I PLAY SPECIAL TEAMS ON A SPECIAL TEAM -- MY "JOE WITH THE PRO'S" EXPERIENCE OF PLAYING "SEMI"-PROFESSIONAL FOOTBALL

A weekend ago I was able to experience two really wonderful things.  First and foremost, Father’s day!  My wonderful daughters and wife outfitted me with a new Under Armor hat and t-shirt.  They supplied me with a day’s worth of authentic old fashioned horehound candy (the kind that comes in a paper packet and is covered in powdered sugar), and an Ice cold can of Vernon’s ginger-ale. YUMMM! They even let me have both as part of my father’s day breakfast in bed! 

Secondly (and admittedly a bit more bitter-sweet) I played in what MAY be the very last football game I ever participate in.  I wish I had better news about the outcome – the final score was 10 -7 in favor of the opposing team – but as for the feeling afterword, well, that’s kind of what I wanted to write about. 

It’s too hard to pick just one word to describe it, so here are a few:

I FELT….

Fulfilled,

Honored,

Relieved,

Improved,

Loved,

Supported,

Accomplished,

Connected,

I could think of more words to describe it, but instead I will just tell you about it.  I’ll do my best to explain why it meant so much to participate in and finish this season, with this team. 

You see, in an attempt to pursue other ventures in my life, (including a move to Virginia to attended Southern Virginia University in the small town of Buena Vista) it has become necessary for me to kind of “Brett Favre” any decision to go through playing a third season of “semi”-professional football with THE IDAHO MATADORS, in the Rocky Mountain Football League (RMFL).  So until I’m otherwise compelled to join the BLACK AND GOLD next fall at practice, I’ve placed my helmet in relic-like fashion on a bookshelf where I am sure to view it every day.  I have sucked the last bid of saliva from my teeth guard.  And, with a sigh and a –gulp— I’ve tightened the belts on my shoulder pads – it seems they’ve gone “pop” for the last time.  To further explain why this decision is even remotely, emotionally, manageable for me, I won’t need “Brett Favre” level media coverage to get the word out.  

 I will however enlist the help of one of my favorite American Authors; Langston Hughes. 

Langston Hughes is one of the most revered African American poets of the last 100 years in literature.  His work identifies well with people who, because of their heritage and ancestral background, seek to enrich their life with rewarding experiences.  For him specifically, it was through the use of poems and essays directed to all Americans, celebrating and informing them of the rich culture of the Black people whose backs this country was built upon.  He himself is a direct descendant of African slaves, some of which were the first to be used for labor in the land we all enjoy with freedom-enriched gusto today…everyday:   

THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 

To learn more about Hughes, and to hear his very own voice read this poem, you can visit this link:

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15722

 “THE NEGRO SPEAKS OF RIVERS”

I've known rivers:

I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the

     flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.

I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln

     went down to New Orleans, and I've seen it’s muddy

     bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

--Langston Hughes

“THE NEGRO SPEAKS OF RIVERS”, is one of Langston Hughes’ most well-known poems.  It’s also a poem I identify with.  Not because I am African American.  Not even because I have any lineage that has any possibility of stemming from any place near the Nile, or the ancient pyramids.  I identify with it because with a certain amount of parallel thought it expresses the way I feel about the game of football, and my experience (especially most recently) with it. 

My first “down, set, hike” experience came in the fifth grade.  The way they did it in Nampa at the time was that you played for a city based team, but the team was made up of kids within your schools boundaries. I was a MIGHTY GREENHURST GRIZZLY. 

Ironically, my first football team’s colors were gold and black.  Of course, the all-white helmets and pants pale in comparison with the unique uniforms that Jesus Jara put together for the MATADORS 2011 squad.  (Jesus, that was your official plug!)  Uniforms aside, the football team I was on in fifth grade was one I wanted to be a part of.  And, all things considered, it was a good experience.  Unfortunately it was also the last football team I was a part of until my junior year in high school.

Understand this, that I don’t regret the past, and I don’t like to dwell on “what might have been” thoughts.  However, (as I age and gain wisdom through experience….I hope) I do have a very good understanding about how a life is changed and how the future is dictated by the choices that are made in the period of existence known as “the present”. 

