Lenten Fast 2013: The Cupboard Fast Continues

Here's the rundown of our life so far, based on only eating what we have and replenishing just the produce and milk if needed.  Don't be scared - I haven't written a synopsis of every single day.  You will reach the end, reader!  Prevail!!

Day 1: Ash Wednesday (February 13)
So very excited for the interactive meditation service our church provides on this night... and so very upset with my stomach for making me writhe on the couch.  No awe-inspiring Lent kickoff for us.  Chris made us turkey sausage he'd defrosted with sauteed bell peppers (both had been on sale) and served them on toasted hot dog buns he got for free from work.  Truly, one was plenty.  (I'd eaten mother nature's stomach soother of saltines before dinner - from The Cupboard. score.)  For lunch, I'd finished the other half of a can of soup, a stick of Crazy Bread (drool), and a banana. Chris ate leftover salad from the night before.
Fridge = 4
Freezer = 1
Cupboard = some saltines from cupboard.  Not really closer to crossing those off the list.  I don't think they'll ever deplete.

Day 2: Valentine's Day
Boring stuff first - lunch between two of us = leftovers and banana.
Last year, Chris surprised me by planning a date for us (key to my heart = plan something for me!) to Lebanese Taverna's Mezza night.  On Valentine's night, you pay a fixed price and get all you can eat small plates of most of their menu.  All. You. Can. EAT.  Therefore, we went again this year.  Why mess with a glorious thing?!  Our waitress informed us we'd out-eaten every other table she'd had.  Darn straight.  We don't mess around. 
Fridge = 2
Cupboard = none.
Restaurant budget = pretty much spent for February. So worth it.

Day 3
Lunch - leftovers, banana.
Dinner was leftover sausages on more rolls, and Chris concocted a chicken noodle soup from bits of a chicken we'd roasted, stock I'd made from it, and the classic veggies and macaroni.  The "concentrate" for it has been in the fridge for... probably too long.  We're not sick yet.  Hallelujah.
Fridge = 6
Items from cupboard = macaroni!
Leftovers = soup for later.
...are you getting a picture of the state of our fridge when we started?!  Holy leftovers!!

 These are not ours.  Ours are never that neatly arranged.  Please.

WELL!  You don't want to read more of THAT for 40 days.  Boring.  So, highlights from days 4 - 14:

Day 10
C&J talk about their work days.
C: "...and it went great, and I got two Snack Wraps from McDonalds for lunch!"
J: "Really?? Why?"
C: "We didn't have anything for lunch."
::cue crazy eyes from Jenna and heated discussion:: 
...marriage teaches you so much about another person.  Where I see multiple Lean Pockets in the freezer and Easy Mac and soup in The Cupboard, Chris sees two things he's already eaten once this week so are off limits and will not give him the energy to get him through the rest of his day.  Who knew?!
We were on our way to a taco and game night because our show in Reisterstown got cancelled at the last minute (please say none of you tried to go. tell us immediately if you did. we will make it up to you.).  We are generally abnormally excited to eat meals at other people's houses.  Lent is intensifying this, bar none.  I had to consciously engage a friend in eye contact and stop trying to fit more mango salsa than humanly possible in my tortilla.  Oh, mango salsa.  How incredibly fresh you are.  Wait - that's PRODUCE!  Store trip? Maybe??!!  (conscience/The Spirit says it's extravagant produce and not really the point.....)

Day 11
I had my first real sacrifice dilemma.  We wandered into Williams-Sonoma.  (WHY, you ask?  Are you some kind of masochist?!  Yes.  Yes I am.)  They had their hot chocolate on clearance.  Have you HAD Williams-Sonoma hot chocolate?!  It is a gorgeous tin filled with tiny delectable chocolate shavings and whatever additional flavor you select weaved throughout.  You cannot use water - you must melt it into milk on a stove.  And then drink molten chocolate.  It is HEAVEN.  In a cup.  And the Chai Hot Chocolate was $5.99.  I was trying to smell it through the metal.  I mean, we don't keep Hot Chocolate in The Cupboard!  We keep it in a drawer!  Totally separate!!!
J: "What do you think?????????"
C: ::shrugs:: "It's up to you."
Thanks for the wisdom and moral support.
In the end, I didn't quench the Spirit enough to fork over my debit card, so I put it down and walked out.  The spirit of the law, Jenna, not the letter.
Luscious hot chocolate.  I pine for you.

