A few weeks ago, I sat behind my friend and her husband at a concert.

Ordinarily, her leaning over to whisper something in his ear every 15 seconds or so (thereby obscuring my view of the band*) would have been insanely annoying…if it weren't so darn adorable. Especially given the way she absolutely glowed in his presence.  Each time she turned her head towards him, he would tip his ear closer to her lips, which then automatically split into the kind of smile that only comes from knowing you are being heard… and subsequently adored.

As I observed them interact in their own little romantic bubble - completely oblivious to social cues (such as not talking through an entire concert) - I felt a twinge of envy.

This is the same sense I get when I breeze past the baby section at Target.  Or when I scroll through any one of my various social media devices and discover pictures and statuses filled with new life: new engagements, new babies, new homes.

The following morning, I opened my front door to take out the recycling.  It was past 10:00am and I was still in my pajamas, hair unbrushed, looking all kinds of awesome (as you do on a Saturday morning when you a single and without an agenda).  I watched the wheels of a stroller crest my parking lot drive way, pushed by a smiling man bundled up for a morning walk with his infant child…and I felt that familiar twinge. Almost a nostalgic one.

I suppose you could call it wistfulness, but for whatever reason my mind is set on the word nostalgic: a longing for the past.  It's like my heart is homesick.  But homesick for what?

Overcome by the sudden, unpredictable wave of emotion, I responded the only way I knew how.  I promptly slammed my door shut, pulled my journal out, and began to write furiously.  I came up with the following questions:

1. Is it even possible to experience nostalgia for something you've never had?**

2. Am I ever going to find the man who makes me glow?

3. Does it grieve God's heart to hear me put some human (especially one I've potentially never met) on a pedestal like that?

It was the third one that really got me.  It's no secret that I feel like something is missing in my life.  As much as I try not to compare myself to others - and if you have been a reader of my blog for any matter of time you know it's a constant theme of my reflections - that familiar sense of longing creeps up time and time again.

But for what?  For Him. For more and more and more of Him.  

Ecclesiastes 3:11 says that God has placed eternity in our hearts. Right now, in this very moment, cuddled in my bed because I feel like I have nothing "better" to do on my morning off, I have Heaven in my heart.

Even if I can't articulate it in words, my soul knows what is possible.  

And my heart is acutely aware of how far I am from that.

A husband isn't going to fix this nostalgic twinge or cure this emptiness.  Nor is a newborn baby (no matter how cute and snuggly) or a home to call my own (no matter how Pinterest-able the decor).

If my career takes off tomorrow and I suddenly have enough time and money to pursue my deepest passion and travel the globe, sharing with arenas filled with women just how deeply loved and fiercely pursued they are by a God who will never ever for a second let them down…I still might feel it.

HE is my glow.  Psalm 116:2 tells me that God, the very same God that created and maintains this entire universe we call home, He inclines His ear to me. Not unlike my friend's husband at the beginning of this blog. My God leans in to hear what I have to say because I am of precious value to Him.

So when my heart feels that familiar twinge of nostalgia again - that longing for a home I've never yet experienced - I will turn my head, part my lips, and spill my soul in thanks to Him for revealing to me just one more dimension of the life of love He longs to offer.

*short people problems