one last freeze.

{photo by Jules Kendall}

An old teacher of mine came by the store yesterday. I guess, really, more than an old teacher: an old friend. She's the kind of teacher we all hopefully had at one time or another, the kind that makes you want to teach, makes you want to learn and read and experience all life has to offer. She was a confidant and mentor my last two years of high school, and to see her now, 10 years later, was surreal and wonderful, and in just a few moments, we were right back where we always were, student and teacher, me eagerly sitting, learning from her. 

We were conversing about spring, about gardening and friendships and this transient Tallahassee town.

And in the middle of all that, somewhere, she told me:

"My grandmother always said when Easter came early, to hold off on planting your garden. There's always one good freeze left." 

This year, with Easter surprising us this last weekend in March, our corner of the world has had a couple days of freezing temperatures. Some northern states are experiencing snow, so there's really no room to complain. But my little garden is at stake, and each night, Jordan and I cover my plants with a sheet, and I say a silent prayer that they keep growing, that the freeze doesn't cost them their lives. 

I just really need something to grow right now. 

My brother is home, just for a day or two, to celebrate the wedding of a friend. He's had a rough season -- I wager a broken hand in the middle of graduate level work would take its toll on anyone -- and as we talked on Wednesday over lunch, I heard him say words I've been saying to myself lately.

"I just really need to win one right now."

And I know just what he means, because gosh... Jordan and I are happy. We are content. We are goofy and fun and smiling, and on the surface? Nothing much is wrong. 

But then there are the maggots from two weeks ago that have now become flies. Each day I march into my living room armed with a broom or a rolled-up magazine, and I feel like Moses conquering the ten plagues, because flies? Flies are gross, and I now more than ever sympathize with the Egyptians who dealt with one thing after another while at the hands of a Pharaoh who was more in control than they were. 

There are the friends who are moving and leaving and starting new adventures, and we're exhausted preparing mentally and physically for their departure. We are cramming in road trips and movie nights and dinners out because everything is about to change. 

There are the church issues that, like those maggots I thought had disappeared, have reared their ugly heads again, only this time bigger and deeper and somehow, worse. 

And each day is filled with happy, good things, but the overarching feeling is more frost than spring, more funk than awakening. 

I am ready for spring metaphorical almost as much as I am ready for spring literal, but I can't help thinking about my teacher's words. 

There's always one more freeze. 

I wonder, as a believer ending Holy Week and walking toward the resurrection, if this is how the disciples felt. Happy, celebratory dinners and precious moments with their Savior and friend, but an overarching theme of sorrow and tension and uncertainty. And after Palm Sunday, they must have thought spring was coming. They must have started planting seeds and prepping for kingdom work. They must have thought the tides had changed and new weather was around the corner. 

And then it wasn't. 

The worst happened, and a freeze came that nearly killed everything. Did kill everything. The seeds they'd planted, the kingdom they'd prepared for, the ruling they were sure would save them all? Dead, killed in an overnight plan that started with greed and a deceitful kiss. 

If you're a believer, today marks Good Friday, and if you're like me, you wonder what's so good about it. You wonder why the plan had to look like this, had to involve death and darkness and a distinct and devastating loss of hope. 

And while I don't think I'll ever know the whys of the plan, I'm learning, this year, there is goodness in today. There is power in that one last freeze before spring, the submission that comes with letting forces beyond our control do their thing so that we can begin the business of rising again. 

So, yes. There are dozens of flies dancing in my living room. There are friends packing and moving and making plans. There are questions about our church and our future there that ultimately, will need to be answered, once and for all. There are issues that plague our marriage and questions about our jobs. 

This, I hope, has been the freeze, the final blow before we can get back up and try again, before we can work in our gardens and greet -- with equal parts exhaustion and jubilation -- the spring we have been waiting for.

lent, half-way.

