Daily Bread

Daily Bread

“Then Jesus declared ‘I am the bread of life, whoever comes to me will never go hungry and whoever believes in me will not thirsty” John 6:35 (NLT)

While Jesus was actually referring to feeding our spirit, I truly believe, as I struggle to understand, acknowledge and accept my physical hunger, he is speaking to me about surrendering my physical hunger to him.  He wants me to know that because of who he is and who I am in him I should never have to go hungry again.  He will be my portion, but I have to trust him.

I wake at the cottage and open the blinds to see the clouds moving quickly across the sky.  They are dark and heavy with the expectation of snow.  I stare out the window watching God's power in the wind as the pregnant clouds move as though they were softer summer clouds.  Even the dark storm clouds testify to his majesty, creativity, and power.  As I marvel at this, I wonder how he created all I see before me with the power of his word.  I know that by simply speaking to these diseases, I could be healed. Matthew 8:6-10 ‘’Lord, my young servant lies in bed paralyzed and in terrible pain”.

7 Jesus said, “ I will come and heal him.”

8 But the officer said, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come into my home.  Just say the word from where you are, and my servant will be healed.  9 I know this because I am under the authority of my superior officers, and I have authority over my soldiers.  I only need to say ‘Go,’ and they go, or ‘Come,’ and they come.  And if I say to my slaves, ‘Do this,’ they do it.”

10 “When Jesus heard this, he was amazed.  Turning to those who were following him, he said, ‘I haven’t seen faith like this in all Israel!’

13 Then Jesus said to the Roman officer, “Go back home.  Because you believed, it has happened.’ And the young servant was healed at that same hour.

There is so much power in his word and he speaks to me, but not to my afflictions, and I am once again lacking the very thing I need to be healed, the faith of the Roman officer.

The phone rings, pulling away from my marveling and wondering.  I had scheduled a phone appointment with my therapist fearing that after the holiday and my mother’s pre-Thanksgiving phone call that I may need to touch base. (God, I hate being dependent).  After the phone session, I am determined that this is the last moment the Eating Disorder and its voice shaming me into restricting, working out, or purging will infringe on my weekend.  I can do this and I do (almost!)  We spend the morning sipping warm coffee in front of the fire then working a little; me on my writing, Kurt on e-mails.

We find joy and laughter in the simple and mundane tasks of waiting for furniture, arranging it, unpacking boxes, re-arranging the furniture, then laughing as we moved it all back to its original places.  After almost thirty years together, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, this surprises neither of us, and I realize there is a beautiful familiar rhythm to our life together, one that has been made richer through my afflictions.  And the eating disorder maybe knocking gently, but today I am going to do my best to resist answering the door and letting it in.  I am finding so much joy inside these four walls without the eating disorder, I am almost afraid to leave to purchase more rugs, furniture and lunch. Here I am safe, out there I have to face lunch!  Ah…there it is trying to sneak into my day as it whispers to me about lunch without working out. “Do you really need to follow your meal plan if you aren’t going to run?   I feel like it is a lose, lose situation for me.  If I stay in and ignore my hunger nudging me towards the door, the eating disorder wins, if I go out and eat I feel a sense of defeat.  “This is bull shit!”  I speak to the eating disorder.  “Shut up and leave me alone.  You are not the boss of me, I am. If I open this door keeping in mind, I am letting myself out, not you in, and when I eat my lunch it isn’t a mark in your win column, but mine.”

I allow myself half a deli sandwich and some chips.  It is over half way through the day and I am still okay.  I busy myself with the tasks at hand.  I begin to roll out carpets, bring in furniture, and place a few nick knacks in their rightful spots.  I feel myself becoming excited as the kitchen and great room come together, looking wonderful, but not remotely what I had envisioned.  It reminds me that life rarely turns out as we envision it.  I would never have predicted a relapse into Anorexia, my dad’s indiscretions, or the horrendous neuralgia I endure daily, yet they are all a part of my life.  I also never dreamt that I would be blessed with two awesome boys (men), a wonderful daughter in law, or that I would decorating my home in pink and white camouflage to celebrate my granddaughters first birthday.  After having boys, I love that my house looked like a pink Easter Peep had exploded.  If only the gifts of my passing years would begin to over take the sorrow of the suffering.  I ask that the Lord would continue remind me of the gifts, growth and strength I have found in the suffering.  I think this is universal to all of us, and if we look beneath the smoldering surface of our lives there is always some beauty that rises out of the ashes.

This cottage is different from my other homes, and my life.  I really don’t have a plan for it. I figure, why bother? I tried to plan my life, and while parts fell into place, there were many unplanned detours along the way, and just as many days that I felt completely lost.  I am wondering what side of me will be revealed as I bring this place to life?  It is mystery waiting to be solved. I have great confidence in solving this mystery.  Now, if only I could solve the mystery of my life.  I guess this is where I must place my confidence in the Lord who knows the end of my story.

My other homes all reveal a different side of me.  The safe classic me is reflected in our actual residence in Terrace Park.  The winsome, colorful, child like part of me is reflected in the waterfront purple, yes purple, cottage.  It is bright and light and makes me happy.  I have a feeling this house will fall somewhere in between. I am starting to see classic craftsman, with a few quirky touches, plenty of color and rooms with themes, like fish, lighthouses, or boats.  I love theme rooms!  I am feeling a bit like a kid in a candy shop! 

Candy? Do I even remember feeling like “a kid in a candy shop,” eating my favorite treat with out fear and shame? I try to remember what it is like to enjoy my food, and that it is safe and there is no shame in dong so.  We have worked hard all day long and by the time we head to dinner I am hungry, but not starving, thanks to my lunchtime victory.  I am comfortably hungry and think I have left the eating disorder out side the restaurant, but somehow it sneaks in and catches up with me, and I purge.  Dang it!  Once it catches up with me, I feel like a criminal trying to shake the police.  I know I am going to get caught, and I do.  I get caught in a vicious cycle that I have not been in since my first period of recovery.  Not even in this relapse have I fallen back into this terrifying cycle.

I purged at the restaurant, then wonder why I am starving a few hours later?  I make some crackers and almond butter and a handful of Chex Mix, hardly a binge, but I have to get rid of it.  Then I feel guilty for depleting myself and eat part of an energy bar.  I begin to feel the urge to purge again, but stop it there. 

Fuck, I am exhausted by now.  This feeling hungry stuff is so foreign and scary to me.  What happens if I can’t control it?  I think of a loved one who suffers more from bulimia and I imagine how terrifying binging and purging must be for her.  I am scared for her. I am scared for me.

I go to God.  “I am sorry God, forgive me!”  He speaks back to me as I write  “Liz, you have got to stop and think.  I am not going to hurt you, but you hurt yourself.  Why don’t you trust me?  Pray before you eat, before you purge.  Let me hold you and surprise you with my comfort and strength.  Surrender, surrender, surrender.  We are a team, but you have got to join me in this and be a team player.  Think of me as your quarterback.  I am the leader of our team.  Trust me!  You want recovery, but you don’t.   Let go!  What would have been different about your day if you had come to me and not the toilet or sink?  Just think about that today!!!”