Starlight Walk

Tonight Delighted Husband and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was such a pleasure to walk next to him with my hand around his arm just above his elbow. He's tall and I could tell he slowed down a bit so I didn't have to scamper to keep up with him. I enjoyed watching our feet match strides. Each of us wearing our running shoes, alike yet different. Unity in diversity. It was such a pleasure to enjoy his company. I don't know quite how to put it into words. It was just a joy to be together.

Beach Business Trip

OH MY GOD

My dear girlfriend offered to keep DC for 4 days because DH has wangled things so I can go with him on his business trip. A nearly free marriage getaway! PRAISE THE LORD AMEN.
Let the hooting and hollering commence.
And y'all know I want this thing covered in prayer. whoo hoo!!!

Golly Moses I need this. We didn't think we'd be able to afford a vacation for just the two of us this year what with Ike and me building the store at home and not doing corporate work. But God sure showed us.

Wow, you guys!!
Love,
SW

PS Did I mention 4 wheel drive shagmobile on the beach? (biting knuckle and smiling)

Legacy of Love

Delighted Husband and I spent this afternoon in the garage sorting through belongings from our attic that were damaged during Hurricane Ike. We've been married for nearly 12 years and some stuff was mine before we were married. There's a lot of stuff!

I want to mention first that this is some of the stinky stuff in the attic mentioned here. I don't do it perfectly, but I like to keep things organized, so nearly all of our stuff in the attic was stored in cardboard banker boxes. Those banker boxes acted like sponges, soaking up all the water in the attic when the roof leaked during the hurricane. The wet cardboard was breaking down deteriorating in the heat and smelled awful! But now the cardboard had dried and it was time to sort through them and be done with it.

Some things were ruined and had to be claimed.
Some things were—to my great delight—salvageable.
I want to tell you about one of those things.

Two of the many boxes were things from my single life and girlhood that I had kept and brought into marriage. One box was full of books and journals from the years when I first began my healing journey. Relics of the heart. This box-out of all the damaged boxes-the contents of this box were completely unharmed. I was so glad to see this, and I made a note on the index card which book titles were in there in case anyone ever needed it and I could give it away. There was plenty of work to do, so I quickly folded together a nice clean banker box and began to move the books and journals into their new home.

Then I saw it: A program from the funeral of a man who loved me and mentored me for many years when I was a teen and single adult. I'll call him Paul. Such joy filled my heart and tears filled my eyes. I stood there in my garage, wiping tears, and read the whole article. This man and his dear wife spent their lives loving God and loving people.

They loved me wholeheartedly during the early years of my recovery. They believed me when I told them about my sexual abuse, and they loved me without condition. I don't know quite how to describe it, but there was a gentleness about this man. He saw me. When he looked at me, he really saw me. As a young woman, this was so special to me. In a world full of pain and abuse and inappropriate flirting, this man looked at me with love and fatherly affection. He affirmed me as a writer when I was first finding my wings and beginning my career. He took me seriously. When I talked to them about my questions and trials as I was just starting my corporate career, they really listened. Paul had a wide varied career and he coached me on the people dynamics I encountered on my job. I was so young! So naive yet talented and I found the unspoken culture of corporate America confusing. He took me under his wing and coached me about workplace dynamics and my career goals.

Paul and his wife were always very affectionate with each other. I remember how special and good I felt inside when I would be over at their house for dinner and he and his wife would stand embracing and smiling right there in the living room. Their devotion and affection for each other was a breath of pure air in a season of my life where I was processing all the pain from my past sexual abuse. I would look at Paul and his wife standing in their living room, smiling and talking with their arms around each other, and I would think, "Oh my God. All is right with the world. This is the way it should be."

Years later, I realize that Paul was one of the first people to speak the truth into my life that the sexual and the spiritual were equally important and deserved to be balanced in a healthy life. We both loved to read, and we shared many hours talking about novels and what they spoke to us. We had discussed big tomes like Herman Wouk's The Winds of War, the family legacy and the horror of the Second World War. I remember he asked me what else I had been reading, and embarrassed, I mumbled, "Oh just some other dumb stuff, a Danielle Steel novel." I was sure he would see that as some unspiritual waste of time or worse a shameful detour for a Christian young woman. But you know what he said? Paul looked me straight in the eye and said, "Well, Shula, romance is an important part of life. Never forget that. Life would be pretty dull without romance, and if you want to read about it and let God stir up the desires of your heart for a good man and a good marriage, then you go right ahead. Okay, so what else you been reading?" and the conversation went on, calm as could be. We went on to talk about James Michener's Covenant next, and the staggering issue of South Africa's racial unrest.

