Prescription for Praise

No matter how many times my heart is swallowed by the sea of momentary thought turned loneliness, I retract, restart and refrain. The sunny days can turn achingly cold, a bad study session can lead to a better grade than anticipated, and a left out ingredient may make your flambe taste flambetter. Expectations and normative thinking will get us nowhere, especially with the God created dealings of the romantic heart. 

Because not all of them are the grown-ups you need them to be. Not all of them can make you laugh and fall to the floor and still be there when you need to mop, sulk, cry and complain. Not all of them pursue God in the way that surpasses your own desires so greatly, it hurts so beautifully. And not all of them will rise to the occasion when she is so ever present, despite how desirable her spirit is. Even if he says she is amazing and one of a kind.

My spirit desires not only to be the every day acknowledged and recognized--and sometimes casually praised, but commended and raved about passionately. To be lifted without effort and marked true without fault and doubt. To be loved fully with haste by both words and action. This stuff I'm talking about is being a woman in the stillness of her unelaborated worth. To lose all inhibitions and heavy armor that stem from the directions of his eyes and the hurtful choices that were made. I recommend this ambition to everyone who is a fan of love and not of warfare. Lay your vigorous arms and legs onto a confidence you only find from time. 

And since we are the beloved on whom His favor rests upon, I will finally, gladly rest my head.