 

If you are not fasting from such things, get it before it's gone.  

And maybe mail me a cup.

Day 12
It's Sunday.  We have Bible study on Sundays.  Chris and I get one dessert a week on Year of Health guidelines (I will spare you my mourning and itemized list of moments of definitely NOT cheating).  We started The Cupboard List with at least 4 cake mixes.  I'm making a darn cake, even if I can't eat it.  I will not tell you how long this Tastefully Simple Apple Cake box mix has been up there. 
Come to find out, by "Apple Cake Mix" they really mean "Regular cake mix. Hope you have a ton of fresh apples handy."  Applesauce to the rescue!  And it's a Cupboard item, to boot!  GONE!  Powdered sugar will be a good sub for icing.  Throw in some old bananas and we have a pretty bangin' cake to force feed to our small group folk. 
(Addendum: it was amazing.  Yes, I ate a bite.  And I am despairing that we only had one of these in The Cupboard.  Come back, apple cake.  Fill our Cupboard with your excess deliciousness.)

Day 13
I went to the grocery store.  Technically, I broke the fast.  But these ingredients were not for us, they were to make a meal for a friend who'd had surgery.  We both feel 100% fine buying stuff for somebody else.  Can I tell you how FAST my grocery trip was??  I didn't wander to the clearance rack in the back or graze the aisles for sales on anything we could possibly use.  Chicken, noodles, mini chocolate cake, OUT.   (In case you're curious, our go-to quick meal for someone in need is a casserole of egg noodles, chicken cooked with spices, 2 cans cream of whatever soup, and whatever canned or frozen vegetable we have on hand, topped with crushed cheddar cheese crackers.  So, if you're having a baby or an injury soon - cat's out of the bag.  Also, the word casserole should be outlawed, because it makes people automatically think they'll hate it.  Call it Noodle Bake.  Except that also sounds gross.)
I did suffer from my constant inability to estimate quantity and volume - I swore one bag of egg noodles didn't look like enough, so I bought and cooked two.  Quickly realized it would come NOWHERE near fitting into one casserole dish.  So, we had leftover sinful noodles to eat ourselves.  Augh.

Day 14
We devoured said sinful noodles tonight!  With a jar of alfredo from The Cupboard and Old Bay sausage and veggies and cheese from the freezer - oh my gosh.  Had to forcibly sit on couch to avoid shoving my face in the leftovers.  Chris is especially good at thinking of yummy combinations of ingredients we have.  I don't know what he'll do when we run out of meat in the freezer.  I suggested we save edamame for then, since there's so much protein in it.
C: ::blank stare:: "I said MEAT.  I did not say protein.  MEAT."
...we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. 
I also grieved our Lenten goal of using what we have when we contributed to our American wastefulness tonight.  I pulled out a green pepper from the fridge - totally moldy.  Ick.  I hate that our produce drawers are opaque; if we could see through them, maybe I'd remember better.  Before we took the alfredo out, Chris reached into the fridge and produced a half jar of marinara and the Little Caesar's marinara dipping sauce from the Crazy Bread (please don't do the math. please.) to use, proudly offering them up for our meal...
J: ::look of horror:: "Um, that's MOLDY!"
C: "Where?  Where is there mold?"
J: "There!  How can you NOT see that?!"
::three minute investigation into proper evidence of mold::
Both containers went into the trash with the pepper.  I'm sorry, world.  I promise to be more vigilant about camouflaged pasta sauce and veggie drawers. 

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.

