Rethinking Food

So after deciding to join the Summer of Seven, a blog challenge to reduce in similar ways as Jen Hatmaker did in her book Seven, I am now wrestling out the logistics of the process.  In a very uncharacteristic move on my part (see previous post), I have decided not to map out a detailed schedule of which area we will address when and how and why and the whole sha-bang.  Instead we’re just gonna take it a step at a time and see what happens.

Can I tell you I am so struggling with the food issue?   Not because it seems too hard but because I don’t know what to do about it.  I don’t know how to adjust it to go deeper.  In Seven, Jen Hatmaker only eats seven foods for one month.  I don't feel like that fits our family's current food journey.

We already buy our produce organically through a coop.

We purchase our meat, eggs, dairy, and other produce through local farmers.

We buy in bulk as much as possible.

We only eat “real” food the majority of the time. (I write a blog about it.)

We’ve made a conscious effort to reduce consumption and find more responsible options for food items tied to slavery such as coffee and chocolate.

Using up the freezer/pantry/fridge ingredients for dinner.

I just stocked my freezer with meals because the end of the school year is crazy busy and we are about to move.  We are also already using up our pantry because of said move.  

Two days ago I did another purge of our pantry and threw out anything containing soy lecithin and my children’s leftover Easter candy and any other candy lurking in our pantry.  Noah informed me the next morning that if I threw away his ring pop, they cost him 50 cents each.  I told him we’d discuss it later which is code for: oh, crap, I have no idea how to handle that, but we need to get out the door before we’re late for school, and this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

I say all of this not to toot my own horn, but more so to say, “Where else do I go from here, since food is already a subject we are constantly working to learn more about and make more healthful and responsible choices in?”  And even as I write this I feel the tug in my heart.

Of course it has been in the back of my mind for a WHILE to give to the food pantry at church, but I haven’t actually done anything about it.

And I think about opening my home for others to share a meal whether they 

can return the favor or not.

And it strikes me that when we give, we shouldn’t just give our cast-offs or items of a lesser quality, but rather the same that we would buy for ourselves or our family.

Jesus had this to say, "...When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, otherwise they may also invite you in return and that will be your repayment. But when you give a reception, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, since they do not have the means to repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” (Luke 14:12-14)  


And then there is that story we've all heard in Matthew 25 about the sheep and the goats--that when we feed, clothe, and care for the least of these it's as if we had done the same for Jesus.  You know, that story that caused you to pray the sinners' prayer a ba-gillion times when you were a kid because you were scared you weren't really saved.  Yeah, that's the one.


I have been the one in need while others stood beside me and cared for me when I was unable to stand alone.  These words of Jesus wrench my heart and bring tears to my eyes.  But being moved to compassion isn't enough.  We must also be moved into action.


Thinking in light of the Summer of Seven, I don’t know that any of these areas I mentioned above really fit into a week-long plan, but I think this is what fits what I need to address in the area of food.  This week I’m putting these areas on my to-do list to start and continue.  Additionally, I’m going to continue to pray for God to mold me in this area—to give my eyes to see and a heart to understand and for Him to move me to actually live the gospel of Christ.


Feel free to join in and add your blog to the blog hop bellow or just post your thoughts to the comment section!

Control

I’ve been rereading Seven by Jen Hatmaker.  It was one of those books I loved so much that I couldn’t put it down the first time.  It is also one of those books that challenges you to change, so this time I am reading it slowly and purposefully with the intent of asking God what He wants me to change in my life.  (By the way, this is a book I think everyone should read.  Click on the link above and scroll down to see what it’s about.)

In the first chapter of the book, Hatmaker discusses a sermon given by the missions pastor of her church.  Ben and I discussed these questions the other night on our drive home:

1.   What in my life, if taken away, would alter my value or identity?

2.   What causes an unhealthy change of attitude, personality, or focus when “it” becomes threatened?

3.   What is the thing outside of God that you put everything else on hold for?

It was the second question that gripped me.  You see, I have control issues. I am a very Type A first-born. I make menu plans. And grocery lists. And chore charts. And morning and evening routines. And lunch menu options. And a daily schedule for the kids in the summer.  (And during the week-long ice storm last year because they were starting crawl up the wall and drive me nuts.)