{photo by Michael Graydon}

We are smack dab in the middle of Lent, and for perhaps the first time, I miss the fact that our church doesn't honor these days together. It makes it doubly hard, I think, to try to muddle through these days alone, armed with devotionals and prayers, but missing community. 

I've tried to choose happiness these past few weeks, but right after we got home from Jordan's granddad's funeral, we had severe weather resulting in several leaks in our living room and a very wet couch. The rainy weather continued for days, which meant nothing could really be done, so we aired the couch out, called the landlord, and hoped for the best. Fast forward to earlier this week, when I began to put my living room back together, only to discover maggots -- maggots, you guys -- falling from my ceiling. There's a dead animal on my roof, and maggots are coming through my ceiling. 

Maggots. 

I confess this because all of this has made Lent difficult. This year, I chose to give up personal shopping for these 40 days: no sale emails, no miscellaneous Target trips, no mindlessly scanning Anthropologie's sale section. Of course, all of these things are relatively minuscule compared to the biggest sacrifice of them all: no book buying. Jordan half-jokingly suggested I give up reading for Lent, but I can't even go there. Reading? I'm not sure who I'd be at the end of 40 days with nary a book in my hand. No purchases, then, from my store, from Barnes & Noble, from tiny bookstores in tiny towns. 

It's been harder than I'd like to admit, mostly because when there are maggots invading your living room, all you really want is a new candle scent or a magazine to make you feel better. 

Truthfully, there have been days this month and last in which I forgot it was Lent at all. Jordan told me it's okay; we don't have to dwell on our failures and our brokenness 24/7. It still feels wrong, though, like I'm missing out on something bigger. I wish every Sunday I'd be reminded about why I'm doing this, why this season is different from the one before it and the one coming next. 

I guess, though, I'm learning I don't have to rely on shopping or Internet browsing or even the smell of a brand new book when times are a little tougher than normal. Maybe Lent is about recognizing your weakness and relying on the Savior instead of the world. If I really think about it, maybe that's what I've been doing, albeit badly, these past few weeks. And maybe, for now, that's enough. 

lent: baby steps.

{photo by Max Wanger}

Every year, I have to trust that God knows my heart, that making my way through the 40 days of Lent as earnestly as I know how is enough for Him.

It could become rather legalistic, I guess, this putting off/taking on process that occurs between now and Easter. I suppose I could bind myself -- and those around me -- to the sacrifices I make, suppose my days could become more about the sacrifice and my pride, and less about the Father.

But I have to trust that He rewards and is pleased with my efforts, feeble though they may be. I have to trust that even though my own church community doesn't follow the church calendar or offer help in this particular journey, He is there each step of the way, recognizing that I am doing this for Him.

I am learning, each year, more and more about the Lenten season. I know now that it is really less about what you give up (if you give up anything at all), and more about your attitude during the 40 days. It is about remembrance and memorial, about taking the steps of the Savior with Him up until that very black, black Friday, then rejoicing in the absolute miracle of His resurrection. It is about taking part in the journey Christ took, and sometimes that manifests itself in new habits or in sacrifices, in going without or in putting something on.

This year, I am choosing to drink only water over the next 40 days. After reading this helpful article (a must-read if you're new to the church calendar and to Lent in particular), I've decided to take note of any time I would have had something other than water to drink: any time I would have ordered a Chick-fil-A lemonade or gotten a Coke from the vending machine. The amount of money I would have spent on sodas and fruit drinks, I plan to donate to Blood:Water Mission through their 40 Days of Water program.

I do plan on instituting one other Lenten practice this season, to make sure these 40 days don't become entirely about drinking only water and instead bring the focus back to the King and what He has done for me.

