". . . so I can dance!"

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"Take the shackles off my feet so I can dance!" (Mary Mary).

I am a big woman. Not big-boned, just big. And while I’ve grown used to being a big woman, I’ve never gotten happy about it. I try to buy clothes that are flattering with an emphasis on colors that are good for me, I take the necessary medication to keep my blood pressure in check, and I’ve learned to laugh at myself. Still, I’ve known for a long time that I really need to lose some of this weight (like enough to make a whole other person).

The problem is that I really like food. In fact, I love food. And that really is the problem. I’ve loved food to the point where I’ve been willing, at times, to do just about anything to get it; I’ve spent more time with it than I should have; it’s been more important to me at times than it should have been; and I’ve allowed the pleasure it gives me to outweigh (no pun intended) the harm it does to my body.

I finally decided that it was time to seriously deal with the problem. I say “seriously” because for a long time I’ve “played” with the idea of dealing with the problem, but, take it from me, playing with problems doesn’t get you anywhere. You just end up sitting right it the middle of them. Soaking in them. Marinating in them.

So I recently started eating healthier. (I refuse to say I’m on a diet because, from past experience, I know my mind always sees a diet as a short-term fix. Learning to live out healthier habits means making a lifestyle change. I don’t need a short-term solution, I need a permanent one.) I’m doing some things that are working for me, and I’ve lost about ten pounds so far, but that’s about the size of a newborn (granted, a large newborn, but an infant, nonetheless), and as I mentioned earlier, I need to “deliver” a full-grown human (a chubby human, even). Obviously, I’m looking at long-term commitment here, and that’s hard on some days. In fact, I’ve already had a couple of days where I experienced what can only be described as a mild case of depression.

Depression? Why in the world, when I’m obviously having some success at something I need to do, would I develop a case of the blues? Because in order to succeed, I’ve had to say goodbye, at least for a while, to some of my best friends: Domino’s; McDonald’s, Blue Bell . . . Tough stuff for sure.

Change is never easy for any of us, is it? Even when the change is for the better – heck, for the best, even – it’s still hard. But being willing to give up the things that are dragging us down, that are hurting us, that are sometimes downright killing us (morbidly obese is, after all, the medical term for "you so fat, girl, you gonna die.") – even when they are things that we’ve loved – is the only way we’re ever going to have the life that our souls long for, the life we know God designed for us and wants us to have.

Yeah, it’s tough stuff for sure. But it’s life-giving stuff. And we are not alone. Our brother Paul writes, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us" (Hebrews 12:1).

Jesus said that He came that we might have life and that we might have it to the fullest (John 10:10). And I desperately want that kind of life.

"Take the shackles off my feet so I can dance!" (Mary Mary).

Grinnin' and dancin'

Pamm