I was reminising about my college years and feeling a tinge of regret that I can't go back to that person. She was happy, thin, and filled with hope for the future. She laughed a LOT. Where did she go? Is she still down in me somewhere? Sometimes I get glimpses of her. Other times I feel horribly distant from her like that was millions of years ago and that I'm not even that person anymore. The other day I found a notebook full of notes from classes or just things I'd gathered during my senior year in college that meant something to me. It was a walk down memory lane. And the most reassuring thing was that what I wrote so long ago seemed familiar. She was still me and I was still her.
I have been reading a book lately called Thin Again by the Hallidays. He uses the imagery of being wrapped in grave clothes like Lazarus. It's like all the pounds I've gathered over the years or other addictions that I've had are the things I've wrapped around me to keep me safe or to lock in my deepest hurts. Only, I'm not dead. So why am I wearing grave clothes? Layer by layer, God has been lifting them. It makes me feel naked and scared sometimes. Other times I feel free. Since one of my addictions has been food, He's showing me how to turn to food only when I'm physically hungry but to turn to Him when my soul is hungry.
I want to be so much more than my stupid struggles. Maybe living this life is always going to be with the tension of struggles and beauty. Beauty lifts my spirits and restores my hope. So I enjoy Stephanie's sketches; read other blogs; watch the rain and listen to Switchfoot sing When I Look At the Stars. Thanks God, for beauty.