Destination Discipline

Have you ever considered someone’s appearance and made a snap judgment? Did you condemn or exonerate them based on their mannerisms or level of intelligence? Did their professional or personal experience factor into the determination you made? How did you respond to your determination over time as you interacted with that person? How did you know you were right or wrong about that first impression?

Human behavior fascinates me. Maybe it is because humans I know have so deeply loved and wounded me—sometimes simultaneously. This is not an indictment against any one person more than myself. That is because this morning as I was standing at the kitchen sink making my lunch, I told my husband, “I can’t stand you. You suck!” Because I am perfectly kind, always loving, and never lose my temper. I said this to him because of an argument from the night before, and because his abhorrent behavior of the morning—namely—he was in my way. Yes I am a jerk. I use this as an example only to illustrate how complex relationships can be. And if the relationship one has with a spouse is complicated, consider how much more so the relationship we have with ourselves.

If you read my bio on this blog you will note that I began my journey to better health in 2010. But I’ll be candid with you, I feel like I’m really only a few steps in. Sure, I’ve lost some weight and made major lifestyle adjustments. I exercise. I wear smaller clothes. So that means I’ve got it all together, right? Ha. I’m sorry. That’s me laughing at myself because if you could take a peek inside my brain (Being John Malcovich style) all of those assumptions would shatter in seconds.

I am daily living with a fragile body that likes to cave to my every whim. Sometimes that whim is snatching candy from my co-workers, and other times it is binge eating behind closed doors. Sometimes my whims lead to self-destructive behaviors like over-exercising to make up for excess calories consumed(exercise bulimia) and more often than not, I tend to trample over the people I love most dearly because of these behaviors and the ensuing emotional whirlwinds they stir up. So when I say that human behavior fascinates me I mean to say that I am completely confounded by myself most of the time and the personal juxtaposition I exemplify. It is why I am on the journey to learn discipline and why I keep searching for the means to cure my food addiction and stop my compulsive behaviors. So when you read this page and look at my picture…when you make that snap judgment about how successful I am and how I’ve conquered my demons, think again. There is more to me than meets the eye.

Sometimes I feel so strong. With my muscles tensed, I jog and jab and sing a song from years gone by, “Momma Said Knock You Out” by LL Cool J. Such was the case this morning(before the said incident with my husband). I don’t know why this song comes to mind as I’m pumping my fists mid run, but it probably has something to do with a certain fellow I worked with at Rax Restaurants when I was 16 years old. He was a semi-god in the workplace. He operated the slicer(slicing all of the meat for the sandwiches) and I was the lowly salad bar girl. For some reason The Slicer held mythical status with me because one had to be 18 years old to hold that position and I was 2 years shy of that. When cleaning and closing up shop late at night, he used to dance slide around the red brick tile—as I scrubbed it—and sing that song. He would pop his fists in the air and shout, “I’m gonna knock you out! Momma said knock you out!” And for some reason, that song has stuck with me ever since. Which is funny because I remember his face but for the life of me I can’t remember his name. So how is it that one minute I’m jogging and jabbing and the next minute I’m eating a handful of Snickers bars? Like, really. What’s up with that? I oscillate between strength and weakness–sometimes between breaths.

For some time now I’ve been reading a book by John Owen titled, “Overcoming Sin and Temptation.” I am reading expressly to confront my demons with food addiction(sin). I want to determine WHY I behave the way I do so I can nip the undesired behaviors in the bud. For some reason “just say no” doesn’t always work for me. There’s this little thing called hunger that pops up from time to time and then there is the intense desire for comfort via consumption of sweet treats. But those basic human needs are not what make my issues with food sinful. It’s how I respond to those desires that makes them wrong. I am on the journey to confront the real reasons I behave the way I do and facing those issues is very, very scary.

Romans 7:15-20 “For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. 18 For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.”

As I said before, human behavior fascinates me. Obviously I’m not the first person to deal with such a dilemma, and quite frankly, it’s very encouraging to know that the Apostle Paul struggled with sin too.

So today when I came across a passage in John Owen’s book that poked me in the eye, I sat up and paid attention.

