Right now, my life feels like a broken record. I keep living the same moments over and over and over, each time saying, "I'm glad I learned that lesson; now I can move on!"
But I don't. I haven't.
Everything is fine. I've made waffles for everyone for breakfast, and we're all getting showered and ready for church. Everyone is happy. All is well and right in the world.
But then I have to get dressed...again.
I hate getting dressed.
It's an odd thing for a grown woman to say, right? But I really do hate it. I hate staring into a closet-full of clothes that don't fit, feeling like I'm expanding even as I stare at them.
What to wear?
I actually have some very pretty things that fit, but let's face it - you can put glorious satin on a sack of potatoes, and it doesn't make the potatoes look better...it just makes the satin look lumpy.
I just feel awful right now. Awful.
So, as I stood there staring at the clothes, the gnawing began, and by the time we left for church my heart was being enthusiastically devoured by self-loathing, the kind of self-loathing that spills out over onto everyone it comes in contact with.
My children wanted to know what's wrong and they asked me to cheer up, so I snapped at them. Josiah wanted to hold my hand, but I didn't want to reach out.
I just wanted to crawl under a rock somewhere and lay there.
And, of course, we had to be going to church. We had to be going somewhere I have to smile and pretend like the demon, Self-Loathing, isn't hunched in the corner of my psyche gobbling my heart like Georgie Porgie shoving in Christmas pie.
All I can think is, "Why don't I have any self-control? I'm not working right now; why haven't I been working out? Why do I let myself get like this. I'll tell you why, Self, because you're lazy. Josiah is working himself to the bone and you can't even put the fork down and burn a calorie or two."
And the demon eats.
Maybe I'm learning a couple lessons after all, though.
On the way to church, I closed my eyes and prayed. I didn't want to; the demon was having too much fun, and in the end, we're sinful, disgruntled creatures, are we? But I did; I prayed.
I told God I was mad at myself. I told him I don't understand why I'm this way, and thanked Him for everything He had given me and everything He has done for me. I just can't seem to win this battle. I fight and I fight and I fight and temptation and twinkies always win. I gave it to Him though. Right there in the minivan while Josiah drove to church I prayed and I handed my mangled heart to Him. And do you know what my Savior did?
He healed it.
I walked into the church and instead of feeling like the walls were pressing in on me and I needed to get out, I felt enveloped by the people in our loving congregation, and before I could get to the nursery my heart was lighter. In no time at all, I had forgotten my heart was ever-eaten. It was whole.
When we took Communion, I handed my blackened heart over again. I handed Him that sin of self-loathing and quite a few others, and as always, He handed my heart back again, clean and new.
Perhaps that's the lesson to be learned here. We all struggle with things, sometimes the same thing...the same demon....
The list could go on forever.
But we can never stop handing it over. Only when we stop handing it over to God are we truly defeated. He wants us to give it to Him so He can fill our hearts with grace.
Lesson learned...for today.