I got this letter from my brother Joe the other day:

   A year ago I left my house to start my new job.  My new job was going to take me away from my family for extended periods.  Nothing we haven't experienced before certainly, but the new job was a little different.  it was in Afghanistan.  The kids had all kinds of questions; what would I be doing, where would I sleep, could we now afford cable?  Flying a recon mission helping hunt the Taliban, in a tent and Hell yes  I need me some sports center!  ( Mother's note; no we can't.  Who can for goodness sake?) 

There was a general buzz of excitement around our home that normally accompanies the short period of time that dad has a paying job.  The kids and I spent some extra time goofing off and playing together since we weren't going to see each other till after Christmas.  It was fun. God had turned on a nightlight in the cosmic bathroom and the long dark scary hallway of life seemed warmer and creamier. 

Backstory to this is that I have never found what I do particularly scary or dangerous.  So it doesn't dawn on me to try and allay my children's fears about what I do. I always figured they saw me leave and they saw me come back. End of story.  The problem is that some of the kids do. 

Martha does. 

It actually scares her a good deal.  I know a lot of girls are daddy's girl, and I love Alex with all my heart but she is a different kid with a different approach.  Martha is Daddy's girl.   She will do anything to hang out with me.  She will help me put up drywall or clean out the garage.  (Mother's note; that one is theoretical.  He's never actually cleaned out the garage.)  She plays tennis with me. 

Tennis.

Some of you have seen me play tennis and know that it is not a pleasant evolution.  But she plays with me.  When we watch movies she wants to sit on my lap.  When we eat dinner she wants to sit right next to me.  Long periods of time spent apart, the first one was over six months, are not her thing.  I was now gone baby, gone.

Heidi got a job because we figured a couple hundred dollars more a week would help, Tucker went off to college and our fun family time together dried up and died.

School started and Martha went off to junior high for her second year, after a bang up first year; she won the Selesian Spirit Award.  We weren't really sure what it was but it seemed like a big deal. (Mother's note; We knew exactly what it was.  It was an award voted on by the entire class for the girl who most embodied the spirit of St. Francis DeSales. Friendly, giving and positive.  It was a decidedly big deal.  Idiot.  Him, not you.)

A new girl joined Martha's class.  A really mean girl.  She knew Martha from grade school and clung to her all day, every day.  She would pull her away from other girls so that only she could be Martha's friend.  Now, even school, which had been Martha's last best hope for fun and enjoyment was also an emotional test.

The grind became hard.

Martha stopped eating.

She lost 25% of her body weight.  She became so malnourished she was admitted to the hospital because the doctors were worried about her heart.    We spent a night last January in the hospital at the U watching her heart monitor all night.  Her heart rate was getting so low while she slept that the entire staff was on some sort of alert in case she went into cardiac arrest.

She spent the entire school year after Christmas in an eating disorders clinic.  She hadn't eaten enough in so long that she couldn't eat any more.  Everything she ate hurt her stomach.

Heidi and I would sit and talk to her about the clinic.

"I don't belong here.  I'm not like these other people." She would tell us.  Then, they all say that, I suppose.

The clinic was full of teenagers and adults with severe eating disorders.  Very sick people with all kinds of psychological baggage that needed professional help.

It was very scary for a girl who is still a member of club penguin. (If you don't know what club penguin is, you don't want to know.  If you do, well, my sympathies.)

She kind of kept up with her school work thanks to the junior high director who is the kind of educator they make uplifting movies about.  She missed out on all the social aspects of eigth grade.  If Lou Holtz went to school just to eat his lunch, Martha goes to school mostly just to see her friends.  (Mother's note; Martha gets great grades and works really hard in school.)

Through a summer of not seeing the really mean girl and going to some other girls' cabins and generally having a really great time, Martha ate and ate and ate and ate and ate. 

And then she would have an ensure. 

Adult meal replacement drinks.

She would eat until she couldn't stuff any more down.  It was hard.

Not hard like it's hard to get that thing that lights a coal to make a flame; hard like walking into work at a job you hate but you need to pay the bills.

