Layers

When you first meet someone, you see all the wonderful things about them.  Thinking back to those first encounters is amusing.  Heart racing afraid to say or do the wrong thing. Working so hard to know everything you can about them.
One of the exciting things about affairs is that they allow you to go back to that idealized time.  You can focus solely on a "perfect" person who will love you in all the ways your spouse can't.  That's what the therapists say anyway.
Over time, the reality of the person you were so enthralled with begins to show.  Layers start to flake off. The carefully ignored bad habits become too big to ignore. Of course, losing layers isn't all bad. Underneath all the layers of pretense, there is raw, true beauty. This is the beauty that lasts beyond infatuation. Most of the time the layers that hide this beauty doesn't even start to flake away until infatuation is long gone.  This is the good beauty, the beauty that lasts.
I remember the day in the little church not far from my current home. It was years ago now. I was in third grade.  Mom and dad and my brothers were all in the pew. The missionary from somewhere in South America was wrapping up his sermon.  The pianist starting playing "Just As I Am" and my heart twisted violently another direction.  All around me the sparks were flying. Rapture unknown prior to this moment washed over me and I knew beyond any shadow of any bit of doubt that Jesus wanted me and I wanted him.  It was all I could do to walk up the aisle. I wanted to run. I wanted shout. I wanted the world to know my Jesus.
Infatuation.  I told my best friend all about Jesus. Day in and day out I told her about Jesus. I wouldn't stop. I couldn't stop. I went to GAs and Sunday school and I learned everything I could. I begged the Lord to let me be a missionary.
Funny how God works. I'm still begging the Lord to let me be a missionary.
We've talked many times that I will be a much better missionary if I can sleep in the same bed with my husband and have access to really hot showers.
Whenever I eat baklava, I think about the layers. Individually the layers are yummy. Taken as a whole bite the intricate mix of honey and nuts and dough dance over my tongue and through my mouth. This is joy. The experience of all the layers mixed together, individual and intertwined, is almost an apt description of the mystery of God.