The nightmare woke me up. In my dream I stepped on a scale and looked down at the number: 270 pounds! I sat up in bed rubbing my eyes. It was morning. My wife, Alicia, lay asleep beside me. I slipped off the covers, walked over and stepped on the scale: 248 pounds.
I did not feel relieved. I was 48 years old, six-foot-one and totally out of shape. How long before I weighed 250? 260? How long before my dream fulfilled itself, and worse?
A couple of years earlier a doctor had seen me visiting my dad in the hospital after Dad’s heart attack. “Does your son have diabetes?” the doctor asked my mom.
“No,” replied Mom.
“He will,” said the doctor.
Dad developed diabetes late in life. It contributed to his heart attack. I sure looked and felt like a guy on the road to diabetes. My waistline was 44 inches. I was tired all the time. Playing with my three kids left me out of breath.
I was anxious. About everything. Every morning before I left for work I had to get back out of the car to make sure I’d set the house alarm—even though Alicia and the kids were still inside.
I’d wake up in the middle of the night and walk into my younger daughter Claire’s bedroom just to make sure the window was locked. It was crazy. We live in a safe neighborhood. Our family was happy, healthy and financially sound.
Yet a sense of doom hung over me. Maybe it was that word diabetes. I didn’t want to die of a heart attack. I didn’t want my kids to lose their dad or Alicia to be alone! I’d tried dieting so many times, but the weight always came back—and then some.
Doughnuts at work, fast food for lunch, chicken and noodles and mashed potatoes for dinner, snacks watching football—who doesn’t want to eat like that?
I took a shower and got ready for work. Back in the bedroom getting dressed I glanced at my bedside table and saw a small wooden cross. It was a gift from my sister Kathy before Christmas. She’d made it herself, about four inches, sanded walnut.
Next to the cross was a laminated card with a short prayer. When Kathy gave me the cross she told me the prayer had come to her out of the blue on a flight to Seattle. “I know it sounds weird,” she said. “But I think this might help you. You’ve seemed so unhappy lately. So worried.”
It was January now. The cross had sat on my bedside table for weeks. Remembering my dream I tiptoed to the bed—Alicia was still sleeping—and picked up the cross and the card.
The prayer was short: Heavenly Father, I forgive everyone in my life and repent of my sins. I am grateful for my life and opportunities. I love everyone and trust in your love for me. I surrender to your love completely. In Jesus’ name, fill me with your love.
The card said I should say the prayer while holding the cross to my heart.
Glancing at Alicia to see whether she was awake I held the cross to my heart and murmured the prayer. The words were simple but I found them hard to say. For a long time I’d been feeling sorry for myself, focusing on all the things I didn’t have, including good health.
I found it hard to forgive people and let go of grudges. I meant only half the prayer as I spoke it. When I finished I put the cross and the card in my pocket and went to work. I double-checked to make sure I’d set the house alarm.
Over the next few days I said the prayer each morning. Nothing really changed. But I did feel something welling up inside me. A decision seemed to form in my heart. It was like some new presence was suddenly there, a voice urging me to do what I’d always told myself I couldn’t.
On the first day of February I got home from work and sat down at the dinner table. I looked at Alicia and the kids. “I have an announcement,” I said. The table grew quiet. I don’t usually make big announcements.
“I’m going on a diet,” I said. “But this time I really mean it. I’m going to eat better and lose weight.”
Everyone smiled politely. “Great, Dad,” said my older daughter, Emma. Alicia, Claire and Johnny nodded encouragingly. Still, I could see the skepticism on their faces. It wasn’t the first time I’d tried to diet.
The next morning instead of doughnuts at work I ate a bowl of natural grain cereal before I left home. Before lunch I was starving. I snacked on some pistachios, staring longingly at the office candy jar.
For lunch I’d packed a peanut butter sandwich on wheat bread—organic peanut butter, not the kind with tons of sugar. And an apple in the afternoon. That evening I shocked everyone at the table by saying, “Pass the broccoli, please.”
