Destination Discipline

I grew up with little understanding about the importance of good nutrition. Not because my mother was delinquent, but rather because I did not care. There was a question I asked most every day around 4:00pm, “Mom, what are we having for dinner?” If the answer was pizza or stroganoff or tacos, I was content. If the answer was Borscht or liver or Chow Mein, I cringed. I had the good fortune to have a mother who worked at home (the common term back then was Housewife) and therefore she was usually present to guide my food choices. We ate salad with dinner, enjoyed homemade applesauce and homemade salt-rising bread. My mother sewed clothes, crocheted blankets and sweaters, and did most of the yard work. My dad worked at the airport fixing planes. I write all of that because most people reading this did not have the luxury of a mom who was around in that regard. I remember her encouraging us to eat fruit and vegetables but still providing plenty of sugary desserts. In fact, she was fairly prolific with the cookies, cakes and fudge—especially around the holidays.

It was widely understood, however, that genetics were against us. Our family tree was loaded with people who were not particularly thin. I grew up with the impression that there was nothing I could do about this genetic glitch. I always felt like I was on the chunky side growing up (I was a size 14 when I started 9th grade and weighed around 150 pounds). I ate foods determined most acceptable by my taste buds, paying little attention to what I put into my mouth unless it was fried or sweet. On the odd occasion my mother made something truly detestable, (like broiled fish with bones in it and canned spinach), I was forced to “clean my plate” upon forfeiture of dessert. Consuming the “nasty” dinner was not an option. It was either eat it, or eat nothing.

Once I moved out on my own and was given full freedom for my food choices, of course I chose fast food for nearly every meal. When not eating out I shopped at Aldi and my haul was a stack of frozen pizzas, maybe some hamburger, and ramen noodles. I never even thought about eating fruit or vegetables unless they came in a can. When I made the decision to lose weight after my first child was born in 1997, I exercised every morning and ate small portions. I was hungry most of the time and lived in a constant state of what felt like torture. Still, I lost about 125 pounds and thought I had the food thing figured out. After a boy broke my heart, I buried my head in food and quickly regained all the weight by returning to my old emotional food habits.

I recently read a blog entry by the “esteemed”, Dr. Mark Hyman titled, “Why Overeating Doesn’t Make you Fat (and what does)”. It was posted on Facebook by a blogger I respect and included a picture of potato chips. Dr. Hyman uses the letters MD behind his name so I assumed he had street cred. He also has a lot of endorsements, including cool people like Bill Clinton. He also is a ten-time #1 New York Times Bestselling author. Needless to say, if you are fat, he seems to be a fairly credentialed source of nutritional information with a vested interest in making your fat disappear. So you can imagine my “surprise” when I read the following:

“Why would we be designed to overeat and grow fat? It all comes down to the oldest and most primitive part of our brain, our limbic, or “lizard,” brain. This is the part of your brain that evolved first, and it’s like a reptile’s brain. It governs your survival behaviors, creating certain chemical responses that you have no conscious control over. While you might think you are in complete control of your mind, the truth is that you have very little control over the unconscious choices you make when you are surrounded by food.”

And that is when I stopped reading and commented on my friends post, “This is hogwash! Dr. Hyman is a lizard brain.”

My friend defended Dr. Hyman by saying he is an esteemed member of the medical community, but after scrolling through to the bottom of his webpage I came to see that really he’s what I consider another marketeer—meaning, he’s selling something. He’s one of those ear ticklers who tells people what they want to hear so they’ll hand over their hard earned cash. Sadly, many people fall for his lies, including people who subscribe to the New York Times. Folks, just because someone is popular, that doesn’t mean they are honest and forthright. It only means that the majority of the fish are swimming in his direction, especially if they just really want to believe what he’s peddling.

What I consider most insidious about Dr. Hyman is his mixed messages. He says we can’t help how we eat but then goes on to talk about how we should not eat processed foods. I’m sorry. Which way is it? If we can’t control our lizard brain, how are we supposed to stop eating Taco Bell? Especially if we have no control over our minds? Wait, I’m sorry. You need to read his book to find out. Maybe he will teach you how to control your lizard brain.