Once a week, Jordan and I (me by choice, Jordan because he shares a home with me) will be going without lights in the evening. This isn't about electricity: I won't be using the money I saved on our electric bill to donate to a local charity. Instead, this is about time and peace. This is about reserving a part of my week for the quiet and the still. It's about slowing down and breathing deep, about taking a little time each week to remind myself what Lent is really all about. I was inspired by this article; my prayer is that Lent this year will mean more to me than dietary restrictions or even life-changing habits. My hope is that by setting aside one night a week to go without television, without computer, without iPhone, without chores... I will remember that life itself isn't about any of those things. It's about the Father. I'm not nearly quiet enough to realize that on a regular basis.

I've been observing Lent (in some form or another) for a few years now, and I've taken a lot of baby steps to reach the point where I'm even beginning to understand what it fully means and how it should probably look. I think baby steps are okay, though. We need the milk before we can have the meat. We needed the law before we could fully grasp grace.

This year, I hope I can remember what Lent is really about; I hope I can open my heart to what He has to say, especially in the moments of rest and quiet.

---

What are you doing to commemorate Lent this year?

and it was good.

 {photo by Rebecca Wright on Oh Happy Day. As an aside, I want friends who crack confetti-filled eggs on my head. Any takers?}

This has been a good week.

I believe this is worth noting, because it is easy to recognize and complain about the weeks that feel long and drawn-out, as if Friday and Saturday are nothing more than the figments of my imagination, far-off castles in the air that I will never reach.

But this week, something changed; a shift occurred. I enjoyed Monday. Monday! Can you believe it? And Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday was my Friday, which made it automatically more enjoyable. (Although I’ve never found Thursday particularly offensive anyway.)

And by the time you read this, I will be long gone, on my way to visit the in-laws for Easter weekend.

I’m in the process of analyzing this week, trying to figure out what factor changed my attitude and made the days feel more like gifts and less like burdens. So many things are in the running:

Jordan and I rode to work together a few mornings, praying and talking.

Our refrigerator is full, and we cooked together two nights in a row.

I introduced my cousin to the girls we call Gilmore, and (praise be) she loved them. 

I completed one baby shower invitation, two blog redesigns, one wedding Save the Date, one graduation invitation, and three articles for the newspaper I write for.

As a result, I have money to buy clothes for the first time in months, and guess what? I can’t think of one thing I actually need. Contentment is a beautiful thing.

The legislative session went on a brief hiatus for Easter and Passover, removing lots of stress from both my work and personal life. No news is good news.

I completed day six of Couch to 5k. (I know. I am as shocked as you are.)

Parenthood went out with a bang, and hey, just like that: I got my Tuesday nights back. (Please tell me you watch Parenthood. If not, go. Go now. Catch up. And fall in love with it like we did.)

Speaking of television, are you watching The Killing on AMC on Sunday nights? You should be. I mean, you shouldn’t be if you’re not into crime shows. But if you are into crime shows, this is the best one ever. Each hour represents a day in the investigation. In other words, everything’s slower-paced. Which I love.

We started the week with frozen yogurt at my new favorite place in town.

See? So many good things. But really, I wonder if it all boils down to the fact that this is the week.

The week it all started.

The week my Savior chose to walk down the long, dusty road to Calvary. To silently bear our sins so we could be with Him forever.

I am in awe of the fact that thousands of years before my own journey on this planet began, my Savior thought of me fondly, cared enough for me to rescue me when I didn't even know I needed rescuing.

Religious circles have debated predestination and free will for years. I'm not here to do that. But I do take comfort in the thought that I was chosen. That the Father and the Son saw my face in the crowd that Good Friday, and they wanted me. Picked me. Redeemed me.

So yes, this week has been good. All my weeks are good. Because Someone chose me. Someone called me by name and made me His.

May you and your family experience His awesome presence this Easter. He makes all things good.

lent: week six + a recipe.

{photo by Matthew Brookes, via Mary Swenson}

Here we are, folks. The end of the road.

Lent is coming to a close, and as I've mentioned before, I'm not entirely sure I've really grasped the true meaning of the season. It's hard without a community of faith supporting and guiding you through, reminding you of the significance behind the tradition of sacrifice. My hope is that each year, I will get better. I will mature. My faith will grow. My sacrifice will mean something.

