Mr. Right

Sometimes I think that I am so incredibly privileged. God picked me. I'm not talking about the whole 5-point-Calvin-predestination thing. God picked me to be someone He cares for in a very direct and real sense. God calls Himself the Father to the Fatherless, and the Husband of the widow. We read that over, and we know it must be true. But I get to live that, in a close up and very real way.
When I pray for a husband, I struggle to know if that is the right thing to pray for. Is that really what I want?
This morning in church, I was watching couples (I was also listening to the sermon, so don't you be thinking that I wasn't.) There were these men with their arms about the woman next to them. The gal would lean her head on his shoulder, and he'd kiss her hair. This was happening all around in church. It's a cozy place.
I was tempted for a moment to feel envious.
Then God gently reminded me that He picked me. He has kept me as His own for many years. I sit under the shadow of His wing.
Have you ever toured a magnificent home that you could never afford? One with a dozen bathrooms and a formal garden? You know how dissatisfied you get? I do, anyway. I start looking down on my pretty little home as if I've been somehow denied the better things in life.
I think my husband wishings are like that in reverse.
I have this huge Husband Who is wealthy beyond measure. He surrounds me in love that is never marred by arguments or squabbles. He never neglects to meet the deepest desires of my heart. He parents these children without ever making a mistake.
When I see some man caress his wife, it's like longing for a cottage, when I posses a castle.

I can never seem to reconcile that God ordained marriage, and it is a good thing.... with the fact that I don't have it, and I must not allow myself to be ungrateful or discontent. He is so good to me, and I am a fickle creature. What human man would put up with that?