Abolishing Acceptable Addictions

I am addicted to coffee.  Why do I call my love of java an addiction?  Bottom line, I continue to consume coffee even though I know it is going to make me sick.  Coffee is bad for me, and yet I have to have it.  In addition to making my stomach feel like its wants to turn inside out, when I don't consume coffee, my brain starts banging wildly on the walls of its room demanding coffee.  That definitely qualifies as an addiction.

Not only am I addicted to coffee, but I've also come to realize that food is an idol in my life.  Here's where things get tricky, and I'm probably going to say something that people will find offensive, but its been bugging me for a long time, and well....this is my blog, so I can say what I want.  I think I am not the only one who has given food a throne above God in their lives.

I'm just going to ask this question very quickly and move on (like ripping off a band-aid):  Why does the Church frown on addictions to alcohol, pot, crack, meth, tobacco, porn, sex, etc, but we all just accept and ignore food addictions?

Okay...moving on.

I spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about food...not just do I WANT food, I spend hours pouring over food blogs, food pins, food sites, books about food, pictures of food.  If I spent half the time thinking about Jesus that I spend thinking about food, I would have a much better relationship with Him than I do now.  

When I am sad, I want food.  When I am lonely, I want food.  When I am angry...food.  When I'm happy, I celebrate with food.  When I have friends over, my first thought is the appropriate food.  

But it doesn't just stop with me...oh no, I push my idol on other people, too.  When people come over, "Eat this."  When its cold and rainy, "Eat these things I baked."  When you have a baby...food.  When you are sick....food.  When you lose a loved one....LOTS of food.

Of course I am not saying that offering food is wrong, but it is my #1 knee-jerk response to absolutely every life situation, when my #1 default, auto-response really should be prayer...every single time.  There is absolutely no circumstance for which prayer, either praise or petition, isn't the right response.  

God has been so merciful throughout my life to help me recognize idols, and to help me start tearing them down.  Years ago, when my perfect-little-family was my idol, He sent a storm to knock it down.  Today, we are so much better for it.  Then, my beautiful home became my idol, and He sent a bright light (Perspectives) to shine on my life and help me see more clearly.  Now, He has brought celiac into my life to aid me in tearing down my idol of food.  

Paul prayed three times that God would take away the thorn in his side.  I, too, have prayed that He would take away the pain that food causes.  He has chosen to leave it in my life, and it is high time I remember how good and faithful He has been, and accept the loving discipline from my tender and merciful Father.

I Lost My Best Friend

I have a friend who has never let me down.  This friend lifts my spirits when I'm down, makes me feel warm and loved, accepts me for who I am, makes my problems take a back seat, fills me up, and is always, always, always there for me...until now.  Until 2011, food was my most trustworthy companion.

Now I have been diagnosed with celiac, and my one true, lifelong friend has become my enemy.  I've endured pain off and on for many years, but no one ever hinted that it could be my good, close friend that was hurting me.  Then last year my safe little world began to crumble, like the cakes and pies I so enjoyed baking and consuming.

I'm left feeling betrayed by my friend.  I am angry and hurt.  Sometimes I slip back into denial, and have to experience the betrayal all over again to return to the reality that gluten causes me to feel like I've swallowed broken glass, and it is slowly working its way through my digestive tract.

I know right now "Gluten Free" is the new "Low Fat."  Everyone thinks they can't have gluten.  Here's a crash course in what celiac is all about.  It is NOT gluten intolerance.

Inside your digestive tract, you have these little tiny fingery looking things called villi....they sort of look like shag carpet lining your intestines.  When these little fingers are all plump and happy, standing up at attention, they suck the nutrients out of the food you eat.  Those nutrients are what power your body and give you the vitamins and minerals you need to do all the wonderful things God designed you to do.

In a person with celiac, gluten causes the shag carpet to lose its body and to lay down flat.  the villi aren't able to absorb the nutrients.  Basically, a person can be eating all the food in the world, but if they have celiac, and they ate gluten, they can die from malnutrition because their body isn't absorbing any of the nutrients from the food they eat.

So...eating gluten can, quite simply, kill a person with celiac.

Tonight, I am laying her suffering because at some point in the past week I had gluten when I didn't realize it.  Gluten hides in lots of places...try reading some labels one day...just for fun.
Gluten is in: wheat flour, modified food starch,caramel color, MSG, "natural flavors," and maltodextrin, as well as any food containing wheat, rye, barley or spelt.

For someone with celiac, "gluten free" isn't enough.  If a gluten-free product comes into contact with anything containing gluten, that's all it takes.  For instance, Mellow Mushroom makes a gluten free pizza crust, but they use the same pans and utensils and cooking space to prepare it that they do for regular crust...so for someone with celiac, the pizza is no longer "gluten free."  If a gluten-free product is made in a factory that also produces gluten products, we can't have it.  Celiac disease is NOT just gluten intolerance.

Please take just a second to check out more information about celiac disease.  And remember, when you meet someone with celiac and they watch you eat that cookie like they've lost their best friend...it might be because they did.

More information about Celiac Disease

The Little Red Shovel

A long time ago, I was depressed.  Not just down in the dumps.  I was "swallow two bottles of pills" depressed.  

At the same time, I was the mother of three little munchkins, one of whom was a newborn.  Postpartum depression is a really sucky way to spend your baby's first year.

After I had recovered from that one desperately hopeless act (or was it hopelessly desperate?), I spent a lot of time being therapized.  At least twice per week I would drag myself off the couch and try to make my "insert-name-of-SSRI-drug-here" embalmed body look human.  All so I could go pour out my soul to a $100 p/hour stranger.

On one of these particular occasions, I noticed my son standing outside the bathroom door, watching me stare blankly into the mirror.  He asked where I was going, and I told him "to the doctor."  He thought a second, and then asked, "Why do you go to the doctor so much, Mom?"  In an effort to make it simple for him to understand, I explained, "Well, the doctor is trying to help mommy's heart not be so sad."  He shifted from one foot to the other, and then queried further, "Doesn't Jesus live in your heart anymore?"  

Wow.  That was a tough one, and I didn't really have the energy to handle that kind of depth from a five year old.  I tried, once again, to put it into kindergarten terms.  "Yes, Jesus is still in my heart, but I buried Him under a lot of sad stuff.  The doctor is helping me dig Him out."

My little five year-old, wise beyond his years, quickly turned and ran down the stairs.  I heard him digging through his toy box and then tromping up the stairs as fast as he could.  He stood, breathless, by the sink, and thrust the little red shovel into my hand.  "Here, Mommy, so you can find Jesus faster."

So often we do that....bury our Jesus.  He could easily burst through the rocks and sand of our sadness and stand triumphant upon the mountain of His accomplishment, and I suppose for some people He does just that.  For most of us though, I think we have to work.  I think the joy can only come when we put our backs into it, reach down through the rubble, and feel Jesus take our hand as we pull Him back up to his proper place.  Sometimes that what it takes, and the work is SO hard.  But He is SO worth it.

I still have that little red shovel...somewhere in a drawer, and when I randomly come across it as I search for something else, I am reminded of the joy I experienced on that day I realized Jesus was standing atop the rubble...standing there with me and that little red shovel from my sweet little son.