All my life, I've struggled with my weight. I remember being 4 and thinking I was fat, that my tummy was bigger than most people. Self-fulfilling prophecy or not, by the time a few years had passed, food was my solace, my friend, my god. Not just food, really. Eating it.
I have had no real idea, no true concept, of how little I really need to thrive. Large portions, lots of choices, and grazing combined with a dislike of movement led to the expected outcome. How many diets have I been on? I can't remember all of them.
When prayer didn't magically take away my desire for mass quantities of food, I felt pretty angry at God. Why would he leave me with this, what was the point? Why not take it away, why no sudden healing, no instant growth? The oxymoronic nature of it didn't really sink in until the latest attempt at curbing my desire to fill myself with food, food, food.
Instant growth. No such thing, is there? Most healing isn't sudden. Given the nature of our bodies, healing probably isn't meant to be sudden. The healings Jesus did, like the turning of water into wine, were 'hurry ups' of what normally takes a long time. Signs. Pointing to the one in charge of time and processes.
So, what has healed? I don't know the answer, but I can spot growth. Less judgment, more mercy. Less perfectionism. Less all-or-nothing, more grace.
I still struggle with coming home, wanting to fill myself up with food, having spent the day expending all the energy I have. Not knowing what to do with myself, I turn to food too often even now. Only now, instead of being angry at myself, I look back at what I've learned. I wouldn't wish this road on anyone, but I wouldn't trade it for anyone else's, either. In that knowledge is some measure of fullness. For now, it is enough.
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