It had been a really long day.
I’d gotten home later than usual. The house was quiet. And I remembered.
I’d be alone for the night. John had a late appointment. Of course, he’d be going out for dinner.
I stood in the kitchen. Opened the refrigerator and channeled my inner teen as I stared. Hoping something would look tasty. Or scream, “Eat me!”
I don’t know how long I stood in front of that opened door.
Long enough to know I need to apologize to my son.
I didn’t want to go to the trouble of making something. I had no desire to get back in the car and drive to get a burger. At times like this in the past, I’ve resolved the issue with a bowl of cereal.
I was out of milk.
I glanced around the kitchen. Not looking for anything in particular.
And I saw it.
On top of the refrigerator, pushed way to the back.
The yellow bowl of old Halloween candy.
I’d shoved it back there so I wouldn’t get tempted. Being short, I never look up that high.
I kid you not. The chocolate called to me.
I got the bowl down. Looked into its contents of chocolate deliciousness, and all thoughts of healthy food went out the window.
Definitely not down my throat.
I sat at the table with the bowl in front of me. If this was to be my meal, I needed to do it right. I picked out a Butterfinger. Peeled back the paper. Took a bite.
Disappointment. It didn’t taste that good. A little like cardboard. So I put the uneaten part on the table and chose a Baby Ruth.
Disappointment. It tasted no better than the Butterfinger. I grabbed a Milky Way.
I was making a pile of partially eaten chocolate minis. None of them tasted good. And all that junk on top of nothing was making my stomach hurt.
Should have had a peanut butter sandwich.
This happens a lot when I’m tired. I compromise. I’m not on top of my game so I throw in the towel and do what’s easy and what looks appealing. In the moment.
With no one around to tell me this was a dumb idea, I did what felt good. Even though I knew it wasn’t the best for me.
Life is full of moments where we need that gentle reminder, the light touch on the arm, the whisper in the ear that our current choice isn’t a good one. That immediate gratification provides nothing but longer regret.
God made us for community because He knew we wouldn’t do well alone. We’re prone to do what’s easy and convenient. Which is often more hurtful than helpful.What we need is encouragement to make the hard choices. To persevere in doing good. Knowing we’re not alone.
Being given the chance to question our choices gives us the pause to consider what’s good for us.
Having someone else with me? I’d have chucked the chocolate and scrambled some eggs.
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