Remember that the Devil doesn’t sleep, but seeks our ruin in a thousand different ways ~ Angela Merici

You’ve done everything right. You’ve stuck to your meal plan – maybe not 100% to the letter, but fairly close to that. You’ve been exercising four or five days a week, maybe more. You’re giving yourself daily pep talks and loving yourself and reversed your negative attitude. Yet in spite of all your best efforts, four weeks has come and gone on your New Year’s resolution and your weight is still the same as are most of your body measurements.

Oh wait – is that only me?

When you’ve given it your all and have little to show for it, how do you keep a positive attitude when it feels like there’s absolutely nothing to celebrate? Believe me, I’ve asked myself that question a dozen times today. I DO feel as though I’m being punished.

Realistically, I am likely reaping what I’ve sown from previous fad diets and years of yo-yo dieting, repeated weight loss and weight gain. My metabolism is on a permanent hiatus and nothing short of an act of God is going to get it to move and burn fat.

The one thing I want to do is to soothe my troubled soul with a sleeve of cookies, but I know that’s what got me where I am today. While it may seem like there is comfort in sugar and food, the nanosecond of satisfaction that food brings leads to a mountain of guilt and yes – even more weight gain.

This is one of those days I feel like I need to drop to the floor on my face before God and pour out my hurts and my emotional pain of dealing with unwanted weight. If I weren’t surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, I might be tempted to do exactly that. Of course that would lead to my subsequent detainment in some sort of facility, no doubt. But God can see my heart and he knows how troubled I am because of these weight/body issues. Inside – I’m crying! I’m comforted knowing that God hears me.

I know I can’t give up or give in. I will press forward through this trial and be better for it in the end. Nobody ever said life was fair and this clearly feels like one of those situations that isn’t fair. God after all, did design us to be unique and individual, so who am I to complain that he made me SO unique that what works for everyone else, doesn’t work for me? Okay, I’m reaching, but at least I’m trying to look at the positive. Some days are a stretch!

Without the burden of afflictions it is impossible to reach the height of grace. The gift of grace increases as the struggles increase.
- Saint Rose of Lima

28 “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30 (NKJ)

PRAYER FOR TODAY: Lord, I will not give up or give in to this desire to wallow in self-pity. Help me to stand strong against affliction and temptation. May I grow stronger in grace and character as a result of my adversity and this “thorn in my flesh.” Thank you for life’s many blessings. I ask all these things in your holy name, Lord. Amen.

January 13, 2010

I watched part of The Biggest Loser last night and as usual, for even the 30 minutes I tuned in, I was moved to compassion by these severely obese people, but also inspired by their courage and determination. And of course, blown away by the radical amount of weight they’ve lost in only two weeks. It’s so important to keep reality shows in perspective though.

Yes, it’s a great show for motivating those of us at home to get off the couch and make changes in our lives. However, most of us aren’t afforded the luxury of being isolated on a weight loss ranch for three or four months at a time and taken out of our normal lives to concentrate on the singular goal of losing weight. Given the same exact circumstances, - away from jobs, kids, school and day-to-day responsibilities and given the advantage of working out six or eight hours each day, we’d all lose massive amounts of weight in a short period of time. Plus on The Biggest Loser campus they’ve got a bevy of nutritionists and medical doctors and not to mention amazing trainers at their beck and call monitoring their progress. Real-life rarely affords that. Get a clue, folks – that’s not real life – but reality TV.

Most of us do have busy lives with jobs and households to run and we’re lucky to squeeze in 30-45 minutes of exercise three or four times a week. And realistically, if you weigh over five hundred pounds (like one of this season’s contestants), losing 45 pounds in two weeks is a very small percentage of weight loss.

It’s okay to set goals with regards to our weight loss, but keep them realistic. Rather than focusing on a specific number like, “I’m going to lose 20 pounds by the end of the month if it kills me!” (Oh really?) Set your sights on something more easily attainable such as “At the end of one month, I want to be able to walk a mile without gasping for air.” Or, “At the end of this month, I want to fit in to jeans one size smaller.” Or, “In one month I hope to be able to bend over and comfortably touch my toes without blacking out when I stand up.” Keep it real.

Obviously your goals will change as your body and your weight changes. Set mini goals each week without putting pressure on yourself to weigh a certain number at the end of each week. Even if your goals are as simple as “I will resist the temptation of eating the complimentary bread that comes before my meal this week.” Or “I will not give in to the urge to eat the candy sitting on the receptionist’s desk at work this week.” Resisting temptations are every bit as important as going to the gym or losing five pounds this week. Learning to say “no” to unwise food choices is half the battle of losing weight. Even if you only lose one pound this week, give yourself a pat on the back because you are blessed to be a “Loser!”

