A quiet prayer before we begin
Lord Jesus, thank You for the wisdom You hide in small moments, laughter, children, and even disappointment. Forgive me for the times I ignored what was dry, misaligned, or false because I was lonely or hopeful. Sharpen my discernment without hardening my heart, and teach me to recognize what is nourishing, mutual, and true. In Jesus’ Name, amen.
My granddaughter and I once created a cute little book with Joppa and Millo called Dry Crumbs. The time we shared while putting it together was very special to me. There was so much silliness and laughter woven into it, and I felt deeply blessed that a child so young carried such simple wisdom. She told me the story had too many words for a children’s book, so we edited it together. We talked about friendship and about the things that make a good friend and a good listener. I am still learning how to be a good listener myself.
Lately, that little book has come back to mind.
As I have been talking with potential partners online, I have found myself working out some of that same wisdom in real time. I have talked to men who seemed to be interviewing me for “wifey material,” yet when I asked important questions, they hopped around with words completely misaligned, like a frog. Another seemed to be hopping from me to someone else online, as though one of us was merely a backup plan. And then there was one who seemed to think he could keep me interested with dry crumbs. But dry conversations are a waste of time and energy. I would rather be in my head, creating children’s stories with Joppa and Friends or other storytelling. But I do have to get out of my head every now and then.
I prefer appetizers.
By that, I mean the kind of conversation that is shared both ways. The man I desire asks me about my day and gives me room to share my highs and lows. I also want to hear about his day. I want mutuality. I want presence. I want a conversation that breathes. If the conversation is too focused on me alone, something in me grows uneasy. It can feel less like care and more like information gathering, as though my words are being collected rather than received. I may be wrong sometimes, but that is honestly how it feels.
At one point, I did get discouraged. But I am beginning to see that these men are teaching me valuable lessons about myself.
I used to believe most men were honest; I was naive. I still believe there are good men. But I also know now that my picker was broken for a very long time. Healing has changed the way I listen. I feel like God is tuning up my Love picker. He is adjusting it the way my ex used to tune an engine—with his hands and ears. He knew the sound of a good-running motor, and if something was even slightly off, he adjusted it with careful attention. He was an excellent mechanic, and he taught me to pay close attention to misalignments in my car. He also taught me valuable survival lessons.
And now, in a different way, I feel the Lord using even these awkward conversations to teach me the sound of misalignment in people.
I am grateful I have not gone any further by pursuing or forcing a relationship despite red flags. That, too, is grace. Now I am listening. I am paying attention, even to the small, dry conversations. And those irritating Love emojis do nothing for me. They are not substantial. They are not effort. They are not nourishment.
The soul knows the difference.
Healing has taught me that dry crumbs are not a meal, and mixed signals are not depth. Misalignment is not a mystery. And attention that does not carry honesty is not Love. I do not say this with bitterness, but with gratitude. God has been kind enough to slow me down, sharpen my hearing, and teach me not to mistake crumbs for connection.
Perhaps that is part of healing, too: not only learning how to desire love, but learning how to discern what is real before calling it good.
Sacred Pause
Sit quietly for a moment.
Where have you accepted dry crumbs because you hoped they might become a feast?
Where has healing taught you to listen more closely to what feels misaligned?
And where might God be sharpening your discernment, not to make you fearful, but free?
A prayer of repentance and renewal
Lord Jesus,
Forgive me for the times I accepted too little because I did not yet believe I could wait for what was honest and mutual. Forgive me for chasing clarity where there was only confusion, and for excusing misalignment because I wanted connection.
Thank You for the healing work You are doing in me. Thank You for tuning what was once broken and teaching me how to listen more closely. Sharpen my discernment without making me cynical. Keep my heart tender, but not gullible. Teach me to recognize the difference between crumbs and nourishment, between performance and sincerity, between misalignment and peace.
And if Love is to come, let it come with truth, consistency, mutuality, and rest. Let it be something that breathes, something that listens, something that gives and receives in the light.
In Jesus’ Name, amen.