Guess what? I felt terrible! My whole body craved sugar. Would it really be so bad if I had a bowl of ice cream? Suddenly, I remembered the cross and prayer. I pulled out the cross and put it to my heart. The sugar craving didn’t go away. But I managed to resist the ice cream.
The next morning I said the prayer, ate my cereal with skim milk and left for work. I was so preoccupied with food I forgot to check the house alarm. At work I called Kathy and told her what was going on.
“John, that’s wonderful!” my sister said. “You never mentioned the HeartCross after I gave it to you. I worried you’d forgotten about it. What are you doing for exercise?”
“Exercise?” I had to exercise too?
“You’ll feel better all around if you exercise,” Kathy said. “How about joining me for a walk in the park tomorrow morning? I go every day.”
“Uh, what time?” I asked.
“How about six?” Kathy said. “So we’re not late for work.”
“Okay,” I sighed.
The next morning Kathy and I met at a park halfway between our houses. “How far do you usually walk?” I asked anxiously.
“Oh, a few miles,” said Kathy. “Don’t worry. We’ll start slow.”
Half a mile later I was wiped out. I sat on a bench, breathing hard. “I think I’m done,” I gasped.
“No problem,” said Kathy. “Same time tomorrow?”
I nodded. Did I have a choice?
That whole first week was terrible. I was starving. Exhausted. Sore. I hated plunging into the frigid dark for our walks. The following week, though, when Kathy and I got back to our cars she said, “You know you just walked a mile, right?”
“I did?” Kathy nodded, grinning.
Every morning and evening I held the cross to my heart and said the prayer. Gradually the mornings got lighter and warmer. Alicia seemed to realize this diet might be different. She started changing our dinner menus. More vegetables. A salad every night. Lean meats. Low-fat dairy.
One weekend Alicia came in from the garden, her hands caked with dirt. “Guess what I just planted?” she said. “Cilantro. We can use it to make salsa when the tomatoes are ripe in the summer.”
A month into the diet I stepped on the scale. Two-thirty! I’d lost 18 pounds! The next morning I couldn’t wait to tell Kathy.
“Great!” she said. “Are you feeling better? I mean physically and…” She paused. “…And emotionally.”
I looked at her. It was a gorgeous spring morning. The sun made long shadows through the trees. Kathy and I had talked about all sorts of things on our walks. But I hadn’t said much to her about all my anxieties and irrational fears, the worry that was driving me crazy.
We walked in silence. Then all of a sudden I poured out everything to her. How scared I’d been after Dad’s heart attack. How concerned I was about my health.
Kathy nodded. “I knew something was wrong,” she said. “That’s why I decided to give you the cross and the prayer.”
I felt in my pocket. I carried the cross everywhere.
“You know something?” I said. “Now that I’m telling you, I realize I used to feel those things. But recently it’s been getting better. I haven’t checked Claire’s window in a while. I sleep better. I’m not so preoccupied with a sense of doom. In fact, I have moments of incredible peace, like right now.”
I could have said more but I didn’t. Somehow we both knew what—or Who—had set me on this new path. I surrender to your love completely. I couldn’t point to a particular moment when I’d consciously decided to do that. I’d just prayed every day. And it had happened.
Nine months later, on my birthday, I weighed 199 pounds. That fall Kathy and I walked a half marathon together. My waistline had shrunk eight inches. I roughhoused with the kids and carried Johnny to the car on my shoulders without breaking a sweat.
That summer we put the salsa Alicia made from her cilantro on chicken tacos and served them with—what else?—a salad. I’m not saying that dieting is a walk in the park—though obviously it helps if you do walk in the park. I’m saying that in the end dieting is about control.
Everyone noticed my weight loss. Harder to see is how I’ve changed on the inside. I’ve given control in my life—over food, fears, everything else—to the One who loves me and wants what’s best for me and my family.
You do not have to bear your troubles alone. A simple prayer from my sister taught me that.
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