“A man may beat down the bitter fruit from an evil tree until he is weary; while the root abides in strength and vigor, the beating down of the present fruit will not hinder it from bringing forth more. This is the folly of some men; they set themselves with all earnestness and diligence against the appearing eruption of lust, but leaving the principle and root untouched, perhaps unsearched out, they make but little or no progress in this work of mortification.”

So if the fruit of my tree is overeating/food lust, what is the root and how do I destroy it once and for all? This is the question that today is vexing me. I have a handful of answers and some hard work to do, but it occurs to me that it would be much easier to settle in with a bowl of cookie dough and pretend they don’t exist. Which reminds me of a book I read a few years ago, “American Junkie” by Tom Hansen. His story of addiction will forever haunt me. I encourage everyone to read his book if for no other reason to understand how much courage it takes to face addiction. But the crux of what I gathered from his story was this, he spent many years running away from his problems. He used heroin to numb his pain, much of which was not his fault, some of which was. And one day, he chose life over drugs and in so doing, started facing the problems he had been running away from all his life.

Today I realized that my addiction to food is not the root of my problem; it is only the fruit. I use sweets as a numbing mechanism to escape the real issues like pride and vanity(and a whole host of other issues I won’t name here because I don’t want you to fall asleep). And God is gracious to me for not allowing me to get away with that behavior. Some people can hide behind fast metabolisms and will never face their root problem. But my jeans(pun intended) don’t allow that.

I used to rationalize my excess girth. After all, lots of people can eat candy and fast food and maintain a healthy waistline. But the truth was, I wasn’t brave enough to face my problems. I faced some of them in losing the weights(140 pounds) but obviously I have more to face. And I have to be honest here, it really feels unfair, but I know it is absolutely necessary. God means to use it for my good. When I look at what He has freed me from, I know that facing and killing my root sin is entirely possibly and can only bring abundant joy.

Galations 2:19-20 “For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

“Oh Lord be gracious to us; we wait for you. be our arm every morning, our salvation in the time of trouble.” – Isaiah 33:2

There is a hearts cry that goes out when infirmity finds us. This guttural grunt cannot be contained by mere words. It is the pulse in our soul that bleeds ache and there is no emotional bandage that will bind the wound.

I have a real problem with social media sometimes. People post happy pictures and tell stories about their seemingly impeccable lives. They have perfected the art of making life look easy. But I have never known what that feels like. In fact, I have a friend who regularly posts pictures of her beautiful house that is lovingly decorated, and her neat and tidy children–all of whom have pretty smiles and perfectly coiffed hair. If this weren’t bad enough, she’s exactly like this in person too. Nice clothes. She gets a promotion every other year. Her husband has a really good job. Oh, and she has a nanny. I don’t begrudge her the nanny(okay, maybe I do just a little bit) but to be honest, I find it challenging to relate to people at this end of the human spectrum. I’m certain she has bad days but I’ve never heard about them. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen her frown. Oh, and did I mention she’s naturally thin? It’s amazing really, how some people are just supernaturally blessed.

Conversely, I had lunch with a different friend last week who was relating to me how hard 2015 has been. She related to me one trauma after the other–all in close proximity–each deep and painful in their own way. Then she looked at me and said, “Margaret, I don’t know what I did to deserve all this pain.” I thought about it for a minute as she stirred her salad. Then I said, “When bad things happen, why is our first response to think we did something to deserve it?” She just shook her head and sighed. But I am guilty of thinking the same thing. “What the heck, God?! What’s your deal with me anyway? Do you just really enjoy doling out punishment in my general direction?” Funny how I struggle to “blame” him for all the good things that happen in my life. For the most part, I totally take those for granted.

I hobbled into work on Wednesday. Each time my foot hit the ground I felt a well of pain–swelling to crescendo and threatening to drown me. I wanted to crawl back to my car and drive home. I wanted someone to carry me. I wanted ibuprofen. And I tried not to limp. I didn’t want people to ask me what was wrong. I was in a foul mood and the very last thing I wanted was pity. So I took slow and deliberate steps and tried really hard to smile. I failed.

“Margaret! Are you limping?”

I cringed. I took a deep breath. “I’m okay. Ain’t no thang.” And then I moved on. I didn’t want to discuss my pain. It’s private. It’s personal. Besides, there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.

