Lenten Fast 2013: The End

What wondrous love is this, oh, my soul, oh, my soul

What wondrous love is this, oh, my soul

What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss

To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul

To bear the dreadful curse for my soul

Happy Easter!!!  On this day of resurrection, fasting ends.  Okay, some people say it ends earlier in Holy Week, but we surely did not need groceries before today.

So, at the tail end, here's a picture of The List:

 43 different items left, down from 70-something.  Still looks huge, no?

And here's the state of our cupboard:

 We can see the back of it.  And move things around easily.  This is progress.

Definitely emptier than the onset!  And yet, not as bare-bones as one might think after 40 days of trying to deplete it.  I still am convinced that our kitchen's food supply does NOT vary greatly from the majority of middle-class Americans, so I don't think we can only point the blame on Chris & Jenna's unique splurging lives and dismiss us as hoarders.

Since the last update, here are things I've observed in a fast of eating what we have instead of constantly accumulating more (with the only additions of milk and fresh produce):

Planning ahead is key, especially with the life we lead.  We hit a Wednesday night where we were leading worship for a college group and had to be there by 6:15-ish.  Chris gets home at 5:30, and I had an appointment or work stuff or something that prevented me from getting home early.  So we had a 45 minute window in which to load up our gear, print the set list and a few chord charts, and eat.  We had food to spare in the The Cupboard, but no time to prepare it.  So Subway got our dollar.  Had we been on it the day before, we wouldn't have had to indulge in convenient but pricier fast food.

We don't miss much.  It's so exciting to have a fridge full of healthy greens and blackberries ($1.29 at Aldi. Can't get over it.) that it's hard to feel lacking.  I will admit a few things I'm looking forward to come Monday: coffee creamer (been doing skim milk - just not the same, but I have lived), yogurt (have found a lot of yummy looking smoothie recipes that are begging for it), and maple syrup (we were out for months before Lent started, but now that we're actually using the pancake mix and searching out more consistent breakfast recipes, I am missing it.  Though this morning I discovered the joy of peach butter on pancakes.  I have no regrets.).  Chris has been nursing the last of the peanut butter for weeks, and I'm sure he can't wait for a fresh jar (any normal human would have consumed or tossed the half ounce that's left, but not this man).  Almond milk will be a welcome friend, too, and I bet Chris will be happy to replenish our chicken supply.  But really, that's about it.

We have had things for almost 2 years that we did not know existed and would have never eaten.  We had - count them - THREE packs of hot dogs in the freezer.  One of them was open.  Would we have ever made them?  Probably not.  (I'm not saying they were 2 years old - the ones we made tasted fine - don't judge.)  They became a joke item on my part, offering them to Chris as a dinner option, knowing he'd never want them.  How appalling.  We have also had a shake-and-pour Bisquick pancake mix for forEVER.  Maundy Thursday morning, it finally saw the light of day.  Why did we have this?!
In related news, I just saw something about making sure to discard any cake or pancake mixes that are past the expiration date b/c the yeast can grow spores, turn to toxic mold, and kill you dead.  ...We're still alive.  Hmm.

Muffin pans are breakfast-to-go's best friend.  Did you know that old fashioned oatmeal can be used for more than a yearly batch of oatmeal scotchies?!   Weird, right??  ...nope, just me?  Ahem...  I found this recipe for Baked Honey Oatmeal made in a muffin pan so that your servings are ready-to-go, and with it and some variations, we have had delicious HEALTHY breakfast every morning that we can grab, microwave for a minute, and eat in the car on the way to work.  (If you look up "morning people" in the dictionary/thesaurus, we will be listed under Antonyms.  "Creating" breakfast before 8 am is not humanly possible in our home.)  I'd like to thank our stoneware muffin pans - just spray with cooking spray, and no paper liner needed.

I want to eat healthier.  Only being allowed to buy fresh food makes me feel a lot better.  I'm not sure exactly what we were buying before that distracted us from this... which is likely the problem.  When there's too much junk in your life, you don't really know what any of it is, and yet you can't see the better things you're missing out on. 