Look at the realistic things you can accomplish this week – and then do them!

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. ~ Unknown Source

“For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.”
Philippians 4:13 (NLT)

PRAYER FOR TODAY: I know that apart from you Lord, I am nothing. I pray for the emotional and mental strength to resist temptations today. I pray for the time to be able to exercise today and I pray for physical strength to give it 100% when I do exercise. I pray my body will function as you designed it and that my heart and my lungs will be strengthened by my efforts. I pray my arms, my legs and my mind will work in perfect harmony so I can maximize whatever exercise I get today. Thank you for all you have blessed me with, Lord. Give me this day my daily bread. Amen.

“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of what we eat or drink, but of living a life of goodness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. If you serve Christ with this attitude, you will please God.” Romans 14:17-18

We live in a country that is fixated on food. Fast food restaurants dot every other corner. Mini marts, grocery stores and Super Wal-Marts are strategically located so we’re never more than a five-minute trip at any given time from readily available food staples and junk food. Food dominates the majority of television commercial ads along with the requisite diet products and/or weight loss centers and pills interspersed so we get a fair balance of temptation versus guilt and condemnation.

Our holidays are centered largely on what type of foods will be served. It begins with Halloween and doesn’t let up until just after Easter. Just when we think we’ve run out of holiday treats we’re faced with graduation parties, summer barbecues and 4th of July picnics looming on the horizon. It’s a never-ending vicious cycle!

Most of us wake up each day thinking about food and planning our daily meals and snacks only to lay our heads down at night suffering the ill effects of mass-consumption and over-indulgence. Oh wait … is that only me?

It’s not just the holidays that have us focusing on food. We as a society tend to liberally sprinkle our conversations with food comparisons and analogies. Pregnant women have buns in the oven. If you’re a clumsy oaf you’re a Butterfingers. If you’re a show-off you’re a hot dog. People are full of baloney and so disgustingly nice they’re syrupy sweet. We call each other little nicknames like Cupcake, honey bun, pumpkin or less flattering names such as sucker, doughboy and meathead. We name our pets after snack goods like Oreo, Snickers, Hershey, Cookie and Twinkie.

We categorize and label people and body parts after foods. She’s got a pear-shape or an apple body. My neighbor looks like an egg with legs. She has muffin tops in her bra and a sausage roll hanging over her belt. He’s got a beer gut and a pancake butt. That guy has a melon-shaped head or cauliflower ears. She’s got calves like ham-hocks and her thighs bear a striking resemblance to turkey drumsticks. But at least her bread dough tummy hangs over far enough to cover those! And my personal favorite because it strikes so close to home, the children were moderately entertained by that stuff hanging from Aunt Edna’s upper arms. They played with it like they were wrestling over taffy in a pull contest!

I’m not immune from these constant food references myself. The other day, a friend asked me to help them with a project by telling me, “You can handle it – It’ll be a piece of cake for you.” All I could think of was, “Oooh, I hope it’s yellow cake with chocolate icing!”

Last week, my co-worker was helping me to update a program on my computer and told me I needed to delete my cookies. Being the computer illiterate that I am, first I was outraged that no one told me I had cookies in my computer! My anger quickly vanished as I ran my hands over my monitor and hard drive looking for a hidden trap door so I could sample my hidden cookies! BTW, that’s just plain mean of technology experts to label junk mail and Spam after something as delectable as cookies. (And while we’re on the subject, that Spam stuff is not a bad canned meat if you lightly sauté it first.)

I was at a gathering where someone was talking about a business proposal and they commented that “Dollars to donuts, that’s a smart business move.” My eyes instantly glazed over (yes, as in glazed donuts) and all I could think about was colored sprinkles on frosted donuts. My daughter mentioned she had Mounds of homework to tackle and I started lusting over coconut candy covered in rich, dark chocolate. My friend’s baby has learned how to blow Kisses and I started hoping she’d blow some my way, preferably the ones with almonds inside. (But not the caramel kind, because I don’t care for those.)

I mean – seriously … what is wrong with me?

Is it really just the holiday season and DAILY gift baskets that arrive at home or work tempting me with delectable treats that are all screaming to be devoured? Perhaps it’s the imminent threat of New Year’s a mere two weeks away reminding me that … bumm, bumm, bumm … it’s nearly time for the annual weight loss resolution! Or is there really something fundamentally wrong with my brain that I think about food constantly? Am I the only one?

