Oh, dear God:
I suppose it was somewhere between trips to the buffet–to refill my plate with the tiny Belgian waffles smothered with peaches and syrup, even though I was already quite full from the other tiny waffles and the omelette and the bacon and potatoes and fruit and whatnot–that I realized perhaps I had some gluttony to confess. Especially since just the night before, at that yummy local hamburger place, which, though they piped Christian music over the speakers, they also asked if I wanted butter on my cheeseburger. Which seemed sinful, even as I answered, Why, yes. Please.
So somewhere in that time I thought I’d take a look at the Seven Deadlies of Sin and confess those. Not that I’m running out of sins, mind you. But the framework is good–a guide to examine my soul.
And while my BMI nor my dress size would not reveal my gluttony, while my regular eating habits wouldn’t even expose this, surely I am one. I eat when I am not hungry. But bored. I eat extravagantly, fragrantly. I eat wastefully. I buy pre-made and processed, expensive. All in a world where people have nothing. In my life while I’ve no worried about paying bills and losing our home, while I’ve been broke, I’ve never gone hungry. I’ve just shopped at Aldi.
That seems gluttonous. So, God, forgive me. Forgive my gluttonous attitude toward food. Though I will celebrate my friend Rachel Stone’s premise that we should Eat With Joy and to receive food with thanksgiving and that food–in its luxurious and delicious forms–can and is a gift from you, still. Gluttony happens. Too often. Forgive me. And for the drinks too….Ack.