Chocolate Milk

Maybe the thought of the milk tank being full with cold refreshing pure milk, or the fact that the temperature was hitting 100, or possibly the thought of mowing that unending yard with a small mower, or following those fifty cows in from the woods, thru the tall summer grass, thru the creek, and around the pond that wore me out. Whatever drove me to the chocolate milk, the coolness and equalizing effect it had on my body and spirit was refreshing.

Years later and many moons after the chocolate milk I am married to a choc-o-nut husband. He likes chocolate milk.

This is a problem.

I avoid sugar, which includes Nesquik and all similar brands.

Fortunately, a company makes pure chocolate. Once again I am delighted to drink chocolate milk. For months my beloved took a cup-full in his lunch. His little girls slowly became addicted to the leftovers. The chocolate is thick so it needs to be mixed with the blender. I do this faithfully every morning. Slowly the leftover amounts gets larger. I must cut back on the milk I am adding. But the little girls are glad for the leftovers so in the fridge they go for lunch. Frothy and tantalizing, the brimming cups await consumption. It makes me smile, my children are drinking chocolate milk for lunch and otherwise.

The cups talk to me. They seem to invite me to drink of the frothy substance inside. But should I really do this?

Some days leftovers exist for me. I drink and I am fondly reminded of the reasons I drank chocolate milk as a child. The days seem to increase that there are leftovers available. Am I adding too much milk again? But that cup of chocolate milk in the fridge for me to claim to makes it so hard not to add the extra milk into the blender at seven in the morning.

Now the little girl needs it in her lunch too.  Sometimes I accidentally overfill her thermos and have to modify the quantity to seal the lid. At seven in the morning I am drinking chocolate milk. Insane. I am definitely overstepping my no sugar boundaries.

Today I am thinking lots of things, too many things. God keeps reminding me in His gentle voice to enjoy now, today. Tomorrow will take care of itself along with next week, next month, next year. Even when it is leap year He can take care of that too.

But this book is haunting me. Wounded Trust. Wounded, wounded. Is my trust growing back? If I really do trust Him fully then why do I even worry about next week, next month, next year.

Surely He has borne my griefs and carried my sorrows. He was wounded for my transgressions; He was bruised for my inqiuities. The chastisement needful to obtain peace and well being for me was upon Him, and with the stripes that wounded Jesus, I am healed and made whole. Isaiah 53:4-5

 Without Him there would be no way out my jumbled mess. This wound would fester and grow forever. But now, today the words for me are found in Isaiah. These beautiful words of promise of healing and growth to me, a redeemed Christian. Will this wound ever close up completely? Yes, I believe it will. The scar remains. Will it change...will the scar change and grow more like Jesus' scar? Yes, this verse commands me to believe it. My heart feel joyful because it contains the capacity to accept this promise from my heavenly Father.  I want this. Amazingly, my wounded and scarred heart has the capacity to want more, tempting me to claim the last part of the verse. It tantalizes me like the chocolate milk. I want to drink the smoothness and experience the comfort it offers...healed and made whole. Whole, yes I am drinking whole milk in case you wonder. But whole? Three years later do I even know what whole means?

I want wholeness. That is the first step. One needs to experience the desire first.

Meanwhile my empty chocolate milk cup sets on the table. The froth is still around the edges. The contents of this cup soothed my troubled heart.

Comfort food.

Comfort of knowing that Jesus took my stripes so that I can be made whole.