Rollercoasters and Weight Loss Evangelism

Having cancer (doesn’t matter what kind or what stage) is like being on a rollercoaster.  One day you’re up; the next you’re down. . .sometimes way, way down.  Bottoming out can happen when physical symptoms like pain, fatigue, nausea, etc. are challenging, but it can happen just as easily when thoughts take the mind to sad places.  The combination of physical and mental symptoms makes for a wild ride that can often end up in one particular sad place:  Overwhelming Disappointment.

You don’t have to have cancer, or really any kind of physical limitation or disease, to feel disappointed in or betrayed by your body.  Current culture is so focused on physical perfection, attractiveness, even sexiness, that it causes self-esteem and confidence issues.  One off-shoot of this focus is what we might call “Weight-Loss Evangelism,” or the religion of the body.  Not too long ago, I came across the very end of a television show dedicated to the extreme weight loss of its two participants.  I was impressed by their level of dedication and effort.  They had certainly improved their physical health and, with new clothes, hairstyles, and makeup, looked better than ever.  They were met onstage by their coach, a trim young man in Friday casual gear, who embraced them.  All three were in tears. Uplifting music swelled in the background as the three faced an ocean of rapt faces in the audience. One of the participants received the microphone and declared to the coach, “You have saved me!  In every way that a person can be saved, you have saved me!”  Really?  Saved in every way?  I guess, according to our body-obsessed culture, this might seem to be true.  But it hints at a deeply disturbing lack of perspective.  Still, I have to admit the “body-obsession” has caused me problems, as well.

I was getting dressed for the day last week, lamenting quietly about how much of my flexibility I have lost.   This stray thought led me downhill fast.  I began comparing my physical state before the cancer to my physical state now.  Here’s a synopsis:  Before:  flexible, strong, slim, proportional, nice hair, few aches and pains, attractive.  Now:  stiff, weakened, heavier, disproportional (in my mind I used the word “contorted”), weird hair, chronic aches and pains, ugly.  I contemplated how I had been able to run for miles each day before the cancer but now can’t run at all.  I thought about the compliments I had received on my physical attractiveness before the cancer.  Now children in stores point at me, one even loudly comparing me to Cailleu, the bald cartoon character.  My thoughts grew dark as I focused on the “ruin” my body had become. 

A sudden idea entered my mind.  What would God say to me in this situation?  Just as suddenly, the answer came:  “This cancer is what your body is for.  I did not give you your body with the expectation that it would be or stay perfect; I gave it to you so that you might have mortal experiences that would strengthen your spirit.”  All of the darkness dropped away in the face of this enlightenment – I had been viewing my body with a mortal perspective, not an eternal perspective.  It gave me a new understanding of the cancer and of my Heavenly Father’s love for me.  As it turns out, it was a good thing I was so physically strong when the cancer attacked.  If I had not been, I would not have survived.  And living through, living with, the cancer is something God felt was important for me to do.  Why? To torture me?  To punish me for my imperfections and errors? Certainly not!  Rather, to provide me with a deeply personal, intense experience designed to elevate and perfect my spirit.  Designed to help me better understand and emulate Christ.  The end goal: to help me find my way back to him! 

Last weekend, I was able to view the General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, of which I am a member.  This conference consists of a series of talks on gospel topics interspersed with prayer and sacred music.  The final comments of one of the sessions of conference were given by the President of the church, Thomas S. Monson.  His words brought comfort to me and the Holy Ghost witnessed to me that what he said was true.  He spoke about the many pathways Jesus had walked during his mortal sojourn, comparing them to the Savior’s spiritual journeys.  He then made it relevant to all of us by reminding us that Jesus said, “Come follow me.”  This invitation is an injunction to NOT expect a life free from suffering.  Pres. Monson continued, “Each of us will walk the path of disappointment . . . temptation. . .pain. . .we as servants can expect no more than the Master.” 

The Master’s path was infinitely more difficult than our own, but even before Jesus’ mortal ministry began, we are told in the Bible that he was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” Clearly, He suffered loss, hardship, sorrow, and pain in the course of His early life.  Yet He was, even then, the “light of the world,” the “Word made flesh,” God’s only begotten Son.  Why would we ever assume that a life free of troubles is what we are meant for?  Christ Himself asks us to join Him on an uphill journey.  Along the way, we will have all manner of troubles, but these will strengthen our spiritual selves.  When the way is too rough to bear alone, Christ is with us to help us overcome.  What we CAN expect is that this pathway, fraught as it is with difficulty, will save us in every way – will take us home.   