I don’t write all of this to complain. It’s just life. Or as Wesley once said, “Life is pain, highness. Anyone who tells you differently is selling something.”

I drove to downtown St. Louis today to see a new doctor in order to get help with some health issues for my young son. While driving there I passed two men in separate locations. Each held a sign that conveyed the same message: “Homeless. Please help me.” I began to wonder, is there any respite from this sickness–this pain that has infected everyone? Is there hope? Is there healing? Or am I just like those men–standing on a corner with my little cardboard sign pleading for someone, anyone to take pity on me and scoop me up and offer assistance. I had a terrible thought at that moment too. Is my religion the crutch people outside my situation perceive it to be? Because really, who can believe in a God that allows such terrible suffering and does nothing to intervene?

I have been hesitant to talk about this on my blog but I feel the need to be candid in case others could find some semblance of camaraderie in the knowledge that they do not suffer alone. The thing is, I have been having stomach pains for some time now and finally sought out help from my doctor. I had been worried and was hopeful she would give me some medicine to make the pain go away. Instead, she waved her little pad, threw out a disinterested diagnosis and told me to get some tests. Then she threw a script at me and told me to see a G.I. doctor. She also mentioned I might want to change my diet.

It would be a massive understatement to say that I panicked. I am pretty sure there was hyperventilating and then carbs. Lots of carbs. And yes, that sound you just heard was the button on my pants popping. Because that’s what happens when I freak out. I eat. And then I guilt. And then I pick myself up and dust myself off and move forward. That is my cycle of life.

But you know what I think? I think all this suffering just makes me more real. One could never accuse me of being plastic. All of this pain and struggle and hardship are not wasted. They make me more. Like the Velveteen Rabbit. He didn’t become real until he had been really loved.

There are times when I feel abandoned by God. I pray and there is no easy answer. I cry and my tears are not assuaged. But that does not mean He is absent. In fact, there are other times where He uses my pain to give me greater understanding of others who suffer, and conversely, He uses the pain of others to comfort me. What a mystery He is! A wonderful, beautiful mystery!

So when I am in pain, when I suffer, when I experience the limp of doom…I still believe God is present.

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” – Isaiah 41:10

Today I am in the pain, but I choose to trust God anyway. I believe He will deliver me from all of my troubles. Maybe not today. Maybe not even tomorrow. And I trust Him.

Are you limping? Take heart! He hears your cries. And I promise you this, you are not alone. Better yet, your pain is making you more real.

I dusted off my elliptical machine last night and plugged it in. I haven’t used it in over 9 months because of our move and because it has been so nice outside that I preferred to raise my heart-rate under the sky instead of under my roof. But last night I finally felt ready to conquer that beast after so much time apart. I was full of energy and sure I could just hop on and run to my heart’s content. 5 minutes after ascent I remembered why I hate that sucker; it’s freakin’ hard!

As I ran I thought about my son at Marine boot camp in MCRD-San Diego. I wondered what obstacles he was currently facing and if he was having success in overcoming them. I considered his platoon and the other boys(men in the making). How are they faring? Are they tired, weary, frustrated, drained? Or are they exulting in the training they are receiving and the transformation they are undergoing? Pain is a part of any transformation a human being undergoes. Whether it be mental, physical or spiritual, as a general rule, people avoid pain. But if we are wise enough to be trained by it, we have the ability to grow through it. So when I saw my son’s picture this morning on facebook…taken by a visiting parent on base, I thought how much older and wiser he looks already. I was so proud I thought my heart would burst. I cannot wait to see and hold him again.

I fondly refer to my elliptical machine as the “elliptical of doom” because it pushes me past what I physically feel like I can do. Doom by definition means: very bad events or situations that cannot be avoided; death or ruin. And that about sums it up. Every time I use it, I feel like I’m going to die. and then I don’t. I get stronger. I love that terrible, horrible, no good rotten machine! Most of the time I plan only one minute into the future while using it because I honestly can’t face 60 whole minutes at a time. It’s simply too overwhelming. But I’ll be honest, sometimes I can’t make it as long as I want to. My body and my mind cave in and I limp off as wobbly as a newborn calf.

So when I woke up this morning and felt better than I had in many moons, I realized that ride on the elliptical last night reinforced how good it really is for my body. Pushing myself past what I think I can do does something fantastic for my brain chemistry(when I don’t die using it).