So, these are some estimates - the whole not-creature-of-discipline-thing means I've way lost count on some of what we've consumed.
Fridge = looking emptier for sure!  As we make these meals from what we already have, we definitely contribute leftovers to the fridge, which are getting eaten for lunches.  I was even okay when my fridge lunch meant the rest of some yogurt with some granola.  I'm a hot lunch girl.  But I lived.
Freezer = the perpetual avalanche is starting to diminish.  We have no shelf in our freezer, so it's basically a box on its side that we shove stuff in and slam the door as quickly as possible while praying the next time we open the fridge won't bounce the freezer open (have you played this game?).
Cupboard = 11 things gone!  Two have leftovers in the fridge currently.

Slowly, slowly, slowly purging our cabinets is putting me in a purge frame of mind.  I am revisiting my closet for at least the 4th time in 6th months to weed out more (it's embarrassing. truly.).  I have more of a desire for our apartment to look clean than ever.  (This is saying something.  Self-proclaimed clutter monster. And chore hater.)  And I feel lighter.  (Not from sausage and alfredo.  But from having less stuff, even if it's just a little.)

By the way... I'm finally reading this little book called 7 by Jen Hatmaker.  I saw her speak at a conference about 9 months ago.  If you do not read her blog or follow her on Twitter/Facebook, I highly recommend it if you'd like some serious truth and a good guffaw.  They gave us her book for free!  And it has sat on my shelf because I have been scared to death to read it.  I got convicted enough at the conference, thankyou.  Basically, she designs an experiment where she identifies seven areas of excess in her life and devotes a month to fasting from each one.  But now, I am facing myself and reading the thing.  I mean, Lent is as good a time as any, right?  I'm already fasting!  How bad could it be?!
And God is using her hilarious and brutal honesty to a) remind me how much I miss writing frequently and that He's given me that gift to use rather than ignore, and b) wreck my life.  I can literally feel things crumbling.  I can look around our apartment - which I swear, to the average eye, is not that full of stuff - and tears start welling up.  I wrote one song about this idea already, and it will be on the next Chris & Jenna album that will God-willing be made this year.  I started another one tonight.

I don't want to be in love with death
And if you'd ask, I'd tell you that I'm not
But peek inside my chest
And it'll tell you all the rest
Tell you that I am in love with death

I don't want to run after decay
But lookin' 'round my home, that's what I've done
Cleverly arranged
All the things I've toiled to gain
That show that I have run after decay

I swear, it's sweeter-sounding than what the lyrics suggest.  But that's the point, I think - the sweetness of life and hope for something more, juxtaposed with the ugly, selfish, self-preserving truth that disguises itself as yummy meals and trendy decor and new outfits and "necessities."  I haven't gone off the deep end and given the whole house away and sewn burlap sacks to wear.  ...yet. ;)  But I don't think we're meant to pray for comfort as often as we do.  Nor do I think we're always meant to perceive comfort as blessing.  Not blessing that we keep to ourselves and enjoy solely privately, anyway.

So, we're 2 weeks in to Lent, 4-ish to go.  If we've only touched 16% of what's in The Cupboard and we're 33% of the way through... eesh.  We have so much more than we ever realize.

Lenten Fast 2013: The Cupboard Challenge Begins

I love the church season of Lent.  Part of that probably stems from growing up in a "traditional, liturgical" church where the church calendar was serious business - it signified when to change the felt banners and candle colors and which section to mark with the ribbon markers in the pew hymnal.  I remember giving things up some years, like ice cream, and wailing to my mother about its absence while clinging to the freezer and trying to cheat.  Because, for real, a day without ice cream in my growing life was a day hard to come across.  (Chocolate chip cookie dough flavor with pancake syrup. weird. yes. but don't knock it til you try it.)  Amidst my griping, I also recall the Lenten soup suppers our church had on Wednesday nights, where two people from the congregation would each volunteer to make a huge tureen of soup for all those that would show up.  We'd have a short service afterward, and I don't remember those much, but I remember being introduced to Tomato Tortellini soup heaven.  Oh. my. word.  It was a cozy feeling for our church community to gather around a simple meal weekly for 40 days.