When I was in sixth grade I self-imposed making a complete outline as a study guide for a Science exam and showed my teacher the next day. (Kiss up, I know.)  He told me I should become a lawyer.  I didn’t.  But I married one. 

How two type A personalities get along so well, I don’t even know, except that we are uptight about different things.  He likes to pick apart language and meaning and intent.  I mostly just want my classroom and house and kitchen run a certain way.  We actually do enjoy cooking together—as long as we’re cooking different things.  If I ask him to help me with what I’m cooking, I have to resort to something akin to Lamaze breathing because he’s not measuring things exactly and with the right utensils.  And please don’t put dirty dishes in the rinse side of the sink or the neighboring countertop, thank-you-very-much.  I don’t even pay attention anymore if he’s doing laundry because it’s not the way I would do it.  (I know, most of you are saying “Shut up already, he’s doing the laundry,”—which is why I let it go. Most of the time.)

We have four children that we share with two other people to whom we are no longer married. (Aren’t you glad I cleared that up?)  My children have at least eight great-grandparents and nine grandparents between all of their respective families, and it’s too late at night for me to count their aunts and uncles and cousins.  We have managed to align the planets just so, cocking our heads ever so slightly to the right, and sticking our tongues out to the left, in order to have the four of them on the same normal schedule and mostly the same days over the holidays.  Unfortunately, I am normally unable to move heaven and earth to arrange to have all four or sometimes any of the children at events that do not fall on our regular days.  That’s just the way our life works.

That being the case, scheduling is absolutely necessary for us.  Plans keep us sane, food on our table, and our house in a livable condition.  On the other hand, with four children who have two different families and one combined family, two full time jobs, and all of the activities such as sports and church on the side, life does not always go as planned, as you can imagine.  This is where I struggle.  Between wanting to be flexible and go with the flow and feeling like I have failed because we didn’t follow the plan.  (That failure issue is a whole ‘nother post for another day.)

During our discussion in the car, I informed my husband that I am perfectly fine going with the flow on mission trips and the like.  Nothing ever goes as scheduled.  Plan B, or even C or D, is almost always what is executed instead of the original intent.  He was so kind to point out that I’m okay with this because the plan is to be flexible.  Ugh. Point taken.

Right now, I don’t know exactly where the balance is between planning and being flexible.  But I do know that when I feel crazy because things aren’t going as planned, and I feel like I’m losing my identity and value as a person as a result, I’m missing the big picture.  Not planning is so not an option, but neither is living life wound up so tight.  I'm sure it's a matter of perspective and attitude and relying on grace.  Proverbs 16:9 says, "The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps."  In my interpretation: get ready for things not to go as planned.


Maybe for me that looks like applying the mindset I use in missions to my everyday life:  We have Plan A, but get ready to go with Plan B.  Be flexible. Go with the flow.  Walk in grace.  Be present and intentional with the people you're with instead of tied to your schedule.  


I'm still wrestling this one out.  I'll be sure to let you know when I've got it all figured out, but I wouldn't hold your breath...




Update: As it turns out, I stumbled upon a group of bloggers who are doing a "Summer of 7."  This seems like the perfect opportunity to wrestle out some of the stuff God is doing in my heart, sooooo I'm jumping in.  Care to join?

Worry

I traded in joy for pennies on the dollar—peace exchanged for worthless worry.  I drank the cup of bitterness, and it poisoned my soul. 

The double-minded man is like a ship tossed about on the ocean.  My heart was that ship tossed about on the ocean.

Isn’t that what it feels like when we worry?  At best it’s a nagging thought at the back of our mind.  At worst our stomachs perform acrobatic feats.  We are unable to think clearly or are paralyzed with fear.  The emotional roller coaster becomes so overwhelming it makes us sick.

Worry is a choice not to trust in God’s faithfulness—in the faithfulness of one who numbers the hairs on our head and gives us this day our daily bread.  Our daily bread.  He gives us what we need for today.  Jesus’s words cut to the heart of it all:

For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?  And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?  And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.  But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.  But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:25-34)

Enough for today.  Sounds like a nice neat little Sunday-school story, but does He really give us enough? Can I trust Him that what He’s measured out for me today will be enough?  The “what ifs” pound through my mind as I struggle to be content with what He has given for today.

