Hungry

My baby wants milk.

She doesn't understand, but if I give her milk, chances are, she'll vomit it up.
Tummy bug.

But the crying, nonetheless.

She's over a year old, so we're thinking we'll bite the bullet and stop the bottles now, since we're going through the pain of weaning anyhow.

We need her to fill up on meat instead of milk.

And as I was holding her - while she threw her head back crying, like, just give me a bottle already...pleading...

God was speaking...
Isn't this so like you sometimes...crying for what you don't have when what I want to give you is better. Bigger. Fuller.
And sometimes I have to take the milk away so you'll get hungry enough to want the meat.
I take the milk away - all the familiar connections that used to feed you - the relationships...I need you hungry for the meat.

And I do throw my head back wailing. Questioning. Hurting. Uncomfortable. Why do I feel so bereft?

But maybe He's been there holding me, offering me all that He is, and at once sympathising with my heartache but also knowing this must happen - and that I'll get through it - and have peace again.
And all the while He holds me, loving me through the thrashing and clashing of wills.

Cause I want milk, but He has something better.