I kept up with the conversation, but inside my jaw was dropped in shocked delight. Up until that point in my life, sex and any kind of boy/girl connection had been icky, and toxic and filled with pain. In that one single conversation, I learned that romance and marital love, even the mushy sexy kissy stuff was an important part of life and that was okay for me to want to be married. Of course, I still felt I was exempt from that sort of thing; Having been abused I felt like I was damaged freight. But that one conversation gave me a spark and I began daring to hope. I took all my questions and longings to my counseling sessions with my therapist, but that conversation with Paul was a turning point. A catalyst.

Better yet, the way Paul calmly spoke of romance with the same level of respect he showed the topic of racism or genocide told me that romantic love really mattered. It wasn't just meaningless fluff, it mattered. Romance was a legitimate issue.

I smile as I conclude this article, and there are happy tears in my eyes. Because I know that Paul would be so proud of me, of the redemption stories I am writing and of this life of love I have built with Delighted Husband. I so so WISH Paul had gotten the chance to meet my beloved Delighted Husband. They never met. My first date with Delighted Husband was the night of Paul's funeral. It was a new season in my life, and while the two men never met, I brought my changed and healing heart into my marriage.

What a legacy of love!
-SW

My first SexyMamaMoment

When our first child was born, he spent the first few days of his life in the neonatal intensive care unit at the hospital. Delighted Husband and I were there with him nearly all the time. This was before my awakening so sexy wasn't usually on my radar. I had not yet cultivated my worldview that I was a sexy woman. But I had this moment. And I want to share it with you.

Beloved Child was a bit premature, and fussy, so the pediatrician suggested I open my blouse and give my baby skin-to-skin contact. They had these beautiful pale yellow privacy shades they placed around my rocking chair. Feeling a little awkward but hungry to hold my baby and let him know mama was there, I unbuttoned my maternity blouse, unwrapped my little darling (he looked like a little burrito in that white hospital blanket!) and laid my sweet baby against my abdomen and covered us both with a blanket. He was jaundiced, so he looked so foreign next to my skin. But in his face he looked just like me and in my heart he felt like mine! mine! mine! It was a peaceful, quiet moment amidst all the beeping chaos of the NICU.

Then I looked at his father.

Delighted Husband was looking at me and Beloved Baby like we were all that was precious in the world. And then I caught it..that quick tiny sparkle in his eye. Just like that, I was lost in the tractor beam of Delighted Husband's gaze. Without words, we remembered what we did to create this child. A blush crept over my cheeks and I looked at Delighted Husband with this self-aware heat in my eyes. My eyes said, "We made love. It was fabulous. You made me pregnant, and now I have this amazing little person nestled up against my skin. Oh my God."

In that moment, Delighted Husband snapped a picture.

And in an instant, the moment was over. The nurse walked up to draw blood from Beloved Child and crying and chaos pushed in and drowned out the moment.

Weeks later, I went to the store where I had gone for the film to be developed. When I got to that SexyMamaMoment photo, I was elated. Standing there in the pharmacy all disheveled and sleep deprived, I looked at that photo and thought, "oh my God, is that really me?" and it was. I didn't feel sexy there in the store. At all. At all. At all. But in my trembling hands I held photographic proof that my moment had really happened.

I put it in the photo album, along with all the other photos of Beloved Child's first six weeks. When friends from church asked to see baby pictures, I didn't think twice about handing over the photo album while I went to go boil some water for tea. I don't remember what he said, but I remember one of our church friends coughing and looking at me in an embarrassed putdown way and swiftly handing off the baby album like it was contaminated. I was flooded with embarrassment. I didn't have much confidence then. And I was Southern and here was a guest in my home offended by something I had given him. I was seriously infected with the disease to please. When our friends went home that night, I took out the picture of my first SexyMamaMoment, and I tore it up. To this day, there is a blank spot in that baby photo album. And oh I would fill it if I could. I have searched for the negative and I cannot find it. I have tears in my eyes just remembering what has been lost. How I would love to see that picture today!

