Forfeiture

     Friday Mike was on his way home from Tennessee and Michael was on his way home from Virginia.  I had spaghetti the way Memaw makes it and had my hair and make-up just the way I wear it for Mike.
     The house was in pretty good shape but I was snapping at people to get it done.  I basically sent the little ones away to keep them from under foot and that's not my style.
     Every family member, plus a couple, was here and the meal went off without a hitch.
     Saturday morning, Megan flew out to Texas on her first bona fide mission trip that wasn't youth group oriented.   I'd been praying for her and since that Good Friday morning I "couldn't" hear anything but worship music for the dying day of my Lord Jesus, I couldn't understand why everything wasn't peachy.
     I'm still unsure except for an all out assault of the prince of division ...and the allure of the leftover homemade brownies Saturday morning.  You know, when the warm icing glazes over and turns into a whole 'nother creature of a dish.  I allowed myself one after the other throughout the day, laughing it off that I would get back on track soon enough.
     But then there were these chocolate chip cookies made fresh Sunday and I thought, "Well, what's a few more?  They ARE my favorite."  Most of the time I wouldn't be all that tempted by sweets but now as I check the calendar, I see that Sunday was 10 days before my cycle starts over - perhaps, before my body realizes she isn't pregnant and monthly wants to devour everything in sight that very day.
     The problem with crossing the line between polite gestures of, "Why, yes, I'll take one.  Thank you so much," is the greedy monster that says, "You'd better get more while the gettin's good."  Then he's in charge of the ship.
     My husband had come home rejuvenated with ideas to take family hikes.  I should've been thrilled but all I could think of was how much work we could get done on that Saturday afternoon.  Sunday after service, he decided we should go again.  I held back objections that it could upset the meal, but he's known me long enough to read my rebellion.
     As many of us as were not sick walked up and down the creekside a couple of miles.  Any other day, I would've been delighted, amazed even, that Mike would venture out on foot.  But I wasn't in control, literally.  I wasn't steady as I'd been in the prior weeks.  Could it be as simple as food?  Of course, it can.  I was in outright defiance of all I'd learned.  And it directly affected how I treated my husband.  I had "repossessed" my vessel as my own.  Now, she was tired and groggy.  I know why American culture is so consumed with caffeine:  to survive the near coma the food we eat puts us into, the lullaby of Satan rendering us useless, if only for a little while.
     Monday morning, I'd committed to look over some assignments Michael was taking back to school.  I was soberly impressed when he said in his career paper for English that, yes, he wanted to be a veterinarian and spelled out concisely why, but he added that he also wanted to be in the ministry and veterinary medicine would allow him contact with plenty of people including young volunteers for whom he could be an example.
    Before long, it was time to meet up with Sloan so they could drive back to school.  I had regained my steadiness until I got particularly thirsty and drank a lot of strawberry milk.  As you can imagine, my roller coaster ride was no benefit to my love life.  So something had to give.
     This morning, after I slept nearly 12 hours, which leads me to believe something IS amiss, I was back at the helm.  It normally takes me over a week to fight for the wheel.
      However, McKala woke up with a migraine, coughing and throwing up, which brought back nightmares of years past.  Her resting heart rate has been way too high for weeks.  At least her recheck today disclosed that her lung capacity is good.  Huge viles of blood were drawn and the findings should be back just in time for the cardiologist appointment next week.
      She treated me to a Chick-fil-A sandwich and a cookie, which is all I had up until then.  Her kind gesture put me right back on track with my fellowship meals. "Why, thank you, I believe I will."
      When we got back home though, Mike was nowhere to be found, so I made assumptions and sent him a message to shame him that Melody had prepared a meal that he hadn't shown for.  I even started to retaliate, but thank God for the small amount of scripture I've been able to retain.  I turned up some Charles Stanley on the radio and came on back home.
      Come to find out, he was doing something rather benign but was still sitting in the driveway, upset that I was upset.  My explanations/excuses didn't help a thing.  You see, I had lost fellowship with him sometime over the weekend and here we were acting like we did 20 years ago.
      And when he drove off, it occurred a few minutes too late that we both are fighting addictions and have recently been victorious ...and this could be nothing more than a wedge from the devil himself.
But see, I had forfeited my power, to the darkness.  It's not always that we're doing something "so" sinful; it's what we're losing in the process.
     That's why fasting isn't really about food or substance, because there are days when we just don't matter enough to ourselves to quit.  But God and His kingdom do matter to me, so I press on ...and I take back what is already won for me.
     I often wonder, as I did sitting on the porch swing while ago, what all I've forfeited, even when Mike and I decided it was unsafe to have any more babies.  So many more of us get a number in our heads and "that's it," never knowing what might have been, never reaping the fullness of multiplying, not only in procreation but in love.  See, it's not that we're "so" sinful, only that we're "so" doubtful of God and His provision.
     Mike's always said that I was happiest when I was pregnant.  I'm sorry for him that love takes so much work now.  I'm sorry that he can come home with big ideas and lofty ascertations ...and I can crush them with just a glance.   All us women want that power but aren't careful how we use it.
      I feel silly being all googly eyed but the least I could do is look on with interested amusement, as if anything is possible, and it is ...when we aren't forfeiting battles that've already been won.
     Now, to see if the bedroom door is unlocked and to see if my feminine wiles still make him forget.