Mother Teresa, and Having a "Fat Day"

I wonder if Mother Teresa ever had a "fat day."

I wonder if she ever stepped into her bathroom, feeling good about the difference she was making in the world, only to weigh herself on her digital scale to find that she was up 2.4 pounds, and then walked out, feeling defeated.  And then moped around all day, grumpy, crippling her ability to live out the life of servanthood for which she has come to be known.

Or Abraham Lincoln.  Did he ever stand shirtless in front of the mirror and feel like a loser because he didn't have biceps the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger's?

Did Benjamin Franklin worry that he didn't have 6-pack abs?



Did Harriet Tubman spend hours upon hours at the gym to get the body of her dreams, yet if she noticed cellulite creeping around her thighs, did she go back to bed, depressed, pint of Ben & Jerry's in hand?

No?  Why not?

True, they didn't live in an appearance-obsessed culture like ours, but even if they did, I suspect they wouldn't have been tripped up by what so often befalls many in our society.  These heroes had their eyes on something much higher than how they looked in swimwear.

They set their sights on serving others.  Their goal was to make the world a better place for those around them and those coming after.

While most of us won't end up impacting humanity to the extent of these heroes, we do all have our own sphere of influence in which we can make a positive difference.  Health should have a rightful spot in all of our lives.  It should serve a purpose:  to make us strong enough to accomplish the things we're called upon to do, and to enable us to enjoy the many blessings by which we're surrounded.

Is there anything wrong with attending fitness classes, trying to lose a few pounds, training for a marathon, lifting weights?  Of course not.  These are all great things.  They are life-enriching and life-saving.  Exercise helps prevent and treat a host of maladies, such as diabetes, high cholesterol, cancer, high blood pressure, heart disease and depression.  A healthy, strong body makes for a healthy and strong mind.  Discipline builds character, and our society is in desperate need of people with strong character.  Physical exercise is one way of building a virtuous temperament.  The sense of accomplishment is empowering.  Doing hard things physically prepares us to handle hard things in other areas of our lives.  Learning to suffer a bit in physical pursuits prepares us for the battles in life.

But fitness for vanity's sake is a dead end road.  It will never ultimately satisfy us.  We will always feel like we're not quite good enough.  Slightly broken.

If you've ever fallen prey to a bathroom scale that's talking bad to you, or beaten yourself up for not looking a certain way, give yourself a break.  You deserve good health.  You need good health.  You'll feel GREAT and have the energy to do the things you need and want to do.  But 2.4 pounds isn't a reflection on who you are as a person.

Look for a path that leads to health and wholeness, not a broken one leading to a dead end.

 

It Wasn't Supposed to End Like That

(It's quite late on Monday... please bear with my late-night ramblings...)

My first response was shock and disbelief.  My second was, "Oh no, what about my brother-in-law?!"

Today's explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon struck too close, though I reside all the way across the country in Alaska.  My brother-in-law lives in New Hampshire and has run Boston in the past.  I didn't know if he was running it this year.  The explosions rocked the finish line area at a finish time that could have been his.  A phone call allayed that fear, as I found out he's not running Boston this year, but is instead training to run the New York City Marathon.

I have run the Portland (Oregon) Marathon a couple of times.  The start area is a tangled mass of nervous energy as runners prepare to tackle this feat of feet.  The marathon is the cherry on top after months of intense training and noble discipline.  The whole city turns out to support the event, as banners wave runners on, neighborhood after neighborhood pours out residents to cheer as participants jog past.  Multiple bands play along the route.  The runners parade by, buoyed by the support of thousands of people they've never met.

And then there is the finish.  The streets of the last mile are lined - no, almost rushed - by cheering family members, friends, onlookers.  The finish time clock beats each second as the runners heart swells, not with fatigue, but with pride at having accomplished something hard.  And everyone there shares in the celebration of each and every finisher.  It is a hard-to-explain jubilant, triumphant feeling

Or at least it's supposed to be.

It's not supposed to end like it did today.  Agony and sadness and chaos and fear reigned instead.

The unthinkable had happened.

And this, on a day of celebration in Boston.  Not just Marathon day, it was also Patriots' Day, when Bostonians commemorate the strong and independent nature of their brave forbears.  Many were off work for the day, ready to enjoy all that's right and good in our country.

Perhaps like you, I've spent the day shaken as I mourn again terrorizing attacks on innocent people in this great country.

Certainly whoever is responsible for these acts would love nothing more than to paralyze us - moms, dads, families, neighborhoods - with fear.  Fear!  Don't go out of your homes! don't go to public places! don't gather with others to celebrate the beauty of life!  Quite understandably, I'm sure the wounded and the families of the deceased victims will struggle with these things for a long time.  They will need our prayers for healing in the days and years to come.

