Wednesday, September 4, 2013
When You Can't Stop Thinking About Scones
This post is about scones...but not.
It's about sacrifice...but not.
It's about dieting...but not.
I have a vulnerable story to tell about the progress of my health since losing my dad last May. It's not a pretty story. It's a sordid tale of weakness and choices not of Him. To say the story isn't yet ready to publish would infer that I've begun writing it. That just isn't the case.
I can't bring myself to write it...to face it...to admit it.
Is there anything in your life that feels this heavy? (Really, no pun intended, friends. It just flew off the keys.)
The one clue I can reveal to you about this span of time, without going into the full story, is that I made a promise to my husband, and by golly, I kept it.
"I just want you to know, I'm going to eat my way through the grief."
His response, "I know."
Bless him for understanding, for the lack of pressure and guilt.
So, one promise kept and many, many, many pounds later,
I write this for you.
Because it's really not all about the weight.
It's about taking comfort in something other than His grace.
This decision has serious ramifications.
You see, it's not just the aesthetics of the decision. To be truthful, though it's a bummer that I can't fit into any of my previous clothing (I have some really cute pieces!) and my current wardrobe looks more "mu-mu" and less "my, my!," it isn't just my appearance that's causing me angst. True, I don't feel great about my form and often don't want to go out because I'd rather hide in my house.
But the hiding out isn't all about the aesthetics either.
It's hiding from the reality...
the blatant truth that I've chosen wrong again and again.
Now the whole balance of my being is skewed.
Okay, you have the history at this point. Maybe I'll write the whole story one day. Maybe I won't. But for today, I'll fast forward to approximately a week ago. I honestly can't remember what I was reading or doing or thinking but I do know I had been praying (finally...duh!) for guidance about this issue. I had been praying, perhaps somewhat desperately and halfheartedly, for quite some time. But that day? Well, that day I began praying honest prayers.
Prayers of surrender.
Prayers of direction.
Prayers of healing.
And I suddenly felt washed over with peace.
I knew what I had to do.
I was led to a series of articles, sites and conversations - all from different sources - that brought me to a directed path.
I won't go into the details here (and please, friends, know I am doing this smart and healthy) but the long and short of it is, I have cut gluten out of my life.
Now the "gluten-free decision" isn't the revelation.
The resolve is.
The submission is.
The trust is.
The peace is.
But the weird thing...the very, very odd circle of thought that has surfaced is,
"What if I'm never able to eat a scone again?"
I don't even eat scones very often.
Why not pasta or bread or bran or pizza?
Why not all of the every day offerings in which I won't indulge?
Why not cookies or cake or Fiber One cereal?
Round and round the scone debate mentally ran. For a few days, they became a sort of mental unattainable source of pleasure I sought....
Like my entire life story might come to a bitter end if I couldn't have a scone.
So I prayed for an answer.
This morning it dropped on my doorstep...okay, my inbox, but same difference.
One of my daily devotionals focused specifically on this exact struggle. Kari Patterson entitled her post "Because I Don't Want to Do This for Forty Years," in reference to the Israelites walking in circles for 40 years looking for The Promised Land.
Focusing on the negative.
Focusing on what they were giving up, not on what they were gaining.
Focusing on this temporal life, not on life in Him.
And she wrote it in reference to a current struggle with her daily food choices.
"I told him He could have every grain of sugar for the rest of my life, if that’s what it meant to not walk in the wilderness for forty years. If it meant never tasting my children’s birthday cake or never sipping coffee or never baking cookies with my kids. It wasn’t for me to decide upon a plan at that moment, it was for me to surrender all to Him and let Him take over and show me the plan."
Yeah, that's a pittance.
A small price to pay to have Him in every moment, every decision.
Focusing on His good rather than my weakness.
Focusing on the well-being of this earthly vessel and the ability for it to do His work.
Not focusing on a buttery, sugary, doughy indulgence of gluttony and sorrow.
No scones...but all of Him?
Yeah, that's a choice worth making.
Yessiree, I choose that.
Photo credit: Murdrobe1, Photobucket