What if our kids make poor choices?

What if we lose our income?

What if I make a bad decision?

What if something bad happens to one of us?

Because I want what I need for today, and the next day, and many more after that.  I am a planner.  I want a road map. I want to have it all figured out--with a contingency plan, if you please.  Or maybe I just want to be in control of it all.

And Jesus’s answer to all my what-ifs is to trust. To trust that He is enough.  Even in the face of my fears.

When I travel without my kids, I worry about dying.  What would happen to my kids if I were to die?  Who would they live with? Would they be taken care of? Would they know God?

This is what I hear, “What if you were to die?” It seems as though God likes to take my questions and my fears and toss them back to me. “Is dying the worst thing that could happen to you?  Don’t I love your children even more than you do? You can trust me to take care of you and your children.”

Jesus isn’t giving us a pat on the hand with a trite little lesson when he tells us not to worry about tomorrow.  He is telling us that we can trust the Father who knows what we need to take care of us no matter what tomorrow brings. 

Giving up worrying isn’t exactly a walk in the park.  Temptations to linger there present themselves nearly daily.  So what is the remedy?  I have little faith in white-knuckle Christianity.  It seems the more we try to resist giving in by our own sheer will power, the more we think of it and the more difficult it becomes.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  (Philippians 4:6)

Instead, we turn it over to God.  We tell God our fears and our concerns.  We thank Him for what we know to be true—that He is good and he takes care of us.  Sometimes that looks like crying and grieving and other times that may look like anger or hopelessness.  And then we listen to hear His voice.  We trade our own inadequacies for His strength, the lies we have believed for His truth. 

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:8-9)

We replace the worries—that dark pit of despair—with God’s goodness. We read His word and meditate on it, listen to songs that give hope, talk to friends whose words give life.  And His light replaces the darkness. The peace of God is in us.

Dream Keeper

When my daughter was three years old, I wrote the following:

Countless times I’ve commented that I love little girls at Nadia’s age—I love their imagination and dreaminess. The last couple of days have found me visiting these thoughts once again. Nadia’s name means hope—and she lives up to it. She has the kind of hope that stares opposition boldly in the face. She wears it with liveliness and playfulness, and at times with fierce determination. And she dreams—wonderful little girl dreams.

Today we played catch and soccer out in the grass behind our apartment—Noah and I in proper attire, and Nadia in her princess dress. The princess played, too, but would stop every so often to dance her ballerina dance and beg an audience. Then she would tell me to dance as well.

What happens to the knight and the princess when they’ve grown?  The brokenness of our world has a way of smothering the glow of life inside of us until it’s all but lost.  I remember being that girl in twirling skirt, singing my made-up little girl songs.  Dreaming big dreams.  Then dreams were replaced with wounds and guilt, and dreams gave way to resignation to what life is.  Because it’s not safe to dream.  Hoping leads to disappointment. 

How can dreams survive when faced with the harsh reality of a world that lies, cheats, violates,  steals, and destroys?  How does hope continue when faced with rejection and disillusionment?  When "anything is possible" is met with the unforgiving face of impossibility?

Maybe what life appears to be isn’t actually the truth.

We are more than conquerors through Christ Jesus.  (Romans 8:37)

In this world we will have troubles, but Jesus says “But take heart! I have overcome this world.” (John 16:33)

God will never leave us or forsake us.  (Hebrews 13:5) 

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.  (II Timothy 1:7)

He works all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28)

We are joint heirs with Christ--sons and daughters of the living God. (Romans 8:16-17)

The voices of this world drown out the Truth of God’s Voice.  In order to survive the onslaught against our hearts and live the hope we are called to, we must cling to God’s Truth above every other voice.  It must be our lifeline.  We must constantly weigh the messages from others and in our own minds against the Truth of God’s word.  What does God say about me?

I am still that little girl in twirling skirt, longing to right the injustices of the world and see hope prevail.  I long for Christ redemption to be complete in this world.  I still fight to dream, to hope against all hope.  And I am deeply loved by a more-than-capable God.  Everything else is just details.

