Day Four: Mental Note For Next Year

I was just about to write about what a horrible night it was. And then, just as my tired fingers hit the keys I thought, perhaps it was actually a great night.

Tonight was Robious Night at the Flying Squirrels baseball game. Jeremiah and a bunch of his 8th grade teaching posse and spouses were planning to attend the game, so naturally I tagged along as well. I was looking forward to a night of being away from my kitchen and having something to occupy my time.

Clearly, the challenge is affecting my brain and intellect. And I have to think that pairing that with pregnancy absentmindedness is a deadly combo.

How quickly I forgot that once you pass through the pearly red gates at the diamond you are punched in the face with all the sights and smells of delicious, delicious food. Within a minute I felt like I was trapped in that room on Lost where they strap people to a chair and have them watch this crazy loud and bright screen that essentially brainwashes them. If you haven't seen Lost, moral of the story is it's bad and hard to escape and messes with your mind. Luckily, the couple I was with headed straight to our seats. Jeremiah was working the will call booth so he wouldn't arrive for about an hour.

And never was I so aware of the power of scent than tonight. Why oh why so high up and far from the food does it smell so good?! As more friends came, dinner talk grew from a murmur to something compared to Christmas morning. And oh was I tempted. As a friend offered me a fried pickle I thought: ah there's no harm, there's only one more day to go, not much harm anymore. And then it hit me. That voice that has been following me all week. And I thought of Jeremiah. For the off chance that he would be upset, disappointed, or discouraged in his own sacrifices, I decided it wasn't worth it. And just a few minutes later Jeremiah got a text from someone at Hope. I had a feeling this could be it, the dreaded point of no return. And it was. This friend texted Jeremiah to ask if we'd consider sharing about our experience this Sunday during one of the services. P-A-R-T-Y K-I-L-L-E-R. There was no turning back now. But the same things that poured on my food parade that night ultimately bring maturity and accountability and humility, which even I must admit far outweigh the joys of greasy food.

And this is why I dub this the worst night ever... but maybe also the best. As people continued filing in with hot dogs wrapped in foil (my fave!) and funnel cake and dippin' dots in baseball helmets and curly fries I just wanted scream. But here I am, at 10:45pm with a hungry, unsatisfied stomach. So it was awful, but yet something's happening. This is so unlike me to resist such goodness, especially food, especially when I'm pregnant and hungry and miserable.

So, just a mental note for next year. Although the Spirit may allow one to conquer the minor league baseball concessions, I'd stick more with the whole "flee from temptation" idea.