Wondering Presbyterian

Every once in a while, God likes to remind me that He’s got this.             My weight has always been a sore spot for me, ever since elementary school. I do not like to talk about it, and I’m incredibly sensitive about it. This past year, though, I have been trying to get some things in order. I paid off my student loans and credit cards. Now I have some physical things to work on. To that end, I began seeing a nutritionist in May. I joined a gym and try to walk outside when I can (while I can, because let’s be honest: when it gets cold outside, I will be under blankets on my couch with books and hot tea).             So now it’s September. The end of September, and I was getting frustrated. I have had some ups and downs in the journey. I keep reminding myself: small changes. Baby steps. I can do this. Then I have a setback and there’s this little voice in my brain that says, “Why do you even bother?”             I hate to admit that. I really do. But I suspect many people –

            A few weeks ago, I celebrated the nine-year anniversary of my ordination as a pastor. Nine years ago August 22 I took vows that moved me from being a member of a local church to being a member of a presbytery. A week later, I moved to Illinois for my first pastoral call. That whole week is kind of a blur for me because so much changed. August 22 I was ordained. August 23, we had to put my dog, Mikey, down and I didn’t think I would ever stop crying, but I didn’t have a whole lot of time to mourn because three days later there was a U-haul in the driveway and we were filling it to move me to the Midwest. I tried to figure out how I would make a home there. A friend of mine sent me to Illinois with a going-away card with a frowning stick figure on the front and a caption that said, “Too sad to swing.” How was I going to make a home there?             I lived in a two-bedroom apartment, my first place that was my space . Two years later, a cat adopted me and I mo