Our Daily Bread

The constant comments on my cooking, pantry items, and shopping list really get to me sometimes.

“Ugh, it is all slop! There is nothing good in this entire house. Why can’t anything ever taste right?” – Direct Quote from Sourdough, on any given day, at any given meal.

When your son has sensory issues that include taste, texture and smell, eating is a constant battle – for him and for his momma. Food that “worked” yesterday, tastes different today. Taking medicines, liquid or pills, is almost impossible. Tears, frustration, stress and anger have been our constant companion at the dinner table for years.

There are times I want to scream.

There are times I wonder why I even try to make dinner.

There are times I order Chinese food, and spend way too much money, because he will actually eat the noodles (well, usually) without a fuss.

Eating, and its associated sensory issues, are a constant source of stress in our lives.

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Recently, I came across this verse in the Bible.  When I read it, I literally laughed out loud.

“Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we loathe this worthless food.” Numbers 21:5

So, God gets this.

A lot.

Your food is slop, God. This life, our circumstances – it is all slop.

At first, there was part of me that was almost giddy, realizing that the God of the universe understands what is like for me. It felt intimate and sweet.

Over the next couple days however, the deeper message became clear.

If I am completely honest, I react/think/feel/live like this way too often. If I truly believe what I believe, then all of this is God’s best plan for us. I may not perceive it, I may not understand it, I may think somehow I can escape it – but at the end of the day, I believe that He is working it together for good.

It is manna from Heaven, raining down.

I pray that I don’t miss it – the miracle and goodness in all of this. I don’t want to miss the beauty because I am stressed and tired and worst of all, afraid.

Afraid for the future, for my failures, for my sons’ weaknesses and for my own.

Fear causes me to lose sight of the joy right in front of me. Fear causes me to complain and reject.

I pray that He will give us this day, our daily bread.

I pray that I will receive it – gladly, lovingly, gratefully – with hands, stretched wide and reaching toward Heaven.

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Our daily bread – it is true, amazing, deep, abiding love.

And it is raining down, all around us.

 

 


Our Daily Bread

5 thoughts on “Our Daily Bread

  1. Thank you…thank you….thank you, Lord for you know my heart, and,for Shawna, you introduced her to me to express my feelings I didn’t have words for. God Bless you dear Shawna!

  2. OMGOSH!!!! Every. Single. DAY. Chase has eaten the SAME LUNCH every day 7 days a week, 365 days a year, for ten years. A hot dog, pringles, chocolate pudding. Recent development is bananas of a specific ripeness. Toast or dry kix for breakfast, and either an unseasoned chicken breast, sirloin, or scrambled eggs, ketchup, and the edges ( not the stem or veins) of five pieces of baby spinach. This is my child’s nutrients, along with two gummy vites and a viactive calcium chew ( they are of similar flavor and consistency of tootsie rolls). He will only drink water, so no hiding medicine in his drinks. If he has a fever

    1. I have to give him a suppository because he can’t toloratw medicine orally. Thank goodness a perk of leaving the smog of So Cal has been no antibiotics since 2006. Food is such a tired and unproductive argument. Thank you for sharing and encouraging! God works in ALL THINGS. Even food wars. Need to remember that!

    2. Oh my goodness, Kimberly! I am so glad you shared this – we deal with random and constant aversions, but nothing as fixed as what you describe. Although I kinda love Chase’s palate (because pudding and scrambled eggs…) I am certain this causes serious difficulty and a need for a lot of planning if you need to leave the house, or travel.
      Praying for you and Chase, and for joy in the midst of carefully counting out five de-stemmed, de-veined pieces of baby spinach. You are doing this, Momma. It’s so encouraging to me.
      Lots and lots of love,
      Shawna

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