The sun is actually shining today

Imagine that you have a great job that you enjoy doing and pays well and is located in a city that you thoroughly enjoy. Then imagine that you walk away from that for a job that pays a third as much such that after you pay your bills you've got $5 left over, so this requires you to live in a city where your safety is compromised daily. Oh and you suck at your job and get told you are an idiot on a regular basis. Think about what you might wish for in this situation.
The immediate thing that comes to mind would probably be for your previous lifestyle. That's not an option though, so you wish for things that might make your current situation more bearable, like a nice dinner out, or a trip home to see your old friends. Maybe you would wish for a vacation or some sexy shoes or, best of all, some good wine. Or perhaps it would be something as basic as Mom's cooking and a full night's sleep.
Oh, I've wished for them all. And I've had all those things. And, at the time, they definitely raised my level of satisfaction. But I want something more. Even when things were good, I wasn't happy. That's why I forsook my perfect life and came here. I told everyone my plan was this: earn a higher degree so I can get better a job and afford a place with a backyard so I can drink wine outside with my cat and my friends (clarification, I would share my wine with my friends, not my cat).
I realized though, I've already got that. Even now I am writing you from my backyard, sipping wine (AmRhein Sauvignon Blanc, nice balance of fruit and butter, perfect for early summer and blogging) while my cat throws up the toxic vegetation he just ate (his favorite pastime). And you know what, this isn't enough either.
What I really want is this: I am sitting here barefoot in jeans and a tee-shirt, my favorite attire, and I want to be accepted and loved the way I am. I don't want to be loved because I spent countless hours at the gym perfecting my rock hard bod (I didn't and I have what I describe as 'a natural body'). I don't want to be loved because I am so cultured and know just what to say at parties (Virginia wine and Hokie football is the extent of my culture and I spend most parties in the kitchen trying to be useful). I don't want to be loved because I'm so darned nice and giving and I bake amazing chocolate cupcakes (okay, I actually do these). I want someone to just think I am enough the way I am. I want someone to see the celulite and not mind so much. I want someone to hear me butcher the pronunciation of something French and not give me a look. And I want to be able to have a crabby day and say something I shouldn't and still be forgiven for it.
But, as I was making my list of wants, something occured to me. These are all the things Jesus offers. I am reminded of a song (can't remember the title, see, not cultured) that sings, "Sometimes the very thing you're looking for is the one thing you can't see." Romans 5:8 (I had to look this up, not one of those dedicated types who has scripture memorized) says, "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." God looked at me and said, "You've got flabby thighs, you can't speak a second language, and you are a selfish sinner who breaks my heart all the time. But I love you anyway."
You know, I titled this blog in the way that you nickname your fatest friend 'slim'. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it is sunny in grad school. Maybe it took losing everything to see what I had.