Man does not live on bread alone, but I’ve been known to
give it my best effort. I love bread and all
But, I’ve got news for you. I’m now gluten free. My new
mantra is: if it’s made from dough, it’s gotta go.
For a pasta-loving Italian with very little food discipline,
this has been an easy move because I don’t want to be in pain. I had been
living with excruciating feet pain for as long as I can remember. The pain
wasn’t constant, but it was daily. I could hike and play sports without any
problem. It was standing that created the most discomfort. And standing all day
is a number one on a teacher’s list of job requirements. Five minutes in line
at the grocery store would create pain. Amusement parks were not amusing.
Standing-room only events were my personal nightmare.
I’ve seen more podiatrists than I have toes and I’ve tried
every remedy this side of surgery: ice, stretching, night-splits, physical
therapy, electric-shock-wave therapy, and cortisone shots. The only thing that
helped was NOT standing.
Somewhat by accident, I learned that le pan, was creating all of le
pain.
I have a chiropractor friend, who has known about my pain
for a while. Other aches and ailments would come up in conversation. She
suggested a gluten-free diet. She was right and the relief was remarkable and
quick. Apparently, the evil gluten was causing intense pain-creating
inflammation in my feet. Now I can stand during 45-minute assemblies. Hour-long
trips to the computer lab are no longer trouble. I don’t have to kick my shoes
off in the car and ice my feet when I get home. I’m still surprised when I
notice that my feet don’t hurt at the
end of the day.
Like manna from heaven, this cure was completely unexpected
and shocking. I had given up on finding relief. I couldn’t see a possibility
for anything different and I had stopped praying for healing. I figured this
was how my body was. Praying for a change was akin to asking God to make me
taller. It wasn’t going to happen.
Oh me of little faith.
In the Bible, Jesus and bread appear together often. He
tells us to request our daily bread. He warned his followers to beware of the
yeast (the teachings) of the religious leaders (modern translations now
interpret his wording as the “gluten of the Pharisees”). He refers to himself
as the Bread of Life. He fed a couple of large crowds with a handful of loaves.
And in his last meal, he took broken bread and before giving it to his 12
disciples … he gave thanks.
Christians commemorate this last meal with communion, a term
also known as the Eucharist. Ann Voskamp, in her brilliant book, “One Thousand
Gifts” explains that in the original language, “he gave thanks” reads eucharisto. “Eucharisto,” she writes,
“envelops the Greek word for grace, charis.
But it also holds its derivative, the Greek word chara, meaning “joy.”
Eucharisto.
Thanksgiving. A combination of grace and joy.
Who doesn’t need more helpings of grace and joy? I have a
friend at school who laughs all day long. Her joy is infectious. But I don’t
consider myself an overly joyful person. Is the lack of joy a byproduct of
ingratitude? Voskamp says that ingratitude was really the original sin. Adam
and Eve were simply ungrateful for what God gave.
“Isn’t that the catalyst for all my sins?” she writes.
Like the gluten pooling in puddles of inflammation in my
feet, ingratitude can settle in my heart and suffocate my joy. The eyes of my
heart focus on what’s missing. I forget to be thankful for what I have.
I love the November Facebook posts of friends sharing their
eucharistos. I eat them up like I used to devour a loaf of sourdough. They make
my soul smile. I started the year trying to count my blessings. I even bought a
“Gratitude Journal”. But it was hard. I could never get past the big, obvious
things for which to be thankful: job, home, friends, family, etc. Despite the
occasional random life blessings: safety while traveling, sunsets, and a good
parking spot at Costco … most of the time it felt like I was repeatedly
counting the same things over and over.
Sometimes I was able to go a little deeper in my
eucharistos. Instead of being thankful for my dog, I noticed how listening to
him snore brought me joy. These are the things Voskamp challenges her readers
to discover. She went on a mission to find 1,000 under-the-radar gifts from
God. Nothing is too small or insignificant for her list. All the sights,
sounds, and tastes around her make the cut. From clean sheets to the way the
sunlight refracts in the sink’s soapy bubbles. All of these things are gifts
from God, she says, and if we see them, we experience him and his joy.
While I’m still acknowledging the big things like pain-free
feet, I’m now trying to create my own list of 1,000 gifts. So far I’m up to four:
1. Peetey waiting expectantly while I prepare food
2. Students racing across the playground for an end-of-the-day hug
2. Students racing across the playground for an end-of-the-day hug
3. Listening to the teacher next door goof around
with his class
4. A student’s priceless reaction after I played a little joke on her
4. A student’s priceless reaction after I played a little joke on her
So happy Thanksgiving everyone.
I’ll be taking today’s eucharisto
with some precious friends. I’m bringing a dessert for all and gluten-free stuffing
for me. I’m sure there will be enough chairs around the table, but if not, I’ll
be happy to stand through the meal.
It’ll be something to joyfully add to my list.
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