Destination Discipline

So today was my birthday. This birthday was unlike any other birthday I have ever had. Normally I have this crisis of conscience wherein I chew my nails over birthday cake, high calorie meals and surprise cookies. In years past I have celebrated with donuts, Chick-Fil-A and my favorite DQ ice cream cake. I mean really, it’s my birthday! I should eat whatever I want, right?

So this year I really didn’t even think about the food problem. I made this decision to celebrate my special day with people, not food. So I got up and celebrated with a strength training workout that I really enjoyed. I added 10 reps to every set in collusion with my Marine recruit. Then I went to work and was confronted with–eegads!–brownies! Homemade brownies! One of my dear friends made them for me and left them on my desk. A few years ago this would have been a real problem but today I was sincerely delighted! I cut piece after piece and walked them around to all of my friends in the building. I watched with delight as their faces lit up, and then I went back to my desk and worked. Giving really is better than receiving!

I am continually fascinated by the way our culture puts food on a pedestal. Every “important” event must be celebrated with a feast. I am planning a large meeting at work and the company hosting the event explained to me that the food “must be very special.” Meaning, the food must not stink or there might be mutiny! Since I don’t want to be pelted with iPhone cords, we have worked diligently to make the food an event in and of itself. Wow!

As for my birthday, I feel like I’m making progress with my friends. Today only one person chided me for not chowing down on the brownies. And while I always scratch my head a bit at this, I didn’t obsess. I just let it go. I have come to know my body very well over the past few years. And since I don’t want to feel like crud, I generally eat foods that don’t wreak havoc on my cells. Today I had lunch with my friend Robin at Nourish by Hollyberry. It is this fabulous little eatery on Manchester Road. I had one of the best Greek salads I have ever eaten and a delightful raspberry tea. Even better, I got to visit with one of my dear friends. It was such a great time. I did not eat pizza or french fries and I was happy!

So how nice for you, Margaret. I’m so glad you wrote a blog on how diligent you are with your diet. Whoopee doo! As if I needed another lecture on what a fat slob I am. Sheesh!

Okay, let me clarify…I didn’t write this to talk about how great I am. To the contrary. I actually wanted to emphasize that living a healthy lifestyle makes me so happy. I have the freedom to not eat sugary stuff and not feel deprived. In face, I really only shared all of this to encourage those of you who feel like a birthday without a gorge-fest is not possible. Maybe you’ve fallen off the healthy lifestyle bandwagon and got stuck under the wheel. Maybe the horse even kicked you in the head. Hey! I get it. That’s why I’m here to encourage you. Grab that horse by the ankle and yank yourself back up. Shoot, phone a friend if necessary. Just don’t stay under the wheels. It’s messy down there. Take my word for it. Climb back up. Seriously, the view from the top of the bandwagon is, well, grand!

Living a healthy lifestyle shouldn’t be painful. If one makes a routine of eating well and exercising, it’s really quite awesome. Even better, tomorrow–the day after my big day–I don’t need to worry about buying bigger pants. Truthfully, I didn’t eat a lick of sugar today. And you know what? My birthday was so awesome I hardly noticed!

“Wolfinbarger, you can do it! Push up that hill. Move! Move! Move!” These are the words I spoke to myself this morning as I jogged up a steep hill. My thoughts were more nimble than my feet as I considered my son at MRCD-SD (Marine Corps Recruit Depot-San Diego). I imagined the drill instructors and their words of motivation. I imagined my son coping with Incentive Training even as I remembered how I tried to help him prepare physically. I also thought about all of the wisdom my parents tried to impart on me when I was 18 and how much of it went in one ear and out of the other.