Traveling on this fast is harder.  We had no restrictions on eating out.  We had to go away for 2 weekends this month.  Normally, I get us a big thing of trail mix, some beef jerky, and some cheese crackers and/or dried fruit for travel munchies - clearly within the milk/produce boundaries, though perhaps dried fruit could have been swung.  We could have stocked up on non-refrigerated fruit for snacks for this trip, like apples and bananas... But, we didn't.  So, we wound up spending much more on food on the road, and a lot of it was not very good for us.  Note to self: again, plan ahead, and think outside the box of routine.

There is always more than meets the eye.  Especially toward the end, I saw a lot of ingredients that didn't really fit together and was prepared to just eat pasta with olive oil and veggies for days.  Yet, Chris saw elk chili.  (And it was scrumptious.)  Typical of the "there's nothing to eat!" plague of the household with full cabinets, there was always something more available if we thought about it hard and got creative enough.

We have thoughtful, sweet friends.  Kira kept us (me) functioning with the gift of a can of unground coffee she wasn't using.  We don't have a coffee grinder... but a few weeks ago we had the light-dawning realization that a Magic Bullet could probably grind coffee just fine for two people who love it but are not coffee snobs by any stretch of the imagination.  (I have gone a step up that ladder by becoming obsessed with Furnace Hills Coffee, which is from a local roastery and may be a few bucks more, but employs special needs folks, uses fair trade coffee, and supports orphanages in Ukraine and development in Asia - um, YES.)  Jenn read my whining post about the Williams Sonoma hot chocolate and brought us fancy Twinings Drinking Chocolate - virtually the same thing - that she'd had and wasn't using.  Did we need these things?  No, but these women saw a need and wanted to fill it - fabulously, with things they already owned and acknowledged that they didn't need to keep, instead of buying us something.  (Coincidentally, have I touched the hot chocolate yet?  I'll let you take a wild guess...)

Gluttony is real.  We don't talk about it much in America.  We talk about obesity, we talk about health, we talk about food labels and companies and recipes and trends... but I think I'm realizing how deep gluttony has gripped our country (which is why we don't talk about it).  The urge to collect and consume constricts our hearts and blinds us to what we're really doing and to the needs of the people not only across oceans, but down the street.   I heard a group of high schoolers talking about Catholicism and the 7 deadly sins, and gluttony was one of the last they remembered as they tried to list them.  I don't know about you, but when I think of it I get a cartoon image of an overweight person sloppily gathering food in his arms and shoving things in his mouth (before you think I'm a jerk, I think it's because of this cartoon series).  I don't think gluttony is usually this obvious.  Really, this is the sneaky genius of most sin - we picture an exaggerated worse-case scenario of it, separate our own actions from that image, conclude "I don't struggle with that," and carry on.  I think gluttony has joined hands with greed and stealthily tiptoed into my home and my heart with the goal of setting up shop for a good long time.  As their cover becomes more and more exposed, they revolt (see my previous mourning sessions/temper tantrums over hot chocolate and maple cream - ugh.) and kick and scream against the truth that I. want. for. nothing.

There are people in this town and little ones near and far who are starving today.  And this grips my heart and pulls my gut to help, yet is also met with almost immediate hopelessness of 'not really making a difference.'  We all know that people are starving, and many of us are willing to occasionally donate to organizations who will do something about it.  But we don't often connect the actual contents of our own cupboards to their need.  The old "There are kids starving in Africa, finish your plate!" gets met with "Are you going to mail them my uneaten Brussels sprouts?!"  What does THIS have to do with THEM??  What we physically have seems to be disconnected from others' needs, because it is ours and in our house.  

But really, in a way, we can send those unwanted sprouts to Africa.

