Falling and Soaring

Having traveled to my hometown for a birthday weekend with my family, I got up early Saturday morning in anticipation of attending a women's event at my sister's church. This event, iBloom, sounded so cutting edge, hip, and life-affirming. I was scurrying around trying to hasten my departure, and being in an unfamiliar routine at my mom's house, I leaned forward and fell out of my wheelchair. Well, anybody who knows me and knows my difficulty getting back to my feet knows this is no simple matter.



Faced with the possibility of missing the event and even spending the morning in the company of the Lexington Fire Department, I began praying earnestly. (There is nothing more prayer-motivating than trying to find an alternative to calling a squadron of men to come and lift your semi-nude body off the floor!) "Oh! I can crawl to the bathroom. Push up onto the toilet and then stand up." Yep, it worked. I had to ask my son to help me up from the very low toilet, but with only a 5-10 minute delay, I was "back on my feet" and on my way. A little while later, I rolled to the doorway and began to stand up to walk to my car. Dang it all if my wheelchair didn't roll out from under me and I sprawled on the porch. TWICE WITHIN 15 MINUTES! And once again, with my son and God assisting, I crawled to the edge of the porch, pushed into a chair, stood up and was once again back on my two feet and headed to the conference.



I have been wrestling with God about this "standing on my own two feet" thing. I've been very dependent on a relationship with somebody who has been an enormous source of support and encouragement to me on my journey and I've been sensing the need to let go of the relationship and move forward. "God, if you want me to stand on my own two feet, then why in the heck did you allow me to have feet that are affected by a physically destructive neuromuscular disease!" During the drive to Lexington, God reminded me that I have been transformed, like a caterpillar to a butterfly, and He's given me wings that are strong and whole and ready to catch the updrafts of the Spirit's breeze to soar where the Spirit takes me. Who needs legs when they have wings?





The iBloom conference, as I experienced it, was about affirming our worth as women based on God's truth of who we are and about recognizing that God has plans for each woman to live abundantly and to dream God-sized dreams. When the conference leader asked how many women knew their dreams...the dreams that God had given them...only a couple of us raised our hands.



I have many dreams. Taking better care of myself... body, mind, and spirit. Honoring my body after years of dishonoring it. Doing well on that front. On my birthday, I left a big glop of icing on my plate! Never before in the history of Lynna has icing been thrown away. Matter of fact, I've been known to scrape all the icing off an entire cake and leave the dry, naked cake behind for all the other poor schmucks. My tastes are changing. The fresh green beans and corn were as much a treat as the chocolate cake! I enjoyed food while on vacation, but made good choices about what I ate. Interestingly, the leftovers in the fridge did NOT sing their siren song to me as they have done in the past. I ate what I needed to be full, enjoyed it thoroughly, but did not feel the same compulsive need to satisfy the emotional hungers, even when stressed. (Like getting stuck in the bathtub, too weak to get out. But that's another story for another day!)



Another dream has been to go to seminary. Every time I'd hear about somebody pursuing that goal, I'd be pea-green with envy. I was pretty sure I was called in that direction, but the timing, the finances, the relationships, the stars were not in alignment. However, it seems doors are opening, and I applied this week to Asbury Theological Seminary. (They have a distance learning path that seems very do-able.) I'm thirsty for more of God and thirsty to offer more of myself to God for His purposes. We'll see what happens...



What a beautiful, relaxing, momentous birthday week I just had thanks to so much grace and love from so many friends and my wonderful family.

Leaving the Campground

I've always been hyper-critical of Christians who have decided that they've arrived at their destination and stop moving/growing on their spiritual journeys. Rather than breaking camp, hoisting their backpack and taking off down the trail each morning, it seems as though they step onto their posh RV patio for a cup of coffee and the Morning Show. Life is good. They've paid their dues, done their share of work, grown enough, thank-you very much, and now it's time to settle back and relax.

