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Thanks for stopping by. If this is your first time you're here, you'll notice that this blog is about a 40-day experiment that I did. The problem is, the posts start at Day 40, and this blog site won't let me reverse the order of the posts. So, if you're interested, go ahead and start at the beginning, in the July posts. It will make a lot more sense. I promise.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Day 40: The Prize

Calves burning, she wills her body forward. Beads of sweat have gathered on her forehead, on her hairline. Fists pump back and forth as the final stretch of blacktop lays before her like a red carpet. The cheering crowd takes second place to the thumping of her heart, the rhythm of her blood pulsing through her body, her head, her ears. Push, push. Her face is stretched back, her mouth is dry, but she keeps going, sees the end ever nearing. Almost there, almost there. Push, push. An euphoric tingle starts in her ankles, makes its way up to her knees, her shoulders, her neck. Her vision blurs as the noise of the crowd becomes sharper, louder. Her eyes narrow and she sees it. The finish line. Her muscles get the message and reenergize, pushing forward, propelling itself at will, finding the lost adrenaline in every pocket in which it was hiding as finally, finally the thin ribbon cuts into her chest, her arms as she tears through and slows to a painful, breathless walk, a steady pulsation of blood, sweat, saliva, tears. And her body starts the internal assessment of damage, begins making a list of repairs. Muscles, tendons, water level. Check, check, check. But she is finished. The race is won.

I wish I could say that I was talking about me. But the truth is, I haven't finished yet. I've barely even started. I got stopped a ways back. I couldn't catch my breath, my feet hurt, and I was getting blisters. I wasn't really ready for the race. And I knew I needed help. So, over the last 40 days, I got myself a personal trainer, my body became my slave, and I earned enough salt to buy a new pair of running shoes. I'm lacing them up now. I'm stretching. I'll run better now, I can feel it. And tomorrow, I hit the pavement once again. I may not be the best runner, but thanks to Pick Five, I'm better equipped now than I was 40 days ago. And I'm running with intent to win. For the glory of the Lord my God, and for the sake of His kingdom.

"
I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings. Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize." I Corinthians 9:23-27

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Day 39: The Totals

Recipe for Pick Five. Over the last 39 days, I have eaten:
  • 18 pounds of almonds
  • 89 apples
  • 10 pounds rice (uncooked weight)
  • 14 pounds edamame
  • 52 cups spinach
  • 14.5 teaspoons salt
  • 16.25 gallons of water
(I think the apples have it. Although, I don't know. 52 cups of spinach is a heck of a lot. And 14 pounds edamame... don't get me started.)

Temptations. During the course of Pick Five, I made (for various occasions):
14 custom cakes
10 dozen cookies (including ginger-molasses, chocolate chip, oatmeal cranberry and peanut butter)
3 dozen brownies
I think this is the busiest cake/cookie season I've ever had. Nary a finger licked. I hope you never have to watch cookie dough wash off your fingers into the sink. It's not for the faint of heart.

Losses:
Appetite for edamame.
12 pounds.
Half my head of hair (though that stopped when I started eating more spinach and almonds. It was an iron deficiency. Getting thicker already. Thank you for your prayers and concern.)
A few pieces of my "self" that weren't going to make it through the 40 days.

Gains:
Appreciation, empathy, humility (am I allowed to say that? I guess so.), sobriety, simplicity, preparedness.

And tomorrow, I will give you some parting thoughts. But that's enough to digest for today. (Hardy har har.)

Monday, September 7, 2009

Day 38: Seek and You Will Find

"Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness..." (See title box for reference. This has been an important scripture for me for the last 38 days.)


Anyone up for a last minute word study?


Seek: ζητέω (Greek: zeteo)

1. to seek in order to find

a. to seek a thing

b. to seek in order to find out by thinking, meditating, reasoning

c. to seek after, strive for

2. to seek i.e. require

a. to crave, demand something from someone


I love all of these definitions of seek. The meditation one is interesting. It's the only one that's "be still". The others require an action. But they all work. The last one, to crave. Well, you know that hits home. But demand something... that reminds me of Jacob wrestling with God. "I will not let you go unless you bless me," Jacob says to the figure in Genesis 32:26. It's bold.


I feel like these four definitions are like my "five stages of grief" for Pick Five. Dealing with grief, according to the Kubler-Ross model, takes you through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. Pick Five, on the other hand, is about seeking, about a search. It has taken me through seeking a thing, meditation, striving for, and demanding.


1a. To seek a thing

When I began Pick Five, I wasn't sure what that thing was. I knew that I was gluttonous and unappreciative. But I wasn't seeking to only correct those things. I knew that I was going to learn from the experience, but couldn't put my finger on what it was. I was seeking a thing. And I think that thing was, quite simply, change.


