Today:

I am a recovering compulsive overeater, abstinent by the grace of God one more day at a time.

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From today’s entry in Voices of Recovery:

“Catalog and recatalog the positive enjoyment of abstinence from compulsive overeating.” — Before You Take That First Compulsive Bite, Remember…

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Documenting an inventory of joy sounds positive, and perhaps that is why I like to use the tool of writing. My journals are nothing fancy, but I like to look back at them and find little notes I have written about how I felt at milestones, or even in between them when they seemed to come too slowly. When I came into program, my sponsor’s sponsor demonstrated that he wrote down every single thing he ate. I have followed that example, and logged each morsel since. (There’s an app for that!) With all the cataloging of food, mood, and devotionals, I have no shortage of documented reasons to be encouraged.

From Proverbs 22:

28 Do not move an ancient boundary stone
set up by your forefathers.”

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Moving a boundary stone would be like stealing real estate, but that is not the message that knocked on the door of my heart today when I read this. I heard more of a call to respect and honor the work of my forefathers. Boundary stones don’t get a lot of respect anymore, not in this age of global positioning and electronic data collection, but those rocks that mark our way were hewn and hefted by someone at great cost, often from great distance so it would contrast to the indigenous rocks, to signal our attention to something outstanding. Whether physical or metaphorical, our lives are marked by monuments set there by any number of people who came before us, whether family, religious or political leadership, or even pioneers in our recovery program. The ones who paid a price I could not know by doing things the hard way, making costly mistakes I don’t have to repeat, suffering consequences I can choose to sidestep, have made my going easier if I am willing to follow their example and not insist on hacking out my own way through the same obstacles. I owe a debt of honor to the memory of those who came before, which I choose to demonstrate by accepting my position as one in a line of many seekers, and not the “terminally unique” one and only.

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God, help me humbly to follow!

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From my reading through the Bible, currently in Isaiah 55:

3 Give ear and come to me;
hear me, that your soul may live.”

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6 Seek the Lord while he may be found;
call on him while he is near.
7 Let the wicked forsake his way
and the evil man his thoughts.
Let him turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on him,
and to our God, for he will freely pardon.

8 ‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,’
declares the Lord.”

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Being alive is something I about which a lot of my meditations have revolved lately. I am not just talking about the life of my cellular structure, but the abundant life that comes from being spiritually reborn. There is a song I hear fairly often recently called I’m Alive, from Peter Furler’s album, On Fire. The inspirational chorus sings:

“I’m alive
I’m on fire
And my spirit burns with desire
You set me alight
Bright-eyed
And with no way to hold it inside
I wanted to thank You…”

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God’s ways are not the ways I would have gone. When I think I have arrived, I need to look for His brighter light, and keep turning, returning, and responding to His direction. He will guide me ever closer to Him if I am diligent to seek Him.

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