On to life today... I am not a creature of discipline.  Not in the slightest.  I fought my mother on every single clarinet practice session growing up, and I still fight with myself over piano practice that should happen yet conveniently gets replaced by more "pressing" things. (probably part of my love of being good at things instead of the things themselves - I highly recommend reading this blog post Chris wrote as a guest blogger for Off the Cuff Christian. The quote he references wrecked my life in a pretty darn good way.)  I let rooms of our apartment fall into total disarray and then belittle myself for my sloppy inattention and procrastination.  I get ideas of what to do with an evening, and suddenly 94 minutes have past and I'm still searching a Facebook newsfeed.  I walk into Target vowing that I will NOT buy another unnecessary albeit cheap piece of clothing, and 10 minutes later I'm grazing the alluring clearance racks.  So yes, discipline = not my tendency.

Enter Lent.  Defined.  Public.  Community-based.  Bleak midwinter.  No excuses.  YES.

When asked to give something up, it's easy to default to the ice cream, chocolate, alcohol, etc. vices that we enjoy.  Depriving ourselves of physical pacifiers definitely has merit.  But just the other day, we had a joking but lively dinner debate about what constituted "bread" and what did not for our friend that was going to give it up for Lent.  (Are scones bread?? Thoughts??)  When we come to this place of splitting hairs about what we can and can't have under our self-imposed restrictions, or when we drool into the freezer and whine and pout about our denial, we've missed the whole point of the sacrifice.  We have the chance to be emptied, to let the Spirit fill us and refresh us.  To let prayer and our Comforter be the thing we depend on in our moments of weakness instead of an immediate physical comfort.

I have also heard people say that Lent can be a season of taking things on, not just giving things up.  I saw a link circling around of 40 tasks to accomplish, a different one for each day, for the season.  I agree there can be good in taking on habits and experiences... but if you're telling me that in our American culture of absurd amounts of food, media, communication, possessions, money, transportation, you name it, that you can't find SOMETHING you could go without for 40 days, then I think our culture has fooled you as much as it's fooled me time and time again.  With doing a different thing each day for 40 days, I'm sure a lot of them are helpful and could be eye-opening.  But we are a culture of minute time spans who don't even want to watch a full 5-minute YouTube video.  This notion of changing things up daily, for me at least, feeds right into that self-taught impatience and ADD.  By all means, do it if you feel called - I am sure there are many for whom routine is normal, and shaking things up every day would let the Spirit work.  But I think we, especially young adults, hate to commit to things, and making a 40 day commitment can return us to roots of dedication and discipline we have long set aside.

Back to the thoughts leading up to our fast.  This year, Chris has been good about trying to get us to actually use some the groceries we accumulate.  He's been poking through the freezer and cabinets, pulling out things to throw together into a meal rather than rushing out for more ingredients to make a pre-prescribed recipe.  The man could create chili out of next to nothing.  To give you a frame of reference, he lived - willingly - for over a year in a place that looked like this:

Above: the cleanest and emptiest the "bathroom" ever looked. Yes, it was the entire, open basement. Yes, that's water festering on the floor.  He survived longer than I ever could.  He gets this whole "minimalist" concept that's foreign to the rest of us Americans.

And then he married a woman who grew up with a "Canned Goods Room" in her basement.  Family friends would joke about "shopping at the Laymans'."  True, we didn't have a 'pantry' in the kitchen.  So, instead, this is the Apocalypse Grocery Mecca Shelter of Things That Were On Sale So We Bought Twelve:

On the left: the chest freezer (which is the third operating freezer in the house, and it's filled to the brim), followed by shelves generally including cereal, bottles, granola bars, chips.  On the right: shelves of canned goods, juice, pasta, paper towels, etc.  Behind you on the right: more cabinets of canned goods.  And this is LESS than what was there when we were growing up. Not that it is not a closet.  It is an entire room.