I didn’t play on or have any part of a football team for five and a half years of my life. 

What was I thinking????? 

I was thinking that because of my first coach, who liked to scream and yell at ten year old kids in awkward pads and heinous two-bar face-masked helmets that football (something I knew I had in me) would never be fun again.  I was thinking that I was much better at baseball anyways, and that maybe someday I could play professional baseball. 

I was thinking from my head – not with my heart. 

Hell, I was ten, I forgive myself. 

Due to a few good friends, I grew out of my head and started to live through my heart.  I don’t remember exactly how, but I ended up at varsity football practice a week before my junior year at Skyview High School in Nampa.  To be honest, one of the only reasons I decided to play football was because I wanted to do something to stay in the best shape as possible to make the varsity baseball team that spring.  (I didn’t make the baseball team that spring, which, not only embittered me, but really screwed, up my “so-called” high school take on life.  This raised a whole new level of questions in my puberty stricken head!)  My expectations for myself as a football player were not very high.  That was okay, I was very aware that at 5’6” 165 pounds, unless I could kick a football a mile, I wouldn’t see the field much.  And I didn’t.  Actually, as I recall, that year I was on the kickoff team exactly once.  My senior season I played even less.  But I still enjoyed myself.  “Senior night” was uneventful for me, other than we won, and to honor all the seniors, instead of a starting lineup, the coach had the P.A. announcer call just the seniors to the center of the field – name and number –  one by one.  Oh, and I had a rally girl give me a kiss on the cheek and some balloons in our school colors! 

Time moved along…..

 

(Thank goodness I made the baseball team my senior year, or who knows what kind of cataclysmic spiral I would have gone into!)

cat·a·clys·mic  -- a sudden and violent upheaval or disaster that causes great changes in society

I graduated…..

I thought about college a little…

I was a Mormon Missionary for two years…

I got FAT….

Then I got married….

Then, I got skinny….

Then FAT again…..

Then I came to a place in life where I really began to question what the heck I was all about…as a person…in general.  I had a beautiful 2 year old daughter and another one in the oven.  I was closing the doors on a business that was supposed to be successful, and I was working at a girl scout camp as a facilities maintenance person fixing all the stuff that brownies break.  And believe me, brownies can break a lot of stuff.  Not to mention that a few girl scout cookies can make a waist line go along ways in just one summer!

I began to ask, “WHAT DEFINES ME?”  “Where on earth do I get all of my personality traits…POSITIVE…and (yes I can admit it) NEGATIVE?”  I turned to the source.  I decided to learn more about my ancestors.  I got no further than my Grandpa Hochstrasser and things started to make a little sense.  

One of the reasons that, as a child I aspired to Professional Baseball player status was because “Grandpa Bill” had been a mild legend in Boise…in baseball.  It wasn’t until I was 27 years old that I learned that he was also quite the place kicker (and backup quarterback) for the 1948 Boise Junior College football team.   

Bill Hochstrasser is in the back row, third player in uniform from the right.

This team is known in history as the team that began the tradition which Coach Lyle smith headed up.   

Bill Hocstrasser is sitting on the floor his back against a locker, three players up from coach Lyle Smith.

This team is attributed with laying the foundation for excellence which has helped to build what many know now as “Bronco Nation”. 

This was a new and interesting development in my definition of me.  Mostly I was in awe of my relation to somebody who had been a part of something so good which has become something very great today.  Then, I began to think about football, and my experience with it, and I began to realize that I was far from satisfied with myself for the way that I had used it (even selfishly at times, just to stay in shape).  In other words, football was good to me.  In reality, the game itself gave me more than my fair share of opportunities to participate in its offerings; in all that I could learn from it, and from what being part of a team offered me.  I began to realize that I had not given the game a chance to enrich me like it could have in my younger years. 

In the beginnings of my search for a team to play with, I was a little confused.  Then I was upset that I had wasted so much time.  Then I realized that both these feelings were a waste of time.  I soon found an opportunity with the MATADORS.  My participation started hesitantly.  I had a lot to learn and even greater strides to make physically to take part in this opportunity.  To be honest, even after playing “semi”-professional football, I still resemble nothing that looks like a football player.  Or maybe I do look like a football player, just not like Joel Gunstream.  