1b. To seek in order to find out by thinking, meditating, reasoning

This is by far the hardest thing a mother of three can try to do with her time. Room to think and meditate is a rare commodity. But it was during the quiet car rides, it was early in the morning before the children woke, and it was late in the evening when the children slept that I was able to commune with God on a realistic scale. These were the moments where I remembered to ask Him what He would have me say, and what He would have me learn. These times were the seconds and minutes that I actually got to ask myself the question that I got bombarded with all day long, "Well, how is it going?" and be able to give myself an honest answer. Leaving room in the margins for thinking, meditating, reasoning was the only way for me to seek in order to find out.


1c. To seek after, to strive for

seek a thing : strive for :: being healthy : exercise

A little bit of SAT lingo for you. "Seek a thing" is to "strive for" as "being healthy" is to "exercise". Let me break it down. We all want to be healthy, right? Anyone saying different is looking for an excuse to eat a donut. But we say it: I want to be healthy. Then it comes time to eat right and exercise, and you get to the put-up-or-shut-up stage. You step on the treadmill. You start it up, it accelerates. Cool, I'm exercising. Yep, I can do this. Getting healthier already. Whoo... Okay... Healthy me.... healthy, healthy, healthy... whoo... how long do I have to do this before I can go get a Chick-fil-A milkshake? That's how I felt at about day seven. Pick Five started with a desire to change. I wanted to seek that thing. But forty days. Was I willing to strive for, to seek after that change with passion, with earnestness. Day five, day seven, day 11, day 12, day 13, day 18, day 19, day 21, day 28, and day 31 all have something in common. That's when I wanted to throw in the towel. (And those were just the days I admitted it.) But God gave me the gifts of patience and persistence (if only for this season), so I wouldn't just seek a thing, but I would seek after it, strive for it.


2a. To crave, demand something from someone

Now, here I am at the end of this journey. Two days left. And I feel like I'm Jacob, wrestling with God. "I will not let go unless you bless me." I'm not asking for blessINGS. In fact, the word bless here is the Hebrew word ברך (barak), which means to bless, or to kneel. The most primitive usages of the word involve bending of the knees or a literal breaking. I've had some breaking down during this time, and it's not fun, but now I'm craving more. The fruit of His breaking, His causing us to kneel before Him, His blessing, is unbelievable. And it's addictive. But now I've convinced myself that God is only able to do a work in me in the next two days or time's up. You might think it's silly for me to feel that way. But looking at it, I guess that's how I should feel every day. Like Jacob. There was an urgency that Jacob had. He knew that he had something special in his grasp, and he didn't want to let it go. So God blessed Jacob (oh yeah, and threw his hip out of joint). And Jacob walked away limping. It is this craving, this demanding nature that we need to have with God on a daily basis. If our relationship is so real with God that we can respectfully demand blessing, we will walk away limping, every day. And that limp reminds us that God touched our life, and we are forever changed.


Mat 6:25, 31-33 "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?... So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But SEEK first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well."

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Days 36&37: It's Not About the Food

Yeah, right.

This is like Leonard Nimoy's book "I Am Not Spock," or Lance Armstrong's "It's Not About The Bike." (Nimoy wrote a follow up book 20 years later. The title: "I Am Spock." I guess he changed his mind.)

But, really, it's not about the food.

I know I talked a lot about what I ate, what I was going through with food. Pick Five is, by it's own definition, about food. Pick five what? Pick five foods to eat.

But it's not about the food.

Mostly, it has been a lesson in discipline. A lesson in leaning on the Lord. Looking back at some of my posts that I wrote before I started, I realized the Lord had accomplished some serious work with me.
I wanted to care more, and I do.
I wanted to appreciate, and I do.
I wanted to be motivated to help, and I am.
I wanted the Lord to work some stuff out in me, and He has/is.
I wanted to simplify life, and it's getting there.

All of it is from the Lord. All of it.

And besides the coffee, I honestly have not thought past day 40. (Okay, fine. I considered a bowl of oatmeal. I miss breakfast!) But if I were to plan all the things I'm going to eat, and start to make my list, I would be right back to my Veruca Salt self. I'm pretty sure that I'll keep it simple for a while. I want to. I'll cook what I have at hand, and I'll eat what is put in front of me. And I'll try not to go to the grocery store when I'm hungry.

With only three days left, I want to give God my all. I don't want to neglect what He's trying to say because I'm too busy dreaming of cookies or cheese or a fully-loaded baked potato. (Thanks, Greg. Now I can't get that potato out of my head. Except Greg purposefully spells it "potata". This was #2 on my friend's husband's proposed Pick Five list. Right between steak and beer.)

It's not about the food.

