Destination Discipline

“Dear Mother,” It began. Neatly printed on MCRD letterhead, it began in ink and ended in pencil. I know not whether the pen went dry or it was written in two sittings. I do know that I read it three times and I wept.

My firstborn son has been gone for four weeks. It is the longest period of time I have ever been separated from him and it is not what I expected. I suppose neither of us anticipated the gravity of this separation, but who can prepare for the babe-in-arms turned young man taking leave from his family? The one who taught me how to be a mother by enduring colic for the first three months of his life. The one who clung to me in the night as the squeaks from a house invading bat terrified us. The first one to speak and call me Mom.

He is so much like me. Stubborn. Opinionated. Steely-eyed. Brave. I have rarely been able to say no to him though I’m sure he sees it much differently. Perhaps I was too hard on him. Perhaps I wasn’t hard enough. Regardless, my 18-year-old son is now living life on his own terms having gleaned what kernels of knowledge he could from my not-always-capable hands.

“I’m having fun here. I miss home but I’ll be back soon enough.”

These are probably the last words I expected my recruit to write. When I think of words to describe boot camp, “fun” is probably the last word I would use. I wonder what he means by fun? Is waking up to lights blaring while he scrambles and scurries to prepare for morning inspection by his DI(drill instructor) fun? My son, who refused to climb out of bed before 9:00am, and never with a smile, is scurrying around like a bedraggled mouse while the DI hollers and grunts. I have worried….does he whimper? Is he sick? Nope. He’s having fun. Go figure.

When my little one was five he insisted that he wanted to be a soldier for Halloween. I plucked down $50 for an authentic camouflage outfit from Uncle Sams, much to my boy’s delight. I bought the helmet, canteen, belt and rifle, and there was nary a day he didn’t prance around in that get-up. I can still see him in my mind’s eye, shouting orders at his little brother, throwing the heavy metal grenade, getting lectured by his Kindergarten teacher for bringing a dummy bullet to school. I guess I thought he outgrew it. I supposed all of those hours spent playing were only that, play. And now he is there, living out his imaginings, drilling with other soldiers-to-be, and taking the orders he once gave. I have never been so simultaneously proud and terrified at the same time.

“We pray every night…”

There isn’t a moment in the past four weeks that I haven’t prayed for my son, except maybe while I was asleep. How I have hoped that he was okay and not laying on the floor with a DI boot to his cheek. But there could not be any better report than this; that he is praying to God for help. It reminds me of one of my favorite verses, Psalm 46:1 “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” My son is in the hands of Almighty God and he is safe there. Where I cannot hold him, God will. Where I cannot console him, God will. I have, by some miracle–regardless of my foolishness and brokenness–given him the only tool he really needs in life, the knowledge that God is there with him and all he need do is call out.

It seems like just a few moments ago we were pal-ing around; laughing at the stinky gorillas at the zoo, hiking through the woods searching for morels, reading stories and singing ourselves to sleep. My sweet little guy isn’t so little anymore and it’s truly hard to believe.

“I miss home. Tell everyone I love them. I’ll write when I can but in the meantime, I love you.”

I miss and love you too, Son.

This morning I woke up to the most beautiful sky. The perfect shade of darkest blue heightened the sparkliness of the stars. I don’t know why the pre-sun sky is prettier in cooler weather. It just is. I hopped on my bike and sped down the hill and got busy burning calories.

Today I opted out of listening to music as I rode. I decided to meditate and pray. My head felt a little cloudy and I was eager to clear out the cobwebs. Any morning I’m tempted to skip my workout I remember how sluggish I feel the whole day. Besides, I love exercising.

A few miles into my ride I found the perfect stretch of open road and just inhaled the cool air. But before I could really hit my stride, a group of cars sped by, one of whom seemed hell-bent on hitting me. I felt the whoosh as it nearly grazed me and I gasped. My heart started thumping and I clung to the steering wheel as if I were hanging from a tree–50 feet in the air. Since this is not the first time I have experienced such an encounter, I was clear-headed enough not to panic. The good new was, I wasn’t flying through the air on a direct course with the ground. I wasn’t splattered against the pavement. And my nice bike wasn’t splintered and twisted into rubble. It’s a beautiful day when you survive your morning ride.

I thought about that car all day. I wondered why he or she hates cyclists. I considered that he or she may have been late to work. I thought maybe I had done something to offend him/her (though that is highly unlikely as I only saw the car for a few seconds). But I finally settled on the truth as I saw it, the person driving that car wasn’t concerned about me at all. He or she was just busy.

I found myself at work cycling through tasks like a hamster on a wheel. If I deleted one email, three more popped up. As I moved one meeting, four more took its place. My stress levels increased and my right eye began to twitch. My brain switched to fight-or-flight mode and I began to feel anxious. About mid afternoon I got up from my desk to walk around the perimeter of my floor. I saw the clouds and the sky through the window and longed to be outside. “What a waste of a good day,” I thought. “And all because I’m so dreadfully busy.” But even as that thought popped into my head, I remembered how fortunate I am to have a job that pays my bills and puts food on my table. Still, I loathe busy-ness.

Our world has become entirely too busy. People rush hither and thither. They pack more tasks than can be accomplished into every second they are awake and then get angry when any kind of distraction averts them from their course. Maybe that is why the Wall Street Journal published a piece today titled, “5 Reasons Americans Are Unhappy.” The reasons stated for this unhappiness are:

1) We are zoning out with gadgets (computers help us escape from our emotions)

2) 50% of Americans are stressed!

3) The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous are making Americans jealous

4) Americans take less vacation time.

