Day Nine

Day Nine..

My day went extremely well until I decided to use up the ground beef in the fridge and make a pot of sauce with meatballs.  I figured I would make the smallest pot of sauce  possible and book out of the kitchen at dinner time. 

All continued to go well..the sauce simmered, I quickly tidied up the kitchen, took a quick nap, folded some laundry, read through several chapters of a book..all while staying on schedule with my shakes and stirring the sauce as needed..

As the afternoon went on, the aroma of homemade pasta sauce filled my home..this proved to be almost too much to handle for this overweight Italian girl who is deeply, or should I say, madly in love with pasta.  I had asked my daughter, Ally to cook the pasta after I made the sauce, because I knew I couldn't be anywhere in the area while mounds of pasta and meatballs covered in Romano cheese (my personal favorite) graced the dishes of my dining room table.  Stuff happens, and my daughter wasn't home, so I was forced to face my fiercest temptation.  Growing up in my home, homemade sauce and pasta was served at least once a week.  I was doubly blessed because my Italian grandma lived with us my entire life, so the odds of finding a good dish of pasta on any given day of the week in our house was pretty good.  This is my ultimate comfort food. 

I had no other choice but to start the boiling water..touch the sauce spoon to my lips, just so I could make sure it was done..and then even biting into a piece of pasta to be sure it was just right.  No body likes mushy pasta in my house.  I bit into a piece, and threw it away.  Yes, I actually threw it away.  I knew there was no way I could resist temptation if I actually swallowed the pasta..at this point I was pretty much feeling like a drug addict..

I finished up, coated the pasta with the sauce and served my baby girl, Tori her plate..she was dancing around the kitchen with excitement..pasta is her favorite too.  I immediately called the family down for dinner and exclaimed that they would have to dish their own plates because I was about to go crazy..

Sitting on the couch while my family cleaned their plates, and as little children scattered by with sauce stained lips and fingers was almost unbearable.  I actually began to shake and then turned angry.  Here we go again..

I was mad at so many things..I made the sauce, why can't I enjoy it?  It's not fair that everyone else in my house can eat whatever they want and here I sit with a tasteless protein shake..why did I have to be the fat one in the family? Why can't I be like my husband and eat whatever I want and barely gain a pound?  It's just not fair..is all I could muster up at that point.  I wanted to leave the house and take a drive, but had no energy..I had used it up with my whining and complaining.  This is getting old, I told myself..really, really old.  Am I gonna do this or not? Was my next question to myself..so I asked my husband to sit next to me and discussed how I was feeling.  After I whined some more, he put his hand on me and prayed over me.  Wow.  I am blessed.

For just a few short minutes after that I continued to crave the pasta and meatballs that were only yards from where I was sitting.  Even at one point I thought that I could possibly sneak a plate when everyone went upstairs..no one would know..I argued with myself for several minutes when I finally felt the Holy Spirit quietly say, "Do you believe I can do this? Do you have faith that I will carry you through tonight and every other night of temptation?  You have to trust me.  You have to persevere." I just sat there and began to cry.  As the tears fell I began to confess..which turned into me falling to my knees and pouring my heart out to my heavenly Father.  Memories of the years of binging and gorging on pasta and breads, sweets and anything else I could think of started to flood my thoughts, and I could not hold back the tears.  How did I get to this place?  How did it get so out of control?  All I could do was ask God to forgive me.  This is not the life he planned for me. 

Time to take my place as an over comer..time to write my new name on a clean slate, a white stone..my new life is just beginning.

I am a woman who has overcome..

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it. Revelation 2:17

I am thankful for another victorious day in Christ Jesus, grateful for his perfect love..feeling humbled that he cares enough to carry my wretched soul into wholeness..falling into a deeper love and relationship with my Father God feels better than any dish of pasta could ever taste...

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God. I John 3:1