Destination Discipline

I recently wrote a blog about MSG (monosodium glutamate) and how toxic it is to the body. I am frustrated by my constant cravings for foods that contain it. When I was shopping at The Spice Shop on Main Street in Saint Charles, I saw that they sell it. I was so frustrated and shouted, “Toxic Poison!” to no one in particular. My son rolled his eyes. Crazy Old Mom was on a “tirade” again.  This “flavor enhancer” is the bane of my existence.

Now, you might be reading this and thinking, “Who is this lunatic and why does she hate MSG so much?” Well, the reason is because once I consume it, I can’t stop eating whatever it’s in. I have not consumed my favorite food, General Tso’s chicken with crab Rangoon, from Green China since I wrote my last column, but not a day has gone by that I haven’t been sorely tempted to consume it. Now, I don’t have definitive proof that it’s loaded with MSG, but no other food I eat “lights my brain on fire” like that. It is sedative, stimulant, and emotional support all in one meal.

Today, while doing some research for a column, I discovered glutamate is a type of neurotransmitter that occurs naturally in the brain.

“Chemical neurotransmission is a chemical signaling process in which a chemical released from the nerve terminal can excite or inhibit the next neuron in the circuit. The chemical is referred to as a neurotransmitter, and there are many different neurotransmitters found in the nervous system.” – Michael Kuhar

Michael Kuhar, the author of the excellent book, “The Addicted Brain” writes, “Drugs act on a brain that is already wired to make us feel good.” He cites extensive research with rodents for determining the different thresholds for pleasure and pain and how that has influenced the science behind brain function.

“Neurotransmitters are powerful and even dangerous in that they can profoundly alter neuronal function through their signaling properties, especially if they interact with receptors in the wrong place and at the wrong time.” – Michael Kuhar

Glutamate is “excitatory (it excites the next neuron in the circuit).”

But in my last blog entry I missed an important fact about Monosodium glutamate; it occurs naturally in some foods. So, MSG is not toxic when it occurs naturally–at least not that I’m aware of. And, I would venture to guess this chemical is necessary toward inciting hunger and other important bodily functions. Since food is necessary for survival, we need it. But when MSG is extracted and added UN-naturally, it “excites” us to over-consume.

Why is all of this important? 

Our bodies are hard-wired to experience pleasure. We naturally seek it out. I see this evidenced in the behavior of my 9-month-old grand daughter. For Christmas she got more toys than a baby will ever need and she is captivated by the sounds and lights that come from the electronic gizmos. She is also stimulated by a smile, a poke to the ribs or a kiss. These natural pleasures make her feel loved and secure and are (in my opinion) more wholesome. While I get very angry at companies who extort our natural bodily functions by creating substances that make us addicted, we are gifted with a mind that is more powerful than any physical desire. 

Every natural human impulse has the capacity to be corrupted by impure desire. While I rail against companies for manufacturing foods that contain high-fructose corn syrup, MSG, and hydrogenated fats with the sole purpose of profit and at the expense of human health, the plain truth is–they make it that way because humans are susceptible to corruption. Shoot, most of us are so entrenched in addictive behaviors that the mere  mention of abandoning our vices causes us to reject the idea completely. If we begin to contemplate it at all, we shudder at the idea of giving them up. For those of us who make a sincere attempt, we often fall back into them and decide it’s not worth the struggle.

The key to my success in living a healthy lifestyle has been exchanging unhealthy and impure desires for healthful and pure ones. I enjoy eating healthy foods. I just had to learn how to make them. Yes, it takes more effort to prepare a healthy meal than to run through a drive through restaurant. But the results are worth the effort.

One of the most shocking discoveries on my journey has been how great exercise makes me feel. When I first began my journey to live a healthy lifestyle, I knew I had to exercise because physical activity stimulates the cells that burn fat and I had a lot to burn. It felt awful because I was so large (310 pounds) and walking around with all that weight was painful. That got better as I lost weight. Then I learned physical exercise also helps alleviate my anxiety and depression. This has to do with endorphins.

“There is a surprising variety of neurotransmitters. They can be small molecules such as dopamine, or, they can be mega-molecules such as endorphin, which are equivalent to multiples of molecules the size of dopamine.” –  Michael Kuhar

Dopamine is known as the “feel good neurotransmitter” and endorphins are hormones that “reduce pain and enhance pleasure.” Therefore, I can take a jog and get a much better result brain-wise than eating a bag of M&M’s. Therefore, I have exchanged an unhealthy habit for a healthy one. 

