choosing trust

As it turns out, I still struggle with the temptation for control.

Trust is a hard reach.

And truth-telling (mostly to myself) stretches me to where it hurts.

Glancing in the mirror as I stand in the bathroom at 12:35 in the crisp dark of a new day, I try to remember what foods might have caused a bit of pudge in me. I can't help to notice the slight roundedness to my hips.

I wonder why thinner isn't portrayed and softer edges outline my figure instead of tight and firm.

I rebuke my own thoughts and tell myself to pay attention to what matters most Right. Now.

The Boy is sick and he needs my attention.

Instead, I tell myself that tomorrow I have to run harder, faster, most especially longer. And that ice cream and cookies must be forbidden. Calorie intake less. Just until I get the pudge gone.

I remember what I tell people about the scale and surrender--to toss it out and to Trust. I try to believe the words that have come out of my own mouth. I cling to live the truth my heart knows.

I feel like a pious liar. A hypocrite.

The Boy-Man hovers over the toilet, sick from the heat and too much fun, or whatever virus is making it's way around.

And all I can think about is my rolls. The soft edges.

We go to bed and I awake to realize he slept four hours and I think maybe he's in the clear.

I prepare for a run, on a mission. And then I hear him--Sick. Again.

He asks if the couch can be his comfort and it's 5:20.

I think of the reports to be run at the office and the meeting I am to lead.

I think of the run and the weight. It's all so heavy on me. Suffocating. Disgusting.

The past few weeks my family and I have treated ourselves to ice cream in celebration of sports and summer.

We've smiled and chosen sprinkles.

Those choices have consequences. Ones I hadn't dared to concern myself with because I've just danced with freedom.

Lived.

My heart has known what has been right for me. Peace has been my tachometer.

I think about how, with each impromptu decision to change our route and stop for ice cream, I have told myself it was okay because it was a family-thing and not an overindulgence-thing. I haven't worried about what I will eat or about my body.

Freedom and peace have been my guide.

I think about how the Boy needs me Now and a fourth day of no workout is okay.

This is more important than the worry and the weight and the workout.

The first three days off from a workout were for a time away. Family togetherness on the lake. I had forgotten my running shoes and rest was what I needed. Not sleep as much as Rest.

Rest from worry. Rest from fear. Rest from control.

I didn't plan to miss four days of working out. Or to eat ice cream as often as I have.

The real test of peace and freedom is in the unexpected. Not the plans.

Because, sometimes mostly it matters most to Just. Trust. and live--In. Joy., not worry. 

I've written about seasons and I forgot the sense He made of those words. I forgot to trust. I neglected truth.

It's the weeds of life--the forgetting and flailing in my fears--that makes me human. Not any less able to make an impact and not any less wise. Just real.

It's where grace shows up. Love envelopes. Beauty blossoms.

Trust is a hard reach. Moment by moment. We don't just have it. It's constantly cultivated in us. And the hard choosing of it is why we will always need Him.

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