Through the Glass Dimly

I used to be under the impression that I would really be something if I could get an amazing, well paying job, a husband that loved me, and that at that point we would equally get stuff done in our home. I'd probably cook (because I enjoy cooking so), and he'd probably clean. If we had kids, we'd both take equal child rearing duties. I had it planned out. We'd share the leadership in the home as a team. We'd get equal time to relax in front of the tv. We'd go on romantic adventures at least once a month. I thought I'd be really something if I could just become a powerful woman, a force to be reckoned with; this great famous artist/writer who wore a modern "power suite", probably peacock blue, with a pale green button up shirt, and some fantastic scarf that I bought from someplace exclusive and underground. Complete modern woman. Hear me roar. I'd sell thousands of books, my art would be shown at museums and high end galleries. I used to loo

I remember once, in passing, telling my sister how I enjoy that the verse says neither death nor LIFE can separate us from the love of God. I love the bit about life not being able to separate us from the love of God, because so many many times I feel like life really gets in the way. I get feeling bogged down. I return to the wilderness with those whiny Israelites, complaining that, while I have miracle bread that falls from the sky each morning to feed me, I lack meat to eat. There is always something to complain about. I've felt agitated all day long. Wondering why things have to be difficult and why I seem to have to struggle all the time. Part of me knew, in all my soul's murmurings and whinings, that I was in error. Then I read this: "The love of the Lord."—Hosea 3:1. "BELIEVER, look back through all thine experience, and think of the way whereby the Lord thy God has led thee in the wilderness, and how He hath fed and clothed thee every day—how He hat