Destination Discipline

A friend of mine, call him Stressed out Stuart, has been struggling with his job. He has been working long hours for months and now has to work weekends. He is exhausted and burned out. Worse, he’s tried to tell the boss he needs a break and the boss says “Suck it up, Stuart. We have a deadline. There is profit to be made and someone has to ‘pay the Piper’ It might as well be you!”

Another friend, call her Inconsolable Sally, has been working on an intense project at work. She is a people pleaser and loves to make people happy. She has endured months of stress and aggravation and she’s tired. Worse, she does not feel appreciated. She told me her co-workers say “thank you” but she doesn’t think they recognize her effort and skill. She has been hoping her contribution would lead to a promotion but that now appears unlikely. Worse, when she talked to her boss about it, he told her “well, at least you are learning something new. Isn’t that a ‘win’?” She said, “I don’t work to ‘learn something’. I work to make money to live.”

These friends off mine got together the other night and started grousing. Pretty soon, they were both down in the dumps. Inconsolable Sally and Stressed out Stuart had quite the little pity party and that led to an over abundance of ill-feelings that culminated in copious amounts of alcohol ingestion. And nobody felt better afterwards.

When I heard about their situation, my heart went out to them. So I called Stuart and said, “Hey, Man, I’ve been there.” Then I asked if he wanted advice and was promptly told, “No. That’s just the way it is.” (Which reminded me of a Bruce Hornsby song from the 80’s.) “No hard feelings though.”

This past weekend I met a woman on the Meramec River who had been out of work for some months and was starting a new job in a factory on Monday. Stephanie helped me pick up the trash some “garbage hounds” left behind on the gravel bank. Our children had been swimming together for a few hours and I liked her immensely. I could tell she had a hard life. It wasn’t just her bleached hair, cutoff shorts and multiple tattoos. The vernacular she used made clear she lived a simple life. But she was a beautiful soul. So kind! And she was the first to jump in and save one of the children who couldn’t swim well and started to panic. She told me she was most comfortable on the river; more so than on a beach at the ocean. She said, “Just give me a bonfire and a cold beer with friends and I’m set.” I liked her perspective.

Not all of us have careers we love or jobs that give our lives meaning. Many of us are just trying to survive. And sometimes, it sucks! Sometimes the work is really hard and stressful. And we get caught up in the ‘machine’ of helping the company turn a profit at the expense of our physical and mental health. Sometimes that is “just the way it is.”

But I also think we make life worse with our stress and worry over things beyond our control. We take it too seriously. As if the world really will end if we miss a day, or a deadline. And yes, we do get tired and need vacations–even though we can’t always take them when we want. I think Stephanie has a good point. Sometimes we just need to grab a beer (or some sugar free chocolate) and head down to the river on a Friday night.

Me at the Meramec River

I am fortunate that I live close to many rivers. Not all of them are as beautiful as the Meramec, but they are all filled with wonder. I call this River Therapy. Even on a cold, winter afternoon, I can drive over to the Mighty Mississippi and watch the birds, and the people and just breathe.

I don’t know what it is about rivers that calm and soothe me, but there is something about the constant flow and movement that stimulates joy. It may be the simple wonder of observing subdued power. If one stands in a river, one can feel the force–but when standing on the edge it appears calm and gentle. This is a mystery that causes me to pause and reflect on forces much larger than myself, and that is something important in a world that is constantly telling me I am the center of the universe. I am not and I don’t want to be. Because then I would be God and I’d have to solve for problems like crappy bosses and I know I’m incapable of that. I recognize my limitations.

I love the river. It is a whole ecosystem of living organisms that coalesce. When I stand in the river, I feel like I become part of something wonderful and beautiful. I feel connected but I also feel free. Why is this important? Because I often feel enslaved to work.

I think Inconsolable Sally and Stressed out Stuart could use some river therapy. So could their bosses. But more importantly it would be good for them to recognize the wonder that exists in the world outside of work. Every day we wake up is an opportunity to step outside and take a deep breath and inhale the beauty of creation. It’s a good day to thank the creator for being alive. Sometimes, it’s even a good day to call in sick and call it “a mental health day.”

Today, if you are still living and breathing and able – walk outside, look for something beautiful outside of yourself and stop in wonder and just enjoy it. And if that is beyond your ability because of the intense sucky-ness of your job–maybe fall on your knees and pray for help to the God who knows your pain and loves you.