To be even more honest, until I found the MATADORS, the last real “on the field” experience I had came in August of 1998.  It was the pre-season jamboree between Nampa, Caldwell, Valleyview, and Skyview High Schools.  I was playing outside linebacker, and on what I thought was a pass play, Caldwell High’s Cody Pickett (you may have heard of him) rolled out to my side of the field.  This was no problem, until I realized he was not going to throw the ball.  The rest of the details include him walking into the end zone, and me on my back, and the rest is too gruesome to write about. 

It looked a little something like this. 

As we got on the bus, my coach reminded me that when I had kids of my own, and watched football on the television with them, I could tell them about my run in with Cody Pickett.  Thanks coach!  I haven’t told my kids the whole story, but I have seen Cody play football via my television.  Even on Sunday once I think!

Cody Pickett -- NFL quarterback

To be as honest as possible, (without lying) I am not quite sure how I’ve survived the last two years of being a part of the MATADORS.  I’ve had a separated rib, and a severely sprained wrist, and only recorded three tackles in 16 games.  The only explanation I have is that football is a part of my spiritual and physical genetic make-up, and my newly developed appreciation and love for it has carried me through – mostly unharmed. In reality, the only difference between me and my grandpa Hochstrasser, (literally, our height and weight are nearly identical as I come upon the age of 30) is that I was born into the world when physical size has more to do with playing football than spiritual destiny.

Grandpa Hochstrasser about 19 years old.  Check out those calf muscles!

Obviously, I am okay with that, and by joining the MATADORS I’ve not been trying to live any fantasy, I've not been trying to be a part of a world that's not my own, I’ve just been trying to be honest with a game that has somehow haunted me for some weird reasons over the years. That’s why when the season rounded out last Saturday, I was pleased as punch to have been part of the IDAHO MATADORS and able to accomplish what I consider somewhat of a miracle.  Something I didn’t think I’d ever do.  Amidst being a dad, going to school, and working for a meager income in this sputtering economy, I walked away Saturday having giving more than at previous times in life to the game of football, and my team.  From the opening kickoff Saturday, in which I felt more like a real football player than ever before, to after the game when my daughter (in the tradition she started this year) ran up and did some tackling on me (which made me feel like more of a football star than ever before).

Even at breakfast in bed the next morning, father’s day; when I was rewarded for being a dad, something God created me to do; I was blessed to feel a little bit…

Fulfilled,

Honored,

Relieved,

Improved,

Loved,

Supported,

Accomplished,

Connected.

I never personally experienced football the way I think my grandfather was able to.  I never kicked game winning field goals for teams as I’ve recently learned he did.  My team didn’t go undefeated and get snubbed of an invite to the “JR. ROSE BOWL” in Pasadena.  In a way, I am so thankful that I’ve experience football the way I have.  I’ve had the love and support of family and friends, good coaches that have done nothing but encourage me, teammates that I’ll remember forever, and memories that will last longer than that. 

   

It’s not always the specifics of a person’s life that allow them to tap into the depth of their purpose.  Sometimes it is as easy as just being able to find out where we came from to find out where we need to go.  Our life is defined by the journey we embark on and not by the destination we arrive at.  Keeping in mind that goals are the wind which blow our sails, it’s in the process of this discovery that our eyes can be opened to our real potential, and through the help of loved ones, (and even some rowdy teammates…’DORS UP!!!) we can begin to live life with greater-greatness – regardless of the final score. 

Me in "beast mode"!

All of these feelings and more leave me to, in the very least, mimic the poetic abilities of the great Langston Hughes, except, in a football kind of way…..

A GRANDSON SPEAKS OF FOOTBALL

I’ve known football teams. 

I’ve known football teams ancient as the treasure valley and older than the

               Flow of blue blood in Bronco Nations veins.

My soul has grown deep like these football teams.

I played for Boise Jr. College when the Blue and Orange was young.

I built my stadium near the foothills as fans cheered me to victory.

I looked upon the Boise River and raised the stadium above it.

I heard the march of blue thunder when Lyle Smith

               went down to Pasadena, and I’ve seen its melodic

               bosom turn all orange in the sunset.

