All Things are Possible

As a Christian, I believe a lot of preposterous things are possible. Walking on water. Turning water into wine. Restoring sight to blind eyes using a paste made of dirt and spit. Loving and forgiving enemies. Little things like that.

It is only through my faith that such things are possible that I'm confident I will one day be physically fit. I'm not saying I expect to be a marathon runner, or even walk without crutches. But I expect I will one day give people pause that a wheelchair-using woman could radiate such health, fitness and well-being. Especially that a formerly obese and very physically unfit woman could have undergone such a transformation. Maybe my journey will inspire others in similar circumstances to follow the trail that I'm blazing.

(Yikes. At the same time I love making such a declaration, I am stunned by my audacity.)

In the distant past when I would diet and exercise, the motivation was primarily for cosmetic reasons. To look better in a bathing suit. To be found attractive to the opposite sex. To be able to wear cute fashions. I've also been motivated in the past to exercise to beat my progressive disability into submission. Guilt and fear were strong motivators. (" I have to stay slim and exercise or I will let everybody down by not keeping CMT from progressing." or "If I don't shed some pounds and get my circulatory system pumping, I'm headed for a very rocky future health wise.")

Rarely was my motivation based on love. Love for myself. Love for my children. Love for others. And I honestly can't remember ever being motivated to take care of my body out of love for God. And yet, this time around, I am finding that love is the primary component of the fuel that is driving this journey. I finally love myself enough that I would rather eat a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries than a fat-laden sausage biscuit. I love my kids and the desire to have a future with them helps me pass by the dessert cart for a bowl of fruit. My love for others and desire to be in service helps me to spend time exercising instead of sitting at the computer. And as I do all these things, I sense God smiling. I am finally, at long last, doing what I have sensed God asking of me for years. I am learning that discipline and obedience (in taking care of my body) is a spiritual act of worship and an act of devotion to God.

Curiosity is also part of the fuel propelling this journey. I want to see what is possible. How strong can I grow? How intensely can I exercise? What calorie level can a disabled woman consume and lose weight? How will losing weight and strengthening abdominal muscles impact my bladder? Can I reach a level where blood pressure medication is unnecessary? Will people respond differently to me and will I have more influence?

And the final component that I've identified in the rocket fuel: playful delight. Exercise if FUN! (No doubt, this is one of the paradoxical and wonderful benefits of having a disability that has limited my ability to move. Now that I CAN exercise, I see it in an entirely different light. It's a privilege and a gift.) It's intoxicating to see muscle definition emerging. It's fun to be able to move more freely, even if that is something as simple as entering a vehicle with more ease. It's fun to engage is gentle flirtation. (Yes, it is beginning to happen!) It's fun to wear dangly earrings. It's fun to try funky new vegetables. It's fun to try new shades of eyeshadow. It's fun to celebrate beauty.

And, wow! I'm only getting started. There are cookbooks out there with all kinds of fun dishes to cook with my daughter, new exfoliates to try; strength training to explore, books to write, and...

I hope I will never return to my former life of deprivation and will continue pursuing this path of abundance. (Like most things, we humans get it backwards. We approach fitness through dieting with drudgery and deprivation, instead of seeing it as the natural outgrowth of true abundance.)