Archive for the The Journey Category

I had the great fortune to attend a Women’s Retreat with my church this weekend. I had been looking forward to this getaway for several months and of course it ended much too soon. There is much I could say about the sweet communion such events afford busy women. The opportunity to step away from children, crabby husbands and laundry is so rich why would anyone NOT want to go?

This retreat marked a milestone in my journey to better health. I went to my very first women’s retreat exactly 3 years ago. I had decided to change my life and arrived at the retreat only to come face to face with all my demons. Food, food and more food. Pretty food. Sweet food. Salty food. If it was food, it was there. Needless to say I was miserable. I spent much of that first retreat hiding in my room so that no one could see me cry. While there I met a beautiful lady named Maggie who was so kind and caring and helped me to realize I wasn’t alone in my suffering. Maggie was there this year too. She mentioned that she felt a little awkward. Boy, could I relate.

There is something strange about being in a large crowd of women. I think this is because women are so often self-conscious. We are guilty of comparing our lives to others, much to our detriment. One woman confided in me that she struggles with feelings of inferiority much as she did in high school. She said to me point blank, “I’m 30+ years old. Why do I still struggle with feeling like I’m not good enough? I feel like I don’t fit in.”

Maybe our brainwaves short circuit a little bit in the presence of so much estrogen, but I too was tempted to compare myself to others as I watched my friends eat chocolate, cookies and other amazing treats. They all looked like they were size 2 and never struggled with food a day in their lives. I wanted to scream, “It’s not fair!” But screaming has never really been an effective way to get rid of such feelings so I abstained. Instead, I took time to be alone and focus not on others but on myself and my own heart.

Food has always been an idol for me. It’s one of those things I just can’t get away from. And it’s not fair, really, that I can’t eat whatever I want and not gain weight. But food is not really the problem. My heart is the problem. My wicked, selfish, greedy heart desires food above all else. In my flesh I am capable of setting aside reason to worship at the altar of food. And for a while I would be content except that greed is an empty pursuit and has never brought me any happiness. No matter how much I filled my belly I didn’t fill my heart. The only thing capable of filling my heart fully is Jesus. He is the one that really satisfies. (Not Snickers)

While at the Women’s retreat this year I stood in the kitchen and admired all of the beautiful food that had been so lovingly prepared by many of the women attending. I realized it wasn’t fair to resent anyone for enjoying it. The biscotti was so pretty and the cookies smelled so divine that I made a decision not to hate them, but rather to enjoy their presence as they nourished my friends. After all, food is not my enemy. It was wonderful to be there and not compare myself to others, to enjoy the atmosphere for what it was and spend time fellowshipping with my sisters-in-Christ who share my affliction of living in a fallen world. I did not eat anything with sugar in it AND I was happy. Who says God isn’t still in the business of making miracles?

I am so thankful for that moment in time though it was not quite 24 hours of respite from my hectic life. And of course I arrived home to baseball games, the rush of making dinner and piles of dirty laundry. It was all waiting for me. But for a moment I stepped outside of my life and joined hands with others like me who struggle and flail and sometimes fall. They don’t all struggle with food addiction but there was no question of fitting in for me. I heard many others echo my own feelings of inferiority, depression and despair. And while my estrogen may come from a patch since I no longer have ovaries, but I am mother, sister, daughter, and friend to many women. And I did not once retreat to my room to hide from that. Instead I found joy in embracing it.

My dad has a saying, “Life is hard.” I think it to myself a lot. Because life is hard. My dad is this kind, quiet person who never complains. But he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. There is a sorrow etched in his eyes that he never expresses. Much of this has to do with how little praise he has received over the years. He goes to work every day and no one ever tells him he did a good job. His only compensation is his paycheck and somehow that just doesn’t seem like enough. But he still quietly goes about his business, pouring himself out for others even when he is exhausted beyond belief. So when he says life is hard, I believe it.

As good as my dad is I don’t remember him giving me a lot of praise as a child. I don’t think he was withholding it. He was just busy working all the time to put food on the table. For that and many other reasons I soak up praise like a sponge. If someone says something nice to me I light up like a light bulb. For this reason I like to praise others too because I know how good it feels.