Until then, I have learned this:

I am weak.

And He is strong.

Through these weeks of sacrifice, of life without sugar, I have been reminded that He did this too.

He walked this path. Lived this life. Gave of Himself for the sake of the Father.

My hope is that this season has trained me. That when Easter has come and gone, I will remember His generous spirit. That I will lean toward generosity myself. That sacrifice will flow easily out of me, and He will be praised.

--

{photo from The Food Network}

Now, my gift to you: a spring/summertime recipe that will knock your socks off and provide you with the perfect leftover lunches. Thank you, Ina. You are a genius.

A few things worth noting:

- This recipe is easy, but it takes much longer than 15 minutes. Maybe I'm just not a great kitchen multitasker, but all of the chopping involved took me quite a bit of time. Plus, if you don't read the entire recipe in advance (uh, guilty), you'll reach the bottom and discover the entire thing is supposed to either be refrigerated overnight, or needs to sit for an hour "marinating." Whoops.

- Orzo pasta is delicious.

- If you have leftover shrimp, you could prepare them as the recipe calls for: doused with olive oil and salt and pepper. Just roast in the oven for six to seven minutes, and you'd have half a meal, ready to go.

- Jordan said this was in his top five of things I have cooked. This deserves recognition, I think.

- I'm not sure how many this recipe is supposed to serve, but I went ahead and prepared it according to the directions, and I'm glad. It may be better leftover than it is the night of. My lunches have never tasted so good.

- This recipe calls for things like scallions, dill, cucumber, red onion, and feta cheese. I am a picky eater, but let me tell you: these flavors combine to make something magnificent. And I think it's official: I'm becoming a grown-up.

Here she is in all her glory. Enjoy!

--

Ingredients

* Kosher salt
* Good olive oil
* 3/4 pound orzo pasta (rice-shaped pasta)
* 1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (3 lemons)
* Freshly ground black pepper
* 2 pounds (16 to 18 count) shrimp, peeled and deveined
* 1 cup minced scallions, white and green parts
* 1 cup chopped fresh dill
* 1 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
* 1 hothouse cucumber, unpeeled, seeded, and medium-diced
* 1/2 cup small-diced red onion
* 3/4 pound good feta cheese, large diced

Directions

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Fill a large pot with water, add 1 tablespoon of salt and a splash of oil, and bring the water to a boil. Add the orzo and simmer for 9 to 11 minutes, stirring occasionally, until it's cooked al dente. Drain and pour into a large bowl. Whisk together the lemon juice, 1/2 cup olive oil, 2 teaspoons salt and 1 teaspoon of pepper. Pour over the hot pasta and stir well.

Meanwhile, place the shrimp on a sheet pan, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss to combine and spread out in a single layer. Roast for 5 to 6 minutes, until the shrimp are cooked through. Don't overcook!

Add the shrimp to the orzo and then add the scallions, dill, parsley, cucumber, onion, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper. Toss well. Add the feta and stir carefully. Set aside at room temperature for 1 hour to allow the flavors to blend, or refrigerate overnight. If refrigerated, taste again for seasonings and bring back to room temperature before serving.

Full recipe and reviews found here.

lent: week five.

{photo by yours truly}

I didn't do an update last week, mostly because things seem to be about the same. I avoid sugar like the plague, then wonder if I'm even remotely coming close to discovering the true meaning of this season. It's been an especially difficult couple of weeks as I attend work events and eat out with friends. I would never want to bind this decision on anyone else, nor do I want to wear it like some badge of honor, so I have to be careful when I decline a friend's offer of dessert or eat lunch with coworkers.