Last night as we lay down to sleep we prayed and listened to God. Nadia, who often says that God told her something about toys or school, said these words, “I’ll keep your dreams…come true. I’ll keep you safe.” Yes, my dear Nadia, God does hold our dreams in His hands, and you can trust Him to keep them and your heart safe.

Our God is a dream keeper.  He is the one that gives us dreams.  He whispers them in our ear; plants the seed of hope in our heart.  May we all dream as wildly and as confidently as children, trusting in a God "who gives life to the dead and calls those things which do not exist as though they did." (Romans 4:17)

The Deception

It's Easter.  The girls are dressing and getting their hair curled. I reach for my hair dryer to straighten out mine and realize the irony of it all--blowing hair straight only to curl it again in less-natural curls.  Trading my God-given curls my own daughters long to have. 

I think of my brown-eyed, brunette daughters wishing for golden locks, while my blue-eyed blond daughter covets the formers’ dark tresses. I remember my own childhood longing to look and be like someone else.  We are experts at disvaluing our own beauty and talents.  What we have is not enough.  It’s the same lie man has fallen for time and time again.  God is holding out on us.

“Love does not want what belongs to others.”

The Scripture from Corinthians read at our dining room table just last night echos in my mind.

And then the lie goes deeper.  Who we are is not enough—not pretty enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not kind enough, not brave enough, not lovable enough.  We are hopeless failures.

On the surface this lie appears to be a lack of self-confidence—a bought of self-depreciation that can be solved with a self pep-talk or the like.  Yet this lie goes deeper.  It is a rejection of the God who created us.  It is an unwillingness to trust our Maker with who He has created us to be.

For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (Ephesians 2:10)

I pause and return the hair dryer to the drawer.  Today I choose to embrace the curls God’s given me—to be comfortable in my own skin. I open my hands to let go of the striving to be like someone else and to be at peace in who God has created me to be.


A mere two days passed.  


That voice whispered in my ear again.  The one that says I'm not enough and no one likes me.  That feeling of being on the outside of the circle slithered its way into my heart—such an old familiar self-loathing codependent friend.

I know better than to listen, but struggle to overcome the thoughts.   These demons have haunted me since I was a child.  I remember thinking in elementary school that everyone liked my best friend and not me.  When I finally confessed my fears to her one day, she responded that she thought everyone liked me and not her.   The house of cards fell that day, but the seed of deception still remains.  It creeps in like a weed, and I have to root it out again and again.

These lies are barely affected by recalling mere facts such as the realization that just last week I had a girls night with some friends.  Or that I just spent Easter with all my family.  Or that my husband and kids love me dearly.  Nor does reciting a list of friends help.

In the midst of my battle the scripture flashed in the back of my mind again.

Love does not want what belongs to others. 

Oh, but I don’t want what belongs to others.  They can keep their cars and houses and clothes.  I don’t care about all of that.  I just envy their giftings.  And their friendships.  And their…  ouch.

 And then the Father gently questions,

“What if you really are alone and unloved by others?  Am I enough for you?”

Oh. Ummm, good question.

“Why are you looking for others approval to fill you?” 

I don’t have an answer.  At least not a good one.

And then He reminds me—again—that He has created me to be me and no one else.  He tells me that He needs me to use the gifts that He has given me because that’s my part to play.  He asks me if I trust Him with the cup He has given me—if I trust Him with my story.

The danger in the lies is that my reaction is to want to run and hide. To bury what I’ve been given for fear of hurt and rejection.  It seems easier to be a carbon copy or two-dimensional rather than risk going deep.  Like the man of the parable who buried his talents, I too want to shrink back in fear, and bury my gifts deep in the sand.

And there it is. The sin of self-preservation.  When Jesus said whoever wants to follow me should deny himself and pick up his cross. 

So denying myself looks like taking my eyes off myself and watching Jesus, listening to what the Father’s story is for me.  It means thinking about reaching out to others instead of worrying what they think of me.  It means I trust God with His timing and don’t become anxious when it’s not the same as others.  I must shift my focus from myself and allow God to tell me my story.