I promised I would be completely honest on my blog.
So here it goes.
Something not many people know about me.
I love food.
Like really love it.
Truly, deeply, love it.
Ok, so that’s not a secret.
My husband, my family, and especially my coworkers know I love food. It is the first thing I think about when I wake up.
I may be so full I’m about to that I am about to vomit…
“Did someone say donuts? I can make room.”
Monday morning at work after restarting my diet for the 8th Monday this month…
“Did someone say donuts? I swear someone said donuts. I’ll double check the break room just to be sure there aren’t any donuts.”
I honestly believe people who say they forget to eat…ARE LIARS. Who forgets to eat!? That concept is lost on me.
I have been elbow deep in some unsavory situations in the operating room, all the while trying to decide if I’m going to heat up my leftovers or spring for the baked potato bar in the cafeteria.
Well, there was only one time in my life food genuinely repulsed me.
Paralyzed with fear. My heart was racing day and night. I couldn’t eat I couldn’t sleep. The first ten days after being diagnosed with breast cancer I lost around 16 lbs. Not great when I was the sole provider for Robbyn’s nutrition at 33 weeks gestation. Jordan would coax me in to eating the only thing I could choke down. A McDonald’s mango smoothie.
I know, right? Gross.
My mind was so engrossed in fear and pain.
Fear of my life being cut so much shorter than I had ever anticipated. Pain of thinking about my children suffering without a mom or the possibility of another woman raising my children.
I prayed and prayed, and when I was sick and tired of praying… I prayed some more. I begged, bargained, and pleaded with God. At least 50 times a day I cried out internally and externally the most vulnerable and genuine prayer of my life,
“God, save me. Please.”
My prayer was was stripped of pomp and circumstance. No frilly adjectives or church slang. Just a desperate plea to my creator to spare my earthly life, if just for a little while.
As terror stricken as I was, that period in my life is THE absolute closest I have ever felt to God. Not because God was any closer to me, but because I was choosing to be closer to God. I was powerless. Out of control. Completely dependent on Him.
I was in my bible, not just once a day but multiple times a day. My days were centered around prayer.
I would never forget how wonderful it felt to be wrapped in the comfort of the psalms or the balm of a praise song or my continual singing of “count your blessings.”
I would never get out of this habit of constant prayer and communion with God.
I had the scariest hours, days, and months of my life and when the dust settled. I drifted.
I spent less time in my bible. Before when I read, I had been fervently searching for answers, for guidance, for comfort.
My prayers, though still daily, were not as frequent or as passionate as they had been.
Thats human nature though.
Well…it’s our sin nature.
We get complacent. We drift. We forget what AMAZING and WONDERFUL things God has done for us.
We drift in many areas of our lives. It’s a gradual movement. Often we don’t even realize it’s happening.
I never realize how many episodes I watch, until Netflix conducts a welfare check on me to make sure I am really still watching. I black out and the next thing I know I am three seasons deep into The Office.
I don’t realize how much weight I have gained, because I wear nothing but leggings and very forgiving hospital scrubs (as I sneak stale donuts from the break room). Suddenly, I put on a pair of jeans for the first time in months and realize that the box of donuts I accidentally demolished in one sitting made an impact on my waistline.
It’s been a little over a year since my diagnosis and there have already been so many times I have forgotten what God has done. I grumble and complain, I’m too quick to yell at my children or even a stranger in traffic.
I grow complacent. Content. Almost numb to the things of God.
That’s where the enemy wants us. Too tired or lazy to care about our spiritual welfare.
“God understands I need to get these dishes done. He will understand why I don’t have time to do my bible study.”
“God knows that I had a late night. He will understand I’m too tired to go to church.”
“God knows I have talked to people all day at work. He knows I am socially drained. He will understand that I don’t want to be social with my neighbors.”
We drift and drift into these ridiculously comfortable spiritual leggings until we can’t button our godly Jeans anymore!
We don’t realize how much we have let Satan get footholds in our life until big changes have occurred and like Regina George, sweatpants (or leggings) are all that fit us anymore!
We look around and our lives look no different than the world.
That is dangerous territory. Our lives should be filled with things of GOD. Our priorities and schedules should reflect our beliefs.
The world should notice that we are different. They should see that we are filled with joy, and peace, and kindness, and patience.
“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:2)
Get in your bible. Pray. Listen to a sermon online. Listen to a Christian podcast. Go to church. Talk about God in your home. With your spouse. With your children.
If you don’t feel like doing any of those things. Pray for God to give the desire and the hunger to continue to grow closer to Him.
Put down the donut!
Take off your spiritual leggings and for Pete’s sake button those spiritual jeans!!
3 thoughts on “A Dear John letter to my leggings”
So true!!! Love your blog.
Love the analogy! “Fits” perfectly for me too!
Good truths and things we all face. My pastor told me just this week, as I myself was in a doubt spiral, that sometimes we have to think not only what would God do but what the father of lies would do. It gives you a different perspective. Stay strong and remember God is holding your hand. Let him lead.