All Things New

“No, no! Leave the bacon,” Mike says to our waiter, “I’ll eat it.”

She was supposed to bring me a bowl of fruit as a substitution for the bacon, but forgot.  I shrug at the waitress. “I guess you can leave it.”

She nods and walk away, and when she does I look back at Mike, who is already reaching across the table toward my plate, and I’m unexpectedly touched by the comfort level our friendship has reached in such a short period of time. Strange as it may sound, I am a sharer by nature, and there is a sense of being needed and valued that I get from these kind of interactions. I like knowing that he knows he can eat off my plate and it won’t be weird. And it isn’t just him, it’s this whole table full of people, all dressed in 1920s-era clothing, laughing and talking about the Ragtime Ball (with a full 20-piece orchestra) we’d just come from. It’s 3 o’clock in the morning, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be than surrounded by these people eating breakfast at a small cafe in downtown Dallas.

I find myself tenderhearted these days when I think about the blessings upon blessings upon blessings that God has heaped upon me. New friends, a new attitude, and in many ways, a new life. When I talk about overcoming food addiction, it isn’t out of pride. That much, I can assure you. Having once been a girl who hid food in her closet so she could eat it when no one was watching, I know it is nothing short of a miracle that I can have a plate of applewood smoked bacon in front of me and not be fazed by it. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have days every once in a while where my insecurities rear their ugly heads and overwhelm me, whispering in my ear that I am not good enough, or strong enough, and that I will never really be all the way thin. But then I remember the sweetest promise – that I am a work in progress. That I am not perfect, but I am perfectly forgiven. That my demons are no match for a God who delights in restoring life to things which were once dead, and that when I am  lost in brokenness, it is His greatest pleasure to pull me from the ashes.

My friend and I at the Ragtime Ball

“You were not meant to cower in the corner, watching idly while life passes you by,” He says. “You were meant to dance.”

You can follow me on Twitter @PFG_Elle