So, having A bottle of ketchup was a foreign concept to me.  (Right now, we have three.  Big ones.  How big?  They were too heavy for me to lift with fractured ribs.)  How could you NOT buy at least five of something if you found a super good deal?!  STOCKPILE!!!!!!

In light of trying to follow Chris's lead, while he was at work the other day I compiled a list of (almost) every food item in the cabinets we use as a pantry next to our fridge.  I mean, I know we have stuff, but it didn't look like that much!  Here's the view:

This is what I came up with:

 It is backwards.  Not to prevent you from reading it.  

But because I took it with PhotoBooth and can't figure out how to reverse it.

People.  Seriously?!  There are things in there that I moved from my old roommate's house.  I lived there for over four years.  And yet I've given them exactly 2 seconds' consideration in terms of actual consumption.  This list does not even TOUCH what's in the fridge and freezer right now.  Look at all of that.  It's funny; on this tiny picture, it doesn't appear as long of a list.  But there are 71 DIFFERENT items on this list, and many of them have multiple cans/boxes in that cabinet.

And there are dear ones - some a plane ride away, some a WALK away - that would cheer if they had ONE of those items in their house to eat tonight.  One.

My heart twinges more and more each passing day when I see our overabundance and know that we are in the top 4% of the world's income.  That's a public school teacher and a children's library associate with musician side jobs - not exactly "high" salaries by America's standards.  But to millions, we are rich.  And I cannot abide another person saying "It just makes you thankful that we're fortunate and blessed, doesn't it?  Thank you, Lord, for blessing us.  Oh, and please, may You bless those less fortunate someday.  Amen."  NO.  It makes my stomach hurt.  For I do not think that God, who made himself human in such a way that he spent much of his ministry with no place to lay his head, is looking at me and saying, "Bless you, child.  I grant you the means to buy more spaghetti than you could eat in a year to build a fort in your cupboard, and that is precisely what you should do with it.  This is how I show you that you are loved."  (no, we don't have this much spaghetti. but we're in an apartment with minimal cupboard space. put me in a house with legit storage and I fear for my future and whether or not it will involve an episode of Hoarders.)  I'm pretty sure each time Jesus is confronted with any type of wealth, his directions are to give it to the poor.  I'm certain he gives US the tools to bless others with the wealth that already exists on this earth.

So, this is our Lenten journey this year:  We are allowed to buy milk and produce if we run out and are truly in need.  That's it.  Fresh produce is nourishing and part of our Year of Health guidelines (we instituted those after our 1st anniversary, when we realized how few of our clothes fit from the Fat Happy Lazy Married Times of year 1).  Milk is a beverage and an ingredient, so we will allow it.  Beyond that, we're restricted to whatever is in our cupboards, fridge and freezer for 40 days.  If we depleted almost everything, could we revisit and buy some essentials?  Sure.  Sadly, I bet we won't need to.  But maybe it will give us the TINIEST inkling of those so near us who have absolutely no choice about what they are going to eat for dinner - if they have one item, it's that; if they have nothing, they eat nothing.  And maybe, beyond thinking of them and saying a quick prayer before we chow down, we'll actually be moved to be Love to them and bring them what they need.

 

An American family of 4's food waste for a month. Oh, my heart.

(And no, we won't just go out to dinner if we think we have "nothing to eat" or don't "see" anything - the shameful, sinful response thought we both have all too often when we peek in that cupboard).  Last year, we gave up eating in all restaurants for Lent, and that helped us get over our cravings of quick, easy, cash-sucking, and often terrible-for-us food.  We'll probably go out a few times, but the goal is to eat here as often as possible.)

I plan to chronicle what we eat for my own curiosity - I want to see how lavish our meals remain despite these restrictions.  That blog post may come in pieces or all at once at the end - we'll see how long it gets.

Thank you, Jesus, for showing us that fasting can cleanse us and make more room for Your spirit in us.  I pray you do that in us - as our excess decreases, give us eyes to see what we truly need and what those around us need.  Please increase.

(On a side note, Jenna personally is fasting from her personal Facebook account for Lent.  If you've left her love there, you are not being ignored!)