Obsession with Lord not troubling

Tales from the front pew

If you don’t mind me asking, what are you obsessed about?

A lot of people might be thinking, “What’s this wacky woman talking about? I’m not obsessed with anything.” (Yeah, right, and I’m not wacky).

The truth is, most of us are obsessed, at least mildly, by something.

According to an online dictionary, “obsess” is defined as “to preoccupy or fill the mind continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent.”

Anyone rethinking their answer yet?

If you asked my family, they’d tell you that I’m currently obsessed with losing weight.

Last November, I had an appointment with my doctor, and after seeing the numbers on his office scale I realized it was time to start eating better.

Following mild success with eliminating sweets, I decided to amp things up a bit. Three weeks ago, I joined one of those Oprah/Kirstie/Marie weight loss programs designed to provide both the options and ammunition to enable someone to make better food choices.

My program uses a point system. Every day I have a certain number of points available to “spend” on foods, each of which have a particular value. A bowl of chicken soup might be three points; a hot fudge sundae might be continued onto the next day.

The upside is the fact that I’ve lost over 30 pounds and look and feel a lot better.

The downside? The other day I almost mugged a small child for his peanut butter/chocolate ice cream cone. I used to wonder why so many skinny people were mean. Now I understand — they’re hungry.

My family has started referring to my weight loss attempts as an obsession.

According to my husband, Bob, “It’s all you think about, Kim.”

Not true. Sometimes I think about all the new clothes I’ll buy when I finally lose those last 15 pounds.

While typically being very supportive, every once in a while my daughter, Val, pulls what I call a “Serpent and Eve” number on me, saying things like, “C’mon, mom. Eat the candy bar. It can’t be that many points. Even if it is, you can make up for it tomorrow by eating less.”

So far I’ve managed to avoid the temptation, but I can sniff out chocolate at 100 feet.

Occasionally, Bob and Val grow weary of disdaining and cajoling and opt for mockery instead.

Take the other day, for example.

After gingerly picking my steps to avoid doing a face plant in our icy driveway, Val smiled at me and said, “Yeah, mom, be careful. Who knows how many points are in asphalt?” (The kid has a smart mouth. I wonder where she got it.)

There are all kinds of obsessions out there, but I have to disagree with the dictionary definition regarding a “troubling extent.”

I know several people who are obsessed with the Lord.

They are obsessed with reading the Bible, obsessed with praying, obsessed with attending church every Sunday and Wednesday, and obsessed with telling other people about the hope and joy they’ve found in Christ.

Sure, they’re obsessed, but they aren’t troubled. In fact, they’re the happiest folks I know.


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