I like number 5 on the list best (not really, it’s hogwash too):

“Become aware of trigger foods. For some of us, that one little soda can set us on a downward spiral to overeating and all of the negative health consequences that come with it. It isn’t just the processed, sugary foods and drinks that become triggers. But even healthy foods, if you have a tendency to binge on them, can quickly become unhealthy. A handful of almonds are perfectly healthy, but if you eat half the jar, they quickly become unhealthy.”

I could pick this apart every which way from Sunday. Step 1: Don’t drink soda. It’s a can full of noxious chemicals no matter what fancy marketing Coke and Pepsi throw at us. (I tried to find the chemical contents of Coke and instead found pages of nonsense to sort through. Don’t believe me? Go here)

And when he says consuming too many healthy foods will make us fat? Look, I am living proof that overeating fruits and vegetables does not make one fat. And I’m sorry but, duh, nuts are high in fat and calories. But what about carrots? Zucchinni? Blueberries? Show me the person who got fat eating berries.

But maybe you think I am being too hard on Dr. Hyman. After all, he is a doctor. He must know what he’s talking about. Okay, I’ll bite. (It’s one thing I’m really, really good at.)

Doctors don’t know everything.

Is that it, Margaret? Is that your argument?

Well, I’ve also met a lot of jerks who are doctors. I also know a lot of doctors selling weight loss programs that have not produced lasting results. I also have a child with Juvenile diabetes who has yet to find a cure, and a friend with brain cancer, for which there is also no cure and doctors have spent a lot of time trying to figure those diseases out. Doctors are humans and humans are fallible. But I am especially wary of doctors who are selling something. Because if they aren’t satisfied with their doctor’s salary and feel the need to feed the gluttonous diet industry machine, I think they probably don’t have my best interests at heart. I am very distrustful of people who want to sell me something. Maybe it’s because I’m unusually cynical or maybe it’s because for years I tried pills and supplements and diets and they did not fix my fundamental problem—mainly, that I lacked discipline.

Which is probably why Dr. Hyman’s article really rubbed me the wrong way. He basically contradicts every single principle I’ve come to understand about living a healthy lifestyle. Namely, that learning to exercise self-control is important. That learning the nutritional content of our food is integral to maintaining a healthy balance. The entire article (which I have refused to link to but if you want to read it you can google it) posits that we are merely products of happenstance.

Now just imagine we are talking about child molesters and not people who eat too much… Maybe they just need to buy a book… That will fix their fundamental problem, right?

The things we put into our bodies matter. Ask those people who grew up near Cold Water Creek in St. Louis, Missouri. The truth is the foods we eat are absorbed into our cells. They are then processed and eliminated. And yes, the nutritional content of food is important, but more important is the content of the human heart. Dr. Hyman wants to sell you something. He needs your money. He has to come up with a lot of mumbo jumbo about lizard brains and genetics and “you don’t need willpower” to cajole you into buying his products. But let me remind you of an old adage that often proves true; if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

Sorry, Dr. Hyman. I am living proof that discipline and will-power do work. I’ve kept the weight off for 5 years now even though I really like to eat. And what we eat DOES matter, and we can make a choice to refuse to pollute our bodies. We are not powerless against our desires.

I sense it moving before I see it. Its belly moves against the stone path in front of me silently and somewhat innocuously. I disregard it at first because in some respects it is unassuming and appears benign. But then the creature’s lithe and slithery tail brushes against my cheek. I don’t recoil because it feels good. The soft touch may be deceitful but it is pleasant; stroking my ego, provoking my pride, and then shamefully, lulling me into passivity. But then the Anaconda of Envy rises up to its full height. Its fangs drip with venomous lies. Its muscles flex and bulge. And I, the pathetic weakling that I am, just lay there while it sinks its fangs into my tender flesh. Slowly and painfully it begins the process of swallowing me whole while I consider with horror how it ever got a hold of me in the first place.

If you have never wanted something you couldn’t have, you may want to read another blog. If you have never seethed with anger over the good fortune of your neighbor or cried into your cucumbers while your friend ate French fries, believe me, you do not want to keep reading. But if you would like a potent anti-venom for this insidious serpent, feel free to continue. Even if you have never considered how toxic envy is and are puzzled by my words, I entreat you to read on. This offering is specifically for you.

