Ripped Away and Humbled
Sometimes, I wish that I could live my life in the same way I write. I love language, and the way words can gently caress a page without a second thought. But alas, grace to me is the equivalent of hiking at dusk, and forgetting to take a flashlight. I stumble, and look (quite) foolish, but at least I can provide those around me with some joy and comic relief! Thankfully, these incredible people are also the biggest blessings in my life, and are the lights who help me when I really stumble, and need a hand to find my way.
I had been approached to write for the blog a couple of weeks, ago, to which I was honored. As I had started off writing, I was striving for something elegant, inspiring, and captivating. However, as I began writing, I quickly realized that a sing-song crunch, followed by a giant tear right up the crotch of my favorite black khakis, five minutes before having to leave for church is as far from lady-like, and elegant as it gets. Not to mention, I was an hour from my college dorm room, and did not have time to swing past and grab another pair- woops!
Now that everyone is probably wondering why I am discussing splitting my pants on a Sunday morning (I mean, as I said- real life comic relief!) I’ll go ahead and clarify. I will be the first to say I am quite blessed for the journey that has been my ongoing recovery from a dark battle with anorexia. Part of this has been learning to love and accept my body, my home, and my vessel- as is, including the weight recovery. Last summer, being the hardest, and first summer living free, I began working towards getting rid of all of my sick clothes, and I am getting closer to this goal with each passing season, but living on a college budget, and being unable to afford to replace everything at once, I decided why not keep the stretchy khakis? It can’t be that bad- right? Wrong.
In recovery- we must let go of our pasts in order to define the here and now, and look towards the future.
Understanding this piece of my past has been ripped away is such a defining moment of freedom. Something I could not consciously give up, was completely ripped away from me, and looking back, I grow more thankful each day. We are fighters, and we are not to be defined, and confined to sizes or numbers.
Being humbled by a God bigger than me on His day is a reminder that I am saved, and redeemed. I was freed already, and it is just a matter of allowing myself to walk out of the cage to which I had alienated myself. If this had occurred year ago, or perhaps even six months ago, I would have surely broken down. That girl was taking the required actions for staying alive, but she still struggled for a real purpose, as she clung to society’s false concepts of beauty. She was a girl who forgot not only who she is, but whose she is. Her identity in Christ is unrelenting, and his Manna is the only thing that has been able to satisfy the true hunger.
I know that ripped pants sound silly to some people, but for someone who has waged war with themselves- it can be devastating. Thankfully, I can say on that morning, I laughed, and that was a battle I won. Something I find insightful, is learning to break our false perceptions on the world. We look into the mirror, and so often look at our physique as a means of controlling the internal chaos at hand because we are afraid of what we might truly be like. However, I want to let you know that you are fearfully, and wonderfully made, and that will always be enough. You are enough.