I have an impressive addiction to Dove's Chocolate Brownie Affair ice cream. I also have a horrible habit of eating my, well what I affectionately call my second dinner, at 11pm at night. This said meal is usually not as healthy or substantial as the first dinner. Hungry is not a word I would associate with myself. Awkward perhaps. Or quirky. Tall. But not hungry. Until tonight. Until this song. Until this line. "When you are hungry and are tempted to steal..." (Tenth Avenue North..."Times"). This song hit me in the gut worse than eating the entire tub of ice cream in one sitting. It narrates God's love in first person...scenario after scenario of really hardcore situations that breaks your heart, and humbles you on the spot...and this is the line that grabs me...why?
I have never been for want of food. I have never known what it is like to go to bed hungry. I know others have, and my heart breaks for them. But I do know what it is like to be starving spiritually. To feel like you are drained. To feel as if your heart is famined. To crave love, encouragement, hope, attentiveness, protection so keenly, that it borders on desperate. And you grasp white knuckled, and wild eyed to anything that looks as if it might satisfy, rather than to risk going to bed hungry again. And I get tempted to steal. I fish for compliments. I put on extra eyeliner. I justify my defensiveness because I don't believe that God will step up and defend me. At the end of the day, whose am I? If I don't know that, how can I expect to be filled? It's not only in God's job description to love me, to fill me, to pat me on the back and validate my heart...it's His joy. To placate my heart in any other way, is not just injuring my heart further, but it's stealing the joy God gets from rescuing me. Beauty. Not just in a moment. Not just in a dress. Not just when my hair is fixed, or when my skin decided to behave itself. That's what my heart craves. Beauty in a lifestyle that is breathtaking. Moment upon moment that is picturesque. My daughter's laughter, my husband's smile, our candid and vulnerable life lived so that God looks even more beautiful. To look back at my life as if in a series of beautiful black and white portraits...and every one of those speaks of peace, love and intimacy. White picket fence syndrome much? Perhaps. Naive? Yeah, I'm about ninety nine percent sure that my air castles might be a tad lofty. But, I am a women. I am a dreamer. And that is a powerful combination in the hands of a holy God.

because everyone is in bed...

Sigh...It's 8:30pm, but it feels so much later. Maybe it is because my house is a mess, and I spent all day cleaning it. Maybe because I am left wondering if I gave my daughter enough attention. Enough affirmation. Or, perhaps because I know that even if my house was spotless, and was able to give my daughter the perfect balance of love and discipline, I would still be utterly exhausted. And wondering how I could have better. What a far cry from the epic women of God I long to be. One who laughs at dust bunnies, and fights soapscum in a single bound! Ok, that may be ridiculous, but granted, I am tired, and it is 8:30 :) Yet my heart's desire has nothing to do with laundry, or matching silverware, or perfect pie crust. My heart's desire is to be EPIC...am I the only one? I take pride in watching my daughter be a princess. She loves all things lovely. Her wardrobe almost solely consists of pink. She is anamored by flowers, butterflies, and ballet. And one of her favorite pastimes is to dress up in a tiara and a tutu and...have an awesome sword battle. Seriously. Complete with clashing sword sounds and dramatic death scenes. Why does this thrill her? Because she longs for her beauty to be a part of the battle. She wants to rescue, and be rescued. To be a apart of something that needs her, and her beauty. She sees her feminity, and her long to be delighted in, as a weapon that is unrivaled. How could I foget all of that? I desire to war next to my husband, for my daughter, for the kingdom of God, for the calling for our household. Not to sit quietly and polish silver. To stand up, and with a sword of silver, plunge through the heart of the darkness that will try to threaten our family. Epic. And beautiful. So maybe it's not the cleaning that is making me exhausted. Maybe it's the warfare. NICE:).