The Best Way of Knowing

Recently I was asked to make a few spontaneous comments in a church meeting. This would normally be a fearful situation, but luckily, as it happens, my husband and I had been having a gospel discussion just a few days previously and our thoughts at that time returned to me as stood to speak.  I had only a few minutes, and was pleased with what I had to share, but wanted to more fully explore and explain my points.  And, coincidentally, I have this blog that I have neglected for far too long. So…..

My husband and I are both teachers.  He teaches on both the High School and college level, and I teach on the college level, as well.  Our professions involve delivering, in the most skilled methods we can conjure, curriculum involving ideas and facts as evidence of the ideas.  My husband teaches History and the theories, philosophies, and questions surrounding human history.   He uses as source material documents produced during the historical periods and events he teaches, film footage, recordings, photos, maps, etc.  I teach both skills-based composition courses and analysis-based literature courses, all of which require that I provide substantial examples and “expert testimony.”  Not to beat a dead horse, but both of us are well versed in using facts to lead to and to support the knowledge we proffer. 

However, we are both Christians and very religious ones, at that.  The discussion I referenced earlier has to do with how we as humans gain knowledge.  There seem to us to be only three real ways to do this:  1) using our intellect and facts in evidence to learn things, 2) experiencing the world using our physical senses, and 3) FAITH.  The world would have us believe that our intellect and senses give us real knowledge, but that faith only provides us with hope or guesses.  We might be asked to conclude that even if faith can lead us to hope for or guess at things that might turn out to be true, knowledge based on the intellect/facts and on our physical experiences is superior.  Leading to the conclusion that faith is an inferior method of acquiring knowledge. 

This is actually backward thinking.  Knowledge can and is gained through faith.  Instead of relying on outside sources for information, faith requires internal searching that is rewarded by the witness of God’s spirit, the Holy Ghost, of truth.  We learn about this role of the Holy Ghost in the New Testament, when Jesus tells His disciples that he must go away so that the Holy Ghost may abide with them and serve as a witness of truth.  The disciples, often misunderstanding Jesus when he teaches them before his crucifixion, achieve sublime levels of surety and knowledge after He bestows upon them the Holy Ghost on the day of Pentecost. 

Knowledge can be gained through faith, and this knowledge itself is superior to knowledge gained either by the intellect or by the senses.  Our intellects are fallible; our memories are only so efficient and our resulting grasp of concepts only so accurate.  Facts, such as historical records, are often produced with bias or without the broad perspective required for complete truth.  Our physical senses are easily fooled.  We are susceptible to optical illusions, distractions, and weakness.   In fact, interestingly, eyewitness accounts are among the least trustworthy forms of evidence because we often see things inaccurately or fail to see everything important.  Faith, however, yields a perfect knowledge in conformity with the perspective of the Supreme Being, who knows all and sees all.  Knowledge gained through faith is real reality, because it comes from God. 

Faith also creates far more personal investment and commitment to the truth than other methods.  We can’t rely on easily obtained records or images to support us, or on a perception of our own intellects as infallible.  Instead, we must seek humility.  We must acknowledge the superiority of God and attend patiently to his commands while we supplicate him for the answers we need.  The process yields not only knowledge, but an expanded capacity for knowledge and a better understanding of God and our relationship to him.

But here’s where it gets interesting.  Even those of us who rely on faith, who testify of the beauty and efficacy of faith, don’t give it its due.  How?  By expecting that the knowledge we received through faith will be supplanted eventually by intellectual certainty or by a witness to our physical senses.  Sometimes miracles do follow faith.  We are told that miracles follow the faithful; but the problem is that we may develop the habit of seeking for such signs before we completely trust the answers or knowledge we gained by faith.  Another problem is that we think of the miracle or the intellectual certainty that can come after faith as somehow better than our primary reliance on faith.  Thus, despite our protestations, we join with the world in seeing pure faith and what we learn through it, as inferior.