I was sitting in a meeting recently when I inadvertently overheard a conversation between two co-workers. The first was describing to the second about the wonderful weekend he spent at a friend’s house in The Hampton’s. And while I’ve never really thought about making a trip to The Hampton’s, I suddenly wondered what it’s like there. Even worse, the way he described it made it sound so luxurious. Considering how many of my friends are taking beach vacations while I was forced to settle for a hot and muggy camping trip, I started to sense the green-eyed monster rise up and prepare to strike.

It’s hard enough to manage the emotions surrounding envy when the item is a vacation we can’t afford, but what about when we envy something we truly need? This past weekend we incurred the wrath of Mother Nature by way of strong winds and a toppled tree. My tree fell on my neighbor’s shed and in the process pulled down our power lines. Did I mention it was a balmy 97 degrees with 70% humidity in St. Louis? Still, I wasn’t particularly upset until later that afternoon when I returned from my personal favorite cooling station, Schnucks Supermarket (free wifi AND comfort food!). As I drove into the neighborhood I saw that most of the lights in the homes were back on. All, it seemed, except mine (and the neighbor who was attacked by my downed tree). I went from calm and collected to stark raving furious nearly as fast as it takes electricity to bypass my house for everyone else. If one combines frustration with anger, sweaty boobs and a cantankerous eight-year-old boy, one has a fairly good recipe for Self-Pity Soup. Which is exactly what I stewed in for the mostly sleepless night I endured thereafter. I had not realized how entitled I felt to air conditioning and how willing I was to murder someone at the electric company to get it.

While I was fuming, I thought about the dehydrated and hungry children in Africa and the many millions of people who live without air conditioning every day of their lives. But that did not comfort me. All I knew was that I was hot and I wanted to not be hot. I looked out of the window into which no breeze was blowing and stared at the tree on top of the withered power lines. I felt a blackness mushroom inside of me as I considered that God had thrown that tree on the power lines. Candidly, I was incensed. Some words that I cannot repeat here were uttered as I turned away from the tangled mess, collected my unruly child, and drove straight to Menchie’s. I was sickened by my behavior (salving my hurt feelings with food), but I could not stop the venom from consuming me. I was so completely consumed with anger to the point that I became anger. Let the Menchie’s employee testify to how ugly and mean the hot mother of a diabetic child can be when not provided with a carb count for a cup of yogurt.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” Proverbs 13:12

The poison of envy is not unlike zombification. Envy consumes and destroys all that is lovely and good in a human being and then moves on to consume and destroy everything in its path. One might try to justify the wanting of what others have but one thing they will never know is peace. Envy gobbles but never satisfies. The more one wants, the more one wants. So how does one slay the Anaconda of Envy?

De-escalation is important but doesn’t go far enough. I-want-itis, like arthritis, inflames. Therefore our anti-venom must act like Advil, the most beautiful and wonderful of all anti-inflammatory medication.

Cultivate an Attitude of Gratitude

Sometimes the darkness is so dark that it’s difficult to find even one thing to be grateful for. The toilet is backed up, the kitchen sink begins to clog, and suddenly that slow drain in the basement is oozing smelly goo. If you have never encountered a collapsed sewer main, consider yourself extremely fortunate. I have a friend at work that encountered just such an issue last year and was completely overwhelmed with the mess that ensued. She was forced to dispose of beloved personal items, allow construction workers to invade her finished basement in order to jack-hammer up the floor (thereby destroying everything) and then endure hours spent vacuuming up layer after layer of dry-wall dust. She considered it simply incredible that one little pipe could wreak so much havoc on ones abode for so long. But as we discussed the horror of undergoing such an unwanted project, I remember her distinctive thankfulness for the portable potty she rented for the duration of construction. She emphasized to me how nice it was to be able to go out to the garage, take care of her business, and move along with the day. It was a small thing in comparison to the magnitude of that disaster, but one that gave her immense joy in the heat of her suffering.

