This is as best as I can remember a dream I had about 6 weeks ago. The more I meditated on it the more it was revealed that it was more in relation to my marriage with Jesus than anything dealing with a human man. I've been reminded of this dream by the Holy Spirit often since I had it and it has brought comfort in lonely times.
It wasn't until the end of the dream that I saw the actual 'man' I was with - and I cannot remember if he had the ponytail or not, but everything about him screamed 'Mario Batali' - thus the origin of the title of this piece.
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Italy one night, Paris the next. The French Riviera the next week, back to New York City after that.
Trips of a lifetime, but they are the norm. Parties that includes names the whole world knows, but he is never too far from me.
There is a tender protection everywhere we go and a pride in his voice as he introduces me to everyone. They are there for him, but he cannot help but defer to me.
Even after a long night he still finds the time to make me my favorite dessert and make sure I ate. The finest and my favorites all in one.
A private jet, the finest homes, the best hotels - such grandeur and splendor I never thought I'd see. And I stand in awe that for some reason this man picked me. There are those who are smarter, more beautiful, but yet he chooses me.
And then a new surprise, a beautiful boat. It's older, but he's proud of it. A new retreat and he says he got it for me.
Along with some friends I begin walking through the newest gift, taking in every inch and turn.
I mention to the friend that I am in total awe of my life and the love he has for me. I say, almost in a lamenting way, that he sometimes is just so incredibly silly.
She stops and looks at me incredulously.
'You know why, right?' she says. 'Even with all the things he has and does the greatest thing of beauty he wants is to see you smile. He gets silly because he knows that will get you to smile. It's his greatest treasure.'
We keep walking around the boat. The wallpaper is ugly.
Two-tone brown in tiny vertical stripes - it reminds me of a tasteful and sophisticated wrapping paper my parents had used one Christmas - fantastic on a gift but sucks as a wall covering.
'You hate it,' he says - I guess I can't hide my distaste for it. 'I knew you would, but I left it so you could pick out the replacement,' he says with a wry smile and a soft nuzzle.
As we leave he begins, ahead of me, the walk down the long staircase.
He starts jumping down it - several steps at a time - reaching the landing with a 'thud'. He turns and looks up at me with a huge smile.
I chuckle and give him an equally large smile - his greatest treasure.
And in the smallest and lighthearted of moments I love him more than ever before.