I’ve got food on my mind constantly – either I’m thinking about what I’m hungry for, or trying to convince myself that I really don’t need to eat an entire sleeve of crackers while I’m cooking dinner. I’m certain my mother must have possessed an abnormally healthy appetite while she was pregnant with me. The mere fact that I was born six weeks prematurely speaks to my nature about hating to be late for anything, especially mealtimes. Is it any wonder I’m a closet snack junkie?

But I refuse to take the blame for my junk food habits all on my own. The universe is sending us mixed messages, for gosh sakes! One minute we’re bombarded with advertisements about ab-toners, home gyms, stair-steppers, diet pills and body briefs that camouflage our cellulite and muffin tops. Then we’ll get a glut of commercials for restaurants, holiday M&Ms and Christmas Kisses that play holiday tunes as if they were hand bells. There are promos for cooking shows, challenges and competitions. Not to mention the slew of commercials for snack foods that promise us eternal happiness, guarantee long life and ultimately, Hostess of the Year. Please universe – back off! Mother Nature, Father Time and Mr. Gravity are sending enough conflicting signs and messages to keep us in a confused state of exhaustion for the rest of our days.

As with anything, I know there must be balance, but it’s soooooo hard to find that balance in a food obsessed society. For now, I’m endeavoring to retrain my thinking and filter my own food comparison/dominated conversations. Thankfully, I’m finally past trying to figure out how cookies got in my computer and I’m over that whole Spam thing, cause let’s face it … does anyone really know what that gelatinous goo is that they can that stuff in?

I’ve officially started my countdown to New Year’s and yet another attempted New Year’s weight loss resolution. It will take a Herculean effort to keep from eating my weight in Christmas cookies and fudge between now and then. Seeing as how the average person gains between 7-10 pounds between Halloween and New Year’s, it will take more than just effort on my part. Because as I may have mentioned before, I’ve been known to do my part when it comes to keeping that statistic accurate.

It’s nice to fantasize about a perfect world where no one ever goes to bed hungry. And it doesn’t hurt to dream of bodies that allow us to eat all we want without ever gaining a pound. A world where double chins, saggy breasts, dimpled knees and cellulite are non-existent. Oh wait, I think such a magical place may already exist. Hmm … you say, where? It’s called … Heaven!

Merry Christmas one and all! Let us not forget that Jesus is the real reason for the season!

Thank you Father for the joy of sharing the season of Christ’s birth. Thank you for those friends that feel the need to express their sentiment with delicious treats. Help me to remember that treating myself once in a while is okay but help me remember that there must be moderation and balance in order to be successful in anything – especially weight loss. Apart from you, Lord, I can do nothing! Amen.

In honor of Veteran’s Day next week, I’m posting a short story I wrote a couple of years ago. This is a fictional story based on a snippet of a conversation I heard on a Christian radio program. The radio story was about a man and woman who had an “accidental meeting” during the Vietnam War because of a misdirected letter. I didn’t have an opportunity to hear the entire story or all the details, but was intrigued by the concept enough to create my own fictional account of a similar situation set during World War II. I am ever grateful for the men and women who have served in our military (including my Grandfather, Father and Father-in-Law) and for those who continue to serve today. I hope you enjoy this story entitled “Dear John.“

December 2005

With a gentle push of his ailing leg that had never quite recovered from his war injury, Noah Rigby set his rocking chair in motion and stared at the mound of bedcovers lying across from him. A brightly colored afghan, a gift from his oldest daughter, cocooned his sleeping bride. Relieved to see the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he glanced at the night table clock. It was nearly time.

The old romantic that he was, Noah felt tears well in his aged eyes. The tears came easier these days, especially when he thought of how easily his life could have gone in another direction entirely. He caressed the yellowed letter in his lap that had been lovingly preserved in a plastic protective sheath. The letter he found by accident more than 60 years ago, meant for another. Never certain if it had been coincidence or destiny that lead to the discovery, there was no denying the letter had been responsible for saving his life.

Leaning his head back, Noah closed his eyes and summoned images that were never far from his thoughts. Images of war-torn Europe and death; isolation and pain and bone-deep fear. All unpleasant memories to be sure, but mental pictures that would not die easily.

* * *
January 1943

Maneuvering his pain-racked six foot frame in the small muddy foxhole proved challenging for 20-year-old Noah. He pulled his broken body through the muck using his weapon as leverage but his movements were hampered by darkness and the confining space, half of which was occupied by an unidentified stranger. Repeated attempts at communication produced only silence. Fearing the worst, Noah searched for a pulse on the ice-cold form, but found none.