There's a lesson here, my darlings. Don't let anyone look down on you for owning and recognizing that you are a sexual being. Don't let others erase your beautiful defining moment or put down your identity as a beautiful sexual creature created by God. Hold on to the good in your life. Hold on tight! Stretch marks and mortgages and fatigue and soccer leagues and teacher meetings and client meetings and HOA meetings will try to push in and take those moments from you by encroaching on the time those moments can occur. But hold on tight!

Looking back, I realize that man was an illmannered prude and I was a naive woman who gave away her validation card quite too easily. Not any more.

Like most of my aha! heartfelt moments, this was inspired by another blogger who generously shared their heart in a post. So thank you Mama of Romance for your beautiful post Feeling Beautiful: It's Up to You.
She says, "Because I feel like I am beautiful, it shines through.
It's so much easier to enjoy sex, to be passionate, and to love making love when you feel beautiful.
Being a woman is an incredibly powerful thing.
The curves, the soft skin, the feminine features.
Giving birth, having a baby, motherhood - it's all a beautiful thing.
Mother's are beautiful."

Amen, sista!

I would add: when you do have a moment when you feel beautiful, don't let anybody talk you out of it. Nobody but you and God have the right to decide whether or not you're beautiful. And God has already voted Yes.

Love,
SW

The quickest way to a woman's heart

One night this summer, Delighted Husband and I were tired and achy after taking the kids on a 4 mile hike. We very much wanted to be together but we had to laugh at ourselves laying still and holding hands and groaning with pain. "What a hot couple we are" as we laughed at ourselves. We were still naked and smiling at each other so that was a start. Delighted Husband has access to all these cool overseas radio stations on his phone, so he was scrolling through some stations and he found a really great classical station broadcasting from London. The classical music was beautiful and rich and still and didn't require us to move. (you know what I mean by that. some music just makes you want to dance. you just try to be still while listening to Ladysmith Black Mambazo!)

We were cuddling and talking about the children. We had planned to have a shagfest much earlier in the evening, but something the DC said set off a little beep beep beep in my heart letting me know they needed some quality time and connection with their dad and me. I knew instinctively that the best way to get them to connect verbally was to get them away from any and all electronic conveniences so I drove us all to one of our favorite nature trails. There's nothing like a long trail with nothing but the sound of wind whispering in the trees to get a kid to talking. Sweating helps too. Something about physical labor gets you talking honest and from the heart, and we were hiking at a steady clip!

I hung back for a while, watching my husband interact with the children. God, I love that man. I wasn't eavesdropping exactly, but I think for a while they forgot I was there.

It was this memory that came to mind as I cuddled with Delighted Husband listening to Rachmaninoff that night. I told him, as I have told him a thousand times, that seeing him share from his heart with the children, offering him manly heart in a fatherly way I could never imitate just sets off a little joy alarm deep inside my body. Every cell in my body says, "Girl! This is the one! Get this man to get you pregnant asap!" I told him and we laughed gently. My body can no longer get pregnant. But apparently places in my heart and my loins never got the memo, cause they keep on tryin!

I rolled over on top of him and he grinned hello. And after just a few seconds of fondling, I was aroused and ready to move. The soft candlelight on the dresser cast a lovely shadow of my hips as I moved over him gently. As passion is known to do, momentum picked up. Orgasmic steam built up and blew. And I rolled over collapsing in an exhausted tangle of limbs. Good man that he is, he moved enough for the both of us for his turn and came home to me quickly. We both submerged into sleep and next thing we knew the alarm clock was ringing.

Apparently one of the quickest ways to a woman's heart is her children. And definitely the quickest way to my loins is my heart! ;)
He knows all the shortcuts, my Delighted Husband.

The Fuel-Efficient Shagmobile

I can die now. My life is complete. I have just used the word shagmobile in an article title. (cue Austin Powers) Oh beHAVE!!

After all the fun we had talking about the day Delighted Husband and I traded in our big comfy van, I thought I'd post an update or two about the new wheels.


First of all, some of you know how fond I am of long walks and bike rides out in God's Green Earth.
Now, I can transport my bike with ease. More than 1 bike if one of the kids or Delighted Husband wants to come biking with me. This is way cool.





Speaking of shagging. We weren't, but I never let that stop me before. (giggling)
As I said, field testing for the effability of the new SUV has not yet been completed.
Our accessories have just arrived.
Wooo hoo! Oh babysitter, where art thou?

After Glow

I'll tell you the same thing I've told all my girlfriends to whom I recommend scheduled sex and they wrinkle their nose and say "ohh but wouldn't that take all the fun out of it?"

