I'm Italian. I'm 100% Italian. I'm second generation American. So, between the title of this article and the fact that I am Italian should clue you in on the fact that I will be sharing about the one thing all Italians LOVE and that is food.
Growing up hearing my grandmother say, "Mangia, MANGIA!!," (That's Italian for, "Eat, EAT!!"), my mother saying, "Let me put up the espresso and get out the pastries," and my father saying, "There's only a little bit left- don't make me throw it away." I've learned a thing or two about what food means to Italians. Bottom line: food is their way of blessing those around them. Italians are a very hospitable people. They love opening their homes to friends and family and serving food-and they do it well. Getting together and food are synonymous. If an Italian asks you over, be assured that there will be food served. You'll come for lunch, dessert or dinner or of course a cuppa cawffee. They will think about what you'd love to eat, from an Italian cuisine of course, prepare the food list, purchase it all, and love cooking and serving you. When Italians serve food it is a way to honor you and bless you and there is more than plenty-no one goes hungry-believe me.
Okay, my title, Death by Pasta. You ask, "If they're serving out of love, to bless and honor you, why is the title Death by Pasta?" Well, food can become an idol for many us. You see food represents a time to celebrate. A time to gather together. A time to reward ourselves. It is also there to lift you up and make you feel better when you're down. In other words, food becomes the answer to everything, good or bad.
I remember once there was an argument in the house that lasted all day. It took until 11 pm for the parties involved to finally make up. At 11 pm my father went out to get fresh, hot bagels and whipped cream cheese to celebrate the reconciliation. Did you hear that? Eleven o'clock at night they broke bread!
This lifestyle was a hard one to fight, but I did for most of my life, until about five years ago when a dear friend wounded me to the heart. I crumbled and found comfort in food. I remember one day I felt like I heard the still, small voice of the Lord gently say, "Stop." But to Him I replied, "I'm sorry Lord, I just can't." That day, I gave up on God in this area of my life. I chose food over God to comfort me. Since that time every time I have been deeply hurt I have found myself running to food. It really doesn't matter what it is, I just eat and eat hoping that it'll make me happy, but of course it doesn't. With every pound I have gained I actually have become more sad and in response to that I eat more. It has become a viscous cycle.
I have recently begun working out and eating right, (I wrote an article about it: "Fit by Forty-___!) Along with working out I have also added an element of repentance. With every step I take or jog I run I pray for the Lord to forgive me and release me from this grip with food. I pray while I am perspiring. As my pores are opening and releasing the sweat, I pray that in the same way my heart will release hurt, pain and shame right out of my body. I pray to be free from this bondage and I know that only through Jesus will I be healed. I need God to set me free from all the lies of how food can satisfy or heal my sad heart or how food can make a celebration even better.
It is hard for me to believe that I have spent the last five years over-eating whenever I have been sad. I now have so much regret. I think, "Why didn't I run to God more?" "Why didn't I heed the Lord's voice?" It is so hard looking at the rebellious decision I made in over-eating and it's consequences. In my regret I also wish I had gotten counsel for a few of the harder times I went through. I tell you, the last two years have felt like I was in the boxing ring with Life. In short, I was being pummelled by Life. Life was so hard and it knocked me off my feet that, well, I gave up again on caring about me.
So, as I walk or run each day I pray for a new beginning. I pray for God to teach me to run to Him. I pray for Him to heal my brokenness (because food never did do the trick). Every day when I shower I pray for a cleansing not only of my body, but of my heart, and mind. I pray that He will pour over me a gladness and renew my life with joy. I pray not only for a new body, but a new heart. I pray that my weight loss will be testimony to the Lord's goodness to me. A testimony of a healed heart. For me the weight loss will be a sign of His forgiveness. A sign of the covenant I make to the Lord to never allow food to take the place of Him again. This weight loss is all for the glory of my King who never left me, even when I shut Him out of an area of my life.
Growing up hearing my grandmother say, "Mangia, MANGIA!!," (That's Italian for, "Eat, EAT!!"), my mother saying, "Let me put up the espresso and get out the pastries," and my father saying, "There's only a little bit left- don't make me throw it away." I've learned a thing or two about what food means to Italians. Bottom line: food is their way of blessing those around them. Italians are a very hospitable people. They love opening their homes to friends and family and serving food-and they do it well. Getting together and food are synonymous. If an Italian asks you over, be assured that there will be food served. You'll come for lunch, dessert or dinner or of course a cuppa cawffee. They will think about what you'd love to eat, from an Italian cuisine of course, prepare the food list, purchase it all, and love cooking and serving you. When Italians serve food it is a way to honor you and bless you and there is more than plenty-no one goes hungry-believe me.
Okay, my title, Death by Pasta. You ask, "If they're serving out of love, to bless and honor you, why is the title Death by Pasta?" Well, food can become an idol for many us. You see food represents a time to celebrate. A time to gather together. A time to reward ourselves. It is also there to lift you up and make you feel better when you're down. In other words, food becomes the answer to everything, good or bad.
I remember once there was an argument in the house that lasted all day. It took until 11 pm for the parties involved to finally make up. At 11 pm my father went out to get fresh, hot bagels and whipped cream cheese to celebrate the reconciliation. Did you hear that? Eleven o'clock at night they broke bread!
This lifestyle was a hard one to fight, but I did for most of my life, until about five years ago when a dear friend wounded me to the heart. I crumbled and found comfort in food. I remember one day I felt like I heard the still, small voice of the Lord gently say, "Stop." But to Him I replied, "I'm sorry Lord, I just can't." That day, I gave up on God in this area of my life. I chose food over God to comfort me. Since that time every time I have been deeply hurt I have found myself running to food. It really doesn't matter what it is, I just eat and eat hoping that it'll make me happy, but of course it doesn't. With every pound I have gained I actually have become more sad and in response to that I eat more. It has become a viscous cycle.
I have recently begun working out and eating right, (I wrote an article about it: "Fit by Forty-___!) Along with working out I have also added an element of repentance. With every step I take or jog I run I pray for the Lord to forgive me and release me from this grip with food. I pray while I am perspiring. As my pores are opening and releasing the sweat, I pray that in the same way my heart will release hurt, pain and shame right out of my body. I pray to be free from this bondage and I know that only through Jesus will I be healed. I need God to set me free from all the lies of how food can satisfy or heal my sad heart or how food can make a celebration even better.
It is hard for me to believe that I have spent the last five years over-eating whenever I have been sad. I now have so much regret. I think, "Why didn't I run to God more?" "Why didn't I heed the Lord's voice?" It is so hard looking at the rebellious decision I made in over-eating and it's consequences. In my regret I also wish I had gotten counsel for a few of the harder times I went through. I tell you, the last two years have felt like I was in the boxing ring with Life. In short, I was being pummelled by Life. Life was so hard and it knocked me off my feet that, well, I gave up again on caring about me.
So, as I walk or run each day I pray for a new beginning. I pray for God to teach me to run to Him. I pray for Him to heal my brokenness (because food never did do the trick). Every day when I shower I pray for a cleansing not only of my body, but of my heart, and mind. I pray that He will pour over me a gladness and renew my life with joy. I pray not only for a new body, but a new heart. I pray that my weight loss will be testimony to the Lord's goodness to me. A testimony of a healed heart. For me the weight loss will be a sign of His forgiveness. A sign of the covenant I make to the Lord to never allow food to take the place of Him again. This weight loss is all for the glory of my King who never left me, even when I shut Him out of an area of my life.