I am reminded of the experience of Thomas as recorded in John, chapter 20.  He finds it impossible to use only faith to believe that Christ has been resurrected. Instead, he must feel the Savior’s body with his hands before he believes.  Christ responds:  “Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed:  blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”  

I guess I only write this and present it to you so that we can elevate the role of faith in our lives. As Christ promises, it can make us blessed, make us courageous, make us wise, make us whole.

In Defense of Organized Religion

I lived in Oregon for a time and attended Portland State University (go Viks!) where from time to time I found myself in conversations about religion where I, as a practicing Christian and member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, was in the minority.  Most people were open minded about individual choice as far as spirituality and belief systems, but even so, I encountered a great number of people who considered themselves spiritual but professed a disgust for "organized religion" (I add the quotation marks to indicate the somewhat sneering tone used by these folks).  They described the spiritual feelings they experienced in nature as far superior to any provided by going to a church meeting.

On one level, I had to agree.  I have spent many blissful days camping, backpacking, hiking, kayaking, swimming, etc. I have appreciated the experience of a strenuous hike to the top of a mountain where the views took my breath away. The expanse of forest and river laid far below and the dome of sky arching overhead, as Shakespeare would say "fretted with golden fire," infused my whole being with grateful admiration for God's creations and  power.  I consider these experiences some of the most spiritual of my life. Yet this has never been able to replace my Sunday church attendance, but I could not explain why in any way that convinced my anti-organized religion friends.

When I explained that I needed to participate in the ordinance of the Sacrament, also called Communion in Catholicism, this held no weight because my friends did not acknowledge the efficacy of religious rituals. When I reasoned that meeting with others of the same faith could comfort and strengthen, they wanted to know how that was different than like-minded individuals getting together for lunch or a camping trip. The excuse that it provided a means to study doctrine left them wondering why I couldn't substitute personal scripture study and prayer at home. The explanation that church could teach a valuable set of morals ignited a firestorm of opinion that Christians were hypocritical and judgmental and that such teaching amounted to brainwashing. I hate to be caught in conversation without explanation or answer, but I let it go for another day.

I was reading the New Testament some time later when I had an epiphany.  I was reading Matthew, chapter 7, which is the conclusion of Christ's Sermon on the Mount.  Verse 21 reads "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven:  but he that doeth the will of my Father who is in heaven."  Jesus continues in verse 24:  "Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock."  These verses reminded me of a similar charge, in the second chapter of James, verses 14 and 17:  "What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works? can faith save him?. . .Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone." The key doctrine in these Biblical passages is that the gospel of salvation, the gospel of Jesus Christ, requires ACTION!

In my mind, I realized that the purpose of organized religion is not in getting people together so that they feel superior to everyone else (although sadly this can happen) or even in providing rich spiritual experiences and feelings (although gladly this can happen).  The primary purpose of the organization of religion, in this case Christianity, is to provide a structure for ACTION.  We begin by acting on our faith by participating in the Sacrament or Communion to remind us of Christ's sacrifice and our dependence on Him.  The remainder of our time is spent on reviewing the doctrines of the gospel, enjoying the company of other believers, and exhorting to good works. All of these things support and provide motivation for us to spend the other 6 days of the week actually living the gospel of Jesus Christ by doing good.

A perfect example of the beauty of organized religion is the last 6 months of my life. At the end of December I was diagnosed with cancer and lost the ability to walk.  Who would care for my family?  Who would clean the home or cook the meals?  Who would do the shopping?  Who would care for me, bedridden as I was? My husband, who works over 40 hours a week every week, could handle some of these responsibilities, but not all.  My extended family could also pitch in, but even then the workload was overwhelming in addition to their own families.  Who stepped in to provide meals, cleaning, groceries, and even financial assistance?  My church congregation.  Who got the word out to the surrounding community to organize fundraisers and other charitable events to help my family?  Members of my church congregation.  Who bore the expense of providing a wig and donating their own hair to create the wig?  Members of my church congregation.

But what if I hadn't been a member of my church, part of that organization?  You may be thinking, "well, you'd probably be on your own!"  You would be wrong.  My church congregation came to my aid because I needed them and, secondarily, because they knew and loved me.  But they would have done the same thing even had I not been a member of their church.  In fact, I have watched these same people provide assistance to individuals and families in the community, other churches, local charity organizations, and international charity groups.  When need arises, these people, already organized within their religion to act, can act swiftly and compassionately to help.