Poor guy, he silently lamented. The skills learned in boot camp left him unprepared for death on a daily basis. Noah was grateful for the cover of night to conceal the stranger’s cause of death. Most likely frozen to death, he reasoned as he rolled to his back and pulled his jacket tighter for warmth. Staring overhead, he caught a brief glimpse of Orion’s Belt as it danced behind clouds. The sight of the familiar constellation he’d studied hundreds of times from his own backyard consoled him as he watched his breath escape in little clouds. A slight noise under his helmet alerted his military senses. Rolling over with rifle at the ready, a small white envelope reflected waning moonlight. Hoping the contents would provide some clue to the unidentified victim, Noah stowed the letter in the pocket over his heart that rarely beat at a normal rhythm anymore.

The crisp winter air numbed his exhausted body and presented him the gift of a much-needed catnap. Lifeless soldiers and dancing misshapen enemies skipped in and out of his tortured dreams. He awoke with a start and checked his watch. Scant more than an hour had passed, but approaching daylight made it possible for his eyes to roam freely and define his surroundings.

Noah rolled awkwardly in the opposite direction away from the corpse that was now clearly visible. The crinkle of paper in his left breast pocket distracted him. Extracting the envelope with dangerously cold fingers, he studied the Texas postmark and the feminine scrawl. Other than the occasional smell of smoke, the frigid January air managed to preserve the stench of death and the odors of battle around him, making the smell far less offensive than the aromas of a summertime battlefield assault. Noah was caught completely off guard by a sudden unexpected whiff of a flowery scent as he opened the envelope. He inhaled the unfamiliar sweet aroma. Pulling the parchment free, several violet-colored petals fell to his lap as he removed the one-paged letter with flowing penmanship filling both sides of the stationary.

Dear John, the letter began. Noah winced; worried he was about to read a “brush-off” letter. He noted the date nearly two months past and read silently although his mouth involuntarily moved to form each word.

November 10, 1942

Dear John,

How I’ve missed you my precious love. I can hardly bear the loneliness of our separation these past many months. It feels as though a lifetime has passed since I last kissed you on the train platform in Dallas and watched you walk away from me.

Teeth chattering, Noah sat upright and pulled his jacket tighter, savoring its protection. He propped his back as best he could against the cold earthen wall. He reread the first paragraph mainly for his own peace of mind. It warmed him knowing the poor guy sharing his foxhole had died with the knowledge he was loved. Small comfort to a corpse, but strange reassurance for Noah. Feeling like an intruder, but seduced by the passionate words and beautiful handwriting, the lonely soldier’s empty soul drank in every sentence.

The whole congregation has been gathering every week to pray for all our brave boys over there - of which you are included! No one prays harder for your safe return than me … except maybe, Momma, who will not be denied her big Dallas wedding upon your return.

Daddy’s oil money has been put to good use and the plans are coming along nicely. The wedding is all Momma thinks about! Wait until you see all the flowers that will cover the entire sanctuary! I’m enclosing a small sample of the beautiful purple one. Momma knows the names of all the ones we’re using, but I could care less what they’re called or how they smell. All I care about is you, my handsome prince and your safe return.

I pray for a quick ending to this terrible war so you may come home soon and we can start our lives together. I’ve never loved you more, nor been more proud of you and what you are doing over there. Remember, God is always watching over you and will keep you in his care. I hope you keep the small Bible I gave you close to you for comfort. I pray you have hidden the Scriptures in your heart. Always know - I love you, my brave John - now and until the end of time!

With all my love,
Luanne

The letter spoke volumes to Noah’s suffering heart. Surprised to find a lone tear snaking its way down his unshaven face, he reached up to wipe away the sentiment. Unfamiliar with all things religious and inexperienced in the ways of love between a man and a woman, he felt a longing to know both. The terrified little boy cowering inside Noah’s hulking body hungered for the safety and protection promised from the Almighty this southern girl spoke of.

Driven by need, he searched the pockets of the fallen hero next to him hoping to find the treasured Bible. Locating the pocket-sized source of hope, Noah hugged it to his mid-section. Soldiers weren’t supposed to cry, but he did. He cried for the man lying next to him, whom he would never know, but who had lost so much … and for the Texas girl whose world would soon collapse upon hearing news of her beloved’s death. Clutching a dead man’s Bible and reading a stranger’s love letter over and over again, Noah bartered for his life to a God he didn’t know, but vowed to serve in return for safe passage home.