Recognize the Lie and Seek to Determine the Truth

We want what others have because we think the thing they possess makes them happy. When we start to believe that if we had that thing, then we would be happy, we believe a lie. I am a recovering morbidly obese woman. I’ll be candid, my thighs still rub together. I have stretch marks and loose skin, but those aren’t a big deal. It’s the thigh thing that disturbs me. This morning I saw a young woman jogging. She was tan and bopping along in shorts and an athletic bra. Her belly did not jiggle because it was flat. My belly will never not jiggle. I’ve come to terms with that. But I had so hoped that one day my thighs would not rub together so that I too could run in shorts and a sports bra. It’s bad enough that I lost my breast fat when I lost weight, but to live with eternally rubbing thighs seems too high a price to pay. This morning I saw that young girl and was tempted to despair but then I realized that having the perfect body does not make one perfectly happy. Thin people are not happier than thick people simply because of their size. Also, I bet that woman will never know the joy of Silkies Control Top Pantyhose. They are bliss in a bag! I put them on and I feel like Wonder Woman. Seriously. I can almost fly. Also, I would venture to guess that if I asked that young woman how she felt about her body she would list at least half a dozen things she didn’t like about it. There is no such thing as the perfect body. It’s time we recognize the lies and determine the truth.

Accept that Life Isn’t Usually Fair, but Love Conquers All

The Anaconda of Envy can be easily annihilated when we accept our circumstances (and limitations and various injustices) and know that nobody can take away the greatest gift of all, God’s love for us. Death, the most horrible circumstance and affront to all of life, looms large in our lives. The newspapers shriek at us about it, our friends and family members succumb to it, and we try like crazy to ward it off with creams and pills and Menchie’s frozen yogurt. But the cure for death has come. He is big enough to cover over the little deaths (envy, anger and their ilk) and He will also satisfy our hungers and thirsts with the fountain of his most satisfying love.

Now maybe you are saying that you don’t want this love. Maybe you blame God for taking that which was most precious to you. Maybe that is the reason you look with envy on those around you. Maybe you are single and want a spouse. Maybe you are childless and want a baby. Maybe you are homesick and in need of a home. Maybe you are even hungry and without the means to buy food. Maybe you see that the pain in your life is like my tree lying on top of the power lines, a most unfair circumstance that is making you very, very hot. But what if you knew that God desired to make you dissatisfied with the things in this world so that you would find satisfaction in Him?

CS Lewis famously said, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Sunday morning, July 23rd I woke up at 5:30am to a text from my next door neighbor, Valerie. The text simply read, “Don’t let your dogs out back. The power line is down. I’ve already notified Ameren.” She didn’t mention that my tree had fallen on her shed, nor how significant was the damage to her own house (I had no damage to my house at all). When I went outside to survey the carnage I saw her mother, Lori. Lori ran over to me with her cell phone. She was excited. She said, “Look! The siding came off the back of our house in the shape of a cross!” Then she showed me picture after picture of the most poignant reminder in this life of God’s grace to us; death is dead. Christ smothered death once and for all on Calvary two thousand years ago.

And maybe, if I hadn’t been so worried about the stupid air conditioning, I would have had the presence of mind to thank God for the gift of wonderful neighbors. If not for them, my dogs—and quite possibly myself—might have been electrocuted when we stepped outside at 5:30am because we didn’t know there had been a storm.

Today if you are being swallowed alive by the Anaconda of Envy, take heart. You have hope in the person of Jesus, and if you are ready to take your anti-inflammatory, consider thanking Him for loving you and for shattering the lies our culture so blatantly hurls at us. He is the perfect cure for all that ails us.

We bought our house a few years ago and it was a handyman’s dream (or nightmare—depending on how much you like to work). While my husband attacked the inside (new floors, new walls, new plumbing, etc), the gardener in me longed to remove the rocks in the yard. I wanted to see flowers growing instead of beds of rock. The previous owners may have had good intent with their rock arrangements but any semblance of beauty had long ago departed. Out of the neglected rock beds grew hacked up stumps and unruly trees. It was utterly distasteful to my artistic-inclined eyes.

