Every day was a battle whether or not I was going to eat.
It was the kind of dark where there seems as if there is no light at the end of the tunnel. I felt hopeless, wreckless, and desperate.
I didn't know where to turn, who to talk to, or what to do.
Professional help. That seemed inevitable.
I tried some random psychologist and it was an utter fail.
I barely knew this lady but knew she loved Jesus, her husband was the college pastor, and she was a rangerette at one time too. Maybe she knew where to point me.
Instead of a professional counselor, they invited me over to share a meal. Is this some kind of cruel joke? They spoke truth over my soul and committed to walk with me along my journey.
By His providence, they knew exactly where to point me. To His throne. Again. And Again. And Again. And Again. And Again.
Then, when I desperately wanted formulas. When I wanted nicely wrapped with a bow answers. God sent me this precious couple to remind me to fall into His arms as Father and learn to be still.
I left Rangerettes after my first year because I knew I couldn't get healthy in that environment. They are a wonderful organization and were incredibly understanding. I knew I had to come to a place where I was content with whatever size I was. I knew I needed to understand my identity in Christ had nothing to do with what I weighed, what I ate, or what size I was or became.
It had been a year of carelessness with my body and my metabolism was shot. I didn't know when I was hungry or full. An alcoholic can just keep alcohol out of their house and stay away from the bars, but how do you live when the greatest temptation is your pantry? I remember I thought that my worst nightmare would be for someone to leave me in a grocery store all by myself. Yet I thought I was called to be a wife and a mom. How could I be left alone with thoughts, my pantry and my kids every day?
That summer I spent countless hours at the end of a two story dock peering out over a lake filled with stumps asking God to do the impossible, begging God to be enough for me, and believing that there was life beyond the mess I had made.
I had never met someone who had walked in the depths of this sin and now was free.
Is it possible?
Could I dare to believe?