I’ve known football teams:

Ancient, legendary, football teams.

My soul has grown deep like the football teams. 

Jeffrey Scott Hankins 

FRIENDS -- an ever evolving anomaly of life.

Here is to Kristina, Annabelle and Loralei.  My Best of Friends, in whom I find all of my JOY, and with whom I entertain -- and look forward to -- many more adventures. 

What ARE friends for?

A good question.  It could be asked from a thoughtful, philosophical viewpoint, or it could be asked rhetorically.  In the latter manner, the question contains a great deal of teaching potential. 

Let us look at this a bit deeper.  For better understanding of what a Friend is, by definition of the word, I would like to turn to of my favorite learning tools.  The Merriam Webster Dictionary. 

FRIEND – (noun)

1 – One attached to another by respect or affection. 

2 – ACQUAINTANCE

3 – One who is not hostile. 

4 – One who supports or favors something.  (friend of a cause or movement)

Recently as my family found ourselves stranded in Lehi Utah, due to a mechanical mishap in the front differential of our vehicle, I was taught an ever important lesson about WHAT friends ARE for.  

 So there we were, in Utah, just north of the Cabela’s in Lehi, stranded on the side of the freeway.  It seemed that for a moment, our only friends were the blaze orange construction markers that have become so recognizable along the I-15 corridor.  Cars were flying by us, one after another, and we began to feel alone, save only for our insurance company which was in the process of providing us with basic towing services.  Then from our passenger side, came a knock on the window.  A man in EMT scrubs on his was home form shift, stopped to make sure we “were okay”.  Given the fact that this was in the greater Salt Lake area – home to many Mormons – we felt safe rolling down the window.  We felt like letting him in due to the monsoon like conditions.  He answered the one question we couldn’t – Where would we take our vehicle for repairs????  We didn’t know the area.  We needed a friend.  "Brian" who stood in the rain as we confirmed our tow truck was that friend.  His friend owned a local repair shop that was off the freeway and under our nose.  In ten minutes, in the rain.  Brian was our friend.  He became an acquaintance, he was respectful showed affection in his actions, he was in no way hostile, and he supported and favored us in a small, but very large way.  The towing service arrived and the man who was operating the rig, was, friendly, he didn’t even care that Loralei, our youngest, was in need of a diaper change.  The girls loved riding in the “big truck”, and Annabelle quickly became friends with the driver.  Co-captain almost, as when he sat next to her behind the wheel, she promptly reminded him, “We need to take our car to the car doctor”!  He laughed and took us to the repair shop parking lot. 

              

Early Sunday afternoon in the small community of Lehi Utah, specifically in the parking lot of Roger’s Automotive, poses two problems for a small and stranded family.  First, it’s Sunday.  The only things open are the LDS church building and the Texaco across the street from it.  And Second, it’s lunch time.  Our little gang decided to settle at the Texaco, eat some gas station food and plan the nex portion of our unexpected adventure.  What we didn’t know is that the planning would not be in our hands.  At first this was very unsettling.  In fact frustrating.  On Sundays, the only place to rent a car is at the airport.  We were thirty miles from there.  And on top of that, in the midst of one of the most financially responsible times in our life, we found out that there are only two rental car companies that will provide service if you DO NOT have a major credit card.  Not that I could have done anything to remedy it, but, it is a very hard thing to see MY BEST FRIEND. The mother of my children, “Momma Bear” shed tears.  Not of fear, but of frustration.  I have to say, had I not been channeling my anger at the rental companies, I may have lost it too. 

