Sugar, sugar, sugar. It's everywhere and in everything. When I think of good things from my childhood, I remember stops at the Baskin Robbins in Mableton, on the way home from my Daddy's Atlanta softball games. Back then, we trundled down Bankhead Highway to almost everywhere. That highway spans most of the country, doesn't it? I remember stops at the Fat Boy in Smyrna for twisted soft-serve cones after spending long nights at MawMaw's while Daddy worked with his brother at their printing presses. I am ashamed to admit that I still conjure up in my mind, after decades, a giant cone of goodness that I missed out, because it tumbled from my hand during a near-fender bender. It fell onto the gritty floor of our Volkswagen beetle, never to be enjoyed. Maybe that's what's wrong with me, why I have two bodies on one skeleton now. I'm still trying to fill up that icy, custard-flavored vacuum in my soul that regrets dropping that thing smack dab in the middle of an idyllic childhood. My world was obviously small, though precious. I always did hate to miss out on anything, be it food or people. I still despise being late and I hate to leave early.
They say that we are eating something like twenty times the amount of sugar we used to consume. Maybe that's why those sweet moments are held dear in our memories....because we didn't get them very often. Much research coming in is showing that sugar and those other devils, starchy grains and bread, are blowing us up with inflammation and disease. How can that be true, when that's what Grandmama fed me with so much love? But again, she wasn't smothering me with it either. I say things about my addiction but no one really says anything back. We are all addicted!
So here I go again, on another tangent. I've tried everything, including moderation, whatever that is. I'm from a large family tree whose branches are decorated with lots of bottles and pills. Jesus has rescued many of us from ourselves, with amazingly creative grace. I think of others, with artistic genes and complicated brains. How rich their inner worlds, hamstrung by their vices, unable to emerge from the smog long enough to put their roots down and bloom. We all struggle with that in varying degrees. Even the most brilliant are weighed down with cracks -- either of their humanity or their environment. The glimpses of God still peek through. Inspiration inches out of the cloud -- bursts of song, smell, sight, ideas, beautiful deeds. Even the most cynical among us must crack open occasionally.
No one knows how much time they have. A tree could fall on my head tomorrow or I could die old in my bed. Meanwhile, if God gives me a day or a few decades, I'd like to feel good, as long as it's in my power to do it. January 1st has come and gone, but all this sugary goodness has got to go. I have to kick it out, since it's taken over my life. Anything that can't be said "no" to, needs to be examined and dealt with. Starting next week, I'm signed up with my doctor and a clinic to get Ninja-laser-focused on my health. So I can have a lap and a life for my granddarlins -- Eden, Annabelle, Madelyn, Titus, Tatum, and #6 sugar-dumplin on the way. So I can kiss Ken without bumping tummies. So I can breathe when I play my flute. So I can be an example of God's grace over temptation. And there's the rub...some of my sins might not be obvious, but this one is. Believe me, I don't miss much in life even though I'm a fluffy chick and I don't have much shame about jumping right on in, but still. I don't want to miss anything. Ya'll pray for me!
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