We could keep close watch on what we spend on groceries.  We could give up items from our carts that are impulses or more than we need while we're at the store, total what we would have spent, and give that money to those who have none, therefore literally giving to them what would have been our excess.
We could keep track of how much we waste and then a) alter how much we buy and b) commit to giving the equivalent of our waste to those in need - if we're willing to spend it on filling a trash can, we should be willing to spend it on aching bellies that could be satisfied.
We could meal-plan to determine what we'll actually use in our cupboards for a week/month/fortnight and then raid our cupboards for (quality, non-expired) items that don't fit the list and take them to a local food bank, shelter, or other organization in need ('in need' being the key part - if they already have 84 cans of peas but no green beans, then giving them my nine additional cans of peas is not truly helpful).
We could.

If only we would.

Thinking and living like this requires much more intentional thought and action than what our culture tells us we should have to bear.  Much more than my instincts give me.  But on this day, we read that Jesus defeated death.  He showed that where something is dead, it can live again.  Where selfishness abounds, there can be rebirth.  Where hopelessness prevails, there is yet hope.  Where blindness drives our days, scales can fall from our eyes to let us see the glory that comes when we loosen our grip on our stuff and use it to provide for our neighbors, brothers, and sisters.

From this point on, our fast is over.  Thus, the danger of returning to our old habits and patterns.  Neither of us want this.  We will begin buying other food items again, but ingredients that will help us make meals out of what we already own, rather than replacing them and shoving them back to the deep recesses of The Cupboard to rot and decay.  We will try to shop focused on what we truly need, rather than what we could have.  Because:
Just because we CAN have it doesn't mean that we SHOULD. 
(the antithesis of the American dream, folks..... also restated liberally from Jen Hatmaker in her book, 7.)

This, much more than mindless consuming, will God-willing show us glimpses of what the Kingdom is supposed to be like.

And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on, I'll sing on

And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on

And when from death I'm free, I'll sing His love for me

And through eternity I'll sing on, I'll sing on

And through eternity I'll sing on

Lenten Fast 2013: The Cupboard Fast, Part 3

When I started writing this post, we were 20 days into the 40 day fast (well, more than that if you count Sundays, which Lent doesn't, but with the nature of this fast, having Sunday as a "rest" from it didn't really seem appropriate. and would only amplify the gluttony of our cupboard.).  Then, magically, lots of time flew by and suddenly the end is in sight!!  Here are some highlights/bumps along the way...

Day 15 - Breakfast
We're not big sit-down breakfast people... mostly because we stay up too late every night and regret it every morning.  So really, I take that back - I ADORE sit-down breakfasts, and eat them once every 6 months at a Bob Evans.  Ain't nobody got time for that.
So, to get a grab-and-go item in our hands, I went to The Cabinet and baked pumpkin muffins.  For the second time in a month.  Yes, me, a muffin-baking queen.  If you were not aware that you can make pumpkin muffins with 1) a box of Spice Cake mix and 2) a small can of pumpkin and 3) nothing else - you are welcome.  Now I can eat one for breakfast each day.  And Chris can eat three.

Day 17 - Groceries
This was our first real grocery trip since Lent started.  A friend looked at me like I was crazy when I said this.  Yes, we went 17 days.  Yes, we still have food to spare.
Chris got to experience his inaugural trip to the Aldi that opened in our town.  We love a deal.  Ergo, we love Aldi.  We got our gallon of milk and lots of produce: avocados (59 cents!! ...so they're rock hard, we'll get them ripened at some point!), lettuce, spinach, bell peppers (all the fun yummy colors), blackberries, and a questionable buy of a large container of the blue Naked juice (it's produce... but liquified... this may have been bad).  We also bought frozen raspberries, cool whip, and butter, but these were ingredients for a friend's birthday cake, not for us.  (Though we did eat some... and oh my WORD.  Whipped up a raspberry sauce to drizzle on top and I thought I might die.)  Happily, the cake used up some cabinet ingredients like chocolate chips and cocoa!
Our grocery trip was, again, fast.  When the options are limited, I'm not traipsing the aisles in search of deals that might catch my eye.  Nor can I buy things I *might* make one day.
(author's note: it is now day 33, and I am still dreaming about this cake.  make it.) 

