As I lay in my bed, I know it's waiting downstairs for me. It's kept nice and cool in the fridge. It's waiting in the drawer.
The snacks. The treats. The food. Like a lion lurking, it's waiting to add piles to my tummy, my thighs. It's waiting to fill the emptiness, the lack. It's waiting to be consumed, but really it's consuming me.
Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash
A person has to eat. A person needs the calories. But what if the calories are the enemy? That slice of cheese, that apple or orange: all calories. And calories are to be avoided at all cost.
Even after many years, I am ruled by eating too much or not enough. Sometimes it's a source of inner pride. I went to a party and didn't have any dessert, yay for me.
See that? That's not the way God intended food to be. I know because it's all about me. Me, me, me. Food is something I war against, not something that is a tool for celebration, as it should be. Food should be a tool, not a punishment.
It's been years since I ate so much I induced vomiting, but the distortion: the distortion is still there. That's how I know I'm still on this side of heaven.
And I do make progress, and rejoice in that progress. I am not a compulsive weigh-er anymore. My day is not determined by that stupid number on the scale. Sometimes I really eat because I'm hungry and am listening to my body. But that doesn't mean I'm cured, it's still a struggle. More present than I would like.
In heaven, it won't be like this. Food is not an enemy. It is my friend. It provides energy so I can keep up with the demands of my life. It provides me with the ability to respond to my children's needs, gives my brain power to create. In heaven, maybe I'll still have the rolls and the parts I don't like, but I'll like them then. I'll rejoice in how God made me, all the time, not just sporadically. He made me to do so many things and to not feel self-conscious doing them. I'm hoping for that.
Someday.