In many ways, I've been treating my spiritual journey like that. After years of grueling hikes up the mountain, and I mean rough, rough terrain, I've been comfortable settling down with my RV hooked up at a nice campground and decorated with Japanese lanterns, whirligigs and this kitchy sign:

Where I once was critical, I'm beginning to understand. People get tired. Resting and ease is... well... restful and easy. For me, it has taken a little (or a lot) of pain to budge me from my camping chair. First, the painful fear of becoming incapacitated got me moving towards better eating and exercise habits. Now, the pain of not being able to latch onto an elusive relationship for emotional feeding has me hoisting my backpack and venturing back into the wilderness to seek God more fervently. I'm not happy. After sipping wine and grilling steaks at the RV park, the rigors of the wilderness are dreadfully unappealing. And yet, despite the wine and steaks (and cucumbers and melons), there was no freedom. Freedom and God are found down this path. I hope I don't get lost and spend something like forty years wandering around.

Wounded Hiker

I am going through an emotional identity-crisis. After realizing that I had become hopelessly enmeshed with a wonderful person who has helped me accept and love myself, I decided that I needed to stop relying on that person for my emotional sustenance. So, I tossed on my backpack and set off down the trail on my own. I'm terrified. After years of my companion being there to help me find my way in the world as a woman with a disability, I am afraid I won't have the psychological/spiritual resources to keep triumphing as I forge ahead.

In the midst of the shaky terrain, I am finding firm footing in an unexpected place: the self-discipline that I've been cultivating with my eating and exercising. I may not be able to control my feelings, and even as the fear and the self-doubts assail me, I know that I do have the choice to continue eating well and riding my Nustep.

In former times, eating... binge eating... would have been my means of self-soothing during times of emotional pain. Today, the choice to take care of my body is providing nurture to my bruised and battered soul.

This blog isn't just about physical health. It's about wholeness... wanting to be more whole spiritually, emotionally, physically, relationally. Sometimes I take great strides in one area while faltering in another. Before, I was failing miserably at physical wholeness and kicking butt spiritually and emotionally. Today, the tables have turned... My body is striding confidently forward while dragging along my wounded soul and spirit on a makeshift litter. Will I ever be strong and healthy in all areas at the same time?

One thing I know: I need your prayers right now to help carry me along.

Loving my Body as Christ Loves My Body

I may blog more than usual for awhile... just because... well, because I feel happy when I write and also because I'm really thinking about alot about food, emotional eating, body image, our culture, diet mentality, etc.

People have begun to notice that I am losing weight. I am hearing how I look years younger and have a glow. To me, that signifies that the internal happiness and health is apparent externally. I love that. And yet, when people ask how much weight I've lost or what "plan" I'm following, I'm at a loss for words. "Ummm, I'm not weighing myself so I don't have a clue. Ummm, I'm just eating what my body wants and eating in ways to show love to my body. " No calorie or fat-gram counting, no forbidden foods, no shaming messages about my eating, no roller-coaster emotions from the tyrannical scales (you know what I mean... the exhilaration with a 2 lb loss and the absolute devastation that can lead to an out-of-control binge with a 2 lb gain.)

A couple of weeks ago, I remarked to a friend that the chocolate cake at the church-dinner was evil. At that point, I realized that I was falling into the same "diet mentality" trap that has held me hostage most of my life. Good foods. Bad foods. Good eating. Bad eating. Good body. Bad body. Very rigid, rules-oriented and legalistic.

No matter one's religious orientation, there is much truth to be found in the Bible, and one thing is very clear from reading thousands of years of history of peoples' attempts to live according to rules: they ain't gonna succeed. Show me any diet based on should/should nots and I will bet money it won't work. Oh, maybe for a spell, and maybe even longer than that for the determined few who can "white-knuckle" a maintained loss. But for the remaining 99% of us, the answer is not to be found in the four-letter word "diet", but in the four-letter word "love".

