An invitation

Maybe you’re scared.

Perhaps a presentation dawns on the horizon. In front of actual people.

Barf. More-than-the-usual-number of bathroom breaks.

(Or is that just me?)

If you’ve ever felt a twisted knot of fear in your gut too, maybe you’ve tried to suppress it, squash it, ignore it somehow.

Food promises to help you do all that.

And food delivers … for a while.

Yet, have you noticed that the fear still hangs, not that far above, continually inviting you to wade in?

I’d always thought that if I tipped a toe in, I’d be swallowed.

I’d heard the rumors of the undertow—invisible on the surface, deadly at the depths. And so I never ventured in.

I barricaded myself behind walls of burritos.

Until I met someone who would hold my hand and walk with me into the water.

Yes, sometimes it was scary.

And, oh yes, sometimes the seas felt deadly.

But knowing that I was held made all the difference.

And my hand was held until, years later, I learned to hold my own.

There need be no shame in the fear, no disgrace in the embrace, because both converged to strength and space.

Space to make a choice.

And strength?

Strength to have the courage to keep it.

With all this, you might choose food. Or you might not.