The stars were shining very bright this morning when I let the dogs out at 5:00am and candidly, they were too bright and beautiful for me to waste them. So I threw on some cool weather clothes, grabbed Tank’s harness and leash(Tank is my boxer dog) and we ran out the door. Sometimes the sky and fresh air are too irresistible, too delicious, too wonderful to deny and I have to fling myself into them. We walked fast, but not hard. And Tank bounced like the happy doggie he is, lunging at squirrels and barking at other dogs. We climbed a few hills and praised God for the beautiful morning. And we just enjoyed the sky because we could.

But because life is full of surprises, we found that things do not always go as planned. The Yorkies(rodent sized dogs) that were left unsupervised in their yard were not as peaceable as we were. They barked relentlessly as we approached. They were perched in their front yard like little gargoyles under a giant oak tree. I wasn’t worried about them. After all, Tank likes to eat squirrels and Yorkies aren’t much bigger than one of those. So when they descended upon us, even though Tank is 5 times their size, and the little gremlins attacked like the idiots they are, we were startled to say the least. I suppose if I had been in a harsher frame of mind I would have done more than shout, “Bad dogs!” as they snarled and nipped at us. I suppose I would’ve punted them like a football or swung them by the tail. But all I could think was that Tank could hold his own and so we kept walking. Bless his little doggie heart, he didn’t even fight back. He just stared back at them as if it had all been a strange psychedelic dream.

But as frustrating as that was, I was completely unprepared for what I saw next. I heard them before I saw them—the angry voices of young people shouting. And when I saw them lunging at one another and cursing as if they were much older than 13 or 14 years old, I couldn’t control my tongue. “Good morning!” I shouted above their cries. I did it more to warn them of my approach than anything. “How are you guys this morning?” But the two lovely girls—who I have encountered many times before on my walks—were too engrossed in their anger to respond. As one screamed ugly names at the other, I raised my voice over the din, “That’s not very nice!” I said. “It’s Friday. Be kind!” The roar of the bus as it pulled up did not overpower their snotty retorts and I was immediately transported back to my middle school experience where the cruelty of other girls was my daily dose of torment. Was I foolish to interject my voice into their quarrel? I promise my motives were pure. I hoped to interrupt the squabble and shine light into their darkness, much like those stars that drew me out into the morning. Somehow I doubt very much I was successful but it didn’t hurt to try, right? Still, what had begun as a lovely Fall morning had slowly devolved into a very bad dream.

But isn’t that how life is? We wake up happy only to encounter great darkness? We win an award only to realize it’s broken. We buy a new car and the engine craps out the first day(that was a lot of fun by the way). It’s as if we have this expectation of happiness, as if we are singing “Row, Row, Row your boat gently down the stream” and then we are surprised when a giant log smashes into us and suddenly we’re neck deep in the water and realize our life jacket has sunk with the ship.

Earlier this week I heard several of my co-workers grumbling about various issues at work. One of the ladies seemed to be having a particularly rough day and when I asked her how it was going and got a sarcastic response (“I’m fine!”) I said the first thing on the tip of my tongue, “Well, the day has only just begun. Think about it, you have at least 8 more hours to make it great!”

It’s funny how she laughed then. “You’re right.” She said. “I like your attitude.”

So I suppose I could have let that black cloud of dogs and fighting teenagers fowl up my good mood but I decided not to. Tank and I skipped through the rest of our walk just as happy as we were before and we thanked God for our splendid mood, good health, and the beautiful Fall sky. I don’t always have the capacity for an attitude of gratitude, but heck, practice makes perfect right? And today was an excellent day to be grateful for feeling good after many days of feeling pretty rotten.

Every day we have a choice, we can complain about all the things that are going wrong in our lives or be simply be grateful for all the things that aren’t. Maybe this sounds a little Pollyanna-ish to you, but i think it makes life sweeter.

Today I am grateful for my elliptical machine. I am grateful for the stranger who captured an image of my son at boot-camp and shared it. I am grateful for a gorgeous morning where the stars were sparkling and the air was cool but not cold. But most of all I’m grateful for God because I believe He’s the one who made it all possible.