In my own experiences based on a lifetime of roller-coaster dieting, I never had the self-discipline to consistently stick to a diet. "You shouldn't eat that Lynna. Oh, but go ahead, you deserve it and besides you had a hard day and it will make you feel better." Followed by, "I can't believe you ate that! What a fat slob. There is NO WAY you'll see a weight loss this week."

So, what is different this time? My motivation. It is to shower love and honor on my body... and to do that by choosing wonderful food to eat and to move it more. To love my body by not having any foods off-limits. Chocolate cake is just as "legal" (as in legalism, people!) as spinach. (Incidentally, WAY more of the latter than the former because my body doesn't really want alot of chocolate cake. Who knew? And also because I know that spinach is more nutritious and I have the freedom to choose wisely, as well. Freedom doesn't mean my brain died!)

Any Christians reading this post may recognize that "diet" corresponds with the Old Testament and the law, and the way I'm choosing to eat corresponds with the New Testament and the freedom that we find through Christ and through grace. I've been previously transformed in my spirit and emotions by the Good News; and now, it seems, that same power of love, freedom, and grace is allowing my body to undergo a metamorphosis. Good News? Nah! It's Stunningly, Amazingly Wonderful News!

Lynna's Feet Speak

We interrupt this blog to bring you a message from us, Lynna's feet. (We've hacked into her blog because, frankly, we're a little hacked off.)

Will you please tell her that we love her and we're doing the best we can. Man, after all the garbage she has put in her body and the years of sedentary lifestyle, we are trying really hard to work with her. Why, 5 months ago we were so swollen she couldn't wear ANY shoes. Once she started treating us better, we made remarkable progress and now she CAN wear shoes. Somebody, remind her of that, okay.

And tell her that we are the weaker part of her body, and that we need her to love us as we are. We don't get much respect and when we do, it changes us. We're really just like her. We need to be honored. Oh, and we forgive her. She's trying really hard.

Love,
the feet

Weather Report

When I first began this journey towards increasing physical wellness back in April, I knew that it wouldn't always be blue skys, gentle slopes, and birdsong. I expected times when the path would be overgrown, the weather would turn cloudy, and my legs would turn rubbery from exhaustion.



It's easy to climb and to forge ahead when the wind is at your back and delights await you around every bend of the trail. That's been my hike so far. Finding a way to exercise after thinking I couldn't do it. Seeing the wounds heal on my legs. Enjoying the delights of fresh fruits and vegetables in contrast to my former fat-laden, nutrient-deficient diet.



Dewy-eyed and with a heart full of hope for the "what ifs", I took up my hiking staff and set out... (What if I could start wearing cute shoes again? What if the limitations of my disability could be significantly minimized by losing weight and working out?)



And at first, it seemed as though all my dreams might be possible. As the swelling in my legs and feet decreased, it seemed as though normal shoes might again be possible. When I first started riding my Nustep, it seemed as though my muscles were getting stronger and day-to-day tasks were getting easier. Unlimited vistas seemed to appear on the horizon.

Ahh, but how quickly conditions can change on a hike. One minute you can be walking along and twist your ankle after stumbling on a root. Or the formerly sunny weather can turn on a dime and become life-threatening, especially at higher elevations. Or a misstep can land you in icy water while rock-hopping across a stream. At best these occurrences are uncomfortable. At worst, they are life-threatening.

My hike up the mountain has hit some rough spots. Some of my hiking buddies have disappeared. I ordered some "normal" shoes and found that they don't even come close to fitting. (My hopes for wearing cute, strappy shoes are dashed and I'm stuck with heavy, "orthotic-friendly" shoes.) And most troubling of all, my legs seem to be growing weaker, instead of stronger. (The literature is ambiguous about how a person with a neuromuscular disease should exercise. Some sources indicate that exercise that is too vigorous may be damaging to muscles.) It would be accurate to say that I'm kinda bummed.

BUT, I'm not giving up. Maybe dreams won't be realized exactly the way I hoped. Maybe I'll have to trudge along for awhile with a rain poncho over my backpack in sodden, dreary, cold, gray rain.