               In the middle of all of this, I realized something. WE WERE IN UTAH!  Of the 13 million – plus members of the same denomination, it is quite possible that we are connected in one way or another to at least 13,000 between Tremonton and Provo.  There had to be someone we could call.  In fact there was.  Friends.  Very close friends.  Friends, who in previous times we have spent much time together.  We started to call.  And we thanked Heavenly Father for the technological phenomenon of smartphones.  We had dinner with Devin and Amanda Hatch the night before in Provo.  We called.  They were in church.  Kendra and Isa Garza, in Payson had to be home. There are more cows than people in Payson Utah.  We called, they were in church.  We were getting a little bit worried, but also felt the comfort of the spirit, knowing that although three hours is quite a long time to worship, eventually, our friends would return home. They had family home evening to prepare for Monday night.  Then we remembered some people who have been life-long FRIENDS of Kristina’s parents.  Scott and Marla Wood from Sandy.  Unfortunately, our smart phones did not have them programmed in.  Luckily for us, Kristina’s parents were home from church in Nampa Idaho, and they did have the Woods’ number.  Ironically, but not coincidentally (I no longer believe in those) Marla had come home from church with a headache.  She noticed our first attempt to call her.  She also noticed that very near the time we called, Kristina’s mom – Marla’s best friend – had called as well.  Marl got the feeling something was wrong.  She was right.  Within another hour, maybe more, Scott and Marla wood were at Roger’s Automotive in Lehi Utah with an empty mini-van and open arms.  In reality, Kristina and especially I don’t know much about the Woods, other than that over the years they have been in our parent’s life.  What we know about them now is something most people, at least once in their life, deeply question.  What friends ARE for. 

                

We were loading up the mini-van, and I was feeling a little flustered.  I hadn’t quite figured out how we were going to get home, let alone where we would stay that night.  Scott, not quite knowing that we couldn’t obtain what we needed (a rental car to get home), asked, “So, where can we take you?”  I told him that if we could just get to a hotel near the airport, or at least near a rental car facility, then in the morning, we could get a car.  Moneywise, we’ve been doing alright lately, and so I wasn’t worried about one more – emergency style – night in a hotel.  To my stammering, and flustered speech, and utter lack of plans, Scott offered that we stay at his place.  I hadn’t thought of it.  We had done that before, on extended family trips with Kristina’s parents.  I, full of pride, and some embarrassment, replied to Scott’s offer with a chagrinned, “We wouldn’t want to impose.”  As I have had some time now to think about this experience, I have realized that a common response to my deferment of Scott’s offer would have been something like this:

“Don’t be silly”

OR,

“Oh it’s no problem, really”

I have heard these kinds of statements in the past, and even when I have been grateful for the service rendered to me, I have still wondered if implicitly, those who have served me may have still felt some form of imposition in a moment of unexpectedness.  I don’t know, but it does make me wonder. Especially when the individual who is rendering me service is somebody to whom I am not particularly close in a relationship.  In this specific case however; in my time of need; in my family’s time of need, Scott and Marla Wood (people who in reality I know very little about) blessed me with more than just physical reinforcements for a moment in time.  

 This time when I deflected Scott's offer to open his home, instead of trying to tone down my imposition on his living space, like so many others do; Scott was very direct.  He took a piece of luggage from me, and before he loaded it, he made sure he had my attention, looked me in the eye and asked, “But Jeff. What ARE friends FOR?”  In my tracks I was stopped.  The only way I could respond was by saying, “Someday I will learn.”  In reality, my someday was that day.  That day, my family and I found friends we had never met.  We met up with friends we barely knew, and we relied upon old friends, who even though they weren’t home when we called, returned our calls just to make sure we were alright.  

              

Growing up I never really worried about it.  Friends were for trading baseball cards with.  I now know that the actual purpose for possessing and being a friend is worth more than any Mickey Mantle rookie card a fella could ever find.  In times of need and of playful nonsense, the value of having a friend is un-measurable.  As I have gotten older, friends have meant more to me.  As I grow old and grey, I’ve a feeling that I will have many more opportunities to learn and help others learn these things.  After all…

That IS what friends ARE for. 

LDS & HCG -- 2 acronyms that are NOT spirtiually compatible -- A Mormon boy's perspective on fad diets and the Lord's Law of Health

THIS ONE IS DEDICATED TO JANET GREEN.  YOU ARE MY MOTHER-IN-LAW, MY OCCUPATIONAL ENABLER, AND A DARN TOOTIN' GOOD FRIEND.  IF I DO MAKE IT TO VIRGINIA, YOU WILL BE ONE PERSON I WILL MISS THE MOST DURING MY FAMILY'S ADVENTURES. I DON'T TELL YOU ENOUGH HOW MUCH YOU'VE TAUGHT ME ABOUT SEEKING OUT THE BEST FOR MYSELF, OTHERS AND FOR HEAVENLY FATHER AND HIS SON JESUS CHRIST.  HERE IS TO YOU, THE WEIGHT LOSS GURU IN ME AND MANY OTHER FOLKS' LIFE. 

