Happy Endings

I write a regular column tagged Happy Endings for Moms and Kids Magazine. Let me share with you the first one. Since the fonts are too small to read, I am posting it in full.

TEN THOUSAND STEPS AND COUNTING

I believe in happy endings.

This belief teeters on two sides of the spectrum.

On one end, by faith I believe that life does not end in earthly death.

On the other, by budget I refuse to pay good money to watch a movie that ends with the protagonist vanished or vanquished.

Friends laugh at the second one and call me an incurable romantic, or worse, a veritable escapist.

Okay.

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As I was scrounging around for a title for this column, I remembered the series of seven novels by Jan Karon, one of my favorite contemporary authors. In the small town of Mitford, where the stories take place, is a quaint bookstore called Happy Endings. I’d frequent that bookstore if I could and name mine the same—if I owned one.

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Moms on one hand and Kids on the other—they belong to both sides of the spectrum. One couldn’t live without the other.

In arts and literature, mothers are the most glorified creatures that walk the earth. Much has been said about a mother’s love being closest to God’s love.

George Washington, the first president of the USA said, "My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her."

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This creation called mom, although immortalized in reams of poetry and essays as a miracle worker, needs caring—maybe not as much as her kids do—but caring nevertheless.

To stay fit and healthy for her multi-textured tasks, she needs exercise. She may spin like a top and hop about all day, but exercise is a regimen she ought to find time for. My doctor’s words, not mine.

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When I settled into the sedentary life of an author, after a long stint in the business world, my weight went through the roof. I started feeling all symptoms of every dread disease. My doctor prescribed one word: exercise.

“Walk briskly for one hour every day,” he said.

“For how long?” I asked, dreading routine.

“It’s all up to you,” he shrugged. Meaning, I should not quit till the excess weight is gone for good.

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That first day—at five AM—was dreadful, boring. I considered running back home to do other things after the first five minutes. But a believer of happy endings, I took more steps. Within the hour, I discovered the magnificence of solitude. I inked this moment in my book “Gifts of Grace” (volume 1). “… I could hear nothing but my footsteps. In the silence, I sang an old hymn, ‘Count your blessings name them one by one. Count your blessings, know what the Lord has done.’”

Six months later, I was back to my ideal weight, and in all of seven years that I’ve been walking, I am still counting my blessings—with my occasional blood tests showing normal results.

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Regular physical exercise, my doctor patiently explained, is an activity that develops or maintains physical fitness and overall health. Everyone should practice it to strengthen muscles and to keep the heart pumping regularly.

Exercise also boosts your immune system and improves mental health. It increases the blood and oxygen flow to your brain, making you more alert and sensitive.

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I half listened to his treatise but stood in rapt attention when he said, “If you don’t exercise, I will put you on a low-salt, low-fat, low-carb, low-sugar diet.” Now, that would be killing me softly.

I’ve since discovered that there are many conflicting views on the kind of exercise one should have—aerobic, anaerobic, strength training, agility training, and a few more.

But I am focused; I walk. Although we have a small gym at home, which my husband and sons use regularly, I don’t go there, except to wipe the dust off the doodads.

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My second son, an internist, insists I need not walk everyday (on rainy days I carry an umbrella) for as long as I make 10,000 steps a day. What does he know? My husband gave me a pedometer for Christmas so I could tie it around my neck while it counts my steps, proving that I make 10,000 steps a day even without my dawn regimen.

I wake up at five AM and walk.

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Beginning to exercise is the most difficult part. Past that stage, it’s a piece of cake (reward yourself with a real one, not the no-sugar variety), easy as pie (choose peach, topped with cheese), and a walk in the park (literally).

You’ll see, it will all end happily ever after.