Girls, I have walked into an evening of scheduled sex at many stages of arousal, desire, or lack thereof.
And I've never regretted it.
Ever.

I could tell you that making love regularly creates hormonal bonds with your husband, boosts self-esteem, and promotes an overall sense of well-being, ease, and satisfaction. But perhaps you'll understand it better if I tell you a little story.

It's 8:30pm and I have just been loved truly, madly, deeply and past the edge of reason. And now Boy Scouts are over and it's time to go pick up Dear Child. I groan, and stretch and peel myself out of bed. I'm looking for a little consolation prize so I decide to try on that cute little sundress that was too small the last time I tried it. It fits. Yeah, baby! This is just the boost I need. I glide out of the house pausing briefly to slip on some sandals.

I pull up to the door of the church and the scoutmaster who happens to be the pastor walks out with a smile and props his elbow on my drivers side mirror in a conversational pose.
"Wellll hellloooo!"
I give a quick little smile and beckon Dear Child into the SUV. Friendly Pastor will not be dissuaded.
"So how was date night?"
"Great!" I cannot suppress a smile.
"So where'd you go for dinner?"
I stammer, "Um, we, er, We had a picnic" I hope this is at least partially true. I think we ate something before we got busy. I could not tell you what we ate if my life depended on it.
"Ohhh a picnic! Great idea! Where'd you go?"
I feel the heat suffuse my face and know a blush is blooming over my cheeks. "Uhh, we had our picnic at home."
There is a brief tiny flash of recognition and Friendly Pastor draws back like he's been stung. He backpedals admirably with "Well thanks for letting Dear Child participate in our program! We sure had a fun time tonight!"
I smile a proper motherly smile and thank him right back. What I want to say but don't...
No problem, Rev. We wouldn't let him quit if he wanted to! We need the free babysitting!

Dear Son is hungry, so I drive him to Subway and I walk over to Starbucks to get a decaf sugarfree cinnamon dolce.
My walk becomes a saunter as I think of all the things I just did with Delighted Husband. To the casual observer, I am a thirtysomething housewife. A curvaceous soccer mom who shops at Lane Bryant. But I know I am a sex goddess. And Delighted Husband knows it too. I smile. Just feeling good in every joint of my body. I feel lithe and relaxed and absolutely gorgeous. Gorgeous is as gorgeous does. And gorgeous does. She certainly does.

Stay Sensuous

A dear friend of mine closed our conversation with those words.
and you know what?
He was absolutely right.

It's so easy to get caught up in the cares of this life and forget to stay sensuous and deliberately remain alive to pleasure.

One of the things that really inspires me to keep the home fires simmering is to read stories from another wife who is enthusiastically enjoying her husband. And just such a wife shared her story and I was inspired. Please allow me to introduce my new friend Gemma. She's wayyy in love with her husband, Gemma's Ravisher, and she's not ashamed to talk about it. I admire her candor and her passion for her husband and her God. Now, dearies, if frank sexy talk offends you, then perhaps Gemma's not your cup of tea. The rest of you, enjoy! I think Gemma poses an excellent question, "Why do spouses allow the busyness of life to take priority over their sex lives? Would someone please give me a good reason "why"??? What could be more important than tending to our passion for each other?"
Last night Delighted Husband and did a little something about that. Okay a big something. Okay, a shagfest. He was a little surprized at my fervor since it had only been a few days but for me a few days with nary a sexual thought or twinge of desire is an ETERNITY. But we're all back on track. I squirm just remembering. (ooooh)

God is good. Giving me the little nudge in the right direction. He knows what I need better than I do. And what I needed was several doses of Delighted Husband Love.

Scheduled Sex and Being Too Tired

I'm learning that saving time to be together is important and that you don't have to feel energetic and horny before you walk in the bedroom in order to have a beautiful pleasurable evening. Some of you have known this for years. For me, it's big news.

I knew Delighted Husband and I had saved this evening for each other. And on evenings we plan to be together, I usually save some mental and physical energy for him and deliberately think carnal thoughts all day in anticipation. But I didn't this last time. I had a good but busy day at work, had an emotionally uplifting lunch with my girlfriends, and had a challenging couple of hours helping the DC with their homework and coaching them through several tudes. By the end of the two hours, I felt wrung out like a sponge. I went to DH and said "I need skin to skin for a few minutes. I"m worn out." He was quick to oblige, as he had heard me calmly standing my ground with the children who were trying to turn "bitch moan and argue with mom" into an Olympic sport.