FOR MORE INFO ON HOW PEOPLE LIKE JANET CAN HELP YOU, VISIT:

WWW.MALIBUMEDICAL.COM

TO BE SURE THERE IS NO MISUNDERSTANDING, MALIBU MEDICAL WEIGHT LOSS AND NUTRITION DOES NOT SUPPORT THE hCG WEIGHT LOSS DIET.

Recently as I was in the hallway of my church building, waiting to herd the primary children into the group meeting and singing time, I encountered a conversation taking place in a small circle of women.  Because I wasn’t eaves dropping, I didn’t hear specifics.  Therefore, my intent is not to gossip, but to bring to light some thoughts and feelings I am incurring due to this encounter.  The topic of discussion in this circle of women was a supposed new and effective weight loss regime known as the hCG diet. 

“hCG”  is a medical acronym for: human chorionic gonadotropin.  hCG is manufactured two different way.  First, it is taken in it's rawest form from the urine of pregnant women.  Second, hCG is genetically manufactured through molecular cloning, eventually producing something known as  recombinant DNA.  

To learn more for yourself about the origins of hCG, and for other compelling articles about its uses, visit:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_chorionic_gonadotropin

In short, this is a naturally produced hormone excreted from the hypothalamus gland region of the brain during the earliest developmental stages of an embryo or fetus. 

This is where my concern begins.  And I have to admit, I am taking it a bit personal.  And I feel I have a right to do so.  I’m not a scientist.  I’m not a doctor.  I don’t even have a college degree yet.  The only things I have been awarded in the professional world are two technical certificates.  One in the field of plumbing, the other in phlebotomy.  The latter has provided me an amazing opportunity to serve others in a very special niche.  It is special not only because I get to work with my wife and other members of her family.  It is special, because it provides me the time to further my education. It is special because by helping people control their physical appetites they earn back portions of their life previously controlled by the bad habit of eating too much.  

CHUBBY LITTLE ME WITH THE BAD HAIR circa 6th GRADE

I am a three time champion of weight loss, and I work for a medically supervised, appetite control and weight loss clinic.  I also cherish God’s creations, this includes human life.  Because of this I am a skeptic of anything which when I learn about, the spirit of the Lord departs from me.  I will never claim to be an expert on anything, anything but common sense.  As such, from this stance, I wish to address an issue that I fear may be creeping into the lives of many good men and women.  I am afraid not only for the physical damages that they may face because of this, but also the spiritual ramifications if this issue is not taken care of.  

Don’t get me wrong.  I am all for health.  In fact I wish I was healthier.  In truth, I am much healthier now than I have been at previous times in my life.  In the 8^th grade I was barely five feet tall, and pushed 190 pounds.  Luckily I began to grow, and all of that thinned out.  But that couldn’t hold back the effects of my years between 19 and 29…where I am now.  I now weigh 185 pounds (although I wish I could see the 165 from high school) and at previous times in my life I have been as heavy as 225 pounds.  Oh, and did I mention I have had to go through this process THREE TIMES!!?? 

Here is my point.  I know a thing or two about what will and what won’t help a person lose weight.  Not just because I have experienced it first-hand.  Not only because I am part of a family, in which (with the exception of my red-headed alien like older sister Heather), weight has been an issue for all of us.  But because I am concerned about the newest fixation of some of my brothers and sisters of the world upon the hCG diet, I've done my homework.  In a nut shell, the hCG diet consists of two different things.  1) the diet, or the actual regulation of food consumption; And, 2) the daily intake of some formulation of human chorionic gonadotropin hormone.  This intake is usually either through injection by a syringe, or orally; such as drops under the tongue.  Sounds harmless right?  Wrong.

Before I go any further I want to make it clear that my intention is not to argue the scientific validity (does it work or not) of the diet.  In this, my attempt to “warn my neighbor” I will be pointing out some glaring facts about hCG.  I fear that some of the things I bring up, people are not considering, when considering this diet.  Or, in their desire to get skinny quick, they do not factor these variables as physical or spiritual risks in an ultimate equation.  I don’t wish for this to be argumentative.  I only want to forthwith point out some thing’s which, if considered in perpendicularity to the use of the hCG diet, I might help somebody, anybody, reconsider the manner in which he or she goes about their weight loss. 