Again, some may argue that we can do this kind of thing individually, but that is not the case.  The concept of "many hands make light work" does not only describe sharing a burden but being able to get more done, on a larger scale, for more people.  Another good example would be a church group getting together to build a house for someone in poverty.  The recipient gets a warm and safe place to live in a matter of days in this scenario, but if waiting for an individual to build it, would be waiting for months. I have been lucky to have organized and/or participated in many such church groups to provide desperately needed aid.  Organized congregations also get the word out, make efficient connections between needy individuals and those who can help, broadcast opportunities for service, and keep up with long-term assistance.  In short, the organized group can do more and do it faster - they can help individuals obey Christ's commandment to act, to do good.

So I'll keep enjoying the sublime feelings I get from nature.  I'll keep going to lunch with like-minded friends. I'll keep going camping with my family.  I'll keep reading my scriptures and engaging in fervent prayer at home.  I'll keep partaking of the saving ordinances of religion on an individual level.  In short, I'll keep doing all the things that enrich my spiritual life, but I will also keep attending church each and every Sunday so that ACTION can become the hallmark of my devotion to Christ.

The Sacred Journey

I have to make a confession - I've been going through chemo for five months now; I've had five months to make peace with my cancer diagnosis and move on, but - I still struggle with feelings of ANGER. I get angry at myself (why, oh why, didn't I go to the doctor sooner?), at the world/environment (what the heck is in our air/water/GMO-laced food that germinated my cancer?), or even at my own body (why are you so weak?). I guess that's natural, although I was warned by my doctor's nurse practitioner who has an appalling bedside manner to "just don't go there."  Most of the time when I get steamed, it's at God.

I find myself talking to God when I'm at my weakest and it's not a pretty conversation.  I ask him incredibly impertinent questions, such as:  "Why did you do this to me?"  "Why do you hate me?"  "What did I do to deserve this punishment you're dishing out with such a generous ladle?"  Then I wait for the lightning to strike. It doesn't come - he's a lot more patient than that. After I'm done throwing my tantrum, I'm ashamed of myself, but while I'm in the midst of it, I'm deadly serious.  It FEELS as if I am, as the scriptures describe, a "vessel of wrath" and God is causing my pain and destroying my body in slow motion.  This kind of anger at God made me feel so guilty and ashamed that I had to talk about it with friends and family and I made an amazing discovery - I'm not the only one who feels this way from time to time.

Are we like the unfortunate Puritans who examined every personality trait and every life event to determine if a person was favored by God?  Because they, indeed, believed that each person was fated for Heaven or Hell from birth and that one's destination was an unknowable mystery.  "Clues" such as good health, material wealth, and natural virtues suggested that God had marked you for Heaven.  Poor health, poverty, errors in judgement, and noisy/irreverent personality traits marked you for Hell.  No wonder they examined themselves (and each other) with such finely-ground, critical lenses; they had to discover God's opinion of them.  They were in constant suspense.  So much so that there is an account of a Puritan mother who, so anxious about the cryptic destination of her soul, threw her newborn infant into a well, killing it.  Afterward, in a bizarre attitude of relief, she declared that now, at least, she knew she was a child of Hell.

Maybe part of our culture (which began with Puritan influences) still retains some of this belief system.  So we feel that when things go wrong we are being told by God that he does not hold us in his favor. We may allow ourselves the unfortunate belief that we are marked as being outside of God's love and family. It is hard to hold on to the feeling that God loves us when the events in our lives are painful and they just keep coming.

I pondered this dilemma for a long time.  While reading a religious magazine, I came across a phrase that resonated with me and helped me frame a helpful perspective.  The author of the article I was reading referred to our mortal life as a "sacred journey."  My interpretation of this idea is that life is movement and progression toward a destination and that the quality of the journey is enhanced by struggle.  We, as explorers and adventurers, are enhanced by struggle.  And what's our destination?  Our Heavenly Father and loved ones who have reached home before us! We're not exerting so much effort along our journey to just get to a place where we can sit down, take a load off, rest a bit.  We're headed home to a heavenly parent we love and who loves us.  This destination makes our journey very sacred indeed.

