I had a bad feeling from the name of the event: God's Design for Womanhood. But a cool new friend invited me to this Saturday afternoon tea and talk at her church, so I ignored my reservations and agreed to go. Surely it wouldn't be as wife- and mom-centric as I feared. As I crafted an e-mail back to my friend telling her I'd be delighted to join her, I scolded myself: You're just too cynical and jaded.

Well, turns out I wasn't this time. The talk went just about as I expected. While trying to redeem the purpose of womanhood from the world's I-am-woman-see-me-take-over-the-planet ideal, the speaker—a pastor's wife—spoke highly and at length about a woman's prize roles as wife and mother. Great things, to be sure, but not exactly the entire picture. Where's my value as one who isn't a wife or mom? I wondered. What's God's design for me, then?

To her credit, the speaker did make a couple passing comments about singles, something about there being a lot of hurting children in the world we could love on. Yeah, great.

Throughout the talk I carried on a silent conversation with Jesus, telling him I was sorry for my bad attitude and for secretly wanting to stand up on my table and bellow, "You don't get it, lady." I even prayed that I'd be open to any lessons I needed to learn from the message. Occasionally I stole glances at the rest of the 200-some-odd women in attendance, many nodding their heads in silent agreement. Most of them sported wedding rings and earlier had exchanged war stories about their little darlings at home. Once again, I found myself feeling like the black sheep in God's family.

Fearful that I was being too sensitive, I held my tongue when the talk was through. If my friend was blessed by the speaker's words, I didn't want to rain on her inspiration. But I was curious to hear what this 60something newish widow thought. I didn't have to wait long. The first words out of her mouth were, "I kept waiting for her to get to us singles, to talk about how we fit into the equation." Amen, sister.

The one bright spot is that the troubling talk inspired some lively conversation during our dinner at a nearby restaurant afterward. We talked about the challenge of being the minority at church gatherings and of wanting to feel like a vital, valued part of the Body of Christ. We talked about churches we've attended that include singles well, and those that seem unaware we exist.

Of all the places I occasionally feel like a freak for being unmarried, the church is the one that bothers me the most. Mainly because the God I worship there loves unconditionally and commands us to do likewise. Surely his house should be a safe haven for all of us, a place where we all feel welcomed and valued. Obviously many churches do this well. It's those that still don't that make Sunday mornings uncomfortable at times.

Mind you, I don't like saying negative things about the church. I'm part of it. I know it's never going to be perfect since it's comprised of us fallen human beings. And it gets a bad enough rap from outsiders–does it need to be taking hits from one on the inside as well? But when such anecdotes are commonplace in churches today (I hear about them from my friends and from you guys all the time), even when we singles currently make up 48 percent of the U.S. adult population, I find it hard to hold my tongue. And to not get a little jaded about the church—and a little tempted to give up believing that they'll ever fully recognize and respect those of us who venture into sanctuaries solo.