His injuries sent him stateside that late winter of ‘43, where he convalesced in a military hospital for months. Once his strength returned, rather than going home to small-town Iowa, the battle-scarred farm boy mustered his courage and sought out the writer of the Dear John letter he held for safekeeping. He expected to find a tall, leggy, big-haired blonde beauty queen. To his surprise he met a petite, raven-haired angel with a face a man would die for, a fireball spirit and a heart as big as all of Texas that drew people to her like a grandmother to a newborn baby. It might have been the moment their eyes met, but more likely his love took seed from the first time he read her letter.

* * *

December 2005

Drawing the letter close to his face, Noah breathed deeply imagining the scent of lavender the laminated stationary once held. He carefully stowed it between the pages of his leather bound Bible and wondered why he bothered to reread it for the thousandth time. Removing his reading glasses, he rubbed his tired eyes, thankful his memory was still sharp and he could recall every word, every emotion and every punctuation mark of the letter, which had been committed to memory years ago.

His life had been blessed. Noah was grateful for decisions made on a battlefield more than 60 years ago. Life-shaping coincidences had restructured his destiny, creating an irreversible chain reaction. He found himself once again, thankful for the terrible war that took him half way around the world. God, in His mercy seemed to find a way of working things out for the good.

Running his gnarled hands through thinning silver hair, memories flashed through his mind like Polaroids. Four children, eleven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren were more than he’d ever hoped for. Certainly more than he deserved. Tomorrow on Christmas Eve, he and his precious sweetheart would celebrate their 60-year wedding anniversary. Not many these days could boast of a love affair that spanned so many decades.

He swallowed past the knot of emotion lodged in his throat as he stared at his wife’s inert form. Anger, a foreign emotion to him, had become his unwanted companion lately. Not anger at God, but anger at the cancer that even now attacked his love. The disease was slowly robbing them of their few remaining weeks together and stealing the last of her failing strength. Sixty years is not enough, Lord, he thought again.

As he rose on noiseless feet, the creak of his deteriorating knee joints alerted her to his nearness. Her charcoal gray eyes fluttered open and she turned her cheek slightly to receive his gentle kiss. As always, Noah enjoyed the rapid beat of his heart and the racing of blood through his veins at the very touch of her. His passion and desire for her were stronger than ever after all this time, although now he considered it more curse than blessing. Glancing across her head to the night table clock, he smiled, whispering in her ear, “It’s just after midnight, Love. Happy anniversary.”

Moving slightly to make room for him, her voice sounded strained. “Come to bed, Noah. I’m cold,” she whispered.

Happy to oblige her, he laid down fully clothed next to her spoon-fashioned, her tiny form nearly engulfed by his embrace. Noah sensed her need to roll towards him so they might face one another. Her wince of pain was not lost on him, as he worried for the countless time, if this would be their last day together.

Her breathing slowly evened out and he felt her relax. He gently held her, careful not to hug her too tightly. Their foreheads pressed together to share a delicate kiss. Holding the woman his soul was forever destined to love, he relished the feel of their bodies pressed close, hearts beating in synch almost as one. Noah’s weathered hand sought her much smaller one to clasp in a prayer-like fashion.

“I love you, my darling,” she struggled. “Thank you for finding me and rescuing me. You have been such a gift. You saved me from a life of grief, Noah.”

Silent tears slowly escaped down his wrinkled cheeks. “Oh no, sweetheart … it was you that saved me. I love you so very much, Luanne,” he breathed.

As was their nightly custom, with eyes closed he prayed for both of them. “Heavenly Father, thank you for helping us find one another so long ago and for blessing us beyond what we ever imagined possible. And Lord, we thank you again for Dear John and for the sacrifice he made that allowed us to find one another. We pray he is resting in your care for all eternity. Amen.”

The End

In light of the tragedy at Ft. Hood this week, I ask that you will please join me in remembering our brave men and women who sacrifice so much, so that we might enjoy the freedoms we have – not just on Veteran’s Day, but today and every day!

Heavenly Father, I pray your protection and mercy over all who serve in our military both on U.S. soil and around the world. Keep a hedge of protection about them and help them to not walk in fear, but in faith. Give them wisdom and knowledge to perform their duties with confidence. I pray also for you to watch over all of their families who are left to carry on in their absence. Grant them favor, mercy and compassion and I pray you will surround them with a strong support system during this this time of sacrifice. I ask all these things in your holy name, Lord Jesus. Amen!