This season has been challenging, but I will tell you that the sacrifice I'm making does make me more purposeful not only in what I eat, but in how I go about my every day. When your most basic decisions -- what will I eat for lunch? what can I have as a nighttime snack? -- are affected by a decision made for the Father, it places a new perspective on your day. The most mundane things have been changed for Him, so why wouldn't the rest of your day follow suit? 

And, for those of you walking through this season too, tell me: Do you find that what you have given up has become even more appealing to you in these weeks? Maybe I really was a huge snack-eater before, but now? Now I crave sugar-filled snacks all the time. I want ice cream and cookies and donuts and yogurt from the new place down the street. I assure you that prior to Lent, I wasn't that big of a sweet eater, but now? Now, the siren song of sweets is everywhere, and I'm forced to ignore it. This is proof, perhaps, that you always want what it is you just can't have. 

Lent has been a struggle, for a variety of reasons, and with only one week left, I wonder if I've done this past month and a half justice. I have to trust that God's grace covers the moments I have failed or treated Lent as more of a health experiment rather than a spiritual exercise. I have plans for this body of mine post-Lent, plans that may put some of these Lenten rituals into my daily routine. If nothing else, maybe these weeks have reminded me to care for the body God has given me, to treasure what He treasures. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

lent: week three.

These pictures really have nothing to do with Lent. They just make me happy. 

First, I wanted to say thank you for all of your comments on last week's Lenten post. Your thoughtful words meant a lot, especially to a girl kind of stumbling through this season on her own.

This week has been particularly difficult, mostly because of the faces I get when I have to pass on cookies and brownies, soda and fast food. It's tough to feel like the odd one out, like the silly girl who's trying to complete some kind of odd social experiment.

I find myself craving desserts like never before. I want cookies after every meal. I pass through the freezer section at Publix and drool over Ben and Jerry's. Last Friday, I dragged Jordan to a local yogurt shop, thinking they'd have a sugar-free option. Having to leave empty-handed was perhaps the biggest disappointment of my week.

At the same time, though, I feel like I am actively doing something to demonstrate to God the desires of my heart. On Monday night, as I prepared cupcakes and brownies for the girls in my book club, I literally ached at not being able to lick the icing off my fingers or scrape the bottom of the pan. But I had this moment where looked up and whispered: "This is for you." I remembered that I wasn't just doing this sugar thing out of some crazy plan to lose weight, or even as a health experiment. My reasons, though I sometimes forget, are deeper than that. And I could resist the little temptation those cupcakes offered because I knew that somewhere, God was smiling, grateful for my small attempt at sacrificial living.

I know that tomorrow, if I peeked into my pantry and sneakily ate a Girl Scout cookie, it wouldn't be a sin. I don't believe our God works that way. But there is a satisfaction that comes when I feel my soul actively turning down something -- even something as small and inconsequential as sugar --  for the Lord of my life.

Lent, I think, could easily become something in which I took pride, or in which I might feel "better" about my "spiritual status." Look at me, I'm giving up cookies for Jesus! But over and over again, Scripture reminds us that our Lord is far more concerned with the state of ours hearts than the state of our stomachs. This Lenten sacrifice means nothing if the state of my heart is less than pure. And each day of this season, I think I'm learning that lesson. That it's less about sugar and more about my soul.

---

"For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings." 

 - Hosea 6:6

lent: week two.

"So, is this like a spiritual thing, or is this really more of a diet thing?" 

It was a fair enough question, but I was a little bit startled when she asked. 

The truth is, in my heart, I want this to be spiritual. I want the sacrifice I'm making to remind me of my weakness and His strength, of my failure and His grace.

But almost every day, I'm asking myself another form of that same question, which basically boils down to: Am I even doing this right? 