The Meramec River Spring

I once had a dream I could run. In the dream I was jogging down a sidewalk and it was fun and “easy.” It was so real that when I woke up, I felt good. It was so vivid I thought I might actually try to go out and do it. The problem was my actual body shape and size. I knew if I tried to run I would most likely trip over my chubby toes and bonk my chubby nose.

You see, I tried jogging in my mid twenties after I lost a substantial amount of weight. It was never fun and never easy. Also, I tore my feet up running in bad shoes and ended up with a severe case of plantar fasciitis and bone spurs. A few years of physical therapy and orthotics fixed the chronic pain, but the “spurs” remained.

Me in 2004

I was very self-conscious about my weight and my food choices. I felt like people were always analyzing everything I put into my mouth. I once had a friend smack a Godiva chocolate out of my hand in front of a group of people. I was mortified. It seemed like the only thing I was really good at was baking and gaining weight. Food was my love language and emotional support mechanism.

I forgot about my dream because I knew it was impossible. I went on gaining weight and baking. Until one day I stopped and decided to make a lifestyle change (as documented on this site).

One day I was walking down Georgie Avenue in Ferguson, Missouri and wondered what it would feel like to jog. I jogged about 20 steps and started walking again. (I sincerely hoped no one saw my boobs hit my chin!) After all, I’d lost about 100 pounds and had never in my life purchased a special running bra. I kept walking but made a mental note to go shopping. Once my cleavage was properly secured, I tried again; jog 20 steps, walk 20 steps. Jog 50 steps, walk 50 steps. Jog 100 steps, walk 100 steps. Eventually, I jogged my way to a 5K. It was an incredible feeling when the race was over, but it never felt fun or easy. The 5K was an “exercise” in torture.

After that I ran a lot–so much so that I lost another 40 pounds. I also tore my SI joint and re-injured my feet. There were many setbacks. I had learned how to push myself to accomplish big goals and then I had to learn how to rest my body to prevent injury.

I regained and lost 20 pounds several times. I struggled with exercise bulimia. My ribs kept popping out of place and causing excruciating pain. I also had a recurring pinched nerve in my neck. The runners I worked with were all encouraging me to run a marathon–or at the very least–a half marathon. Every conversation with them was about technique. I must be doing it wrong. How was I lifting and landing my feet? Maybe I just needed to push through the pain? Everyone wanted to help me reach the next milestone in my running journey, but I felt doomed to be a big disappointment–not only to them, but to myself. Any time I tried to run more than 6 miles, I would re-injure. Any time I ran more than once I week, It was the same. My SI joint would “melt” and my feet would ache.

Fast forward a few years.

I discovered the woman who inspired me to lose weight had regained all of hers. (Jeannette Fulda). So had many others I followed online. They didn’t announce it or anything–they just kind-of stopped blogging about their weight-loss journeys. Meanwhile, I was still trying to be faithful to live a healthy lifestyle. And the reality is, the daily grind of maintaining massive weight loss can get stale. I get bored of eating the same fruits and vegetables. My capacity to consume meat of any kind has diminished. Pork of any kind unsettles my tummy and makes me swell. I also get cravings for MSG-laden Asian cuisine. More importantly, I still struggle not to overeat–even though I don’t crave cookies or cake any longer.  Avoiding “trigger foods” can feel restrictive at times. And in case I didn’t say it loud enough, living a healthy lifestyle long-term can be really BORING.

I help Momma run!

And then the dream returned. I dreamed I was running and not getting tired or sore. I was running around town and having fun. I guess my subconscious was telling me I still had something to aspire to. It’s not that I ever quit running–or that it got exponentially easier–I just didn’t look forward to or enjoy it. I usually jog with my dog, Annabelle(a boxer) and I listen to sermons or my bible–as I have from the very beginning of my journey. Annabelle pulls me up hills and God prompts me to overcome adversity by giving me His grace. (I can’t really explain that piece of it other than to say, I feel His favor when I run–and cry–and pray).

Annabelle can’t run with me during the warmer months because she gets overheated. This morning, it was drizzling rain, and she doesn’t like to get wet, so I ran alone. There are a lot of hills on my route and I usually struggle without my “sled dog”. But this morning was different. This morning, something clicked like it has never clicked before. This morning, I knew I could run up the first hill without her. More importantly, I also knew I didn’t need to walk at the top of the hill because I was out of breath. I knew I could “push through” by altering my breathing. I wasn’t worried about running a specific amount of time at a specific speed or pushing through pain. I just ran. And I made a conscious decision to enjoy it.

