A Thanksgiving Feast

I wanted to write about thankfulness this week, about gratitude, but when I thought about it last night, I started to crumble. There is a part of me, let’s call her Mrs. Spirit, the mature, God-centered, Bible reading, fruit bearing part of me, who is more thankful for what has happened in the last year than can be expressed. Then there’s another. We’ll call her little Miss Flesh. She is pissed off, and grumpy, and miserable.

My birthday is next week, and sure, I’m only 27, but I’m still not where I THOUGHT I’d be a 27.

And that little “thought” is the fuel for Miss Flesh’s fire and the poison that is threatening to destroy me this Thanksgiving.

I wrote in the last post about forgiving myself, how it was really my last step towards getting mentally healthy. And I can say, it truly and completely changed my life. I have struggles, sure, but I’m a new person I’m not crippled anymore. I’m not broken. I no longer have a pet monster that I coddle and leave alone to gnaw my bones. I only have a flesh, one that will never go away, and one that is complaining like a scorned toddler who wants another cookie (and I know that type all too well).

Here is all I have gained in 27 years.

I have an incredible husband who began as everything I knew I needed in a partner through this life, and became everything I want. In the 10 years since I met him, I put aside all childish desires for perfection. We have learned to sacrifice for one another—to get all we need from God so we only give to the other. The fire of faith has made us strong.

I have two AWESOME little boys. They are so inspiring, and also so humbling, every day. They show me the best and the worst in myself and let me view God in a way that I never could have without them.

I have functioning and decent relationships with everyone in my family. Some of these relationships are even flourishing. There are no outstanding conflicts, nothing I need to work though or try to ignore. We are honest. We are carrying on. We are at peace with one another.

I have an incredible group of friends and the greatest church family I could imagine. From someone who spent a long time isolated and afraid of people, especially the church, I have really managed to grow and open and love people. I can be used by God for them and be blessed by them in turn.

I have a relationship with God that allows me to sit at his feet and hear his voice. I know his voice, and I follow it. There is no greater peace. No greater joy. And no hope at all, apart from him. When I thought myself worthless, he said I was worth everything. When I saw myself broken, he made me beautiful. When I still see myself as weak, he shows me his strength in me. He is with me always and has given me wings that I can stop striving for perfection and simply surrender to him and let him carry me.

I’ve written a book—a pretty damn good one in my opinion, and according to several hopefully-reliable sources. My blog has reached 500 regular viewers. I have a measurable impact on those around me through the truth and talent God has granted me. What I “do” makes me happy.

I get a lot of fulfillment thought my relationship with God, family, friends, and work. In short, I have everything that my spirit could possibly ask for. The darn thing is so full, it’s almost about the burst. When I take the moment to tap into the part of me that is always connected to God, I want for nothing and am overwhelmed with gratitude.

And then pesky Miss Flesh comes creeping in again. She tugs on my sleeve with her skeletal, starved hands and she whispers desperately all the things I lack. The home I don’t have. My health that is waning. The income I don’t make. The loans I can’t pay off. The success I haven’t achieved. The gaps in my abilities. The other paths I could have taken instead. The reality that our fragile way of existing could crumble tomorrow, and then where would we be?

Miss Flesh wants control. She wants success. She wants circumstances that will gain her validation from this world. She can stuff it.

I won’t go into all the reasons why my husband is a board game designer and I’m a writer and we live off of the generosity and faith of others (I’ve written about it before, go looking around the archive if you’re interested). I don’t need to apologize for being a 27 year old failure in the flesh. Because everything I am that is good is in the Spirit. All of my loyalty is to my savior, not my cultural standards. All those who think I’m pretty freaking awesome are those who see me the way God sees me. I will throw it all away, look like a fool, take up my cross, sacrifice my dignity, be laughed at and mocked and called worthless, because I’m simply following the only directions I’ve been given. And while my flesh starves, my spirit gains and is thankful.

Would little Miss Flesh love to climb back into the boat and row back to shore? Hell yes. But Mrs. Spirit is too busy standing on the waves, her face lifted to the rain, drinking it all in, and never wanting to come down.

This Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for who God is and who he allows me to be. I’m thankful that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make sure I bent, broke, and rose to be the daughter I am today. I’m thankful that he’s not done with me yet. And yeah, I’m thankful for every day that Miss Flesh starves, and Mrs. Spirit is filled to overflowing.

I found this last night while I was on the brink of panic and tears over all the things my flesh is starving for, that I don’t have, and haven’t achieved.

From Matthew 6

Verses 20-21 But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Verses 31-34 Therefore, do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” For the Gentiles seek after these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all of these things will be added to you.