My granddaughter, the sweet little one in this pic, is now an official Big Girl: eight years old, going on 18. She enjoys her food more maturely now, but I used to love taking her to the mall every week for "Chinese noodles". Loved it. Including the part where I got down on the floor and cleaned up as much as I could of her learning-to-eat-noodles project--evidence of unfettered, overflowing joy.
I'm sixty years older than Lucy was in that photo, but I'm learning to eat again myself. I don't spill as much on the floor, but it gets pretty messy.
My problem with food started in 1995 when I had chemotherapy for breast cancer. Several parts of my digestive tract seem to have been impacted, and (in spite of lots of prayer and plenty of medical input) I've thrown up an average of one meal a day all these years. Lots of days I kept no food down at all and had painful gastric spasms (just to make things really fabulous).
The last 18 months have been especially drastic food-wise, and the lack of ability to eat healthy food impacts a person's immune system (and a whole lot more). Gall bladder surgery in October, 2011, helped some, but I was disappointed to find that no matter how much I restricted my eating to super-boring food, the problems persisted.
Lots of tests revealed that I don't have cancer. That was so great to hear, but what in the world was happening? Would it ever end?
My only God assignment was to judge Him good and trust Him. Trying to figure it out mentally only made things worse. So much worse. So I've asked for prayer and prayed, and assumed the waiting position.
About a month ago, a GI specialist ran one last test. It revealed that I have gastroparesis, a condition that functions as "lazy stomach." Food was sitting there, going nowhere way too long. The doctor started me on a new medicine.
In 12 days, I've only thrown up one meal. It's really miraculous, and it has to be more than just the medicine, because my whole digestive system is working together like the parts actually like each other--like they were created to be friends! It's amazing.
And it's scary.
To be honest, I've lost weight in the past six months that I don't want to find. And more than that, food has been an abusive friend for years. Feeling full, especially at night, is reflexively frightening. Eating and enjoying a baked sweet potato is a courageous decision. (I'm so relieved that I've been fantasizing about artichokes, not cheesecake, all these months!)
In this seasons, especially, friends are life savers, aren't they? Isolation and shame are the keys back into slavery in any area.
And my friend Jesus is spectacular. When I look into His eyes, I see a bride. A beautiful bride who loves life. A bride who thoroughly enjoys braised chicken; potatoes (all colors); artichokes (and a bunch of other veggies); a little Dr. Pepper; 4 or 5 delicious peanut M + M's for dessert; a couple of profoundly satisfying bites of a homemade chocolate chip cookie. A bride who might look a little like a growing-up version of 3-year-old Lucy...