              

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I have devoted time to learning the doctrines of my faith.  I therefore feel confident that what I speak concerning eternal truths, truths about our creation, our bodies and the proper use of both, I speak for any other member of the church.  I also attest to have a proper knowledge of the latter-day revelations which the Lord has given to the members of His Church through revelation to a prophet of God. 

              

I do not fully understand how God created man and woman.  What I do know is that there are powers which did it.  Very holy and sacred powers.  These powers I have yet to fully develop.  This is why, God remains God, and I remain an amateur writer.  I also know that because of the sacred nature of the powers of God, his creations are not to be tampered with.

ADAM AND EVE IN EDEN

This is first flag that rose within me as I pondered the hCG diet.  Do not underestimate my belief in medical miracles, I know that the advancement of science has been and will always be in the hands of God.  Because it is, many people whom I love dearly have been blessed with lifesaving treatments.  In contrast, Satan has a bad copy for all of Heavenly Father’s creative designs.  So, I am compelled to object to the use of something naturally formed within one human’s body – therefore created by God Almighty for the purpose of aiding in the creation of human life – to be used (often injected) into another human body for a purpose un-related to its Omniscient design.  In other words, the human chorionic gonadotropin hormone is not being used properly in its most spiritual sense.  Sadly – but in reality – it is often being used merely for cosmetic weight loss, and not in matters of preserving human life through treating obesity.  Because of this I pose questions for thought to those who promote and who choose to use this product…in any form:

Is this a proper use of the substances from which God our Father has created us?  If it isn’t, the Apostle Paul has warned about such practices.  If it isn’t then by engaging in this we may be doing as the Romans who,

“changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen.

For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature:

And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompense of their error which was meet.

And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient”.  ROMANS 1:25 – 28

So I ask again, is the use of this hormone for weight loss in any way a miss-use of God’s creations?  For the sake of convenience only?! Exercise is not convenient.  Eating healthy is not convenient.  If these things were convenient, the field of competition at the summer Olympics would be open to public entry.  The use of hCG is more convenient than any other form of dieting and losing weight that I have ever heard or read about.  The only real work is the lack of eating one has to do.  The only thing I could think of that would be easier, would be to put timed locks on my refrigerator and pantry doors and only allow them to open for five minutes, three times a day.  This would cause some serious thought about what I eat.  In reality, it probably wouldn’t allow me the time to do anything but starve. 

To be honest, that is what the hCG diet does.  According to the highly intelligent men who have formulated the use of this hormone for weight loss, the only way that it works, is in conjunction with a low….very low…caloric daily intake.  This is another very fishy, physically and spiritually disturbing thing for me.  And not just because I like food, a lot.  The standard that I am hearing and reading about is “500” calories.  I have to eat at least 1000 per day to maintain my girlish figure.  One cup of corn, about the same amount of kernels that could be taken from a single ear, equals nearly 150 calories.  A small potato, boiled in its skin is about 100 calories.  One cup of milk equates to another 100 calories.  Add any salt or other flavoring and before your Memorial Day barbeque begins, it ends.  I won’t dwell on it too much, I am betting on the fact that anyone with a right mind realizes that only eating 500 calories per day is basically…starvation; especially if the individual who attempts this does even the most moderate form of exercise in the same day.  I did the math.  If my wife, who weighs in at a whopping 110 pounds engages in 6 hours of child care – for one child – in one day, she burns a whopping 875 calories.  We have two children!  If my wife were to try the hCG diet, she would promptly vanish in approximately one week!!!

