Destination Discipline

I was sitting quietly at my work station when I heard the “thwack” of a large object hitting the door to my office. My co-workers stood up and looked at me, “What is happening?” I imagined the worst; the mailman threw a package and broke the glass–but no, it was worse.

I opened the door and saw a tiny Junco. The little gray and white bird lay gasping on my doorstep. I could have left it there–after all, there was nothing I could do. She was either stunned–would revive and fly away, or dying. And since I am not a veterinarian or a miracle worker, I could have closed the door and went on about my business. Instead, I kneeled down and gently scooped her up. Her tiny heart was beating so fast, but she did not blink or move. She simply lay there staring at me.

I sat at my desk with her for a few minutes and prayed for her. I thought, maybe God will spare her. So I prayed more fervently as I sensed the struggle in her to live. It was as if I could hear her whispering, “Help me! Save me! I don’t want to die!”

So I prayed, “God, please heal her neck. Have mercy! She’s just a little bird. She is so beautiful and lovely. Surely you don’t want to see such a wonderful creature pass away.” Because the truth is, I believe in miracles. I believe Jesus made the lame to walk and the blind to see.  He also said he sees every sparrow that falls.

Back before Christmas I was really struggling with the weight of despair. The oppressive nature of isolation was really getting to me, along with fears about the election process. I don’t watch a lot of television but I felt the need for something inspirational and positive. I identify with true stories that illustrate courage in the face of adversity but I was having a hard time finding one that wasn’t cheesy. Then I stumbled across the documentary, Rich Mullins: A Ragamuffin’s Legacy.

Rich Mullins

I have heard a lot about Rich Mullins over the years but never really listened to his music. By all accounts, Mullins was an odd duck. He struggled with alcohol addiction, depression, and a painful history with his father. He was a square cog shoved into a round music industry hole–going so far as to abandon Nashville to live on an Indian reservation because he wanted to minister to the poor. He was moody. Rude. Weird. And he was talented as all “get out”. Mostly importantly, he loved God.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been listening to his songs. I happened across a few cd’s while Christmas shopping at the thrift store. And since I don’t believe in coincidences, I bought them all. It’s the best $3 I ever spent.

And this is the point in the blog where I wax eloquent about how awesome good music is and how healing it can be. But also how hard it is in this day and age to find music with powerful, relevant lyrics.

“And I know that the gates of hell are not as prone to prevail as I thought that they were. And I pray it won’t be long until your kingdom comes.” – Rich Mullins

“There is a loyalty that is deeper than mere sentiments.” – Rich Mullins

“So if I stand, let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through. And if I can’t, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to you. And if I sing, let me sing for the joy that has borne in me these songs. And if I weep, let it be as a man who is longing for his home.” – Rich Mullins

I’ve been listening to these songs over the past few days while a shadow passes over my country of origin. And since I have been reading, “The Fellowship of the Ring” to my son, I think of Mordor and wonder, “Where is Aragorn? Where is Gandalf? Is anyone coming to save us from the Nazgul?”

And then I remember; He already has.

“Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, who do people say that the Son of Man is? And they said, ‘Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’ He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Matthew 16: 13-19

I have to remind myself that it is during the darkest of hours of our lives that we lift our eyes to the heavens and put our trust in God. He doesn’t always answer our prayers the way we want Him to, but that makes him no less powerful. He loves us and He hears us.

The little Junco did not revive. She slowly turned cold. Rich Mullins also died. His jeep rolled over on his way to a concert in 1997. He was 41–only a few years younger than my grandmother who also died in a car crash. Meanwhile, people are dying of illness and tragedy all around us and our government is in upheaval. Where is our hope?

My co-workers–my dogs, Annabelle and Tank–watched as I buried the little bird in my yard. I committed her body to the maker of all good things. He gives and He takes away. Blessed be His name. There is so much peace in knowing He is absolutely in control of each and every situation on the planet at all times. It boggles the mind, but this is where I put my faith and my trust. Where do you put yours?

“There is such a thing as glory and there are hints of it everywhere.” – Rich Mullins

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).”

Merriam-Webster

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 arches at Col Alto

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