Home Thoughts From Abroad

I started putting on weight when I hit fifty. A slower metabolism and a less labour-intensive house on Trevithick Terrace that didn’t require 50 hours a week of renovating were enough to do me in. When I hit 165 pounds I decided to do something about it. I started an exercise routine, largely aimed at my weakening lower back, but also the growing gut that further exacerbated the problem. It took about three years to get weight down to 150, but I still wasn’t happy with the result. Another three years got it to 140 where I have remained ever since. But the last couple of years I have noticed another problem creep in.

While my weight has remained constant, my belly hasn’t. For a while I just put it down to lack of muscle tone, bought a bicycle like any sensible fellow would and let it go at that. But while the pounds stayed off, the belly continued to grow. What gives? My BMI of course hadn’t changed, since my weight and height were the same, but clearly I was losing the battle of the bulge; the now overly tight pants that I had bought when I arrived in Malaysia weren’t lying, so the BMI must be.

I started doing some research and chatting with a weight-lifting buddy of mine who just scoffed. “BMI tells you nothing,” he said when I asked him about it; “waist to height is a much more accurate indicator, especially for those who are short and muscular.” Muscular, I’m not, but short I won’t argue (I am average height for the year I was born, but we don’t need get into that!). Sure enough the research bore him out. BMI is no longer the reputable standard (You can read up on it yourself here: http://www.livestrong.com/article/335980-the-standard-waist-hip-measurements-based-on-height-weight/). Doing the calculations for waist to height, and waist to hip gave me a much different picture than I was getting with BMI; a picture that was far more in keeping with the reality at my beltline.

The reason is simple: as you age you lose muscle mass. It doesn’t exactly sink to your belly; it just atrophies. The belly fat is a result of the decreased metabolism while maintaining previously acquired eating habits. I was getting fatter, just as I suspected, but the loss of muscle mass was hiding the increase, at least as far as the bathroom scales and the BMI could detect. But my pants knew better, and I had to reluctantly admit what I had known – and tried to avoid knowing – for at least two years, I was no longer my old slim self.

The next step was to come up with some information about weight reduction that wasn’t hysterical or designed to pad the pockets of some charlatan. Shaun – my weightlifting buddy – informed me that a pound of body weight was equal to 3,500 calories, and that in order to lose a pound a week you either had to burn that much or consume that much less. Some more quick trips to the internet were enough to convince me that exercise was not the answer. Burning 500 calories a day was going to cost me around 4 hours of walking per day. Clearly that was not an option (I am much too old to be pursuing more vigorous alternatives to walking!). That left reducing my caloric intake. Despite all the obsession in the public media about this issue, I had never really thought too much about how many calories a day I consumed, or even needed.

I had heard that guys needed around 2,500 calories a day and a woman about 2,000, but that was about as far as I had thought about it. I couldn’t even tell you how many calories were in an apple. I was stunned to find out that what I actually needed was around 1400 calories a day (There are plenty of good calculators on the internet, such as: http://home.fuse.net/clymer/bmi/ but a good ball park estimate is ten times your body weight in pounds. This will obviously decrease as you lose weight, so you will want to recalculate about once a week). Armed with this knowledge, and the certainty that there are few things in life that understanding and determination can’t deal with, I set out to reduce my caloric intake enough to take off a pound and a half a week, and to keep that up for a month.

I figured at most I was five pounds overweight, and therefore a month at 650 calories a day (basal metabolic rate minus pound and a half in calories per day) would be enough to bring that saggy belly in line. I can’t believe now how naive I was, but I guess that is how we deal with these things; we want to believe the best case scenario. My expectations were wildly unrealistic, but I didn’t know that two months ago.

Many years ago I made a deal with my Maker. I offered Him all I had in return for all He had. To this day it remains the best deal I ever made. He gave me an amazingly fulfilling life and an eternity in Heaven. I gave Him a bucket load full of vice, a heap of broken dreams, a spirit filled with uncertainty bordering on despair, a compromised integrity, and a predilection for self-abuse. It seemed no great hardship to make Him Lord of my life, and I have never had occasion to regret it.

