Starving Starving

My husband is part machine.  If he puts his mind to something, there really is little that will prevent him from reaching his goal.  Handcuffs, maybe.  A Star Wars special, perhaps.  But certainly not bodily trifles such as hunger.  If he has enough work to do, he’ll happily work from sunrise to sunset without eating, without even noticing that he hasn’t eaten until a headache sets in in the evening.

His poor wife, on the other hands, gets panicky at the mere thought of hunger.  I will overeat at the thought of having to go without—it’s very common for me to overeat the day before I hope to complete some tiny little fast or start a reasonable “diet” (limiting desserts to two, not five).  If it’s time for the children’s snack, I often will count myself in even if I’m not hungry because I fear  being hungry later in the day even though I spend my day four feet from the pantry.  I am so aware of impending hunger that vanquishing it has become a specialty of mine.

Being so delicately aware of my own physical hunger, it’d follow that I’d be equally as in tune with my spiritual hunger.  But lately, I’ve been blown away at the vast abyss of my need for prayer.  I’ve been starving (for God), and I’ve never noticed!

I thought I had a decent prayer and sacrament schedule, so I never felt bothered to change it.  But recently as duties at home have bordered on overwhelming and my performance of them have been astonishingly underwhelming, I wondered if I simply needed to pray more.  I’ve been trying to.  And nothing has changed.  I still have to put the toothpaste on the toothbrush because my kids can’t do it fast enough.  I still respond with impatience if a little person addresses me with impatience because I’m two years old on the inside.  I still leave dishes in the sink for an eternity so that they’ll “soak” properly.  But one thing has changed: my awareness of how much more God I need in my day.

More God, not Facebook:  I will not feel loved and connected by spending huge amounts of time browsing and commenting and liking.  More God, not the news:  I will not be truly enlightened and grow interiorly by reading enormous amounts of news.  More God, not sugar:  No amount of post-little person bedtime cookies or treats will fill me with His sweetness.  Only He can.  And there’s so much that needs to be filled—who knew?

Copyright 2012 Meg Matenaer