Want and Wavering

I do not know want, but I love someone who does.  We had the lovely privilege of adopting an orphan girl into our family, our sweet, sassy Tasha.  She knew want – want of love, want of care, want of kindness, and surely want of food.  When we would visit her at her orphanage, she was just a little bit of a thing (less than the third percentile of American kids her age) and we watched with a mixture of sadness and awe how she knew to make things last.  At 18 months old, she would take the little biscuit crackers we brought her for treats, and she would nibble, nibble, nibble the crackers down to a tiny little nub.  It would easily take her 10 minutes to work her way through a cracker that would take any other child I know three bites to finish.  She knew what it was to want for food, and you can bet she savored and appreciated every sweet, little bite.  Even more poignant, we often saw her put her hand to her mouth when she would start to urp up her juice and then swallow it back down.  It seemed to me to be a learned trick to conserve every little bit of nutrition that made its way into her tummy.  It breaks my heart just to think about it.

So, our dear girl knows more about want than I probably ever will.  In ridiculous contrast, all I can claim to know today is this.  I want what I can’t have, and I don’t want what I can have.  Sweet potatoes have lost their appeal…already.  So, today I either fasted from sweet potatoes, or I outright rejected them, depending on your perspective. 

My menu today consisted of milk and an apple for breakfast.  Another apple, an avocado, and a hard-boiled egg were my lunch.  Dinner was gluten free waffles, with homemade butter, a quick sauce from strawberries pilfered from the freezer, and homemade breakfast sausage.  Today was the first day that I really dipped into our food reserves, especially to make the waffles.  Using what is in our cabinets already is “approved” in the rules for this month, but I felt a little guilty about it today.  I think I did it to satisfy my want (and maybe my kids’ we-want-breakfast-for-dinner cries), more than as an honest attempt to use what was deemed “excess” on day 1.  Worse, I dragged my family along on my misguided ride.

It was a misstep for two reasons.  I didn’t really pray about it when I felt those feelings.  I just did it, even though my motives were wrong.  Second, and in a way that is not at all unusual for me, I didn’t seek anyone’s counsel as I was wavering.  We’ve had a few folks say they would gladly participate in a “council” of sorts, but I haven’t really put that into action yet.  A quick text to Tom and a few good counselors would have been a good check for me.

And so, I end this day by repenting of a few things: acting out of impulse rather than prayerfully and with intention, and dragging my family along with me on this little detour.

I also end this day with resolve.  I resolve to put a little form and substance around this council idea, and then to seek their counsel when I wonder or waver.  More importantly, I embrace God’s forgiveness and look forward to waking up to a new day tomorrow.