So ‘Lord of my life’, what does that entail? Well quite simply it means that He gets final say on the things that I do, the people I hang around with, the wife I marry, the kids I raise, the money that I spend, and how I spend it, the thoughts that I think, my habits, interests and vocation(s), and pretty much everything else as well. This includes my body: what I put in it, how I treat or mistreat it, whether or not I have the right to endanger it, or join it to a prostitute. The answer to the last two is ‘no’, in case you were wondering.

Other questions are more nuanced; especially what I put in it. Some things are pretty clear. Drugs are a definite ‘no’, but wine is a ‘yes’ in moderation. After all, the Lord, during His brief sojourn on Earth, blessed the marriage feast at Cana, and although there is no record that He Himself drank, His miracle attests to His benevolence regarding human celebration. Tobacco would be a ‘no’, a revelation that allowed me to quit effortlessly in a moment after a dozen unsuccessful years of trying. But the principle issue for most of us is none of these things; it is food.

An unconscionable number of people, mostly children, die each day from hunger. An equally large number cross the line from overweight to obese each day. Obesity and its attendant diseases is set to become the world’s number one health problem. These facts trouble me and this for two reasons. The first, as I have intimated, is spiritual. I cannot bring myself to believe that a God who wept for the dead and dying, who came to Earth among the despised and rejected, looks with favour on those who indulge their appetites to excess while people starve to death. That doesn’t sound like any God I would want to worship. In the second place I have no desire to be another statistic in the developing and developed world’s slide into diseases of the overabundant flesh.

My body is not my own; it was bought at a price; a tremendous price at that. I must listen to the One who bought it, and do what He commands with it. Not to do so is to make a mockery of my faith and become like the hypocrites the world accuses us of being. What He says about it is pretty straightforward. In Proverbs we read, “Hold a knife at your throat if you are given to gluttony” (Prov.23:2), and “Do not join with those who drink too much wine or gorge themselves on meat” (Prov. 23:20). Paul writes to the church at Corinth, “Everything is permissible for me; but not everything is beneficial. Everything is permissible, but I will not be mastered by anything” (1Cor. 6:12). Later in the same book Paul holds himself up as an example, saying, “I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest having been a witness to others I myself become disqualified” (1 Cor. 9:27). This is not predicated upon a narrow legalism, but on a joyful truth, “Do you not know that your bodies are part of Christ Himself? Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you and whom you have received from God? You are not your own” (1 Cor. 6:15, 19).

Nor is my body the exclusive domain of God but it belongs to others as well, among them my wife, “The wife’s body does not belong to her alone, but also to her husband. In the same way the husband’s body does not belong to him alone, but also to his wife” (1Cor. 7:4), my children, “Children should not have to provide for their parents, but parents should provide for their children” (2 Cor. 12:14), and my neighbours, “Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a servant to everyone, to win as many as possible” (1 Cor. 9:19). For this I need to exercise control, not only of my resources, both intellectual and financial, but my physical resources as well. How can I serve others if I am too physically depleted, out of shape or given to gluttony, sloth or excess?

Though I have known these truths and sought to practice them all my Christian life, I have admittedly slipped a little on the physical end as I have aged. I have become a little too comfortable and a little too complacent, and with Pam headed home in April, and being forced to be a bachelor for ten weeks I decided to act on some information I had been gathering for several months and put a plan in place to deal with my behavior in regards to food. Stay tuned; I have learned lots and have a lot to share.