We locked ourselves in our room and quickly got naked for some cuddles. I sighed with comfort and pleasure as I nestled into his arms. "Remind me" I asked. And so he did. Delighted Husband gave me two or three sentences reminding me good things about myself. Words of affirmation and physical touch together are a powerful combination. I began to feel myself recharge, like a dead cell phone on a charger lighting up again. We cuddled and caressed each other and without trying, words spilled out of my mouth, complimenting him and loving on him. Reminding him what a wonderful man he was. Which took absolutely no effort to come up with affirming words considering how loving he had just shown himself to be.

This wasn't steamy talk by any means. Our skin-to-skin contact was for bonding and affirmation, not arousing. It was the "sharing your heart's life force" definition of Eros, not the "tingly thrilling do me" definition of Eros. Our fifteen minutes passed quickly and the doorbell ringing with the first trick or treaters told us our time was up.

I went to get dinner going and DH took over door duty with the trick or treaters.

Dinner was yummy and punctuated by doorbell ringing every few minutes. It was fun to chat with the neighbors, although difficult to eat between visitors, but what do we expect?

Finally got the DC tucked in after their sugar rush, and DH and I knew our "date" time had arrived. We were both tired and achy, but wanted to be together. Both of us said something to this effect while we were standing in the kitchen. We decided to go for it and see what God might do for us.

Walking in our bedroom and locking the door was an act of faith. We had zero tingly erotic urgency. Our muscles were tired and achy. But we felt emotionally connected and a desire to make the most of the opportunity. After all, we were in our bedroom at 9pm with kids already tucked in their own beds. Just watching TV or going to sleep would feel like we squandered an opportunity.

I suggested a massage and spread the liberator throe over the comforter to keep massage oil off the bed. After joking over whose turn it would be first, I laid down on my back with my knees supported by the liberator whirl. This is where the first of many miracles happened. It didn't take five minutes of smelling him and feeling him touch me that I was very aroused. As our arousal became more visible, we kept joking, "I'm too tired" "Oh me too. I'm way too tired." That position actually did become tiring for Delighted Husband so we switched so he could lie down with the whirl under his knees. I became the active pleasurer which I enjoyed very much. DH let me know how much pleasure he was receiving which of course made my heart feel that good feeling you get inside when you know somebody is enjoying the gift you gave them. It was also a huge turn-on. We warmed to the task. Delighted Husband became the active pleasurer again, while I rocked happily. He asked me to hand him a certain toy while he told me what he was about to do to me and how he knew I was going to respond. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Gazing into his eyes, I came in about 6 seconds, which surprized the heck out of both of us. How'd we do that? We're too tired!

After I caught my breath, we switched to our favorite finish position. Delighted Husband positioned me the way he wanted me, which is such a small simple thing, but I love that because it demonstrates our being relaxed and comfortable and his matter-of-fact intent to take me which is just such an emotional rush. I have no idea how long we made love because time stood still. Smiling into his eyes while watching my husband come is one of the sweetest spiritual and emotional experiences I've ever had. He is magnificent.

Once we came back down to earth, told each other it was time for a quick shower and then sleep, cause we really were tired. Shower was shared and quick with much grinning at each other. I happened to glance at the clock on my way back to bed from the shower. It was 9:30!

"Oh My God! Honey, look, soup to nuts this whole lovemaking was 30 minutes! Can you believe it?" To say we both thanked God would be putting it mildly. I thank God for the toy and pillows that helped us coax pleasure out of an evening when the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. I suspect that the DHA and EPA supplements I took for the last few days may have had something to do with my quick response. (I'm on The Orgasmic Diet which is another article). Most of all, I believe miracles still happen. Even in the marriage bed. I blame this miracle on our generous loving God rewarding our small act of faith of locking the door even though we were too tired. -SW

For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful

There was an article here that I really liked. It was very raw and vulnerable and I had a hard time posting it because it was about me experiencing an episode of depression when I quit taking the full dose of medication. The article compared taking medication that God has provided so I can be healthy and whole and alive physically and emotionally.....and taking communion as a reminder of the atonement that God has provided for me so I can be spiritually healthy and whole.

If part of the healing God has provided for me is a maintenance dose of antidepressant, I need to be humble and grateful and take it. Who am I to send a plateful of healing back to the master chef asking for a smaller serving?