To use a metaphor, a real world traveler, upon returning home, would have many stories to tell of the experiences of their journey and of the exotic sights they had seen. They would probably have a couple of hours worth of slide show for anyone interested as well as a collection of souvenirs.  Their passport would be well worn and  heavily stamped with the names of the many countries they had explored. Their journey would be notable and respected by all those welcoming them home after their travels.

Why can't we see life like a sacred journey and less like a Puritan test of divine favor?  It feels appropriate and right for me to see my life as the first.  When I do this, Cancer becomes a land that not everyone explores, a land of exotic perceptions.  Cancer is a colorful stamp in my passport, just like all the experiences of life:  stops along the way of my journey, not positive or negative clues to tell me if God loves me or not. Cancer is a hard land and one known for its rigor, but how proud I will be to display that stamp in my passport to my Heavenly Father when I get home!

I won't say that seeing my life as a sacred journey has erased all moments of anger, but it prevents me from following these momentary feelings into unfortunate and irrelevant Puritan reflections.  It reminds me that there's a purpose to every bump in the road.  It refocuses my vision to my destination:  Home.

The Kindness of Relative Strangers

For any of you that love classic movies, I'll make a reference to A Streetcar Named Desire.  Don't worry - I'm not going to outline the plot for you or (as if it matters) include a spoiler.  I simply mention the play and movie for one line, probably the most famous line.  The delusional, alcoholic Blanche DuBois in a moment of lucidity proclaims that "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers."

Luckily, I'm not a boozy, aging Southern belle, but I guess you could call me delusional.  Most of us are, really, because most of us believe that we get through life under our own steam and that, except for rare circumstances like injuries or new babies, we take care of ourselves without much help.  Even if we don't want to admit it, this is simply not true. We can express it in a poetic way by saying "No man [or woman] is an island," or "It takes a village," but in any case we exist in families and societies not because there is no other choice, but because we need each other.  We need someone to deliver the mail, tend to the consistency of our utilities, produce and sell groceries, etc.  We take for granted that most of these people who help us do so politely and kindly.  What a fantastic civilization we get to be a part of!

The extra perception I have gained about this dependence on other people is that it is crucial to understand and appreciate the symbiotic nature of our relationships, even the most mundane ones.  I depend far more on kindness now than I ever have and so I notice that kindness is available to me.  The store clerk who bags my groceries efficiently and with friendly small talk makes my day easier now that I'm not as strong as I used to be, for example.  Another example is the staff of the St. Al's Cancer Care Center.  They do their jobs with so much compassion and consideration that a tedious visit there is made much more bearable.

One incident is etched in my memory.  I had spent the morning getting a radiation treatment that left me queasy and wilted.  I couldn't walk at this time and still wore my neck brace, so when I was wheeled into the waiting room of the oncology ward to get a post-radiation IV for fluids, I was a weak, slumped figure in a well-worn hospital gown, almost insensible to the world around me.  Then suddenly I felt hands grip my shoulders and looked up into the face of an elderly woman I didn't know.  Her eyes were on fire as they stared into mine. She spoke to me in a voice that was soft and kind, but utterly determined:  "You can do this. Look at me - I am 80 years old and if I can do it, you can do it.  Don't forget!"  Then they wheeled me away from her, but our eyes remained locked until I turned the corner.  I can't explain it, but the energy that passed between us was a purposeful gift from her to me. I'll never forget her kindness or her encouraging words.

But back to our tendency to be delusional. . .we're also delusional in the sense that we think we know the people around us pretty well.  Okay, maybe we realize that we don't really know the store clerk or the oncology nurses, but surely we know our friends and family.  Or do we?  One surprising discovery provided to me via this cancer experience is that not only do I not know strangers, I don't even know my friends and family.  Once the cancer hit, friends made themselves of service immediately and in incredible ways. Who knew that Jenny was a brilliant fundraiser who could rally others to my aid?  Who knew that so many friends would rally?  Who knew they would make it possible for my family to pay medical bills and retain our home? I didn't know them as well as I thought - they are better, kinder, and more generous than I could have imagined.  Who knew that my family members would gather around me in protection of my self-esteem? That they would cherish me when I couldn't complete all the tasks to care for them as I used to?  They are better than I imagined, golden-hearted, loyal.