5) Americans are unhappy because they are unhealthy.

I watched this after work today and just shook my head. America is the wealthiest country in the world. We have freedoms other nations hate us for. And here we are….miserable. Fat and decidedly unhappy. So this is what becomes of people when they get everything their hearts desire….they are cantankerous and cranky.

Tomorrow is Friday. I will probably be very busy. But as I work about my tasks, I have decided to work on my thought processes and enjoy my work. Then, when I leave work, I plan to leave my work behind. I’m not going to worry about it, or think about it, or plan to go in early on Monday to “catch up.” And on Saturday I’m going to work in my yard and enjoy my family. I resolve to hug my children, read them at least one story, and have one good romp with my boxer, Tank. My house won’t get cleaned. I may make homemade bread, and I will enjoy myself.

We are allotted one life. Every day is precious and we never know which may be our last. I refuse to spend my minutes, hours and days so dreadfully busy that I can’t enjoy what is most important. Besides, as the fantastic Veggie Tales video of yester-year taught me, busy-ness does not make for a good neighbor.

“Do you mortify; do you make it your daily work; be always at it while you live; cease not a day from this work; be killing sin or it will be killing you.” John Owen
If you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll never get there. When planning a vacation, one generally completes the necessary tasks in order to make it happen. On our recent trip to Gulf Shores, Alabama, I had to pack my clothes, pack our food in coolers, put gas in the car, print out directions, and ask for time off work. I could not get there without doing the necessary work beforehand.

Planning a vacation is not much different than going on a diet. You endure torturous hours of planning, brutal hours of execution and finally, if you are faithful to your road map, you reach your glorious destination. But once the diet is over, you grieve. Sure, you have some great pictures, but all that hard work floats out of the window like a wayward birthday balloon. Sure, you can see it glistening in the sun for a few minutes, but you know without a doubt you will never hold that beautiful bauble in your hands again.

Today I passed by a glorious birthday cake, or at least, what was left of it. I stopped to gaze at the pretty pink roses and sigh. But I’ll let you in on a secret; I wasn’t tempted to take a piece. Now don’t get me wrong, I wanted to eat it. It looked tasty, smelled tasty, and—I’m pretty sure—it was tasty. But as I looked at it, all I could think about was the cakes of years gone by. Like flashbacks from a horror movie, I saw myself sneaking piece after piece back to my desk while I slowly worshiped at the altar of cake. In my pre-healthy days I could eat four or five pieces before I was satisfied, and then I would sneak at least that many home for later consumption. In that thirty second glimpse of cake I saw myself trying to squeeze into yet another pair of pants that had “shrunk”, and wedging myself behind the steering wheel of my too-small driver’s seat. I saw myself crying on the drive home because my zipper had burst again; despair bunched up on my shoulders like the worst kind of emotional baggage while I desperately promised to try another diet “tomorrow.” I’ll never forget how that felt, hopelessness strangling me like a 100 pound python while I screamed helplessly into the void. I took a picture of the cake and passed by, relieved to no longer be in the grip of its tantalizing–yet deadly–tentacles.

When I first began my journey I had little hope of overcoming my desire for food. To this day I am amazed at the courage it took to face myself and just be honest. All I knew was that I wanted to learn how to discipline my body and lose the weight forever. The journey was challenging and rewarding, brutally lonely and blissfully joyful. With each milestone I had a hundred people cheering for me even if I was a little hard on myself. Some days, when food got the best of me and I had to cry myself to sleep, I reminded myself that yes, my mistakes had consequences, but that didn’t change God’s love for me. You see, I grew up with this feeling that every time I failed, I somehow made Him love me less(I know now this wasn’t true). It mattered to me because I loved God and wanted to make Him proud. Maybe that sounds nuts to you, (sorry about that) but my journey to better health has always been about learning discipline because of my love for Jesus. For so many years I felt that if I couldn’t discipline myself with food, I had little hope in managing the rest of my life.

After many years of practice via making healthy choices, I find it much easier to choose a healthy option than an unhealthy one. I freely admit that when I ate Pizza Hut pizza with a friend this summer because that was the only option available and I was starving, I was soul sick. I had to force myself to let it go. It’s not the food(Pizza Hut) that’s sinful, but rather my attitude about it. For me food was always about the experience of eating, not the nourishment of my body. Learning the difference is what helps me maintain my health to this day. I enjoy the benefits of eating right and exercising. So when I came across this verse recently, I realized how true it really is.

“For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” Hebrews 12:11
I do not pretend to be overly righteous(if you don’t know me I’m a very flawed individual), but I can see the fruit of making healthy choices in my body and thought processes. I learned by making hard choices (discipline) that I could overcome my addictions and compulsions by simply making a good choice over and over again. It’s as simple (and challenging) as that. How do you walk a mile? One step at a time. How do you reduce calories? One meal at a time. How do you change your attitude? One thought at a time.

I have been reading a fascinating book by John Owen called “Overcoming Sin and Temptation.” The crux of the book is fairly simple. Kill sin or it will kill you. I read this book as one eats a rich and savory meal, one beautiful sentence at a time. It reiterates so much of my journey which has involved training my mind to fight against my impulses, being diligent to think through the consequences of my actions, and protecting my mind against the deadly thoughts that seek to poison my spirit.

I am thankful for what I am learning on this strange and wonderful journey. I am curious about who or what tomorrow will bring. And I am hopeful that whatever happens next, I remember that for better or worse, I am wholly and abundantly loved by my creator, by no act of my own. And today I chose not to eat the cake and I am really happy about that choice.