I work very hard at my job. My boss is a very busy guy. He would say about me, “Margaret carries a lot of water.” Meaning, I can handle a lot. Well, I don’t really think I can handle a lot but if I pretend I can and try really hard, sometimes it appears that way. He has nurtured and mentored me into a state of confidence I didn’t know I had. He is a very good man. I never take his leadership for granted. Sometimes I am very stretched in the work that I do. In other words, he throws me into the deep water to see if I can swim. To be honest, I don’t like the thrashing. But I have come to appreciate that thrashing around in the deep water brings about a certain kind of growth I wouldn’t experience wading in the shallow end. I did some serious swimming yesterday and today. I expended every ounce of thought and concentration and somehow survived(again). But something changed today. I had this total confidence about the project I finished that I didn’t have before. I just knew it was good. So I was a little surprised when my boss came around and said, “Margaret, you really set the bar high today. What you did was great!” And I could tell by the way he expressed himself that I had saved his bacon in a meeting. I was so proud.

There was a time I would have shrunk back from the stress and hardship at work. I would have thrown up my hands and sulked when I couldn’t get past the difficulty. But somewhere along the line I learned how to push through. And I am so thankful I did. Working hard to produce a good result is really rewarding. I honestly didn’t need him to give me praise but my goodness was it good to hear it.

Sometimes work is hard and we don’t get the credit we deserve(like my dad). For every time my boss praises me, there are 20 times he doesn’t. That’s just the way it is. Life is hard. But if I have learned anything from my father it’s this, work hard, complain less and don’t expect people to notice. I should work hard for the simple joy of knowing I did my best. Satisfaction in a job well done is surely it’s own reward. I think my dad will probably go to the grave knowing he did the very best he could with what he had. And every one who knows him will agree. As for me, I want to be like my dad when I grow up.

I woke up at 4:15am this morning. I was up at 3:00am before that and 1:00am before that. I woke because I was uncomfortable. I woke because I was hungry.

Hunger is such a simple thing, relatively speaking. The body runs out of fuel in the stomach and fires some neurons into the brain which signal other pesky organs to groan, namely the stomach which growls like and angry dog. I’m hungry because I began eliminating my bedtime snacks and cutting back on portion sizes. I do this every time I pack on extra pounds and force myself to begin working them off. Every time feels like the first time. It’s painful and awful and frustrating. I don’t much like to experience hunger.

Some people will say you need to eat when you’re hungry but I have learned my body and the only way my body sheds pounds is to go without. Smaller portions=less food in=weight loss. Since I have such an efficient body I really don’t need that much food. But my brain doesn’t really understand that, even though I am constantly trying to make it listen.

I only say all of this to explain that eating less is a special kind of self-imposed torture for me. My natural state will consume vast quantities of food without batting an eye. And even though I have been waging war against my desire to eat I feel like I am constantly losing. The same way many people take Advil or Tylenol for pain, I take food.

This morning I lay in bed at stared at the red digital display on my alarm clock. 4:15am. 4:20am. 4:27am. And so on and so forth. Until I finally got mad, climbed out of bed and suited up. I walked through Ferguson with my SI belt(that enables me to walk without pain) and listened to Romans and prayed.

Which brings me to my point. Hunger induces a feeling of such discomfort that it drives me to cry out to God. It is the one thing I am completely unable it ignore and powerless to dismiss. It gnaws at my resolve and whispers to me to just give in. I believe that is why fasting can be a very powerful mechanism. It forces us to deal with our bodies in a very basic way. In my case it drives me to the brink of madness in such an acute way that I have to reach out for the only sanity I know, Jesus. And in those moments of helplessness and pain I find clarity. I learn who He is in the middle of the suffering and who I am in my relationship with Him. I ask for His help because I have had no luck facing my food issues alone. Food has never healed the pain in my life. My slavery to it is well documented. The freedom I find in renouncing food for a time, and meditating on the brokenness it induces leaves me in a state of empowerment I don’t find any other way.

4:15am was only the beginning of a very long day, one I am eager to put an end to. But I take comfort in knowing I was aware of my life today. I experienced hunger, fatigue, wonder, self-realization and the peace that comes from mastering my body. Today I lived. I didn’t just muddle through. I was intentional. I am proud of myself(and not just because I resisted cookies). I am proud for enduring when I could have given in to my food-lust. And THAT is amazing!

(and for those worried I’m starving myself–I’m not. I’m well within my calorie range for height and weight)