On a chilly day in February, I emptied my rusty locker in the basement of Hillcrest Baptist Church. Tiny Trinity Christian School used the church for classes. Being one of the eight girls and 12 total high school students at the private school, it hadn’t exactly been the social pinnacle of my life. I wasn’t really going to miss it, but I would have preferred to just disappear, rather than go through the motions of leaving.
“We’ll miss you! Hurry back.”
“I’m praying for you,” faceless platitudes, because my eyes were swimming with unshed tears. I refused to let them know that I was going against my will, that I was out of control of my own life.
I felt my goosebumps double in size as I stepped outside and headed to my mom’s waiting car. I was bundled in long john’s, a sweater and my wool coat. They failed to ward off February’s chill, because I had worn all those layers during class, too. I was never comfortable anymore.
Teeth chattering and lips blue, I slid into the seat next to Mom. I ignored her tearful smile and knee squeeze. She was shipping me off. She was ready to be rid of the emotional baggage and physical liability that I had become.
Exactly one week later, I sat in the sunshine on a wooden bench in balmy Arizona, wearing nearly as many layers on my skeletal frame. The treatment center’s tutor, Fred, looked like a shaved Santa Clause. He smiled a genuine smile and said very little, letting me sulk.
Remuda Ranch invested three months into my recovery from anorexia… once…twice. I passed the “recovery” test once, twice, tipping the scale at a safe weight. I learned the healthy-talk that impressed my counselors and stretched the limit of my parent’s budget.
But I wasn’t ready to trust that God was in control of my life. I liked believing the lie that I was the sculptor of my body, my destiny, my relationships. So I made the same mistakes all over again.
I made the same mistakes all over again, over and over again, for the next ten or so years. Even I was getting tired of my self. Once is a mistake, twice is a slow learner, three times and more? that means I just stupid right? a lost cause? a waste of time?
I even began to wonder if God was going to pull the plug on me, simply decide that I wasn’t worth His effort anymore. Honestly, there were days when I wished He would. But, praise the Lord, He is not easily deterred.
“For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person – though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die – but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we have been reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.” Romans 5: 6-10