I realize now that I haven’t enjoyed running because I was always comparing myself to other runners. I wasn’t super fast and I wasn’t super trendy. I was more worried about what I was supposed to look or feel like than simply enjoying the freedom of running. Isn’t that silly? I spent so many years being embarrassed about my shape and size that it became my identity. Almost as if I had become the physical manifestation of an apology for not being the kind of runner others thought I should be. I realize now I may never be what others want me to be–and that’s okay. Besides, I can’t actually be anybody else but me.

I am just me and I am okay. This is me today.

This is a manifestation of God’s grace.

Today while I ran I listened to the book of John–which I have been studying for the past month. The verses in John 14, 15 and 16 caused me to reflect on who I really am and set me free from the comparison mindset.

Today I realized miracles do happen. Sometimes they start as dreams. Maybe that is why God gave dreams to people like Joseph, and visions to people like Isaiah, Jeremiah and others. Jesus said, “Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me. And he who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and manifest myself to him.” (John 14:21)

I feel the manifestation of Jesus when I run. Running does not come naturally to me. But the discipline of movement over the years has changed me. It has changed my physically and spiritually in ways I never thought possible. If you are reading this and have a dream you think is impossible–dare to dream. Then, dare to run. (just make sure you have the proper foundation garment!)

“For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.” Hebrews 2:18

Have you ever stood before the billowing clouds of a stormfront? Did you watch the undulating swirl with awe as as the wind swept over your face and the first drops of rain hit your cheeks? Did you rush for cover when the wind picked up and the branches on the trees began to wave like white flags before a battalion of the enemy? Did you watch from the safety of your living room window as limbs broke and lightening raged across the sky?

I like to read the comments on social media much more than I like to respond. It interests me what people think and write–often with more time spent on the latter. Therefore, I took an interest in a a post from the St. Charles County police department on a crime that had been committed recently and how it impacted the community.

A hunter was shooting for turkey when he accidentally hit a hiker on a trail I frequent in Weldon Springs. How he did that surprises me as I often see people walking and running that trail. With scenic views over the Missouri River, I wondered why any hunter would be pointing a gun in any direction in that area. One of my neighbors wrote, “I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose and I am praying for the hunter and the victim.” Someone responded, “Whether he did it on purpose is beside the point–the result is the same. And if you want to waste your time praying, go for it.”

This set off a rapid succession of discourse and no end of nastiness.

The thing is, I have often felt like prayer is a waste of time–but no one has ever said that to my face. The internet provides a barrier between acquaintances where they can say what they might never say to ones face with no shame. The thing that struck me about that conversation was how often I had prayed for the individual who wrote “prayer is a waste of time.”

Is this what faith in God looks like from outside? Like I am a muttering fool? For an instant, I regretted ever lifting them up. Why did I spend precious moments of my life meditating on them?

These little “emotional storms” occur with such frequency on social media that last year I started to delete people from my feed who engaged in such behavior. Especially those who identify as Christians. It’s one thing to watch the storm approach–but once the wind and rain touch me personally, I’m out. To the safety of the house, I run.

“Whoever belittles his neighbor lacks sense, but a man of understanding remains silent.” Proverbs 11:12

But as I am learning–even silence speaks volumes. Just ask someone whether or not they got the vaccine.

The temptation to “speak your mind” is as enticing as chocolate buttercream icing. Worse, the temptation to berate and judge those with opposing views is like molten lava cake. I am coming to understand the reason we are all clashing is because we have lost the ability to see we are not always right. We form opinions based on our life experiences and then project them onto others as if our view was the only one. We are not objective; we are subjective. But rather than try to understand the perspective of someone else, we project onto them. Unfortunately, this creates misunderstanding and the inevitable hurt feelings.

What if we started asking questions to seek to understand before we “sounded off?” What if we sought to see the cracks of pain in our neighbors and friends before we applied the brand of medicine we deem best? Some of them need mercurochrome but others need stitches. And none of us know how deep or how infected their wound may be. If we apply wisdom, we remain silent, but if we apply courage–we ask questions. More importantly, if we exemplify love–we heal a wound–even if we walk away choosing to disagree.

I would suggest we are all exposed to the elements–waiting for a storm front to blow in. I have a lot of experience getting wet and ducking for cover, but I’d like to practice being the shelter for my neighbor instead. From their perspective, I may be “wasting my time in prayer” but that doesn’t mean I can’t seek to understand why they feel that way. And it especially doesn’t mean I should stop praying for them.

Standing put in the storm and not becoming the lightening is a discipline. It may take some time to practice being an umbrella instead, but if God is still listening–and answering prayers–I know His promise to “give us more grace” will help.