At nearly 4 weeks, the novelty of the project has worn off and I'm left with the ugly reality of my true emotions about food. About how I do use food as a crutch in place of my faith. Because it's tangible, and it smells good. And it's easy.
And I still have two weeks. At this point every single fiber in my body cries for mercy. Some days it's a minute by minute battle with my self will to not take that brownie right out of my daughter's hand and cram it in my own mouth. Which, yes, I've threatened to do. Jesus help me.
But as I literally walk out of the kitchen so I don't have to smell whatever Jory is baking for the umpteenth time, I can't help but think about the reason behind the project.
About the very real conversation that God and I are having about the world I live in.
About what I really am capable of, and what God really does want from me.
About how I've reached the end of what I'm capable of, and maybe it's time to let God take over.
About how maybe it's time to stop trying and start trusting.
About how my perception of rock bottom is really kind of pathetic.
And how it's not really that bad.
And how every "no" I say to myself is really a "yes" to Jesus.
But for the love of all that is good, please do not offer me a cookie, a handful of dried fruit, a bowl of cereal, ramen noodles, or jelly for my toast. Because I will probably de-friend you.