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  • Writer's pictureMarji Stevens

The Battle Before Me

Who could have known the battle before me. A distraction threatening any number of unwanted results lay just ahead.

I agreed to get my grandkids off the school bus and babysit for a couple of hours until mom got home. On my way to their house, I decided to stop and pick up something for them to eat. I envisioned them coming in, back-pack laden, and starving, to find a piping-hot pizza and garlic-parmesan chicken wings in the middle of the table. It was the perfect plan.

I didn’t have much time, so I quickly put the pizza and wings on the passenger seat and took off down the road. Surely, I’d get to wear my “Grandma of the Year” T-shirt when they discovered this luscious surprise. In my flurry of excitement, I didn't consider the danger of having hot pizza and wings on the seat beside me.

That’s when it happened.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. The top of the styrofoam box of wings flew open, and out came three chicken wings. They flew out of the box, hovered momentarily in the air, their sprouted wings! I gasped, my mouth open wide, giving them the perfect opportunity . . . ZIP! down the shoot they flew.

The car swerved, I couldn't very well spit them out the window driving 50 miles an hour because they would only end up in the back seat. It was either gag and choke or chew and swallow.

Cheesy, crispy, garlicky, hot, chicken wings… oh the torture for this newly launched dieter. A flash of excuses streamed across my mind. Who cares if you’re chubby? Be happy. Your family will still love you. You deserve a treat, you’ve been so good all week. Go ahead, have another. Your grandkids don't know you were bringing chicken wings--a pizza will be good enough.

Frantically I did the math in my head: there are 24 wings and 5 kids. . . if I give them three each I can have . . . ? My brain was too mangled by the taste of parm and garlic to think straight plus drive.

Then I heard God's voice: “THINK! Is this what you want?” Oh no . . . He was watching me! Lord, help . . .

I closed the lid and pulled into their driveway licking the grease off my fingers - spoils of a battle won. Yes, I ate three, but not four, or 12 or all 24. No empty containers had to be tossed in the garbage of shame. It was a battle won. Victory! And that’s a very happy thing!

Thank you Father, you don’t leave us in the battle. Please be with my friends this week, don’t let them give in to discouragement and defeat when they slip-up; help us dust ourselves off and start again with no residue from past failures. Help us keep our sense of humor about life and be with us every step of the way. In Jesus name, amen.

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