I think I've mentioned it here before, but it's probably worth mentioning again: My community of faith doesn't actively practice Lent, or really adhere to the church calendar in general. Lent is something I practiced on my own for a few years, and is now something Jordan and I practice together. I wonder, though, if what I seem to be missing from my Lenten journey is community. I pore over blog posts about Lent (you can check out some of my favorites here, here, and here), and I anxiously await your comments in hopes that I am not the only one just muddling through. But I don't gather with other believers on a weekly basis, hearing about their Lenten journey, sharing what they've learned in their years of practice, and I wonder if that's maybe the missing piece to my puzzle, if maybe weekly community with other Lent practitioners would help me "get it" more.

Basically, I want you to know: I have not a clue what I'm doing. All I know is that it's hard some days, and easier on others. I guess, yes, from the outside, this probably looks like a dietary practice. I'm trying to eat more healthily, trying to focus on putting good things into my body instead of bad. But in this act of sacrifice, I'm also trying to draw closer to the One who made me. I don't necessarily "feel" that closeness every day as I forgo Cokes and cookies. But I really, truly hope (and have to believe) that my Father is looking down on me, smiling at my feeble attempts to please Him.

{Random plug: I don't mention my church often on the blog, but I just have to share this past Sunday's sermon with you. Seriously, one of the best I've ever heard. Just click below to listen.}

lent: week one.

 {photo by Amanda Green Bottoms via Mary Swenson}

First off, thank you for all of your comments on Monday’s post. When it was all said and done, we wound up donating an additional $95 to the American Red Cross. It feels like not-enough, but it is something. Let’s continue to offer up the people of Japan in our prayers. Distance, I think, can too often make us feel detached from tragedy. I don’t want to be detached.

I promised weekly updates on my Lenten journey, but I don’t want this to turn into a “Look what I did for Lent” post. So, I’ll try to keep today short and to the point.

Not eating sugar is hard. I have more of a sweet tooth than I realized, not for candy, necessarily, but for cookies and Coke. I miss those things, and last Thursday and Friday — the first couple of days of Lent — were especially difficult. Otherwise, though, I’m beginning to wonder if this is how we were really meant to eat: carefully and intentionally. I do feel better throughout the day, though I suppose I could attribute that to the fact that I’m now packing my own snacks (apples and string cheese in the morning; cashews and strawberries in the afternoon) and drinking more water.

I also have discovered other, better ways of getting natural sugars into my body. I’m eating an inordinate amount of fruit, and Simply Lemonade and Welch’s grape juice both only use natural sugars, so while I still try to mostly drink water, the occasional amount of raspberry lemonade almost helps me forget about Coke. I’m eating better in the mornings. Breakfasts have included vegan, gluten-free and sugar-free raspberry scones (recipe here) and Ezekiel toast with apple slices.

After seven days, though, I’m not sure that sacrificing sugar — or any other type of food or activity — is what Lent is all about. I’ve found myself thinking a lot about the Pharisees, how they got so wrapped up in their knowledge and practice of food laws (and other Mosaic laws) that they missed out on what was really important: God in the flesh. Love. Forgiveness. I don’t want Lent to become that for me. I don’t want to get so wrapped up in what I’ve given up or in the rules that I’ve made for myself that I ignore the real meaning of Lent, this act of lessening myself to make more of Him. The daily sacrifice I’m making should point to the Savior, not to my own capabilities or my own goodness. If anything, it should be a reminder of how unworthy I am of God’s grace, but how He continues to bestow it: a constant stream of daily blessing.

Giving up sugar has been hard, though it probably shouldn’t be. I have a little bit more energy throughout the day. My face is clearer. I feel better. The benefits, I can tell, will far outweigh the difficulties. This seven-day experiment has proven, though (and maybe this is why Lent suggests sacrifice) that I am weak, barely capable of ignoring the Girl Scout cookies in my freezer. I am in desperate need of a Savior who can identify with my weaknesses and rescue me from them.

How is your journey through this season of Lent going? Any tips for me as I continue to let go of sugar? Feel free to leave a comment or include a link to your own blog post about Lent. I’d love to read what you have to say about these 40 days.

goodbye, sugar.

