Yesterday was just crazy. It started late Sunday night while we were enjoying hang out times with our friends Ray and Allison. Our toilets flooded the hallway and my craft room, leaving the two hubs to clean it up. Around 1 in the morning Abram was consistently awake every 30-45 minutes until I finally took him out of his crib at around 5:30 and realized he was really working hard for each breath (judge me if you want, but I had no idea that was going on. I couldn’t hear any gasping and I just thought he was having a restless night because he’s been teething hardcore lately). We took him to the ER and he was extremely cheerful and energetic for not be able to breath very well. The doctors gave him a few breathing treatments and steroids to open up those lungs and sent us on our way with a crap load of prescriptions. The car was giving us trouble, and Daniel spent a good portion of the evening on the roof trying to figure out where the septic tank was to solve the toilet problem. We slept like the lifeless, most inanimate objects last night. All three of us.
Needless to say, I didn’t get a chance to post yesterday. Sometimes all of these things come at once and you just go into “get crap done” mode and be responsible adults. What was so surprising to me was that Daniel or myself never really freaked out or had a meltdown over all of the stuff. Whether it was a huge sense of peace, or we were just too tired to feel anything, we handled it pretty well and as a team. It felt good.
However…. I did find a great deal of comfort in food yesterday. Which leads me into the meat of what I want to share. Now I realize this is about to get pretty spiritual or “religious.” I know blogs like the kind I am trying to have usually keep it pretty light and positive. But I want people to see every part of me, not just the cute and “crafty” parts.
This is what I wrote in my journal this morning, and this was my written prayer afterwards:
Sometimes food is everything. This is a reality that I’ve been denying for a long time, because it is shameful and humiliating. Food makes me feel so good for those few seconds or minutes that I am eating it. My problems go away. I’m addicted to that comfort. I worship that comfort through food. Why? I hate this so much, more than any other time I’ve dealt with it in my life. I hate it because it makes me weak and leaves me feeling like a failure. I hate it because it means I am a little like my dad. I hate it most because it keeps me from feeling pretty and sexy (regardless of how he sees me) for Daniel. I want to hate it because it comes between God and I, but truthfully I don’t think about that nearly as much. I’ve turned two inherently good things into evil idols of worship: food and comfort. I’m not getting my refuge and sustenance from God because I’m not seeking it out.
I want to overcome this so bad. But I just realized it’s for the wrong reasons. It’s all wrong, every bit of it. I’m trapped, enslaved, chained to this sin struggle. I need you to save me from this. It’s just another confirmation that I’ll never stop needing the gospel. As painful as I can imagine this is going to be, please break me of this sin. It’s roots are deep, possibly to the darkest caves and trenches of my sub-conscious and soul. It’s probably going to be bloody, so please douse the wounds with grace and mercy, never ceasing to show me how much You love me. I want to come out of this strong, and proclaiming your name.
As hard as it is to reveal the parts of myself that I painfully don’t want others to see, I believe it’s necessary. Transparency will lead to victory. Here’s my struggle right now. What’s yours? Like my pastor said on Sunday, “We are all addicted to something.”