Thanksgiving is probably the worst thing to happen to people trying to eat well. There is nothing but carbs, pies, and comfort food on the horizon. With T-day less than 2 days away, I’m struggling with all the food around.
We ran an errand today and my mom, who has the largest appetite I’ve ever seen a petite person have, saw her beloved “ding-ding” man (ice cream truck that roams the streets and peddles soft serve ice cream and cheesy, melty, spicy nachos) anyway, she heard it and insisted on having nachos. Let me digress for a second…
My mom is 73, 5’4 and weighs about 135 lbs. She’s petite, and fiery. She has the body of a young 50 yr old, the immune system of healthy tri-athlete, and the energy of a 20 yr old. This lady has lived thru hell, and she is still unstoppable. Praise Jesus of course, because He alone sustains her. But I will admit, she’s a handful. As far as I can remember, my mom has always had what I call a “Carnival Stomach.”
According to my dictionary, “Carnival Stomach” is when a person can eat just about everything, especially carnival (or circus) fare. Said person craves this type of food all the time. This defines my mother. She can eat a bag of popcorn and wash it down with a diet soda, then have a candy apple, then a hot dog, and nachos, then a corn dog and French fries. I mean, she can eat and eat and eat. Yet she has very fast metabolism and she never gains weight. She loves food, and I would even dare to say that she is an addict.
Okay, all that to explain who my momma is. So, couple her food obsession and her constant concern for my meals and making sure I don’t skip any, she is a major food enabler in my life. We have had many conversations about her NOT offering me food. Well, tonight, after a long day of playing tennis, babysitting, and cooking I was exhausted. I took her on one last t-day shopping errand and she stops to get her nachos.
Now, I have no problem with that. I probably should have a problem with it, but at this moment, I don’t really care. I’m tired, and my defenses are down. All my fight is pretty spent. (In hindsight, those are all the makings of poor choices!!)
She offers me some and I think to myself, I am due for a snack, so I can have a few tortilla chips smothered in cheese and jalapeños. I don’t have any major conviction about that. I can eat a nacho to the glory of God. So I do. I wanted to eat about 6-7 chips and be done. That coupled with the almonds I had, it’s an ok snack. Not the healthiest one, but I get to have a lil taste of something naughty and still stay on track. Yeah, that was my goal. The reality is that I had at least double the portion I wanted. I ate a massive mound of jalapeños covered in cheese which if I try hard enough, I can justify as being okay. But the truth is, I wouldn’t feel so bad about it if there wasn’t something convicting my heart over it. I didn’t overeat, but I sure ate in a Godless way. As if that weren’t enough, I come home to finish the baking I had been doing all day, and I had a taste of the brownie batter. It’s like one stupid compromise lead to another. Which, I have been noticing is the pattern I write about in these blogs. I recognize the pattern. It just takes one compromise. Just one.
After these two moments of poor choices, I start to feel it well up inside me. Yes, heartburn, but also… FAILURE! That one little F word that derails all goodness when eating well. I started to feel like I messed it all up, I’m so stupid, why can’t I do anything right, why do I constantly go back to slavery, what’s wrong with me, I’m never going conquer this, why can’t you change, why can’t you just be strong… WHY, WHY, WHY!??!?!?!?
And the answer is simple…
Because I. Am. Incapable!
That’s it. I’m perfectly imperfect and I cannot do it on my own! I desperately need Jesus to help me kill this GOLIATH sin that is interwoven into every fiber of my being.
So, after all the emotions, I stopped and realized that I couldn’t do that to myself and that I had to surrender my feelings and thoughts to the Lord instead of idolizing myself. Any form of self-deprecation or disappointment somehow elevates my own self and makes me feel like I’m good and worthy of better, but really, I’m not good and there is nothing good in me, I need Jesus for every single thing. I cannot save myself. He alone does. Ugh, my very messy point that isn’t very clear at this moment is that…
I need Jesus!!!!