When you are a kid, you just took your friends for granted. They were there, next door, when you wanted to play. They were there when you went to school. They were there at Scouts, or the rock band that you were a part of or whatever you were into. They were just there. When you start having a family your friends are the people that are also having a family. They are your work colleagues or the people at church. They are your extended family and their extended families. There is really not much to think about. Some people are more in sync with your interests, so you stick together. Our interests were our kids and missionary activity. The first gave us lots of friends. The other interest was a pretty select bunch, although they are the ones over time that we still stay connected to.

As you age your friends take on an entirely different dimension; they become considerably more important. I’m not exactly sure why this is, but I am sure that it is. Whereas in the past I would consider my freedom to speak out on a topic to be paramount, now I would carefully consider the possibility of offending a friend to be paramount. In the past I would consider what I wanted to do in a particular situation most important, now I would consider what a friend wanted to do to be most important.

Perhaps in my case I am just slow in realizing the reality that we are social creatures, and that friends are an important part of our emotional stability, but I am very grateful for my friends, especially on birthdays. I had a birthday this week, and I had lots of greetings from friends. One friend insisted that we meet in our local coffee shop and then go to our local curry house for supper. I appreciate the kindness, and am grateful for friends that just want to spend a few minutes in my company to cheer me up along the path of life. Thanks as well to my Facebook family and the greetings and encouragement there.

“Beware of the barrenness of a busy life.” This has been attributed to Dawson Trotman, founder of the Navigators, or Socrates, depending on what Google source you follow. It matters not who said it, for it describes many of our lives perfectly, doesn’t it? I know it speaks for mine pretty clearly. Busy? Sure we all know what that is. Barren? Why so? Isn’t a busy life a fulfilling one, not to mention fun? Don’t we stay busy because there are a lot of things we want to do? Where does the barrenness come in? I think it sneaks in, unannounced. It eats away at our most precious relationships, replacing intimacy and loving concern with lists of things to do and places to go.

Before we know it, we have holes in those relationships too large to repair with our meagre social skills, which have also fallen victim of that busyness that places value on ‘how much,’ instead of ‘how important.’ How large a problem is this? Have a look at the divorce rates in the West. In Canada it is 45%, the US 49%, England 53%. But that is nothing compared to Finland’s 56% or Sweden’s 64%. People aren’t talking to each other anymore, they are too busy with their lives, and many of those lives are ending up barren and disappointed. The West is becoming a wasteland of failed dreams and hopes, and that barrenness is shifting to the East to places like Malaysia and Singapore.

What is to be done? Much; most of it easily within our capacity to change. First turn off the telly and read a book, preferably with your significant other in the room. Television promotes passivity; books stimulate conversation. It doesn’t matter what you read. Reading is interactive; good things will come of almost any material. You don’t have to read the same book or even enjoy the same genre. If the book speaks to the human condition, you will find mutual ground of conversation. Don’t get so absorbed in your book that you omit to share, for the Lord intended that we share our journey with each other.

Write. Again it doesn’t matter what. Writing promotes reflection; reflection deepens relationships. I blog, you Facebook. Both are good; in fact any writing – journals, poetry, articles – is good. It keeps us connected to others. I can’t tell you how many times some complete stranger has commented on a blog I have written, expressing how helpful I have been to some particular issue. Praise the Lord, brother. We are here to help each other down this bumpy road. I am encouraged in my relationships by your comment. This is how the Lord ministers His grace: through one another.

Listen. Even to the raucous and nasty. They to have something to teach us even if it is only “there but for the grace of God go I.” But don’t listen to such voices overmuch. Learn what you can, and move on. The world is full of voices: listen to those who journey is much like yours, for there you will find wisdom to help you on your way. Listen especially to the youth. Listen to their dreams, their desire to do good with their lives, to bring honour to their families and make their way in the world. I am so fortunate to have a job where I am surrounded by such voices. They are a blessing and a constant encouragement. If you are young, listen to your elders. Their experience is irreplaceable and eminently practical.