I'm hoping that if I keep saying that, I can squeeze out the small-but-obstinate minority vote in me that's still obsessing about the food. There's much bigger issues on the table, after all.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Day 35: Serve Somebody

I had a friend in fourth grade named Rachel. She and I, along with our friend Larissa, formed a girl club trio. "The Colorful Hearts." (It was fourth grade, okay?) But we were official -- we had jackets with our name and club logo on them, thanks to Larissa's mom who owned an embroidery shop. We swore our loyalty to each other, and were inseparable at every free moment. But let's just be clear, Rachel ran our lives. (I may be a pushy broad now, but it came later in life.) We did whatever that girl said.

Rachel: Go tell Luke you think he's cute.
Larissa: But you think he's cute, not me.
Rachel: Go tell him. I just want to see what he says.
Larissa: Okay.

Rachel: Let's have a play fight at recess.
Me: What do you mean?
Rachel: It'll be funny, and everyone will watch.
Me: Are you going to really hit?
Rachel: No. I said play fight.

To her credit, she didn't actually hit me. But she did pull my hair and kick my shins like a caged donkey. Real funny. One memory of Rachel that most sticks out in my mind was when the three of us decided we were going to dress up in costume the next day for school. Just for the fun of it. I was going to wear my soccer outfit and they would wear their Pop-Warner cheerleader outfits. (This should have been my first clue. One of these things is not like the other.) Well, I missed the memo that said that they had changed their minds. I wore knee-high soccer socks and short black shorts to school. This was not cool. People were staring at me the second I got out of the van. To a fourth grader, humiliating. But when I saw my friends not wearing their end of the deal, my heart sank. I started to take off the socks.

Rachel: What are you doing?
Me: I'm taking off my socks.
Rachel: No.
Me: Huh?
Rachel: No. We just forgot to wear ours. You still have to wear that. All day.

I remember sitting in my elementary school bathroom crying enormous tears over my silly soccer socks. Why did I listen to that girl? Because she was a leader, and I guess I needed someone to follow. And when you put yourself in the hands of another, you are at their mercy.

How much greater is our vulnerability, then, when we put ourselves at the mercy of the Lord? His power, believe it or not, exceeds that of my fourth-grade friend Rachel. When you put yourself out there for the Lord to do His work, when you say words like, "If you can use anything, Lord, use me," or like my friend Jen Hatmaker said, "God, raise up in me a holy passion," there is the possibility of a life turned upside down. Comfort: gone. Security: gone. Identity: gone. Expectations: pssht. Servanthood requires emptying of self and a filling up with the will of another. Now, I know God can wipe out life from the planet (hello, Noah?) and strike people dead in His anger (Nadab, Abihu), but I also know that he can deliver His people from the mighty hand of the Egyptians, preserve them through the ages, and send a Redeemer to save Israel and the nations. I'll take His will over Rachel's any day.

With that surrender comes a certain rawness. Because I've knocked down my walls and shelters and buffers, I feel a certain sobriety and helplessness that pushes me to trust God entirely. It's the stripped down self I asked for, I know. And compared to many modern day disciples across the globe, His calling on my life has required very little. Thus far. But let me tell you, Pick Five hasn't been a walk in the park, either.

One comfort I find is that I know, without a doubt, I'm in good hands.

"My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me." Psalm 63:8

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Day 34: Act of Kindness

Thank you, my friend, for the wonderful act of kindness you showed me tonight. As our group gathered around the snack table, folks oohed and ahed over your spread. And my cup overflowed.

You see, for our Restore Community meeting, a group of over a dozen adults, my friend and hostess had set out the following snacks:
1. Edamame
2. Apple slices (with optional dip)
3. Spinach salad with strawberries and some other delicious looking stuff, and a small bowl of plain spinach to the side.
4. Homemade applesauce (made only from apples)
5. Almonds

And, you won't believe this, but people actually ate!

I am so grateful that during your hectic crazy day, and in the process of getting your house ready to have guests, that you thought of me. That made me feel so special. You are a gem. A really sparkly gem.


(And while I'm at it, thank you to all of you friends and family who have been really supportive. From the "Want an apple? I think I have an apple," all the way to the brown rice pasta and multiple accommodations from my mom, and the crackers from my sister-in-law. You guys are the best.)

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Day 33: Getting Creative

So, I wanted to share with you some of the lovely (and not-so-lovely) combinations of the Five Foods that I have eaten over the last 33 days.