 {photo by 365 Days of Breakfast, via Mary Ruffle}

Today is the day.

I've been slowly trying to wean myself off of sugar so today wouldn't come as too much of a shock. I've yet to discover if that was at all helpful. Instead, I'm focusing on taking this project one week at a time. Forty days doesn't sound like a lot (at least to my ears), but when I realized Lent coincided with March Madness, well, I started to panic a little. Easter feels very, very far away, but remember: I am determined. And I have lots of people to hold me accountable. So here we go.

This past weekend I spent a lot of time at the library and online, trying to find information about what exactly "giving up sugar" really means. Here's what I decided it means for me.

Over the next 40 days, I will be eliminating the following from my diet completely:
- sodas and juices
- sweets (meaning processed desserts, cookies, etc.)
- white bread (sadly, I am a white bread eater. So this will have to go.)
- breakfast bars and cereal
- frozen meals
- most salad dressings (though I may attempt to make my own)
- most pre-packaged items
- fast food

And here are some things I will try to eliminate, but will not panic about if they slip in on occasion:
- potatoes
- corn
- white rice
- carrots

I plan to eat three meals a day, as well as two snacks, in order to make sure I'm not losing weight and am still eating healthily. Natural whole foods, like vegetables and fruits, are at the top of my list of things to eat large quantities of. I'll also be experimenting some with smoothie-making and with some dessert recipes found in the Babycakes cookbook I picked up from the library.

For those who are curious or who are joining in the Lenten journey, here are some helpful resources on giving up sugar:
- Goop newsletter
- Sugar Busters
- Cutting Refined Sugar from Your Child's Diet
- How to Eliminate Sugar from Your Diet

I'll try to blog my progress each week, probably on Wednesdays. That way the blog doesn't become overrun with talk of refined sugars and gluten-free dessert recipes. Please remember, too, that I am not a nutrition expert, so I'm learning as I go. Overall, though, I think my plan is fairly common sensical: Eat less processed foods and more fruit and vegetables.

If you're also going sugar-free -- or giving up anything else you love and enjoy -- I'd love to hear about it. Feel free to blog your own thoughts or comment here.

---

Come, let us bow down, and bend the knee, and kneel before the Lord Our Maker. For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. Oh, that today you would hearken to his voice!

- Psalm 95:6-7

grace makes beauty: the beginning of Lent.

 {photo by Hilda Grahnat, via Bippity Boppity Boo}

My weekends have been so lovely lately that I'm trying not to be one of those people who just lives for Friday at 5. It's a challenge, this giving-thanks-for-every-moment, but I am finding that I notice more: that I relish the way my eggs slip and slide and shine while I make myself an omelet. That a quiet evening is viewed with a sigh of relief and a prayer of thanksgiving, that the pink and purple blooms intertwined amongst the brown branches receive more of my attention than they did last week.

I wrote that in my 25th year, I wanted to become grace. I wanted to bring my name honor. I wanted to not just receive the grace that's been given or bestow it on those I love: I want to be grace.

"Grace makes beauty out of ugly things. Grace finds beauty in everything."

So sings Bono, and so I want to be.

And each day, with its ups and downs or seemingly straight-line-nothingness, I am feeling it a little bit more, like the books I have been reading for months now are finally sinking in, like it has taken a while now for these seeds I have been sowing to take root.

I am, in the smallest of ways, becoming more grace-filled.

Not by my own doing, of course, but by the One who reigns in me.

Of course, not every moment is the picture of grace. There are still moments of frustration, aggravation, and disappointment. Moments of doubt creep in, and moments of anger catch on my tongue.

But I am liking this me. She is not perfect, but she is trying to find the good, the beauty, the grace.

Tomorrow, as the season of Lent begins, I am nervous. I have been content these last few weeks, and I am afraid what a change in diet, in routine, might do to a grace-filled life. (Or a life that is trying to achieve some semblance of grace.) I have bitten off a large task, I know, but I am determined.