Day 18 - An Embarrassing Lenten Moment
Today we attended the Carroll County Maple Sugarin' Festival.  Evidently, these events do not only happen in Vermont.  Why any sort of partially outdoor festival was planned for March 3 is beyond me.  But I adore maple flavored things, and come 25 degree days or winds, I was going.  After looking at the Birds of Prey pavilion (...right), laughing at the people on a HAY RIDE in 25 degree weather, and "observing the maple syrup demonstration" by shivering and standing practically in the fire pit (so, after approximately 8 minutes of 'experiencing' all the festival had to offer), I steered us inside to the "Sales" portion of the festival.  The goal?  Maple sugar candy.  It is obnoxiously sweet.  And comes in tiny little 4-packs that can be instantly consumed and not stored away somewhere like a cupboard.  Therefore, they are within the rules, and I'm obsessed.  This was my objective for the whole trip.
In the "sales" area (quotes intentional), they had three card tables set up.  Two were sellers of woman-geared products that we don't need but can purchase by planning parties at our homes for our girlfriends and which guilt us into pouring out awful amounts of money to acquire unnecessary designer junk - okayi'mdone.  The third table was the extent of the maple sales.  We looked at the 12 bottles of maple syrup on the table (not 12 varieties, 12 total), blinked for a moment, and then I set eyes on a jar of "Maple Cream."  Like maple syrup, but cream.  For bagels.  English muffins.  Crackers.  Fruit.  Pancakes.  Toast.  Anything.  Ohhhhhh my heart.  I got so excited.... and then realized that maple cream would reside in The Cabinet.  And was not milk.  Or produce.  I looked frantically at Chris for a permissive "it's okay, we can't get this anywhere else - we can put it in a drawer instead of the cabinet - it's LIKE produce, it's made from trees - we'll save it for when Lent's over..." and got a big fat "Yeah, I don't think so, I think that violates the rules."  Ouch.  My crestfallen face caught sight of their price list... and lo and behold, MAPLE SUGAR CANDY was listed!  "OOH!  Where is your candy?!" I cried.
"Sold out," the guy said.
..."WHAT?!"
"Yeah, we sold out a little before noon, I think."
"...You opened at 10:30.  It is 1:30.  You brought enough candy for an hour and fifteen minutes?!  At a MAPLE FESTIVAL?!  And you are telling me you are the ONLY people who thought to provide anything like this???!!!"  [this tirade/temper tantrum was inside my head, thank God]
"Maybe we'll order more next year."
"MAYYYYYYYBE?!  ORDER??!!  You don't even make this stuff YOURSELF?!  You're a POSER?!"  [again, inside the head.  thank you, filter.]

And with that, since had no desire for the pancake brunch or face painting, we headed back to the car.  And friends, I POUTED.  Moped.  Flopped on the couch the moment we got home.  Ignored Chris's sweet attempts to draw me back into normal humans-who-aren't-three-years-old behavior patterns.
(Can I also point out that several days later this man told me he'd researched how to make the candy ourselves?!   Honestly.  I am spoiled by his ever-growing thoughtfulness and selflessness.  it's a testament - we were not always this way.)

Sadly, this is how God shows me where my happiness lies.

I get an idea, and it needs to be seen through to completion immediately.  Or else.  I wish to acquire, and I can satiate my appetite through a tangible thing that I can retrieve from some location and bring it to my home or my stomach.  If it is what I wanted, and if I am able to get what I wanted, then I am happy.  If not, all bets are off.  It's sad, it's embarrassing, it's true. 

Jesus, I want to be like you.  You threw fits only when people defiled your Father's house.  You mourned only for ones dear to you who passed away and for the fallen world you saw in its original glory.  You were rightfully saddened by those whom you saw were far from the Kingdom and those whom the rest of us neglected to love.  And you only wanted what your Father wanted, for each of us to have living water that would quench every thirst we could ever have and then some.

