A Handful of Corn Chips

I am a fragile human, and I hate that. I hate it even as I say it, but it’s true.

Recently, I found myself in a deep, low place–physically, mentally, spiritually. If I don’t pay attention to routines I follow, I get there before I know I’m in trouble.

This won’t make sense, but I always thank God later for knocking me down. I don’t even know if He did it, but I thank Him anyway, because I usually learn some truth I desperately need from the low place. To quote C.S. Lewis:

“If our religion is something objective, then we must never avert our eyes from those elements in it which seem puzzling or repellent; for it will be precisely the puzzling or the repellent which conceals what we do not yet know and need to know.”

From my dark hole, I was crying out to God, because I’d tried all sorts of things to no avail. And one of the symptoms of those lows is a brain fog from which I cannot see much of anything.

“God,” I said. “You created this body and everything connected to it. You know what’s wrong. Spirit, please tell me what to do.”

And unmistakably, through the mist came this odd thought, as clear as a bell ringing on a moonless night:

“Go eat some corn chips.”

(I am not joking.)

“WHAT?” I snapped, shaking my head, and squinting upward.

“Go eat some corn chips.” (It came again.)

After a momentary ponder, I did just that. Somehow, I got down the stairs and dropped onto the bottom stair in the mudroom, which is near my pantry shelves. I had a bag of corn chips in my lap, and I munched until I was full.

And then, I trudged back upstairs to get ready for bed. By the time I’d taken my bath, to my utter surprise, I felt better. And by morning, to my complete amazement, I was back to normal, just in time for an important appointment I would have had to miss in my former state.

You see, what I forget in my hurry is my very real problem with low blood sugar. This issue has plagued me since I gave up sugar (for the most part) in 2011, and further since I gave up gluten (for the most part) in 2013. Those are stories for another day, but suffice it to say they were accidental discoveries that help me stay healthy and functional most of the time, which is a small miracle for someone who, as a young mom with three children, had a near miss with an MS diagnosis.

If I don’t eat for a certain period of time, and if I tax my body while hungry, both of which I’d done for three days, like heat exhaustion, the low blood sugar issue creeps up on me before I know what hit me. And then, the lack of energy, despair and brain fog all contribute to confusion in which I forget what to do. Fortunately, these incidents are rare.

The sure solution is to eat some good, old-fashioned carbs, which is usually a lot of fun, I might add.

To me, the moral of this story is that God cared enough about such a small detail. He cared about a handful of corn chips.

I certainly don’t deserve that kind of love.

And to quote Jill Briscoe, “Such grace.”

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NOTE: If you’re wondering where my husby was in my hour of need, he was away on a three-day business trip to Arkansas. 😁

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One Response to A Handful of Corn Chips

  1. Pingback: Lessons From the Pit | Daily Walking

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