo shoot a couple days after my return, I was unemployed, jet-lagged, weighing 20 pounds more than I wanted to. And now being crowned the Queen of the Single People.

Say cheese!

Driving myself to the photo studio the day of the shoot, I remember telling myself to just get over myself and own it. During my 15 years on a magazine editorial staff, I'd been present at many photo shoots where the cover girl obviously felt self-conscious (a feeling I especially get now). And I'd seen some of the resulting deer-in-the-headlights pictures.

Just pretend like you belong here, I kept telling myself. (A mantra that's gotten me through many daunting situations in life.)

I tried my best to do just that when I met the handsome photographer with the funky-cool studio. When the stylist showed me the clothes I'd wear (while I silently prayed I'd fit into them). When the hair and make-up woman started approaching my head with various implements, offering a running commentary along the way: stubby lashes, decent skin, nice lips. When all three of them asked who I was that I was being put on the cover of this magazine.

And as this trio of experts, along with the Christian Single art director, stood staring at me when it was time to start snapping pictures. 

The running commentary in my head during the shoot went something like this: I belong here. I wonder if I should tell the photographer about my squinty right eye. I really do belong here. What am I supposed to be doing with my arms? Stop being so self-conscious; you know where real worth comes from. They can photo-shop out a double chin, right?

And then after an hour or so it was over.

Months passed. No job came. A dreamy guy did, then departed my dating scene. I melted down a time or two.

And just as the cover-girl opportunity dropped out of the sky with such interesting timing, so did the arrival in my mailbox. I was six months unemployed and still stinging a bit from the dating rejection when I first saw my smiling face on the magazine cover.

After marveling at the weirdness of me on a magazine cover, I quickly flipped it open to check out the rest of the shots. There I was on the opening spread of the article, kicking up my heels and laughing. I think it may have been a bit of nervous laughter, honestly. As in, "You want me to kick up my heels? Really?" But here on the page in front of me, the nervousness wasn't obvious. I just looked happy and confident. The me I want to be. The me I am on my better days.

Suddenly I remembered the words author and Bible teacher Beth Moore said in an interview I'd conducted with her just the month before. I'd been assigned to write the interview for another magazine in conjunction with Beth's forthcoming book on insecurity.

During the course of the interview, I'd really enjoyed Beth's definition of a secure woman, borrowed from Proverbs 31: She is clothed with strength and dignity and can laugh at the days to come. That line had become a mantra of sorts for me as I sent out resumes and cover letters. As I drove to and from a first date and then a second. As I taught a class on singleness at Willow Creek, a decided step outside my normal comfort zone.

But here on the glossy pages of the magazine was a woman laughing. At the present realities of unemployment and singleness and sturdy thighs. At whatever craziness or wonderfulness the future might hold.

And she was me.

And she seemed to be reminding me that God's timing is often so not what I anticipate, but that he's always got something up his sleeve. Like reminding one of his daughters that even in the midst of rejection and unemployment, she's still okay. Even better than okay, really. Secure in his plan and his love.

And able to laugh at the days to come.