I have to give myself time to re-adjust my dreams and to find better dreams... the dreams that God has for me. And as I wait for those dreams to be birthed in my heart, I will continue to do what I know is good... to eat well, to exercise (cautiously and intelligently), to love myself, and to love others. And be grateful that at the end of the day's journey when I go to pitch my tent in the drizzle and eat cold goop because the firewood is too wet to light, that I have people sharing the journey whose love turns the dreariness and disappointments into an adventure of grace.

Do Eating Disorders Run in Families?

A day in the life...

I made a delicious stir-fry of zucchini, yellow squash, peppers, onion, and pine nuts.

Jeff comes staggering out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes. He mumbles, "Something smells good."

Me: Vegetables.
Jeff: Weird.

(Same weird kid who wouldn't eat a vegetable as a child. Oh wait. He DID eat green beans one time, when we made him. Although, he did bargain with us to eat them on his dessert, sandwiched between the layers of his icecream sandwich.)

Our family has issues.

A Counter-Cultural Revolution

While talking with a friend about the ways our bodies are genetically programmed to slow down metabolically during times of famine (bodies don't differentiate between starvation caused by crop failure or by self-imposed diets), she said," You need to eat some fattening food to trick your body in order to increase your metabolism."

I'm so pleased that my immediate gut response to that was, "NO! I don't want to trick my body. That makes it sound like my body is something I have to overcome, outwit, beat into submission!" I want to honor my body not trick it.

What a wonderful body it is to be programmed with thousands of years of ancient survival wisdom to know to slow down metabolically during lean caloric-times in order to preserve life. What a wonderfully wise body it is to know that during times of abundance to create potentially life-saving stockpiles of fat stores. (And man-oh-man, have we ever had a 10-year streak of bumper crops! ) I want to honor my body's wisdom and learn from it, instead of trying to man-handle it into conforming to my expectations. (Which incidentally is what I have done every time I've ever dieted, controlled calories, counted fat-grams etc.)

During those times when I'm not losing weight, perhaps a better approach would be to listen to what my body is saying. Perhaps it's saying, "I'm not getting enough calories to survive. I'm deficient in vital substances, vitamins, chemicals, necessary for life. I'm not getting enough fat... or protein... or carbohydrates." Maybe it is saying that it needs a piece of chocolate cake. Or maybe a steak. Or spinach. Or maybe brussell sprouts. (Nah. Ancient wisdom says to banish brussell sprouts.)

Speaking of losing weight... I am approaching this journey towards wellness very differently this time. I haven't been near a scale since I started. I don't know if I've lost 10 pounds or 30. I do know that my clothes are looser and I'm wearing clothes that I formerly couldn't button. I do find that I am still in "diet mentality" however. I feel good about myself when I fit into a smaller size (or, conversely, bad about myself when I don't change sizes as quickly as I think I should) and that has become the replacement measure for success/failure.

This mentality, whether it uses scales or clothing sizes, to gauge "success" is what I hope to change. It is still the mentality that my body is defective and will only be good when it's a size 8. I want to gauge "success" differently. Did I honor my body today? Did I fill it with nutritious, life-giving foods? Did I listen to what it needed? Did I take pleasure in moving it? Did I thank it for all that it does for me? Did I tell my feet and legs how amazing they are? Was I compassionate and loving towards it, or was I judgemental and shaming? How did I talk to my body today, and were my words kind or were they abusive?

I want to take care of my body and treat it kindly and, in so doing, help it grow stronger and healthier.

I'm becoming a counter-cultural revolutionary. The culture says only Cindy Crawford is good enough, worthy enough. (And even she is getting older!) I'm beginning to proclaim (not without a few feelings of discomfort! it takes faith to say this) that my body is worthy of the same honor. And even if I'm the only person to say that, and even if the rest of the world thinks that's foolishness, it's my gift to myself and my stand against the lies and the tyranny that enslave so many.