The Good:
1. Apples sliced horizontally (in circles) with almond butter*. Yum. Okay, I'm getting up right now to go make some before I go on... standby... okay muff bewwah. (That's me saying "much better" with apples and almond butter in my mouth.)
2. Diced apples, almond butter and sliced almonds mixed together for the morning meal formerly known as "breakfast".
3. Apple-spinach popsicles. This is a hard sell, I know. But if there's any of you out there who "juice" (with a juicer, not steroids), you understand that fruit + vegetable in the juicer = delicious. Frozen = deliciouser.
4. Apple-spinach-almond slaw salad. Match sticked (julienne cut) apples, raw spinach leaves cut into strips, sliced almonds (don't try to do this yourself. ouch). Toss and eat. I can't wait to try this with an actual dressing, like a raspberry vinaigrette, but it's pretty delicious as is.
5. Edamame in pods, dry sautéed then flash steamed with lightly salted water. Topped with kosher salt. There's a reason why P.F. Changs sells this stuff by the bucketload.
6. My sister-in-law, God love her, made a delicious cheesecake topped with handmade chocolate ruffles for an extended-family dinner. Riddled with guilt, she made me brown rice and almond crackers in consolation. She food-processed the two and smushed them into shape (A, did you bake them after? or just let them dry?). Anyway, they were pretty dry (it's not your fault! look what you were working with!) but when I topped them with almond butter and apple slices -- c'est magnifique!

The Bad:
1. Brown rice with diced apples and sliced almonds. I thought this would be good for breakfast, an oatmeal of sorts. Not good. Did I eat it anyway? Yes, yes I did.
2. Undercooked brown rice. And I had forgotten the salt. (It was a to-go.) Like eating a mouthful of roly-polies.
3. Bowl of edamame already out of pods. No better than a bowl of lima beans. Drink lots of water.
4. I accidently bought "extra fine chopped spinach" from the freezer section. Let me correct that. It was: Buy any premium frozen veg (i.e. edamame), and receive a free "extra fine chopped spinach". FREE. I bought seven sets. How could I pass that up? Well, except that the extra fine you-know-what was... extra fine. If I wanted to make a spinach pesto, this would have been perfect. It might as well have been spinach paste. Yuck.

The Ugly
These are the suggestions that some of my "friends" gave me. I contain the "friends" in quotes, because I detected a hint of a smirk under their suggestion, and I question their true intentions.
1. Edamame-apple-spinach smoothie. "It's like a protein shake!"
2. Brown rice pudding. "Well, you couldn't use sugar or milk or eggs. But I'd bet you could sweeten it with apple juice!"
3. Soy milk. As in, "You could make your own soy milk from edamame!"
And, no, I did not try any of these. Geez, give me some credit.

But, mostly I ate the Pick Five foods in their simplest form. And only cried over a bowl of edamame two or three times. I thanked God for the food, as I still do now, on day 33.

*Not all almond butters are created equally. Some have oils and sugar in them. The two that I used were MaraNatha Natural Almond Butter, ingredients: dry roasted almonds, and also the kind at the grocery store, where you flip the switch and watch the machine turn almonds into almond butter.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Day 32: That Which Comes After

I so wanted to make this day light reading. For your sake. For my own sanity. But I can't. There's some things weighing so heavily, I would be faking it by trying to do a post about my on-again-off-again with edamame or my blissful regularity.

I


am


scared.

There are only eight days left in this Pick Five simplification. So few a number that AP guidelines says I have to spell it out instead of using the number 8. So few days I can use my hands to count. So little time that I can feel it sifting faster through the hourglass, narrowing its top half, becoming speedy and efficient in the final seconds.

And I don't want to leave Pick Five. I have developed Stockholm syndrome for my five captors. Although there were times I felt threatened by this process, there have been many acts of kindness, mercy, and protection that God has offered me through the experience. How can I go back? How can I eat fried chicken wings and chips and dip and pizza and wash it all down with a couple of beers at the next football game? (Well, I can't do that yet. My stomach would definitely fight back at this point.) How can I look at an ice cream sundae? How can I not feel a pang in my stomach for the hungry all over the world the next time I wolf down a pile of pasta?

Let me just say this. My dad said it to me in love. And it completely crushed me.


THERE IS NO DAY 41 IN ZAMBIA.


I hold that phrase in my hands like a child holds a dead bird or a dying puppy that was too weak to make it past birth. All I can do is stare at it and feel pain. I feel helpless. Lost. What do I do with this? Daddy, fix it.

And I guess that's just it. One more lesson. I can't fix it all. But I care. I care more now than I ever have. And if I care, it moves me to do something. If I think about the abundance when I get overwhelmed at the grocery store or in a restaurant, it will bring me back to this place right here, and I can choose simplicity over extravagance. If I think about the hungry here and abroad, I will narrow my grocery budget and use the difference to help someone else eat. If I think I need this one more thing to make my life complete, I can think of the millions of people who are without it and doing just fine. And I will pray and petition to the Creator of the Universe about the rest of it, to do what only He can. Daddy, fix it.

Which brings about a new fear. (I think I need post-traumatic Pick Five counseling.) What if that which I feel right now, this pain, this caring, this raw and basic desire to simplify and help others... what if it goes away?

So, for those of you who pray for Pick Five, who pray for me, don't worry about whether or not I'll be able to finish out my final days. At this point, I'm all in. I'm more concerned about what comes after. Please pray for that.