Too Tired to Blog

Seriously.

I inadvertently ate a little crumb of wheat yesterday. I was making a sandwich for my dear husband, and must have dropped a crumb on the leftover tomatoes as I was carrying his sandwich to him. I went back to the kitchen to grab a snack of tomatoes with salt (bad idea, because I am suffering from a HUMONGOUS canker sore, and tomatoes don't help that situation at all) and without thinking, popped a chunk of tomato into my mouth.

What was that yummy taste? Tomato, in its vine-ripened deliciousness, hit my palate. Salt, yes. A bit of pepper, check. But there was something else, something good, something I hadn't tasted in a while.

Oh, NO.

Wheat.

It was a teensy, tiny bit of wheat.

I have to tell you that it tasted GOOD. Really, really good. Made me realize how much I miss good old-fashioned wheat bread, toasted in the toaster, slathered with butter and mayonnaise and tomatoes and salt and pepper. I could almost kill for a tomato sandwich ( a REAL tomato sandwich aka wheat bread) right now.

But it wasn't at all worth it.

As I sit here, I have a bloated stomach. My eyes are blackened with huge, dark circles that indicate that I was wheated. Oh, yes, "wheated" is a verb in a family burdened with celiac disease. When we ingest wheat accidentally, we tell each other, "I was wheated, and this is what happened...yada, yada, yada."

I miss the taste of wheat. I miss the texture. No matter how hard I try to believe it, rice and tapioca and amaranth and sorghum, and all of the other flours combined NEVER make bread or buns that taste the same as good old-fashioned wheat does.

But, you know, the sore joints and the canker sores and the rashes and the headaches and the gut pain and the gas and the diarrhea and all of the other miscellaneous symptoms of being wheated are just not worth it.

Next time I make my husband a sandwich, I will be ever-so-vigilant. I won't let a crumb touch my plate. I'll scrub my hands thoroughly. I'll be careful.

And I will look forward to the day when I will feast on the manna of heaven. One day, I will eat wheat in my glorified body, and I'll enjoy it.

Revelation 20:6b “Hallelujah!
For the Lord our God
the Almighty reigns.
7 Let us rejoice and exult
and give him the glory,
for the marriage of the Lamb has come,
and his Bride has made herself ready;
8 it was granted her to clothe herself
with fine linen, bright and pure”—

for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.

9 And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are the true words of God.”

I am invited. I am blessed. I will be healed of celiac disease. I will feast at the Marriage supper of the Lamb!

22 Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2 through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.

My gut will be healed. I will know no more pain. Nothing I reach for will hurt me.

One of God's chosen people will soon be leaving this world. He is a true servant of God, and has suffered for many years with a different, debilitating disease. He will know the joy of being pain free. Blessed in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.