For those who didn’t fall asleep during the brain chemistry lesson, use what you have learned to make wise choices. We may have “hijacked brains” but we can set them free. This journey is not impossible–only difficult.

The human mind is a powerful weapon. Use it. Learn. Then start to fight.

I say “fight” because modifying behavior will feel uncomfortable at first but once it becomes a habit, you will find hope and healing. In a world where so much is beyond our control, shouldn’t we at least try to control what we can?

Now, go forth and conquer!

We set out with fresh oil in the truck, a recently repaired flat tire and a cab full of Christmas treasure. The lines on the road ticked beneath us like grains of sand from an hourglass while we amused ourselves with scenery. Green fields full of cows–and the occasional pony–grinned back at our wide-eyed gaze. But after a few hours, we wondered if the long journey was worth the destination.

We stopped to rest our weary heads at a lodging place in a historic village via Lexington, Virginia. Col Alto was built in 1823 and was a very long drive from Saint Charles, Missouri. The history was written in plaques on the wall, not far from the soothing warmth of a gas fireplace. I stood there, warming my hands and shoulders in front of the mantle upon which stood a tiny ceramic town of colorful buildings and even smaller people. Their little faces lifted in silent song amidst twinkling white lights and plastic evergreen branches. I yawned and we retired to a bed fitted with crisp, white linens and a perfectly snug comforter.

The rain fell like spittle on our Christmas Eve morning–as we tried in vain to keep our luggage dry. Still, we couldn’t resist the charm of the broad, brick arches. We climbed the old, stone steps and posed for proof that we were there. We didn’t feel the cold or the wet or the tired–only the joy of exploring something old, yet new-to-us. There is magic in exploring history, but we did not have time to unravel these mysteries. Still, we paused the hourglass for a time. We wanted to study the architecture of old homesteads now updated to modern times. If not for the steady drip of December rain, we might have paused indefinitely to explore the shops–oblivious to those waiting for our arrival.

The rain was intent on spoiling the roads but we persevered to our destination. Soon, we were wrapped in the embrace of those we love and shaking the wet from our hair. We filled our bellies with good food and settled in, reminiscing simpler times.

It doesn’t feel like Christmas Eve’s of yore. There is no candlelight service, no hymns, no driving to look at lights. The river of rain is trying to wash away our happy and we are grasping at hope like a cork in a swirling current. In truth, this new tradition feels like a new patch on an old garment. I should be in bed but sleep won’t come. So I’m sorting out thoughts that have spilled out like old buttons from a mason jar. And sadly, none of them match.

And the thing is, I’m lonely. I miss the people who have passed or worse–the people who have passed me by. I consider those faces who used to care for me but whose paths no longer intersect with mine. I miss the illusion of infatuation–the glittering glances of adoring faces who haunt the halls of my hungry heart. I remember when their gaze warmed my cheeks like the gas fireplace at Col Alto. But now, I feel the cold chill of reality. These feckless fellows have flown and I am the dust swirling where they once stood.

I am not bitter. It’s just that I remember. And remembering–while often sweet–can also sting like lemon juice on cracked skin.

The clock has just struck and it’s Christmas Eve no longer. In a few hours we will tear into packages and snap memories on digital devices. Everyone will smile and we will count our blessings like we eat bacon; ravenously. Because in truth, we have so much to be thankful for.

Soon, we will pack back into the truck, hopefully with hearts full of new memories. And we will start the hourglass again. But all the while I will be dreaming of the day when the journey finally ends. Because if home is where the heart is, my home is not here.

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” – John 14:3 

Psalm 68: 5-6 “Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. God settles the solitary in a home; he leads out the prisoners to prosperity, but the rebellious dwell in a parched land.”

Have you ever felt displaced? Alone? Abandoned? Have the comforts you knew fled, never to return?

I saw her picture on social media. Her family needed to find her a new home and I knew how hard it would be. First, not many people want a rabbit. Second, people don’t know how to take care of one. Third, who wants an older rabbit? I said a quiet prayer for her and moved on. Ever since my rabbit, Laddie, passed away three years ago, I have not wanted another bunny. He was a one in a million friend. And besides, I’m busy and don’t want to clean up rabbit poop.

