Hey friends!  Thanks so much for responding to the questions last week!  Even though WordPress was a dear and posted for me, I was actually “out of the office” and on a much needed vacation with my man.  We needed time just to be.  I have enjoyed reading all of your responses and have even started checking out all of your great tunes you listed as your top listens.

That being said, I have to confess something.

I had an amazing vacation.  I should have felt nothing but gratitude and joy once we returned from our adventure.  But had you been with me on Friday evening, you would have probably declared that I needed meds, or at least another vacation.

We had an easy flight back into Phoenix from California.  The high was only 97, as opposed to the 114 degrees that sent us packing from the desert in the first place.  The plan was to have me collect the bags whilst my husband took the bus to snag our car.  We had 3 large items I needed to collect from the baggage area and hopefully place on a cart.

Two bags = no problem.  Two bags and a huge box = no way.  I walked up and to my surprise the bags had ALREADY arrived.  I quickly surveyed the area for a cart only to discover they required $4.00.  The machines only took small bills.  My wallet didn’t have anything that would work.  Luckily the machine proclaimed to take a credit card.  I tried once.  I tried four times.  I began working up a sweat and running with one of the bags to each station throughout the baggage area.  No one could make change.  I raced around sweating, crying, and cursing.  (I’m not proud.)  It was at this moment that my husband called to check on the progress of the bags.  Poor man.

Long story short – a porter ended up helping me with my bag.  My husband pulled up in the car, and we made it home and enjoyed a dinner of cereal at 7:00pm.  I tell you all of this just to give you an indication of what was going on inside of my heart.  I was irritable and selfish.

Unfortunately, the story doesn’t stop here.  You see, the bathroom scale was still out in the living room from when we had weighed our bags on the way to the airport.  I stepped up on the scale fully expecting to see a shift as a result of vacation dining.  What I wasn’t expecting to see was an 8 pound addition to the number.

I had been working out daily and taking such care of myself before we left for vacation.  I have a dress to wear in October and I want to feel great wearing it.  Tears immediately sprung to my eyes.  I stepped back down and set aside my cereal bowl.  Sometimes the scale is finicky.  Second try: I had gained 6 pounds.  At this point tears are streaming down my face.  My husband did his best to remind me that it’s night time, that we’ve been eating salt and bread all week, and that the number would change quickly after the first trip to the gym.

None of this did anything to help my mood.  I cried through my shower.  I cried as I crawled into bed, and then I sobbed.  I sobbed with the deep, heaving gasps of a three year-old throwing a tantrum.  When I could finally get the words out I squeaked, “I just don’t want this to define me for the rest of my life.  I’m tired of being that girl.  I thought I had won this battle.  I don’t want to worry about my body anymore.”

You see, most of my life I’ve had an extreme love/hate relationship with food.  It’s been my comfort and my poison.  I’ve tried to refrain, to count, to change, to forget… but in the end it always seems to have the upper hand.

I’ve decided to share this struggle with you over the next week.  I woke up this morning and the number had receded again.  I was happy.  But here’s the thing, I don’t want numbers on a scale to have that much control over my countenance and emotions.  What does my response show about my heart?  My pastor, Scott Brown, said this in a recent sermon: “What makes you exceedingly emotional – angry/sad/depressed/fearful/happy?  These are the indicators of what you are bowing down to.  What thrills you more than anything when you get it, but would kill you to lose it?  That’s your substitute savior.”

Gulp.  How do I honor God in this arena?  Do I work out more or care less?  What does it mean for me to be healthy?  How do I do this and not turn it into an idol?

I wish I could tell you I’ve figured it all out by now… but obviously, I haven’t.  But I’m also encouraged.  He’s not finished with me yet.

“No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it.”  1 Corinthians 10:13, The Message

More to come…

Following & stumbling,
Ginger