She wanted more and was not happy about it at all. More has become a dirty word. No one should need more. Especially now. Not more of an unplanned, unhealthy snack. Not more coffee. Not more clothing or shoes, or accessories. Not more attention or adulation. Certainly not more wine. Not more colored pens and notebooks to ease her obsession with them. Most of the time, more meant wanting too much. It meant being too indulgent, too weak, too undependable, too fat. Over-zealous.
The only thing there was more of that garnered no feelings of fault was time. Endless days of time spent binge-watching popular shows. Endless time spent thinking, drinking, eating, purging closets, garages, and spare rooms. Reading late into the night until the urge to drink more coffee to stay awake seemed ridiculous. Watching endless news accounts of the situation, believing this time she’s heard it all. Until the next. Opening the Amazon app for the 10th time of the day until the urge to purchase shoes, or pens, or dog toys becomes so overwhelming that she pushes the “Purchase Now” button without pause. Defeat.
Then it sets in. More! She again wanted more. Why? It feels horrific. She has over-indulged again. It may not have been food that took her willpower over, yet she feels fat. She feels ugly inside and out. She is disappointed in herself. She can feel the disapproving eyes of others and thinks they must certainly feel at least a small amount of disgust when they think of her. Devastation. Depression. Indecision. Loathing. They all come to join her in her chair. The chair where not one day ago she vowed to be better, to do better. Ruined.
She knows she must start over, but she asks herself why. She will vow to not want more because she knows she doesn’t need more. She is blessed. Her pay is intact. Her insurance is untouched. Her health is good. She is surrounded by her family who are equally well and equally blessed in a house that has brought them joy. There is no reason to want or need more. But starting over sucks and she just doesn’t believe she can. The one thing she doesn’t want is more disappointment. She feels that it is appalling that anyone in her situation should desire more of anything. Disgust.
There is still time, she tells herself. She can begin again, and no one will be the wiser, her persona untouched. She is alone a lot, both in company and in thought. The one thing she definitely has more of is time. Time to recharge, time to undo, time to think, to pray, to decide, and to reframe her direction. She has time to sit with the Lord and feel His presence, to seek His wisdom, to feel His light and his love and His approval. She has time and it is ok to ask for more of this. She tells herself to take time to pray more often, to allow for Him to shape her more often. This is one thing that she may most certainly have more of. Boundless.
She decides that she just might be alright with wanting more after all. She is worth more time to be heard by Him. She is worth more thought, more love, more warmth, more light. He has always told her, but she never believed she deserved more, at least not more of this. But she bowed her head. She asked to come into His presence and then, she asked for more. This time more was glorious. She felt clean, weightless, and free. She could begin again. She knew she would and this time more was totally ok because He told her she could have it all. She could have as much as she needed, desired, sought, and craved without fault or disapproval. He told her that she could have it all. She was always welcome to more. Eternal.
She wanted more and was happy about it.