I plan to blog my progress, not out of pride or selfish ambition (for the day that it becomes that I will have to forfeit and move on), but for the hope of community and encouragement, a desire to see what the Lenten experience can do when we let the Spirit do his work.

Several of you have agreed to join me, armed with your own sacrifices. My hope is that we can be a source of encouragement for one another, that the sacrifices we each bring will inspire us to continue through the 40 days. 

Here's to making beauty out of ugly things.

---

Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. 

- from The Book of Common Prayer

evaluating.

{from here}

Every year, I try to give something up for Lent. One year, it was Coke. For the past couple of years, it's been Facebook. This year, I'm thinking of trying a couple of different things, and I'd like your thoughts.

Originally, I was going to -- again -- give up Facebook for 40 days, this time deactivating my account so I won't receive updates via email. I am still going to deactivate, but not for Lent. In fact, today is my last day as a member of the Facebook generation (for now. I hate to say forever lest someone immediately identify me as a hypocrite should I rejoin the ranks later). I've enjoyed sharing pictures and keeping up with friends, but the truth is, this space has become far more rewarding. Facebook often leaves me with feelings of inadequacy, guilt, even anger. But through blogging, I've developed relationships, improved my writing, received encouragement and feedback and constructive criticism... I just prefer blogging. In truth, of course, both can be time-sucks, so I'm giving up one, and it's Facebook.

For Lent, though, I wanted to do something different and a little bit more sacrificial, something I really loved. As a result, I'm contemplating the consequences of giving up sugar. Now, let me quickly clarify: I am not trying to lose weight. Nope. That's not what this is about; I'm a pretty petite person, and I have no desire to become even more so. Instead, this is about overall health. My face is a disaster zone. I am worn out and exhausted at the end of the day. I get the occasional headache. I am grouchier than normal and can be short with those I love. Although I have an idea of a couple of other causes, I've done enough reading to realize that I may not be putting the best things into my body. At 25, I figure it's probably time to start paying closer attention, and what better time to start than with 40 days of sacrifice breathing down my neck? Sugar is the first step, though I've been trying to read up on a couple of 30-day cleanses to see if those might be options worth considering. (A raw food diet seems to be popular, but maybe out of my league. Thoughts?)

In addition, last year I read an article or heard a sermon -- I don't know where -- about how Lent is not just about giving things up: It's about replacing with good. Forgive me in advance if this seems silly to you -- the Lenten tradition is a newer one for me and for Jordan -- but those thoughts led me to the realization that I'd like to spend the 40 days of Lent giving back. Last April, our book club read 29 Gifts, and it inspired me to embark on my own 29 days of giving. I loved the lessons I learned from opening up my eyes and pocketbook to needs around me, so I've decided: why not up the ante? While I'm have major withdrawals from leaving sugar in the dust, why not focus on the needs and wants of others. If nothing else, it will distract me from the Coke Jordan will inevitably be drinking.

Basically, I'll be doing 40 days of fasting and 40 days of giving.

Here's where I'd like your advice. Have you ever done any type of cleanse? Was it difficult? What were the results? Have you ever given up sugar? What were some of your favorite meals? Do you have any resources you'd recommend for embarking on something like this?

And finally, the big question: Who wants to join me?

Lent begins March 9, so you've got some time to think about it. And I'm not asking you to give up sugar. (Although, wouldn't it be fun and inspiring to do it together?) I'm just suggesting that some outside moral support might be beneficial while I live a life without Coke and you live a life without... well, whatever you think you should be living without. (Coke is just my own personal weakness, see?) We could all blog our progress; wouldn't that be fun?

Anyway, really, I'm dying to know: Is giving up sugar really that hard? And are there really health benefits to avoiding it? Is there truth to this raw foods concept?

Meat and cookie lovers want to know.

(P.S.~ I may or may not have been inspired by this.)