Marine Corps training is tough. It is designed to weed out weaklings and produce highly trained individuals who protect American freedoms. The drill instructors motivate recruits into a frenzy by way of unreasonable demands, exhaustion, and hunger. As a parent of a recruit, my first inclination is to think of the drill instructors as bullies. They scream. They inflict punishment. They restrict personal freedoms. They demean and demand. The truth is, however, drill instructors are not bullies. They are supremely disciplined men and women who teach young people a tremendous amount of information in a very short period of time. The entire boot camp experience is orchestrated to make men of boys, and women of girls. Those who survive the experience are empowered because they accomplish something many consider impossible. Thus their mantra, “OORAH!” is particularly potent. They have earned the right to shout because they triumphed in the face of incredible hardship.

But on mornings like today, I am overwhelmed with the enormity of my son’s training. As a mother, I think only of his weaknesses, his failures, and his rebellious inclinations. I wonder if he is hungry and tired, or considering that he was crazy to enlist. He is after all, a human being, and completely entitled to those feelings. Even worse, I long to run to him and provide help but I am not allowed. My longings blossom and wither as each passing minute blends into the next. I feel helpless, as from nearly 2,000 miles away my son endures the rigors of the most intense physical training he has ever received.

It would be easy to get lost in the emotionality of the situation, but I choose instead to focus on what I know and can control. This morning I considered my own journey and how I have learned and flourished through it. I lost 140 pounds through sheer discipline. I have endured hunger, aching muscles and innumerable hills I thought were unclimbable. So while I ache to remove the hardship from my son, I am also acutely aware of the importance of personal adversity. Practically speaking, hunger forces the mind to focus. Physical exasperation compels us to probe our minds to produce desired results regardless of feelings. Harsh conditions cause us to butt up against our perceived limitations and make a decision to quit or keep pushing. Consider this; drought strengthens weak roots that in turn build a strong tree.

The inexperience of youth breeds insecurity, but time–and a mind that is ready and willing to learn–builds solid character; a sure and steadfast foundation for life.

I have the unwavering perspective of a mother, with all of its love and mercy, joy and grief, long-suffering and hope. As such, I still see my little boy clinging tightly to his younger brother’s hand in order to protect him as they crossed the street on the way to school. I see the firm grip he has on his hand and the look of sheer determination on his 9 year old face. He doesn’t look back at me or wave. Instead he presses forward, ensuring the safe delivery of his brother on school grounds. I see the little boy in his Army uniform, running around the corner of the house with a fake rifle in his hand and the rat-a-tat of imaginary bullets exploding from his mouth. I hear him shouting orders as they play. My own words echo in my head, “Be nice to your brother.”

“But Mom,” he says, “we’re playing soldiers!”

He outgrew the uniform. In fact, he grew taller than me. But my handsome son still has a noble heart. While I am certain he has many lessons yet to learn, right now he’s on a path to conquer discipline. And I am confident in the drill sergeants to impart in him every ounce of knowledge they possess in that regard. And while I can’t be there to watch the transformation, I’m praying for him every second I’m awake. So get at it, Recruit Wolfinbarger! Move! Move! Move!

I never knew lonely could be so blue
I never knew lonely could tear you in two
I never loved someone like I love you
I never knew lonely til you.

Vince Gill

Loneliness is the ache that comes when the crushing weight of emotional and physical isolation wraps a person in a cocoon and squeezes. It is a relentless pressing the searing heat of an iron against the silken soul; the dull echo in a heart that longs to be touched. Loneliness is that blister that never heals no matter how much salve we put on it. It rubs and rubs no matter how we try to loosen the shoe. We can find reprieve in the company of friends or the distractions of modern media, but this disease begs for a permanent cure. Who can provide it?

I had lunch with a friend recently who described to me this bitter ache. A divorce has rendered him powerless over the cacophony of loneliness and regret that relentlessly pummels him. He has taken refuge in friends and ministry–even God–but the pain continues in the quiet of his home, late into the night when there is no one close. He longs for the touch of a human being. Someone to hold him, tell him he is loved. In those moments, regrets pour in through his windows like acid rain and eats at his bones. Where do we turn when we feel the physical longing to be held but no open arms await us? I felt my own tears close at hand as I listened. I have been to that dark place and know all too well its horrors.

