Ode to Homer Simpson

I've been a casual Simpson's fan from it's conception back in the late 80s. Being a square straight-A's Lutheran girl, I was initially drawn to bad boy Bart's impudence and lack of respect for all authority (did he really just tell his teacher to eat his shorts?!). I don't watch the show as frequently these days, but during those occasions when I catch it I find my devotion has been diverted to another character--this time to Homer.

Just what is it about the bald-headed, pot-bellied, simpleton Homer that catches my eye? His obsession with donuts...aggghhh. Yes, it is his devotion to all things sweet that resonates with me, for I, too, am a sugar-haulic.

Today my drug of choice came in the form of Nerds and Laffy Taffy. This week I made the egregious error of buying a large bag of this type of candy to keep in the car for bribing Jack. (Go ahead, judge if you want. This is not a blog about good parenting, after all, and it works). Now this was poor judgement on my part for various reasons, the main one being that, due to an extreme lack of self-control, I have been using the sugary stuff to cope with what can only be described as a week to forget.

Now I know that there is nothing redeemable about this food (if that is an accurate term for something that is fluorescent red and yellow and tastes like bananas from a can). It is pure sugary junk and does horrible things to my body's glucose levels, has high teeth-rotting potential, and makes me feel like flopping down on my couch and watching tv (see "Simpson, Homer").

Lately I've been wondering how cutting out refined sugar from my diet would affect me--my workouts, my energy levels, my moods. In Ultramarathon Man, (a book I would not recommend unless you are interested in reading a poorly written autobiography about a man with an extremely high estimation of himself) the author talks about how he was forced to cut all white sugar and simple carbs from his diet in order to train for his 100+ mile runs. Now I consider myself a reasonable person so obviously I would never do something that extreme (I am talking about cutting out all sugar, but the running 100 miles seems a bit insane to me as well). It would be, however, an interesting experiment to try: would the gains made in energy and performance outweigh the sacrifices made in taste? Not sure if I'm willing to try this...yet.

Dietary reasons aside, though, I have been thinking a lot about my relationship with food. Our culture has an intense love/hate relationship with food. We use it in occasions of celebration and mourning. We make it the center of social gatherings, but we also often find ourselves eating alone. We laud food for the joy it brings, while cursing it the next morning when we are unhappy with the number on the scale or that empty pint of Ben and Jerry's, as will be the case tomorrow (it was worth it!!!). It is the body's source of energy, yet it can kill us if we consume the wrong things. On the whole, the way we think about food can be complex and confusing.

This doesn't resonate more clearly with anyone than it does with me. Food is something I've struggled with in some form or another for as long as I can remember. I've had something referred to as "disordered eating", and while God has helped me through that, there still remains something abnormal in the way I eat. This week is a perfect example: between Boy #2's teeth, Boy #1's cold, and Kevin's grad school, I just about went insane. My usual stress relievers--working out, time to myself--were encroached upon by uncooperative children and I found myself at my wits end. So, to whom did I turn? Nerds. Laffy Taffy. Candy. I turned to candy and I ate to my heart's content and my stomach's discontent.

There are many problems with this, but the main one is that I turned to food during a time of stress when I have a resource, a stress reliever, a source of comfort like no other. The God of the Universe wants nothing more than for me to call upon Him in my day of trouble. He is omnipotent and promises to deliver me. I believe this, yet when things get tough, I find that my functional savior turns out to be lumps of oddly-shaped sugar that will do nothing but rot my teeth and add pounds to my hips.

I want to eat healthy. I want to feel good about myself physically. But more than anything, I want to tap into the power of my Redeemer. I want to call on Him in every season, good, bad, or indifferent. I want to live as though every bite of food I put into my mouth should be done in communion with him, as though we are dining together. This is possible. I just have to turn away from my measly gods (and they are gods, if I am honest with myself) and turn completely to Him.

So sorry, Homer. I envy your ways, sure. Who wouldn't want to eat a box of donuts before lunchtime? But your donuts have got nothing on my Lord.