Let yourself be quiet. If you are a spiritual person (all of us are spiritual people; some of us are just aware that this is true) listen to the still small voice of the Lord speaking truth into your spirit. You cannot listen to this voice if you are “too busy.” You must withdraw from that busy-ness. I find the early morning is the best time for this, before the world gets up and going. But after a long spell of being busy all day my spirit yearns to have some extended period of solitude to repair the wear and tear that living in such a distracted world brings. I used to love the summer holidays when I taught in Canada for just this reason. I would seek to find some ‘enthusiasm’ such as gardening or astronomy or renovating to confuse curious onlookers, but essentially these things were just cover for some time alone with God, which to Western minds at least seems a little simple-minded for serious pursuit. You may go ‘canoeing’ for a week, or ‘roller-blading’ in the park. It doesn’t matter what you call it, we all need it. It is that refreshing that allows us to recommit our energies and our care to those we interact with.

Finally, let your spirit bend in the direction of the other. Christians call this prayer, but you needn’t let that put you off. Naming something doesn’t mean that you know what it is. A spirit that is bent toward another will seek to do that other good. A spirit bent toward another will undertake to carry that other’s grief, loneliness, heartache and pain. A spirit that is bent toward another will seek to bring a word of encouragement, direction, or perhaps even rebuke (be extremely careful with that one and make sure that it comes from a heart of love). A spirit that is bent toward another will ask that the God of all mercy will extend goodness to the other beyond your own limited capacity to help.

These are some ways to strengthen the bonds between us. It is a hurting world out there folks. We all need to be developing those relationships that can help us along the road, and make the journey enjoyable for those whose lives we touch. It has been over a month since Pam left for Canada, and a very useful time it has been. For me solitude is a rare and precious gift from a loving God who has yet much to teach me about my relationships with others. I am grateful to God that He has given me some time to reflect on these things and draw closer to the truths He has stored up for me in His word, and in His people.

I am, I regret to say, one of the most ungrateful people I know. This should not be true, but in all honesty it is. I am not sure why this should be so. It is certainly no one’s fault but my own that I have such a critical nature. I am never satisfied; neither with myself, for whatever it is that I do, nor with others for whatever it is that they do. Much of the time I get away with it. I am, after all, a teacher, and it is somewhat expected of me, especially in an Asian setting where the students are as driven as I am. But many times I find my hyper-critical nature gets me into trouble. When this happens, the Bible instructs that “a man ought to examine himself.” (1 Cor. 11:28). So I shall.

Birthdays are a time for reflection. Where did I go; what did accomplish this past year? Where am I going; what do I hope to accomplish in the coming year? Given a gentle nudge by the Spirit in conversation with a friend the other day who has been reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, I have decided to spend the coming year working on The Gratitude Project. I want to read what I can about the subject and start applying it to my life. I am taking as my guiding verses Philippians 4: 6-7, “Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for what He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus” (NLT).

I sorely need that peace myself, and I need to be reflecting that peace to others I come into contact with. I will be posting to this site my reflections on this subject from time to time as they come to light. I take it as a given that as long as the Lord in His goodness gives me light and strength, I need to walk in His light and grow in that spiritual strength. This I gladly do.

Getting older is not necessarily getting wiser, although I do think that if you persist in acquiring it (wisdom, not age!) then it does accumulate. For a Christian the accumulation of wisdom has a lot to do with taking account of your own sin nature. I am not talking about committing sin. That is pretty easy to identify, even for non-Christians. But recognizing that, confessing that you are a sinner, and accepting Christ’s punishment as atonement for your past, present and future sins is not the end of the story. “Man is born to sin as the sparks fly upward,” the Bible claims, and I for one admit it. After all, humility is a necessary part of wisdom as well.

Having a sin nature and doing something about it are two different things. My sin nature hasn’t magically disappeared just because I recognized that I had one and called upon the Lord to forgive me. I take it on faith that he has forgiven me, but He didn’t remove my sin nature when He did so. I’m stuck with that until the day I die. It is what causes all the internal anguish of my mind and heart and what interferes with my external relationships with others. It is an ongoing struggle. Some days are better than others; some days are worse. You have one too. It colours the way you interact with the world, just as mine does. If we are both having a bad day when we interact with each other, then the result is bad for both of us.