A week passed and I saw her picture again. I knew the family was getting desperate and I had a feeling she didn’t have much time left. While there are plenty of good rabbit rescues (The House Rabbit Society, for instance) I felt a twinge in my heart that said she needed me—not someone else. So, I offered to take her.

She arrived with much anxiety and fear. She thumped and jumped—alerting me to her mental state: terrified! Her family explained that she had been a dear friend of their children and so I asked my son to pet and comfort her (because she wanted nothing to do with me). She calmed for a bit, only to rear up when he departed her vicinity. I tried to give her lettuce but she refused to eat. Nothing I did helped. So, I covered her cage with a dark towel and let her mourn.

Like people, animals grieve. They lament. They despair. And while we cannot see into the corners of their hearts, nor can they communicate what they feel, their behavior gives us a small glimpse into their world. So, when she got done being sad, she went on a rampage. My husband said, “Why is that rabbit so angry?” I told him the truth: she misses her family. She thinks they abandoned her.”

My friend has been living out of her car for two years. She was rejected by her husband. He divorced her and threw her out of his house. To make matters more painful, she was rejected by her daughter—who chose to stay with her ex. For a while, she camped out in parks, but when colder weather set in, fled to her native land: China. This year however, things are different. She is afraid to fly on a plane in close proximity with potentially infected people. So, she hovers on the fringes of society, isolated and alone. I reach out to her every so often to make sure she is okay. This past week I sent her a text message.

“I love you. Are you okay?”

She responded. “I love you too. I am ok.”

I typed, “Where are you?”

She said, “Near by you.”

So, I invited her to my house and she came.

Her English is not so good but we are patient and work through the challenges. Sometimes we use pictures from our phones when words fail, and other times we smile and nod. It is enough to be near each other and find solace in friendship. This visit is different. People don’t necessarily need words to express pain.

She kept apologizing for her tears as she described the past few months. Her beloved companion, a little Bichon Frise, passed away from old age. She was isolated—unable to “make new friends” because of the virus. She said, “People are afraid and angry. They don’t talk to me.” When I encouraged her to find work, she said she doesn’t want to get a job. She would rather live in her car than pay for rent. Sometimes she hides in a storage area with the remnants of her former life, but there is no heat or electricity. She feels utterly alone. I don’t know if it’s a cultural thing, but she was unable to contain her sorrow. She wailed and wept as she spoke. Her tears soaked into her mask though she dabbed at her eyes with a paper towel. I listened and ached with her. Then I told her she must stay. I said, “My home is your home.”

This year has been difficult for many people. Many of us put on a good front but old addictions have flared, grief has overwhelmed, and fear has infected our souls. We wake up and think, “Is this really happening to me? Is this the world I live in? What happened to the beautiful days of old? I miss my family. I miss my old life.

None of us are immune. We have all been impacted in some way.

Elisabeth Elliott defines suffering as “wanting what we don’t have and having what we don’t want.” That could be our refrain for 2020. But I choose something more hopeful.

“Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears us up; God is our salvation. Our God is a God of salvation, and to God, the Lord, belong deliverances from death.” – Psalm 68:19-20

While my faith sometimes feels flimsy, God is strong. When my emotions overwhelm me, God comforts. When isolation incapacitates, The Lord of the universe condescends to greet me with words of compassion. When my eyes look on the desolation of the land and the hopelessness of our situation, I take refuge in the rock of my salvation. This is no fairy tale; he is real. I cannot put my trust in the things of this world because they are all “passing away.” Everything around me is dying—but God is everlasting life and light to those who believe. His love is absolute and all encompassing. No matter what happens—He is with me.

I named the rabbit Miss B. (It might have had something to do with her temperament.) But the “B” really stands for Beatrix, after the beloved children’s author, Beatrix Potter. I read her stories as a child and was enchanted by Peter Rabbit and his host of friends. I have persistently pursued Miss Beatrix Bunny and am finally earning her trust. Like me, the way to her heart is through her stomach. She doesn’t care for lettuce but seems to like rolled oats. I even got her to try a dried apricot—Laddie’s favorite!

My human friend only stayed one night but she has a standing invitation. While our home is not large, I want it to be a place of refuge. I have prayed for her and will continue to do so. God has promised to settle the solitary in a home.

Today, if you are struggling, take heart! You are not alone. You are not forsaken. You are loved! And I pray you find peace in the most unlikely of places—home!

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.” – Psalm 46