Duct Tape House

They say duct tape fixes everything

It’s a versatile, simple, and quick

My car’s side mirror was coming off

It was either going to be hundreds spent

At the mechanic

Or three firm wraps around with the duct tape

Right in my own garage

Problem solved.

 

If I continued this logic throughout the house

Imagine where I’d end up:

Leaky sink?  Taped pipe.

Rip in the couch?  Sealed with shiny gray.

Toys, walls, furniture, holes in the wall

I need look no further

Than my sturdy, handy roll of tape.

 

For the moment, it works

The problems get addressed

Kind of.

Over time, though, the tape shows its limits.

Besides looking terrible,

It wears out, or, in most cases,

It never addressed the real issue.

 

I don’t want to live in a duct taped house.

That sounds very tenuous.

Yet, this is what I’ve been doing my whole life with food.

Food has been my duct tape.

 

Whatever comes my way, I’ve tried to fix it with food.

Boredom?  Eat something to perk up.

Overstimulated?  Eat something to calm down.

Too sad?  Food will comfort.

Happy?  Celebrate with special foods!

Even this one:  feeling like I’m trapped in a negative cycle with food?

Eat again, because I give up trying to make it better!

 

As I’m gaining freedom from addictive eating,

I’m faced with a leaky pipe and no duct tape.

Each day presents various life events I’ve always navigated with food.

I stand, looking at the pipe, with a new tool – a wrench, let’s say.

In theory, I know what a wrench does,

But I’m so used to using duct tape that a wrench feels weird and clumsy.

Am I going to have to disassemble the pipe and see what’s in there?

Maybe.

Am I going to have to sit in uncomfortable feelings and allow

Tough things to exist?

Probably.

 

Right now, this feels like a lot of work.

I’m not good with a wrench – or, with being present to life.

But I don’t want to live in a duct taped house anymore.

I want to be a church, a beautiful vessel of the Holy Spirit,

Fully and truly functioning

A testament to His care and love

Ready to be used

Not patched and ready to burst.

 

 

Milestones Instead of Stumbling Blocks

At church last night, the drums were particularly loud on one song.  The drummer really got into it and you could almost feel the beat in your chest.  It was a milestone moment, bringing me back to a time in my life when loud drumming would have felt like danger.  For several years, I had daily, debilitating panic attacks.  Certain things would trigger them- loud, sudden noises like drums, for example.  In those days, if I was around drumming like that, I’d have to leave church and walk the neighborhood until my heart stopped racing and my chest relaxed so I could breathe better.  Last night, I was able to stay calm and keep singing.  Drums are now a marker of God’s healing in my life, rather than a trauma trigger.

 

 

Tunnels are like that too.  In the panic attack days, I’d scream my way driving through the I-90 bridge tunnel, “GOD!!  Please get me through this!!  Please!!”  It was awful.  Whenever I drive that way now, it causes me to smile.  I can go through that tunnel with no thought but gratitude.  I remember the terror I used to feel and thank God that He saved me from it.

 

 

My current journey has me newly released from sugar addiction.  Sugar and compulsive overeating have plagued me, probably since I was eleven years old.  I cycle around and around, always attempting something that I hope will result in lasting freedom from dysfunctional eating.  As I’m navigating life without sugar and overeating, stumbling blocks keep coming up.  My son’s birthday was last week.  Normally, a birthday in the family is a fabulous opportunity for me to bake and sample my way into a sick stomach.  I called the coach who’s helping me and was honest about my headspace around the upcoming birthday.  After planning it out, I made my son some cupcakes to take to school.  It was harder than I thought not to lick my fingers or the spoon.  The smell of warm vanilla in the house was cozy, but maddening in its allure.

 

 

Instead of staying inside while batches baked, I got outside into the cold winter air.  I used the time to help my daughter practice riding her bike.  With my sons, I watched them learn their bikes more from the sidelines.  My husband was the primary biking coach for them.  So, it was new for me to assert myself in this activity.  Because she was scared, we prayed before starting, for God’s help and to remove her fear.  As she increasingly had success, she kept calling out, “I’m doing it!  God is helping me!  Praise God I can do this bike!”  I hugged her and got close to her sweet, joyful little face.  It was an irreplaceable moment.  Without God’s healing, I might have otherwise been caught up in the mental gymnastics of how much sweets I could consume and still feel okay or not have my family notice how much I ate. Instead, I was fully present in a precious life moment with my four-year-old. 

 

 

A few weeks ago, I went to a friend’s dad’s funeral, only months after my own sweet Mom’s memorial.  It was hard.  I was very new in recovering from sugar addiction, still having headaches as my body adjusted.  My impulse around the huge emotions welling up was to get candy to eat.  I realized with some disappointment that I was going to have to feel those emotions instead.  I cried and I missed my Mom so deeply it physically hurt.  And I did it without numbing myself with food.  I honored her that way.  I honored myself that way.  And I believe God was glorified in that too.  I allowed Him to be present with me and carry me through it, without the crutch and destruction of overeating.  That is a memorial, a memory and testimony to which I can return and remember.  God was faithful to me in a place of deep grief.  He led me through that place in freedom, and He can do it again.

 

 

As God brings me into increased healing around food, my prayer is that all these things that used to be places of struggle and defeat will become milestones of the miraculous.  Instead of dreading birthday parties, I’ll see them as an opportunity to celebrate my health and freedom from addiction.  Already, as my next son’s birthday looms around the corner, I have a testimony of God’s faithfulness in a birthday situation.  I have that monument and we can build on it.  Add another rock, saying, “God helped me here, again and again.”