The feeling has been nagging in the last few weeks at the Princess. The dwindling bank balance has been fanning the flame of fear. Her ears pricked up at church last Sunday when exhorted to follow the example of the poor widows in the readings. The widow who was ready to prepare her last meal and succumb to the slow death of starvation met Ezekiel and the widow who put in her whole livelihood to the collection box was praised by Jesus. These women looked scarcity in the eye and gave their last crumb away, trusting in God. Faith is about what we don't see.
The Princess can't see the future, she can't see the provision that can/might/will happen. She sees the lack and feels the heavy weight of responsibility and shame. And with the weight and the shame comes the demon of disordered eating. Coffee = compulsory and breakfast optional. Lunch is small but an afternoon snack is fine. Dinner in the company of others is easier. She recognises the signs and knows her temptation.
The answer - admitting to herself the weakness. Understanding that there is no easy route towards the destination of trust over temptation. And continuing to cultivate the habit of self-care. The first step was buying the leeks and potatoes. Soup in the land of disordered eating is a gold mine - it is healthy and doesn't really feel like proper food. She bought them in faith, that somehow she would find the strength and determination to chop and cook. Three days later and she did. Lifting the load of the breadmaker from the cupboard was another act of faith. Flour, sugar, dried milk, salt, water, yeast - the routine came back.
With a stomach full of simple but good things the Princess praises God. He is with her and she is more cognizant of that now than in previous years. She is more inclined to believe in His love and provision and the pot full of soup and bag of bread testify to that.
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