Legal Property

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Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Whatsoever things are just

Barbara Scott from Abington Press posted a blog today talking about the highlights of the conference from an editor's point of view:
http://therovingeditor.blogspot.com/2010/09/editors-tale-of-acfw.html

I thought back through the events of the conference, and the highlight for me actually occurred the day before I left, on Wednesday, September 15, at approximately 2 pm.
A little backstory here: I'm a recovering glutton. I used to binge and purge. Well, sometimes recovering. When I get stressed out, I'm especially susceptible to the lure of food. Not just any food--things like candy, pie dough, cookies or cookie dough--stuff loaded with fat and sugar. My psyche become convinced that if I fill my stomach with as much of this junk as possible, everything will be just fine. My spirit knows better--I know in my heart it won't help, that only God can help. But sometimes the psyche wins.
The day before I was to get on the plane, I maxed out the stress factor. I'd been revising my manuscripts, producing one-sheets and synopses, packing and repacking. I had already accepted that maybe it would all be for naught and that I would go to the conference prepared to pray for others needing a boost, rather than go an expect a contract to be handed to me. So why was I so stressed out? I don't know, but there I was, stretched like a rubber band and feeling ready to snap.
I fixed a bowlfull of pie dough, first telling myself I'd only fix a tiny bit, then telling myself I'd only eat a little bit of the more than a tiny bit I made. All the time feeling God's pleading with me not to do it.
I didn't eat all that much, but it wasn't the amount I ate that got to me. I knew that I had disobeyed, ignored His pleading. I felt like so much dirt.
I went to the bedroom and knelt by the bed, telling God I didn't deserve forgiveness, that I didn't know how He could even look at me. How could He forgive deliberate disobedience? Was this the end of His tolerance for me?
My cat, Morris, jumped up on the bed. He came over and butted his head against mine, purring like a jaguar (car, not cat), licked my hair, rubbed up against me. I started to push Morris aside, and that's when God spoke.
"Do you think your cat can love you more than I love you?"
What could I say? I laughed and cried and hugged the cat.
And yes, the stress disappeared.