Have you ever been so hungry that even breadcrumbs seem appetizing?
Like after a long 10 mile round trip hike, or after running a marathon, or at the end of a long fast?
You hike off the mountain and your stomach is in knots because you’re so hungry. The hunger pains wrack your body and growl like a grizzly bear after leaving his cave from a long winter’s nap. His growl reverberates through the canyon until it is satisfied with meat.
Your hunger pains beg (no, they demand!) to be satisfied and given food, they are painful and constant, and then you hear a loud voice – “Free Food Inside.” You see a dark house with an open doorway and a faint light in the kitchen, and unable to think of any other options – you enter the doorway - the “Free Food” part sounds appealing.
You slowly walk into the house and look around carefully. You see some food on the kitchen table. As you cautiously move towards it, you see a plate of breadcrumbs and a plate which contains a half-eaten, low-grade, burger that may or may not be moldy.
You think, “Is this it? Is this all there is?”
You decide to scour the kitchen cabinets, but they are empty. So you resolve to eat what is provided. “Is there any other choice?”
Your first thought is to start with the breadcrumbs, because at least they seem to be untouched. They quell the hunger pains a bit, but don’t satisfy. They are stale. The burger has meat and substance, but the stench tells you that it’s not fresh and so you’re hesitant to try it, but you think, “Maybe this is all I deserve? Maybe this is it for me?”
You pick up the burger and close your eyes . . . intent on gulping it down, before you grit your teeth and taste it, you hear a small, quiet, gentle voice say “My beautiful daughter, I have a surprise for you. Put the moldy burger down and the walk away from the breadcrumbs. I have so much more in store for you. Take a step of faith.”
But there’s another voice that says, “The breadcrumbs may not satisfy, but something is better than nothing. If you walk away now, you will starve.”
Then the gentle, loving voice whispers, “You deserve better my darling. I love you so much. Walk away and follow me.”
Unbeknownst to you is a carriage waiting outside the door. It’s covered in gold and driven by majestic steeds that are built for speed. It’s anxiously waiting to take you to a banquet that’s being held in your honor. Your closest friends are waiting patiently for your arrival. There’s a silky, gold gown ready for you to put it on and satin slippers for your feet.
The food on the banquet table is piping hot and all of your most favorite dishes are expertly prepared. Filet Mignon cooked to perfection, shrimp cocktail on ice, mounds of mashed potatoes dripping with butter, homemade rolls smothered with homemade jam, locally grown, seasoned vegetables, iceberg salad with blue cheese dressing, and the most expensive of wines have been poured into goblets and are chilled to the perfect temperature.
The food and your friends are waiting for the arrival of the guest of honor; they are excited to celebrate . . . YOU!
But you falter and hesitate, “What if . . . ? As you look around the room, you spot some salt and pepper and sprinkle it on the breadcrumbs. You think, “I should just be grateful and satisfied as I now have seasoned breadcrumbs.” But the thought won’t go away . . maybe there’s more out there for me? This is temporary and the breadcrumbs won’t satisfy for long, if at all.
You hear that gentle, loving voice again and all it says is, “Come with Me. You deserve more. You deserve better. I treasure you and value you. Come.”
You pull away from the table, straighten your shoulders, head held high and walk away from the moldy, half-eaten burger and stale breadcrumbs.
As you step into the glow of the sunshine and feel it’s warmth. . . you hear another voice, quite angelic, and it says . . .
“Your carriage awaits Princess.”
(Don’t settle for sloppy seconds, breadcrumbs, mediocrity, and empty promises as you deserve the finest that life has to offer!)
Comments