The brown Meramec River rocks lined not only the exterior walls of the house, but also much of the back yard. And while I have hauled away several truckloads of rocks, I still have tons (literally!) left to remove. I use a hoe for the easier piles, but I mainly use a long, heavy metal bar which I thrust into the compacted rock beds with sharp jabs. Once loosened, I pull out the rocks and throw them into buckets and then carry the buckets up a steep hill and dump them in my carport. Once that gets too full I load them into the pickup truck and haul them away. It is a grueling process and I am beginning to wonder if it will ever end.

It’s easy to rage at the rocks. I curse the people who put them in the yard in the first place. I curse the people who later moved in and weren’t brave enough to remove them, instead choosing to put layers of pea gravel and sand over them. I curse the heat and humidity that conspire to slow my progress. I even curse my husband for insisting we buy this God-forsaken house because it was “cheap.” I didn’t want this house. I wanted my old house. And every single rock is a reminder of what was, and what now is not. In some ways I have come to realize that my fight against the rocks is part of the continuing battle against my selfish desires. I have this notion that once all of the rocks have been removed, maybe I will have triumphed over myself.

The other night I was raging against the rocks as I contemplated my real-world problems. I speared at the hard-packed earth as tears muddied the dust in my hands. I knew my anger was not fruitful but I couldn’t un-feel it. Like those unforgiving rocks it was lodged in the hard-packed clay of my heart. I was searching for someone to blame for the circumstances that were causing me pain, but found myself only slipping into further into despair. As is often the case with people problems, I could see no easy solution. We really have very few options when we truly love someone. We can despise them and walk away from the relationship or we can forgive them and accept them for who they are. When the relationship involves our children, we are forced to realize there is an inescapable bond that restricts our freedom in this regard. Our natural tendencies to protect and teach get muddied as those younger ones lash out with hatred and frustration. Because they are, after all, little human beings with wills and desires of their own, they rarely want their parents poking their noses into their business, especially when it relates to discipline. What we think protects, they perceive as harm, and all manner of messiness erupts in the process.

Somewhere in the midst of my frustration, anger and grief I started to believe that God wants me to suffer. I started to believe He is punishing me for the wrongs I did in my own youth, and a flood of tears ensued.

Anger is awful and undeniable in its force, but even though it is not evil in and of itself, it must be handled with wisdom lest it completely consume.

“A man of wrath stirs up strife, and one given to anger causes much transgression.” Proverbs 29:22

As I worked at the rocks in the soil I began to pray about the rocks in my heart. In those moments of fiery temptation I found that nothing in me was good. I realized that raging and roiling over circumstances beyond my control would only fuel the fire. And so I went searching for water—living water—to quench my agonies because I knew from past experience that I would find no solace in letting it burn out of control.

I have learned that scripture—God’s Word—is a cool fountain that quenches even the hottest flames. And so I emptied my mind of my thoughts and filled them with verses instead. As I memorized each word I felt the angry “rocks” in my heart wrench free and fill with refreshing peace. The problems I wanted to solve are really unsolvable anyway and so I found that focusing on what really matters—God’s tremendous love and care for me and His absolute, unshakable sovereignty—inexorably quenched the burning anger in my heart.

When we neglect the Word of God, we deny ourselves the resolution we seek. We grope about for solutions and find only Band-Aids for our gaping wounds. We struggle with anger, exhaustion, sadness and frustration without the proper salve that will bring lasting relief from our pain.

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Hebrews 4:12

If you have only imagined that the Bible is full of boring and dry verses, you have not truly mined the treasure of God’s word. Every problem known to mankind can be solved with the most important book you can possibly possess. People in other lands risk their lives to acquire it while we in America frequently let it collect dust or dry rot at the bottom of a book shelf. This should not be so! But lest this sound like a lecture, let me assure you that I only want to reiterate the truth about the most beautiful gift human beings have ever been given. I know it because I have lived it, and never more so than a few nights ago when I thought anger would literally break me in half.

I foresee a lot of rocks in my future, both literal and metaphorical, and it helps to know I have good tools as I begin each excavation endeavor. If you have read this, now you do too. The discipline of learning to turn the pages in ones Bible and read the word is probably the most worthwhile discipline there is and I am exceedingly glad to learn it.