Keep breaking down those childish, selfish parts of my heart I love to think I can hide from You.

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!)

C&J's Blog Adventure

Hello, World!


Welcome to Chris & Jenna's Blog Adventure!  Maybe that should be the name for the blog instead of How the Blog Makes You Feel.  Chris isn't home, so my "punny" jokes probably aren't as good right now. (The links will - maybe - show the lame jokes I'm making...)


So, I've been on our couch for about 2 hours watching the Hulu tv shows Chris isn't into (he's at work) and finally sewing things for him that have probably been in my to-do pile for 6 of the 7 months we've been married... and had the sudden thought, "We should have a blog!"  Which sounds more fun than the chore-related things I planned to do tonight... (but maybe not more fun than catching up on The Voice.  or maybe it does.  must weigh this out...)


Today is Thursday, and it's the day after Ash Wednesday.  I grew up Lutheran, so Lent was always a part of my life.  We would sometimes go to church on Ash Wednesday and get ashes on our foreheads.  I remember Wednesday night Lenten soup suppers that the youth group would help carry out (especially the supper when I had tortellini soup for the first time...heaven!!).  It was a time for people to gather together over a simple meal before a service, instead of an elaborate private meal, or paying for a restaurant to cook it, or a rushed family dinner before running off to the next event.  People were generous to work together to combine a few ingredients, spend a bit extra at the grocery store, give a bit of time, and produce a meal that feeds many.  It makes me think of Jesus feeding the 5,000...  He used a few loaves and fish to feed thousands of people, and while He is the one who creates miracles like that, maybe it can be a reminder that when we're willing to give a little bit, many can be blessed.  


Neither of these things were in my mind two nights ago when we pondered whether to give something up for Lent together this year.  Chris had the thought to give up going to restaurants.  My food-loving, greedy belly balked at first.  What if friends wanted to go out to dinner?  What if we wanted to get breakfast together before work?  What if we wanted to go on a date?  What about Spring Break vacation spots?!  But, after a while, my selfish nature backed down (it helped to think about how our President's Day venture to Philly with good friends was a purchased-food field day of greasy glory), and Wednesday morning we set off to work, waving forlornly as we passed Burger King's alluring breakfast sandwiches.  As God has started to open my mind (He is very fond of doing this lately), I can see this is an opportunity for a lot of growth to happen.  It will help us open our home to our friends more and serve them by cooking for them.  It will help us get a bit more practical and plan out all of our meals.  Maybe we'll get more creative with the food we make, so we don't get bored (though I would be shocked if Chris ever turned down a burrito).  Maybe we'll even finally have a Taste For Change meal like we set out to do years ago!  Maybe we'll become better stewards of the income God has blessed us with for the time being.


Lent is a journey, and we had the privilege of kicking it off last night at Grace Fellowship Chapel.  Pastor Ralf Nies put together a "service" of silent meditation stations through which we could travel at our own pace.  What was incredible was that each station held a tactile thing for us to do as we read scripture and prayed - a candle, clay, a stone, water, oil, a cross, communion, and ashes.  The silent space and action through art to help us meditate gave God a wonderful space to speak, and we each heard some great things.  I, especially, feel on the verge of a great journey.  God is calling me to question and listen to what He has in store for our music, for my occupation, for the passions He's placed in my heart, for our marriage... lots of change is possible in the coming months.  If you think of us, pray for unity in decision making and clear paths to be opened!  If there is one thing I know, it's that none of the events of the past several years are things I would have dreamed up for myself, and I have been amazed.  He has been - and will continue to - smooth my rough edges like a stone in a river on its journey to the sea.  


May Lent be an intentional, instrumental part of this journey.  May being willing to give up something small bring about great things.  And may we be humble servants to tell the story to many of what has been done for us, what we have seen, and what we will give up to follow the calling on our life.