Tonight I will be who I am. The woman with the dark red lipstick, face-beat makeup, and perfume that whispers, “Take me, please.”

The woman in my oval mirror looks back at me as she adjusts her beautiful cream-colored pearls worn four layers down her neck into the curve where her breasts divide. With her ears adorned with large hoop earrings that barely caress the tips of her shoulders, she looks back at me as though mocking me publicly with a question I cannot answer.

The wall is thin. I can hear my children breathing heavily in the room next to me. Some nights, the youngest of the three somehow senses when mummy walks past his room. Some nights, he wakes up too. Hopefully, not tonight.

I tell myself I am doing this for them. I am doing this for him also, my husband. How else will we survive in this harsh economy?

I manage to slip outside without waking them up, stilettos held tightly in my right hand. I shut the front door without making a sound. I can feel my nails pinching into the fabric where the stiletto heels attach to the shank of my shoes, holding on for dear life because if these shoes should fall, the clatter against the gravel will wake someone up.

I still remember the day I bought these heels.

“They look like they were made just for you, girl!” a fellow shoe shopper had said to me as I tried them on at the store. I’d smiled faintly and said, “Thank you.”

Only after walking down the block do I get the courage to put on my dark red stilettos. I drop my purse on the street and swipe my hands in a semi-circle motion behind each heel so that the shoes fit snugly. And then, onward I march, to see what the still night holds for me. Only a few more blocks now and I’ll be on the main road where cars will drive by and rich men will stop.

One strange lover tonight. Another tomorrow. Four more for the rest of the week. Sometimes more and sometimes less. I lose count on some weeks.

But never on Sundays. On Sundays we will all go to church, my family and I.

I will say, I was glad when they said unto me, let us go into the house of the Lord.

I will dress my children in bow ties and pretty pink dresses. I never wear red lipstick to church, never. It clashes with my personality. I will hold my husband’s hand. Together, we will push open the doors of the sanctuary. We always sit on the second row, the members of the congregation know us all too well. We will sing along with the choir — familiar songs of peace.

Never on Sundays. Sundays are reserved for God.
Never on Sundays. I am back to being me. Forgiven and free.
Never on Sundays. Sundays are reserved for God.

I will listen to a life-changing message and I will shed a few tears or cry a river.
I will listen to a preaching about a love that never fails. How He keeps giving and giving, whether we take it or not. I will look at my husband and he will look back at me with a smile. “That’s a good word, praise God,” I’ll whisper.

But when tomorrow comes again, I’ll be a prostitute to crave. For God’s love is surely not enough.

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I can’t help but wonder who this story is for today. You may be thinking of the story of Hosea marrying a prostitute (Gomer) according to God’s instructions in the Bible (the book of Hosea). That kind of love demonstrates how God loves us, constantly chasing us even when we’re chasing other lovers.

If you think about it some more, are we like Gomer to an extent? As emotional beings, maybe we women tend to “lust after” different ideals on different days of the week. Our livelihood, our homemaking, our sacrifices…the things that scare us the most.

Are we putting our First Love (God) in only one slot in our lives — the Sunday or church day slot? Or do we live every day for Him, knowing that we are loved by Him and truly seeking out His daily will for our lives?

I want to encourage you today. God’s not dead during the week. He is alive!

You can enjoy His love every single day of the week. You don’t have to seek other devices to replace His love, He can see you as you strive to be that woman He has created you to be. Every. Single. Day. His love never fails. His provision for you will never finish, because He is the good Shepherd (Psalm 23).

When it seems like no one is coming to your rescue, please don’t jump ship. Wait on Him. Let Him come to your rescue. And oh yes, He will.

I’d love to read and/or pray with you. Drop me a line if you will.

Till the next one. XOXO.

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