Hard like having someone you love look at you with hope and expectation and you've got nothing.  Hard like an endless hill that you aren't sure you can climb.

Not annoying. 

Hard.

She gutted it out.  Every meal.  Every day.

She ate 2800 calories a day and didn't gain weight.  We upped it to 3500 calories a day, she didn't gain weight.

You might think "Hey, I ate 3500 calories after dinner last night!" and some of you probably did.  But that's a lot of food to stuff into a kid who weights 75lbs.

We upped it to 4200 calories a day.

She started to slowly gain weight.  I mean, slowly.  If someone walks into the room and says "Pop tart!" I'll gain five pounds.  Martha was gaining 1 pound a week eating 4200 calories every day.  Sometimes she cried and said she couldn't eat any more. We would cajole and urge and yell.  (Mother's note; Joe yelled.)

Martha gutted it out.  She ate and ate and ate.

As the new school year was approaching, Martha went to some pre school parties some of the girls in her class were having.  There was talk among some of the girls that Martha likes that cross country was coming up.

She asked us if she could join cross country.

We told her no.  Flat out no.

No discussion, no conditions.  NO.

I was home then.  I went to a doctors appointment with Martha. The doctor asked Martha if she had any questions.  Martha, normally very quiet at the doctor's office, piped right up "I think I should run cross country.  What do you think?"

I stared NO at the doctor.

Cross country has more eating disorder problems than any other sport. Except for competitive eating...that whole sport just seems...anyway, I stared NO!  The doctor said no.  No way.  Definitely not.  Maybe next year, if you put on enough weight.

Head nodding all around.  The matter is settled.

Whew.

Good.

Let's move on.  We get in the car and drive home. I ask Martha how she feels about the doctor appointment.  She was up two pounds!  That's great news, right?

"I'm going to run cross country," she said and stared out the window.

"Phwell!  Poppycock!" I said. (Mother's note; get ON  with it.)  So anyway,we continue on the summer with Martha eating and eating and eating.  Lots of bumps in the road. If she was somewhere where they didn't know she was supposed to eat every three hours she didn't.  We didn't let her run at all.  Too many calories burned.

The cross country team started captains practice.  Martha came to me and said we needed to go to Dick's sporting goods and get me running shoes.  Why? I asked her.

"Because captains practice for cross country is starting and I want to go and all I have are volley ball shoes."

You can't go.  No new shoes.  No cross country.  No running at all.

I go back to the Ghan.

School starts.  I call home to see how everyone is doing with the new year.  

Martha tells me that the formal practices for cross country have started and can she go?

"NO." I say from 12 time zones away. "NO RUNNING." 

I forbid her from cross country.  No more with the weight worries.  I have made a decision and I'm done talking about it.  Issue settled.  Let's move on.

Martha knows that I am not the Supreme Commander of her life.

Martha knows that the Supreme Commander of her life is a  girl who believes that if young girls want to run around with other little girls they like, then they should.  Martha knows that if she can win that girl over,  no man will raise a hand against her in judgement. (Mother's note; I'll concede that point.)

I call home a couple days later and Martha tells me "Hey Dad, we have our first meet in two days!"

What meet what are you talking about?  I said no cross country I said NO, I made the NO face at the doctor and she agreed and she's a DOCTOR!

"A cross country meet.  I don't know if I get to run, I've only been on the team for two days but everyone is really nice and it's fun and I think I'm pretty good at it and it's really fun."

She practiced for two days and ate and ate to make up for all the calories she was burning.

They let her run.

It was a meet with 137 runners.  Her school has a very good team.  They won the meet.   It wasn't a total surprise, they have actually been logging many miles this summer.

They work very hard and churn out mile after mile like most good cross country teams. They have seven varsity runners but they can only count five at any given meet.

The varsity girls have been together for years and cheer each other on and push each other to excel.

Except one girl.

The fifth girl didn't run with the others this summer; she was busy with other things.  But she's only been on the team for three days.

Yeah.

Three days.

No training all summer.  137 runners.  She came in 17th. 

Fifth on her team.  Her score counted in the win.

On a very strong cross country program.

In her first meet.

In volley ball shoes.


And they were worried about her heart.

 

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