Plain and simple this kind of calorie crashing is a form of abuse to our bodies.  Think of it this way – if we are told from a very young age, that our bodies are the temples of God, why would he hold back on anything that would enrich and beautify the temple of God.  In other words, even for short periods of time, depriving the human body of necessary nutritional amounts, which could cause detrimental and long lasting vitamin deficiencies, is indeed a form of defiling oneself – defiling the temple of God.  There is likeness in this in our own temple attendance.  When we go, we must be pure.  We must also bring to His altar as much as we possibly can, nothing held back.  We are the nourishment which upholds and strengthens the Kingdom of God; we are the caloric intake of the Kingdom of Heaven; of which the temples are the portals to enter therewith; of which our bodies must enter, eventually undefiled, spiritually and physically, to obtain our Heavenly Fathers presence.  If our Heavenly Father needs as many calories for the health of the purpose of His temples to thrive, (keep in mind, he still controls his daily intake) are not our earthly tabernacles in need of a proper daily proportion?     

My last and final concern about this diet is that it is not proven to be a valid form of health inoculation by any form of authority; government or ecclesiastical.  Inasmuch as the world is in great turmoil, I still believe that the hand of God, at the very least is guiding the leaders of the agencies which protect our health, safety and freedoms.  Representatives from The United States Food and Drug Administration have very recently stated that hCG in any form is not approved for use as a weight loss therapy.  And as such this makes any form of hCG in use, an ILLEGAL SUBSTANCE.  That’s right, even if the FDA has not begun to take criminal action against it, anybody who is distributing or using this product now holds claim to the titles of ILLEGAL DRUG “DEALER” and “USER”.  So, I ask myself; If the powers at be, who are highly qualified in their governance do not approve this, why on earth would my Heavenly Father?  Well, the truth of the matter is – he wouldn’t. 

As members of the church, we memorize from a small age, a spiritual manifesto entitled THE THIRTEEN ARTICLES OF FAITH.  I admit I cannot recite all 13 of them like I could when I was eight yrs. old, but the ideals are still engrained deeply in my mind and heart = my soul.  Article of Faith #12 reads as such:

“We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.” 

The FDA is the American law and warning system in which we as citizens and members of the church are supposed to hold ourselves subject to concerning matters which include food and medicinal consumption.  We are supposed to trust the judgment of these officials in all these matters.  Take me for extreme, but I believe this.  Why shouldn’t I believe that God would protect me from anything that could harm me?  I do believe it.  I believe that he has given both physical and spiritual laws that protect us. 

The Lord’s law of health, as found in the 89^th section of the Doctrine and Covenants, given February 27^th 1833, through the prophet Joseph Smith at Kirtland Ohio, is commonly known as “The Word of Wisdom”.  In it, the Lord teaches us a prescribed method of eating and drinking habits.  He is specific in some things such as tobacco, wine and other strong drink.  In general however, he gives the commonest of saint promises of “temporal salvation” (in other words good health) in the last days, if they follow the spirits guidance in all of their nutritional choices.  In verse 4 of this section, the lord also prophecies and warn us, he tells us that there will be an increased attack on our health through evil designs of men in these the last days. 

V. 4 “Behold, Verily, thus saith the Lord unto you:  In consequence of evils and designs which do and will exist in the hearts of conspiring men in the last days, I have warned you, and forewarn you, by giving unto you this word of wisdom by revelation”. 

I was hesitating, but I’ve decided not to.  I am going to be so bold as to testify that to the best of my knowledge, and from what I am feeling through the dictates of the Lord’s spirit, that the hCG diet fad should be avoided at all cost.  That there are men today whose minds are skilled, their knowledge is deep, but their hearts are unfit for the kingdom of god.  These men are concerned with one thing – money.  They will get it at all cost.  They are conspiring for evil, and there focus is our health. 

Take my opinion for what it is worth; in fact take it only if it is in line with your own personal revelation.  Keep in mind however, that Our Heavenly Father loves us, that is a standard truth.  He wants us to be happy.  He wants us to enjoy life.  He wants us to enjoy food, to get the most out of it.  He has blessed us, even in the last days, with a continuum of medical miracles.  These miracles can be proven through the proper authorities, secular and spiritual, which are also given to us by a loving and methodical God.  He has also warned us in every aspect needed to avoid deception by the adversary and individuals who may or may not knowingly become servants to evil through their earthly professional practices.  I testify that inasmuch as our spiritual safety is being attacked by Satan, so also are our physical health theories and habits.  I testify that as we are watchful, prayerful and protective of ourselves and our family, we will be able to claim blessings of health which seem otherwise out of reach.  In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

JSH