I guess what I'm trying to say in this long blog, is that we shouldn't wait for a life-threatening illness to strip away our delusions.  We should recognize our dependence on other people - it will help us be humble in the way the Savior suggests we should be.  We should never assume that we know all there is to know about a person - because we can't see into someone's heart, they are, in a way, a stranger to us.  We should always be willing to look more deeply for the good in others and reserve judgement (it's ALWAYS based on insufficient knowledge).  Again, the Savior Himself showed us how important this is when he provided the parable of the Good Samaritan - a stranger from whom no good was expected but from whom life-saving kindness came.

So I've taken Blanche's line to heart.  I may not have "always depended on the kindness of strangers" but that's only because I didn't know I was already doing it.  

Stuff in the Garbage (and Things that Need to Go There)

Now that I'm feeling a little better, and able to move around a bit more easily, I've begun to tackle some household chores.  I started by reorganizing and cleaning out my linen closet.  I found some supplies in the closet from the early days of my cancer and I was excited to move them from this location to the garage.  In the garage, I found some other items reminding me of a couple of months ago.  Finding these things and realizing that I had progressed beyond needing them was a well-needed reminder of how far I have come since my cancer diagnosis.  So the theme of this blog is STUFF IN THE GARBAGE (and stuff I hope to relegate to the garbage soon).  

Stuff in the Garbage, Why it's There, and What it Teaches Me:

• Wheelchair - Thanks to radiation and chemotherapy, my hip has healed and I can walk.  Not only can I walk, I don't even limp the way I used to.  I remember the first time I could go up and down the stairs on my own, my family stood at the bottom of the stairs and cheered.  Keep in mind that among the group were my husband Jeff, my brother Nick, and my brother-in-law Greg, all of whom had carried me  in their arms to and from the car, up and down the stairs, and in and out of the hospital. The chair itself was a gift from my step-dad, Dennis. The wheelchair taught me that relying on other people adds sweetness to life.  It also taught me that determination and physical effort can achieve important goals.
• Shower Chair - initially, I couldn't climb in and out of the bathtub but also couldn't stand upright in the shower.  I didn't have to say a word - just a day or so after my diagnosis I found that my brother Nick had installed a new hand-held shower head and purchased me a shower chair so that I could sit and take a relaxing (and much-needed) shower.  This chair taught me (first) the glory of cleanliness and (second) that we all have skills and talents that can help someone else.  Nick not only has built homes and installed plumbing but is a true craftsman in finish carpentry. He kindly used his experience and skill to meet a need that no one else in my family could help me with.  He has been a continuing good example of figuring out unique ways to help that are personal and important.
• Adult Diapers - this is embarrassing to write about and to reveal, but you may have guessed that a person who can't walk and who has a broken neck and crushed vertebra can't negotiate a toilet. Hence the adult diapers - a very real part of many diseases and conditions.  This reality has the ability to cause incredible humiliation because someone else has to put them on you, someone else has to take them off, and someone else has to clean you up.  In my case, this person was the very last person I wanted to see me in an unattractive situation:  my husband, Jeff.  His ability to soothe my embarrassment and reassure me of his concern and love was phenomenal.  He had to help me do things I never expected to need help with until I was over 90!  His kindness and aplomb taught me that there is more to a person than their body.  It was a hard lesson to learn, but I finally was forced to realize that my body was only one part of who I am and it is definitely not the most important part. The most important part of who I am is my spirit - this is the truly eternal part of myself that gives shape to everything else about me.  Another lesson I learned was the value of the doctrine of the physical resurrection, that, as Job tells us, although worms may destroy our bodies, yet in our flesh we will see God.  All of us can be assured that one day our spirits will be reunited with our perfected body to live in immortality, through the grace of Jesus Christ.  This promise has become a poignant truth I cling to.

Stuff I'm Working on Throwing in the Garbage:

• Poor self image of my body - as a woman, this continues to be a challenge for me.  Social expectations tell females that we not only have to be attractive, but sexy.  There's no way around it for me - I'm bald, my skin has spots of "hyper-pigmentation," my fingernails are warped and discolored, I'm missing most of my eyebrows and eyelashes, and I have lost most of the muscle tone I worked so hard to get throughout my life.  No longer sexy!  Society may say that I'm no longer attractive, either. And I feel this way about myself sometimes.  I'm working on consistently rejecting self-esteem (or lack thereof) based on physical appearance.  One of these days, I will win this battle!
• Impatience with my progress - you would think that going from a wheelchair to walking within 3 months would have me in a state of constant gratitude, but alas, it is not so.  I tend to frequently forget the progress I have made and instead focus on how far I still have to go to get to good health.  This is part of the reason for the content of this blog - to help me remember just how blessed I am to be able to walk, do chores, go shopping, drive my car, and work in my garden.  