I’ve been having a lot of bad days lately, probably because I have been taking my sin nature for granted. “Baby, I was born this way,” is just shorthand for “I have a sin nature and I don’t intend to do anything about it.” Which is just plain dumb. An uncontrolled sin nature can do others a lot of damage, and mine has been out of control for some time. I put it down to success. I have been doing really well the last few years. Coming to Asia has been good for me both personally and professionally. I have had a lot of successes over here, and those successes have made me spiritually lazy, as if ‘the gods were smiling on me.’ Well, there aren’t “gods,” there is just one God, and He hasn’t been smiling at me at me in the last little while.

I know this because there is no peace in my heart. ‘Peace in the heart’ is what a Christian uses to determine whether or not they are on the right track. It can be hard to know what is the right decision at the time you are making it. But if you have peace in your heart afterwards, it can confirm or deny the validity of that choice. There are other factors, of course. We dwell in societies. Other people also have sin natures. It complicates the issue. That is why the occasional stretch of solitude is good for the soul. It allows you to sort out what part of the problem is yours.

Suppressing a lack of peace in your heart is easy enough. Alcohol does that for some people. Staying busy with work or social life is effective as well; telly, Facebook, anything will do. A person can put off examining what their heart is telling them for weeks, even years. David did after taking Uriah’s wife Bathsheba and then arranging to have him killed in battle, until he was confronted by Samuel and forced to face what he already knew was true. Samuel isn’t around to talk to these days, but then neither is anyone else. And despite being still very busy, I have had more time lately to assess my spiritual condition than I normally do, and I have come to the conclusion that a few apologies are in order. I could be mistaken; perhaps it is others that owe me an apology instead, but I would rather err on the side of the angels.

So in chronological order, first to my brother Wyn: my apologies for offending you during our last visit in Toronto. I am not completely sure what I did that you found so offensive, but clearly I offended. So I apologize for that. I would like to make it clear that it was my sin nature and my violation of Christ’s law of love that was at fault. His teachings are perfect; I’m the one who is screwing them up. I would also like to apologize to my sister whom I have also offended. Again I am not certain what my particular offense was, but I do know that my own sin nature had a part in it, and I am sorry for that. I hope that I can patch these things up. I only have one brother and sister each.

I would also like to apologize to my son Jon. Now in this case I know precisely what the fault is. I criticized him – publically – for being careless on his motorbike when his wife was about to go into labour. Sorry son, that was my sin nature talking, not your carelessness walking, or riding in this particular case. Anxiety on my part does not excuse my intemperance. Obviously I am concerned when you get hurt. But I do know how seriously you take your parental responsibilities and I know without asking that you were as careful as you possibly could be. I would really, really like it if you would get rid of the bike, because I am finding my anxiety over your safety hard to deal with. But yes, it is your decision to make, not mine.

Finally I want to apologize for taking a shot at my wife over her criticism of my driving. I guess I feel that I have been a poor example to my children with my own driving and I was being defensive. Honey, you deserve better for all that you have done over the years. I know that you are as anxious as I am over this issue, and it is your fear of seeing your family hurt that drives what you say. I do appreciate that the Lord has made it possible for you to be home while I am in Asia, and I am just going to have to do a better job of trusting that your judgment on the ground there is closer to the events that are happening than my judgment several thousands of miles away.

Having said all that, I am aware that I have probably offended some by doing this publically. Sorry about that, but I thought a public mea culpa would be good for my humility. Which in turn would be good for my spiritual growth. See how selfish this all is! But that is the thing about a sin nature. Even when I try to apologize I am going to screw it up, just as your sin nature is going to ensure that you misinterpret what I am saying. That is why we both need a Saviour, and why nothing anyone is ever going to do is going to “earn” our entrance into heaven.