I went to edit the article to change just a teeny word or two. I wanted to copy and paste it to save it offline. When I shift-clicked to select the whole article, the whole thing dissapeared. And a split second later, blogger autosaved my newly emptied article. Oh the horror!

I could try to re-create the article and I think I will because I think it served as an important reminder that the lovely moments I post about here are not without cost. I don't live in a scot-free pink haze of joy and pleasure. But often, quite often, when I stick with the painful growth process, God surprizes me with joy so lush that I can't help but write about it. I am redeemed. and I can't shut up about it.

But I think it's important to show, even at my own vulnerable expense, that all joy has a cost. My deep hope is that all of you will pay the high cost of growing in your own lives and reap the joy. I want that so bad for all of you I can't tell you how much. Wiping tears as I type, SensuousWife

Come Lord Jesus

The question is not Will your heart ever feel desperate need? but What will you do with your desperate need when you feel it? Cause you'll experience desperate need. Everyone does.

Last night was a miserable restless night. A nightmare double feature where every one who has ever been cruel, unkind or rejecting in my life made a cameo appearance. I awoke feeling exhausted and beleaguered. A beggar soul. Bereft and alone. Despair weighed heavy. It was a battle for my heart.

Delighted Husband knew just what to do. He stood in front of me, half polished businessman and half sleepy husband. Thank God he hadn't put his shirt on yet. He drew me to his chest, and enfolded me in his arms. Cradled my head against his chest, his palm blessing my face with protective affection. And he prayed. He prayed for Jesus to defend me from the lies and tell me the truth about who I really am. "Yes" I whispered. "yes" The rejection and sorrow of the dreams fought for airtime on the movie screen in my mind. "tell me Baby. You tell me the truth" and so he did. He held me and caressed my hair and told me simple truth about my redemption. Who I really am. The reality the beauty of my redeemed heart. The good truth.

After Delighted Husband prayed, I had the strength to get out of bed and suit up for battle. I took my show on the road. Literally. I put on my running gear and hit the road. Ready to sweat it out. To let all the negativity be washed away by sunshine and sweat and worship. I scrolled through the songs on my mp3 player till I got to my favorite prayer. The one where John Eldredge prays over all the women at the Captivating retreat. As I walked and stretched and sweated, John did battle on my behalf. It felt so good. I breathed in good air and breathed out "yes. yes. yes Lord Jesus" agreeing with the prayer and renouncing the lies. This went on till John was done praying, a good ten minutes or so.

The noisy toxic chatter now silenced, I switched over to music. Chris Tomlin, God love him, Chris Tomlin was right there singing in my headphones:
What can take a dying man
raise him up to life again
what can heal the wounded soul
what can make us white as snow
what can fill the emptiness
what can mend our broken-ness?
mighty awesome wonderful
is the holy cross
where the lamb lay down his life
to lift us from the fall
mighty is
the power of the cross.

My heart and my muscles warmed up. The sun on my face and the trickle of sweat between my shoulder blades and the stretching moving rhythm of my legs as I picked up speed...all felt like mercy and life. I was waking up from a bad bad dream.

It was a glorious workout.

Stretching and cooldown was paradoxically more about my spirit even as I focused my attention on stretching my muscles. When VineyardUK sang, it felt like a personal invitation, just for me.
all who are thirsty
all who are weak
come to the fountain
dip your heart in the streams of life
let the pain and the sorrow
be washed away
on the waves of this mercy
as deep cries out to deep
we sing
come Lord Jesus come
wontcha come wontcha come Lord?
come Lord Jesus come
come Lord Jesus come

As I sang, I closed my eyes and visualized that place in my heart. That empty lonely place left rejected and alone by all those memories I'd dreamed about last night. I pictured that gap in my heart. And I sang with all the breath in my body:
come Lord Jesus come
wontcha come wontcha come Lord?
come Lord Jesus come
come Lord Jesus come

He did. Oh my God, y'all. He did. I felt those gaps in my heart filling up. The anxiety and insecurity melted away. That hole in my heart where I used to stuff chocolate. Oh my God. I focused on my need and sang out "come Lord Jesus" and he did. He really did.

Oh friends. It is so much easier to be kind when my nagging awful need is dealt with. So much easier to be kind to husband and children and customers and friends. So much easier to be kind, actually kind to my self. So much easier to be the sensuous generous wife I truly desire to be.

So take a lesson, ya'll.
When that place in your solar plexus is so empty is staggers you, cry out "Come Lord Jesus" and he will. He truly will. -SW