In the end, a garbage can is a really useful thing.  Throwing stuff away is cathartic and healthy and, I've discovered, can help me make important connections between the events of my life and what these events teach me.  Why didn't I care about this when I was healthy and life was great?  Who knows - but I suspect that's one of the reasons this life is described as a test; unless there are rough patches, we don't learn anything.  Maybe one day I'll even be grateful for my cancer. . . I'll work on that.  :)

The 7 Habits of Highly Desperate People

If you passed through the 90s, if you’ve spent time in corporate business (and especially if you’ve spent time in corporate business in the 90s) you’re familiar with the book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey.   The book guides you through goal fulfillment in order to achieve success and improvement of character.  Part of the book’s theory is that one’s own perspective can be put aside so that other perspectives become evident.  The steps work just as great as they sound! No wonder the book became such a huge bestseller and so many people hailed Covey as a wonderful mentor who provided concepts they could rely on.

What’s interesting is that the Seven Habits’ focus on personal character and treating others well owes much to the same concepts expressed in the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Indeed, by following Christ’s guidelines for our lives, we can achieve goals, improve our characters, and gain better perspectives about life and ourselves.  I know that I’ve put the gospel to this kind of test and I’m always pleased with the results, whether in my personal or professional life.  Christ’s gospel has helped me to be “highly effective” in many ways. 

However, shortly after I was diagnosed with cancer and was trying to cope with the pain of my broken bones and the pain of an uncertain future, I found that being “highly effective” had been replaced with being “highly desperate.”  My thoughts and emotions were in complete chaos. And goals?  I don’t know – maybe just to make it through another day!  I found myself clinging to the concept, expressed in the scriptures and in more than one hymn, that we can lay our burdens at Christ’s feet when we can no longer carry them ourselves.  I also found myself wondering what I needed to do in order to lay my burdens at His feet.  In the past,  I could gain immediate comfort from spiritual sources through sincere prayer.  But in my current situation I needed massive amounts of help and comfort AND I needed them all day and sometimes all night. I had been desperate in the past, but now I was highly desperate.

There is a way we can access long-term, intense comfort that very literally involves laying our burdens upon Christ who will help us bear them.  I call this method “The Seven Habits of Highly Desperate People:”

1. Recognize that you can’t handle the situation on your own.  This may mean letting your pride go, but we all know it’s got to go sometime.  We really can’t do it on our own!
2. Reject disbelief, bitterness, anger, and resentment that you may feel towards God.  He IS real and your problems/struggles are NOT him punishing you!  He loves you and will help you!
3. Pray to God in the name of Jesus Christ to request specific help.  Express your needs with detail and sincerity.  Increase the efforts you apply to prayer.  Pray with more intensity and clarity.  Pray longer.  Pray multiple times a day.  Keep a prayer in your heart throughout the day.
4. Increase your study of the life and gospel of Jesus Christ by reading and pondering books of scripture and others’ accounts of how Christ’s gospel has strengthened them.
5. Recognize and accept relief and help when it comes.  Sometimes God’s assistance comes as spiritual relief, an overwhelming feeling of peace, or even a soft, kind voice in our minds that quiets our fears.  Many times, other people act as God’s hands to provide relief; realize that this is evidence of God’s attention and love for you.
6. Express gratitude in prayer to God for his help.  Express thanks to others who have acted in his behalf to assist you.
7. Express your gratitude by serving and assisting others, as Christ directs us.  Focusing on others does more to heal a broken heart or sorrowing mind than any medication. 

The best effect of these steps is that although they work when you are at your most desperate, keeping them as habits even when your desperation has passed will bring a richness and beauty to your life that will act as a shield against the cares and worries of this world and make your life a bit of heaven on earth. 

Please share in your comments how you handle your desperate situations!  Do you use any of these methods?  Are there other processes you employ during hard times?  How has Christ helped you overcome problems?  It's wonderful what we can learn from each other!