Fortunately for both us, that entrance is already paid for in the only way it could be, by the sacrifice of God Himself. Many times people will then say “and all you have to do is accept it.” But that is simplistic nonsense. What you have to do is spend the rest of your life accepting it, and dealing with your sin nature that wants to control your life, instead of allowing God to guide. To use a metaphor that seems to be very much in view at present, it means that while you are the in the driver’s seat of your life, like any good driver you listen to your navigator. And you let God do the navigating.

A new granddaughter is a wonderful Mother’s Day gift!

Eli was born at 5:51 p.m. and weighed in at a healthy 8 lbs 12 oz and she is lovely.

Nicole spent the day hanging out with Jon in his hospital room on the sixth floor, timing contractions in the comfort of the knowledge that the Birthing Center was just two floors down. Ben and Abi and I dropped by for an afternoon visit and by the time we left at around 3 Nic decided to call in her sister Pam who was her back up labour support given Jon’s limitations.

Once Pam arrived they headed down to get Nic assessed around 4:30. The nurses decided that the baby was still up pretty high and Nic still had a long way to go. They suggested that she do some walking and if nothing happened by 10 she could take a couple of Gravol and get a good nights sleep, so they headed back up to Jon’s room.

Shortly thereafter, Nic’s membranes ruptured and she knew the baby was coming quickly. She got into Jon wheelchair and Pam ran her down to the Birthing Center. By the time the nurse and Pam helped Nic onto the bed, Eli was already crowning . Fortunately Jon was able to commandeer another wheelchair and talked some random guy into running him down and arrived just in time to witness Eli’s birth. Nicole has this mothering thing down to a science.

Eli had some facial bruising as a result of her rather rapid descent past the pubic bone but that is healing nicely. Ben and Abi are delighted that Eli has finely come out to join them. Jon also was discharged home today and all are happy to have there little family together again.

My son Jon has had an driving accident just days before the birth of his new child. He is in the hospital recovering and the family would appreciate your prayers. Nicole is trying to manage her own end stage pregnancy and looking after my son. She would appreciate your prayers as well. My wife is trying her best to cope with managing her two grandchildren while all this is going on, and she could do with your prayers. I am over here in Malaysia trying to cope with my own feelings of helplessness and I would appreciate your prayers as well. It is a good thing the Lord is open all night!

No, this is not another post about Will and Kate, as delightful as that was. This is a post about my daughter, Liz, and her soon-to-be-husband Greg. Yes, my little girl is getting married, and for at least two families this will be the wedding of the year. It is still a couple of months away, August 27th to be precise, but that doesn’t mean that preparations are not fully underway.

Pam has chosen her dress and had it made, although like any sensible husband I am giving her full autonomy to change her mind and choose another before the big day. That is her prerogative. Liz has had her dress chosen for some time now and has been wrestling with the thorny issue of what the bridesmaids are to wear for some weeks. I think that little storm has abated. Not to keep harping on Kate, the new Duchess of Cambridge, but I thought it was most sensible of her to have just one bridesmaid. So much easier to manage!

I am delighted to have received my invitation in the mail this week. I was beginning to think I might have left off the list, LOL! The invitations are just beautiful with a little ribbon holding them together and just a charming picture of Greg and Liz (which I have reproduced here). Pam is home for the birth of Jon and Nic’s third child, but she will stay through to August to help Liz with the preparations. The wedding will be in London, where many of the family are located, while Liz and Greg both live in Calgary. Pam can be very helpful with all that has to be done while she is home.

This is clearly not the optimal arrangement for Pam and I, but the best we can manage in order to continue to be supportive parents for our children as they move into marriage and children. Obviously I would just as soon be home myself, if that was possible. But the reality is that neither of us can manage the cost of airfare home, and my employer will only fly us home once a year. We have to manage our parental responsibilities within that framework. Sometimes that means that I have to stay here and work so Pam can be home.