What would I have done if that was my first marathon and my husband and two beautiful children were waiting for me at the finish?  Would I sign up to run it next year?  Honestly, I don't know.  I can't pretend to enter in to the rawness of what Bostonians are experiencing right now... as I type this.

At the risk of sounding trite or being accused of using a tragedy to write another blog, I find myself thinking of broad applications.  What has fear held me back from in my life?  What about you?  How long will you and I be held prisoner? 

 

Fear makes a terrible taskmaster:  not so much by what it makes you do, but by what it forbids.

Should my brother-in-law run that next marathon?  Would I?

 

Those beautiful souls in Boston today were living their lives in fullness.  I want to stand in solidarity with them somehow, and carry their torch into dark places.

If At First You Don't Succeed...

(Ever have "one of those weeks?"  Well I just did.  But here it is, Monday, a fresh start...)  

I'm going to use today's blog as therapy.  As my therapist, you just listen while I do most of the talking, okay?  It's kind of like confession (see my last post), but you just nod your head and scribble notes on your clipboard.

Me:  You see, Doctor (mind if I call you that?), I've was in a funk all last week and I'm not sure why.

You (Doctor/Therapist):  Tell me about it.

Me:  All right.  It's been over a week since Easter.  My family and I thoroughly enjoyed the holiday weekend!  My husband and I went on a long jog together, we had lots of neighbor friends over for a couple of great meals.

You:  So far so good.

Me:  I was thinking a lot about what Easter means.  You know:  resurrection, forgiveness, second chances, new life, and stuff like that.

You:  Mmmm-hmmm.

Me: I had so many thoughts about how I could put that into a blog.  It was going to be really clever and insightful.  I was thinking about how we should always choose life:  in the way we think, speak, treat others, eat, exercise, in what we read and listen to...  how our life is shaped by choices.  How our happiness is in our hands.

You:  And then what happened?

Me:  Well, I didn't have that great of a week.

You:  Why do you suppose that is?

Me:   I don't know!  Hey, I'm paying you the big bucks.  Help me out here.

You:  Tell me more about your week.

Me:  It was really busy, with a lot on the calendar.  As I think it through, I just felt behind all week.  I had some great intentions of things I was going to do, stuff I needed to catch up on, business I needed to take care of, how I was going to bless others (random and planned acts of kindness) and take care of my little sphere of influence.  I have people in my life who were having some Big Life Moments, and I just wasn't there for them.

You:  I see.

Me:  Everywhere I turned, I felt like I was letting someone down or not doing something right.

You:  Who told you that you must be perfect?

Me:  Nobody told me that.  Of course nobody's perfect.  I don't put that kind of pressure on other people and I wouldn't want anyone to put that on me.

You:  Sounds like you've done it to yourself.

Me:  Don't talk smack to me, Doc!  I already KNOW I'm not perfect.

You:  Everyone else knows it too.  They don't expect you to be, either.

Me:  But I've let people down.

You:  Can you make it right?

Me:  Some yes, some no.  What should I do?

You:  What do you think you should do?

Me:  Be real, vulnerable, honest.  Apologize.  And then do the thing I meant to do, even if it's late.

You:  And what about the things you feel you can't make right?

Me:  Be real, vulnerable, honest.  Apologize.  Then forgive myself and move on.

You:  That sounds good.

Me:  Yeah.

You:  So is happiness in your hands?

Me:  Yeah, but I guess I just dropped it for a few days.

You:  Now what?

Me:  I'm going to pick it back up again.  I'm going to take chances and try to bless others.  I'm going to do the best I can, given the circumstances in my life.  And not expect myself to be perfect.  My joy comes in doing things for others, but also in enjoying the blessings that are all around me.

You:  Like what?

Me:  Family, friends, chirping birds, spring flowers for sale in the grocery store, elderly couples

walking hand-in-hand, the Bible, ocean tides, music (listening and creating), puzzles, going on a good trail run, scented candles, the funny things my teenage sons say, the warmth of the sun, a great marriage, books, a delicious meal, connecting with people, mountains, taking a nap, rubber boots, sitting in the rocking chair in front of the wood stove, peanut butter, buds on the trees, yoga, slobbering babies, game night with my family, spring snow, hot tea, the laughter of children,  going on a walk, libraries, hearing people speak in other languages, the way my kids smell when they've been outside in the fresh air for a few hours, a clean kitchen, a tall glass of water, unexpected phone calls or e-mails, the ability to be moved to tears for happy or sad things (which seems to happen more and more each passing year).

You:  What about your blog?

Me:  Oh, I guess I'll forgive myself for not being as clever as I'd like to be.  I'll start fresh, move on.

You:  Okay.  Well, it looks like your time is up.

Me:  Thanks, Doc.  You're a genius.  You've really helped me a lot.

You:  It was nothing.