When we give a piece of ourselves to someone else, we invite the possibility of pain. For that reason, some declare a mantra of independence. Another close friend of mine has had such rotten luck with relationships that she swears them off forever. She prefers to date, and bolt at the first sign of “crazy” or “controlling”. She gladly pours her life into her children, but even she has confided in me the loneliness that comes amidst the busy events. She longs for security in the form of true love she can trust. But the sheer volume of evil that has assaulted her in the guise of care has given her cause to build a moat so wide and deep it is nearly impenetrable. Where is her knight in shining armor?

Years ago I fell in love with a song by Vince Gill, which I have quoted above. His haunting melody and words put a voice to the lonely highway he traveled as a musician. That road eventually led to a painful divorce. I remember my naivete about divorce when I was young. It seemed common enough because its waters had never reached my shore. Therefore I never thought about it. But one day it alighted near my beach and that long, lonely echo rang in my ears like a gull circling bleached bones. Then it wasn’t just something that happened to other people. It was my pain, my agony to bear. I remember the sleepless nights, the chattering teeth, the tremors that came and went. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t stop my mind from churning. It was a feeling like no other; the kind of emotional pain no human being should ever have to bear. I felt like a bug pinned to a board with no means of escape. I do not say this lightly, but I longed for peace in the form of death. I am grateful for the friends who surrounded me during that dark time and pulled me out of it. Not the least of which was my Savior.

He redeemed my story and quite miraculously reconciled my marriage. But many of my friends have not experienced such relief. My male friend expressed to me that from his perspective it is apparent that I take my spouse for granted. I quickly denied this when I should have been silent. That old wound left a terrible scar, one that could never be erased. I am imperfect, but I will never forget. For that reason I know how enviable my position is. When one is single and gripped in the arms of loneliness, despair pounces at the most unlikely moments and devours like a hungry panther. Be it a song, a television program or a familiar scent. Pain is the downpour that washes reason away.

I have a friend who has stuck close to me over the years, of whom I cannot proclaim loudly enough. Becky has expressed to me how helpless she felt when I was gripped by torment, but she–more than any other living human being–bound up my wounds with her feisty love. She refused to abandon me, clung to the tattered remains of my heart with her care, and enveloped me with truth. She listened when I raged, clung to me while I cried, and covered my wounds with her tears. But more importantly, she reminded me of the great love that heals all of the injuries of the heart, the love of Jesus.

I know. There I go again. Religious rhetoric of the finest sort. Forgive me. I write what I know. Jesus is a great mystery to me–his life and ministry baffle the senses. What I do know is that he is real. He was present in my pain then as he is now. He is the balm of Gilead. He is the saver of souls, the healer of the broken, the forgiver of sins. He triumphed over the grave and stooped low to speak words of peace to the poor and forgotten. He knows my pain intimately because I am his child. Who else could offer the salve that soothes the blistered heart and provide the eternal fix for our chronic problem?

One of my favorite verses in the Bible is one that Jesus spoke, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Reading those words I am reminded that my friends who have battered and broken hearts have hope. Yes, the pain of loneliness will come. Regret. Remorse. Agonies of the soul. Their pain reminds me this world is broken and we are waiting for a Savior to redeem it. I hurt with them, even as I long to take their pain away. But I am only Margaret.

We endure this world with all its beauty and suffering, its grandeur and pain, its cacophonies and silence. Our senses continue to seek for the answer to our questions even as we live and breathe polluted air, drink contaminated waters and bleat our sorrows. You may not have encountered Him yet. You may think me odd and annoying. I accept that. But He is the only answer I have. And he is the best answer I have. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. And for now, while we wait for him to return, he offers up the very next best thing; his sons and daughters. The Becky’s of the world.

When I shared a meal with my hurting friend we discussed loneliness analytically, but reasoning will not take away the sting. Forgive me, friend. I should have reminded you even as I remind myself today, Heaven waits. And then I should have held your hand and cried with you.