But distance is nothing in the presence of God. I may be thousands of miles away, but my thoughts and prayers are with the family I love. I am praying that the Lord will make this year a special blessing for all of us.

I woke up one morning back in 1978 to find out I was allergic to ragweed. Up to that point in my life I had been allergic to nothing. Outside the window of our apartment on Jalna Avenue where we lived following our marriage there was an empty field full of the stuff. We had left the window open to catch the fall breeze and I spent the entire night sneezing my fool head off. By the morning I knew it was something more than the sniffles. Like any sensible fellow I got some antihistamines and went about my day.

Ragweed season lasts about two months in south-western Ontario, and it seemed no particular heartache. But ragweed, I found, was just the beginning. Over the next thirty years the list of things I was allergic to grew; first to airborne allergens, like pollen, then to foods. Some of those foods are pretty central to a western diet: wheat, corn, milk and tomatoes. When you start to look at all the foods that are dependent on just these four things, you get an idea of what I had to give up; not just bread and donuts, but pasta and pizza, cheese and sauces, most of which are tomato based.

Then there all those foods that use maltodextrin and starch, both of which are made from corn. In fact of all the dozens of breakfast cereals out there, only one – Rice Krispies – has neither wheat nor corn in some form. Even potatoes, which I can eat, I can’t eat fried, because they will be cooked in corn oil, which is often simply called vegetable oil. At least here in Asia where the staple food is rice I am better off, but I still have to avoid fried food, as I found that I am also allergic to palm oil and its related products like coconut, which is often cooked into the rice. Most of the time I manage quite well, thank you, and in fact lately I have begun to put on a little weight.

But everyone once in a while I step over the boundaries of my restrictions, as I did two weeks ago. Good friends of ours, Gary and Kveta, took us out for brunch at the Traders Hotel. They wanted to say goodbye to Pam, and treating us to the finest brunch in town seemed like a good idea. Well, the brunch was so spectacular, and the occasion so bright and friendly, that I forgot myself, and ate some things I shouldn’t. The following day our good friend Shelley treated Pam and I to lunch, and once again I was in a situation where to forbear meant giving offense. By Monday I knew I was in desperate trouble.

People who do not suffer from allergies think that it has something to do with what they see on television commercials: you sneeze and your sinuses get clogged. It is nothing like. I would describe it more like getting injected with fire ants into your bloodstream. You become unbearably irritated, anxious, distracted; you feel like your muscles are permanently clenched. I get a headache that starts in my sinuses and goes clear down my nervous system to the base of my spinal cord. Your throat is so raw that to breathe is painful. You feel like you have a horse sitting on your chest.

This time the problem was exacerbated by the air. It is planting season in Indonesia, which means slash and burn agriculture in this part of the world. The smoke billows over the Straits of Malacca and settles over KL for months. People who do not have allergies wear masks. Those of us who do, find their allergies going into hyperdrive. Just to clarify, smoke is not an allergen. An allergen must contain protein; smoke has none. Smoke is an irritant which triggers the allergens in your body. In a similar way it is not the dust I am allergic to, but the dust mites in the dust.

To cut what has been a lengthy story short, the last two weeks have been miserable, and not just because Pam is not here. In fact for her sake I am glad she wasn’t. But yesterday I woke up and the storm was over. The headache and the nervous anxiety were gone. The horse had gone for a walk and I could breathe without pain. However, the past two weeks have not been without redeeming activity. My nervous energy has been translated into a tremendous amount of work, and my classes have benefitted from some excellent lessons. I have also learned some interesting things about my own diet from having to be so very careful. But that is another post. For now I am just happy to feel like myself again.

In researching this post I came across an interesting documentary from BBC on the subject. Catch it at http://documentarystorm.com/health/allergy-planet/