Experimenting with Mardi Gras

And now, a break from the Should Be's for a bit of Lenten humor.  Joke's on us. 

We aren't doing a traditional Lent this year.  Seth was going to give up alcohol, and I resolved to journal more.  So far, general success. 

But then Seth's gym announced that they were going to sponsor a Whole 30 support group during the month of March in an effort to encourage healthy eating, and we signed up.  For those of you not familiar with Whole 30, it takes all the grains, sugars, legumes, dairy products, and preservatives out of your diet for 30 days (no cheating).  More meat and vegetables, clarified butter (whatever that is), nuts, coconuts, olives (ew!).  It's going to be an adventure. 

So over the past week, we've been having a mini-carnival of sorts to clear out our kitchen.  We are not big into sugars, but we love our dairy products.  We also had a fair amount of grains in the snack cupboard (but only the best kinds of grains, you understand).  And sugar hides in the strangest places.  And it all had to go, either into a big bag which is going to get buried in the storage room downstairs or into a giveaway box or into the garbage can. 

Now I didn't live through the Great Depression, but I was raised by people who appreciate the value of a dollar.  I don't throw food away.  Doesn't happen.  So I looked at the bread in the cupboard and the big bag of chocolate chips above the stove and the coffee creamer in the fridge, and I thought, "These are all open.  We can't give them away.  We've got to eat them."  From there, this attitude kicked in where we realized that there were going to be a whole bunch of things that we can't have for a month -- pizza, pancakes, lattes, french toast.  In addition to that, today is Boogaloo's 10th birthday, so I made her the most decadent chocolate peanut butter cake I could to use up our sugar supplies (didn't succeed).  I daresay these last three days have been the least healthy food-wise of the entire year.  And I don't feel so good. 

In fact, I think I'm going to be sick.  Literally.  This isn't healthy. 

Usually, we are pretty conscientious about how we eat.  A salad every night and the leftovers in our smoothie for breakfast.  Fruits and veggies are our biggest expenditure.  We eat pretty simply.  We don't usually go out of our way to find sugar or grease, but this weekend, for some reason, we did.  Before this weekend, I was pretty confident that our transition into a whole foods diet wouldn't be that hard because we wouldn't have a lot to purge from our systems.  After this weekend, however, I am not so sure.  I think the mental consciousness that we are giving up something is as hard to fight against as the actual desire for the thing itself. 

This is funny to me because we are Calvinists, and Calvinists are the people who were ridiculed for having "Lent all year round."  We don't do Mardis Gras.  The wildness of carnival isn't part of our system.  But just because we don't  indulge religiously doesn't mean we aren't human. 

Funny how hard it is to give things up.  I'll post later on this month about how Whole 30 is going.  #notexactlylent 

Curse of the Should Be's, Pt. 2

Apologies.  I said last time that I meant to write a series.  Then we promptly lost access to half our Internet.  Long story.  I've also been moved into nearly full time at the school where I've been subbing.  I'd like to ask prayers for the V. family as they wait for B.V.'s full recovery.  The long wait is what's keeping me in work right now.  But without further ado, let me pick up where I left off. 

"Do not store up treasures for yourselves on earth. . . . You cannot serve both God and money. . . 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.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own."  

 I once was startled by the following comment at a table in a teacher's lounge: "The feminists lied to us.  You can't be a perfect teacher and a perfect mother, not in the same day."  This was spoken by a woman who was devoted to her kids and ardent in her work.  She was also exhausted and made no bones about it.  She had come to the realization that something had to give.  She couldn't live up to all the expectations.  I think many people are coming to that understanding, and I'm glad of it.  

Expectations, which I have called should be's,  have been on my mind because I wrestle with a lot of them.   You see, I have this nebulous idea of personal perfection.  It comes from the headlines of women's magazines and television commercials.  Sometimes it comes from what I see in other people's houses when I visit.  Facebook has something to do with it.  I studiously avoid Pinterest for the very reason that I don't really need any more input in this area. 

There are too many ways to be personally perfect.  I should have more variety in my wardrobe.  I should have more variety on the dinner table.  I should be planning more, writing more, reading more.  I should be on Facebook less.  I should be reading new books.  I should be reading old textbooks.  I should be looking for full time work.  My furniture should match.  My Christmas should include a certain number of treats, activities, crafts, and presents.  My new year should have a certain number of improvements.  It's a picture of some ether-world impossible good life, and in my right mind, I recognize that I don't need half these things to be happy, let alone to be good.  Still I want them, to be among the perfect ones, the people who don't have any should be's. 

J.K.A. Smith, in his book Desiring the Kingdom, describes the penchant of people to absorb an idea of the “good life.”   I haven’t found his book back yet after the move, but the general idea is that society creates ideas of what life would look like if it were perfect and publish the steps that the individual needs to take to achieve or at least come closer to basking in that happiness.  Then these idealists of the good life invite you to join the communities of people working to reach it by dangling the vision in front of you through advertising or HG television or whatever means are appropriate.  If you've ever walked past a store in the mall or watched a commercial, ever, then you know the pitch -- be sexy, be professional, be prepared, secure, spiritual, confident, exciting, entertaining, tasty, exotic.  You know, the good life.   

The first problem with "the good life" is that it's impossible to achieve.  You might pull off an element or two.  That's no problem.  But like that magazine photo that just showed up in your mailbox, this picture has been airbrushed by interested parties like advertisers and our own imaginations. The limits on our energy, the time in the day, the number of our commitments, the fact that the people who create these things do so for a living whereas the rest of us try to fit them in at the side, all of these facts are against us.   Think of all the should be’s that apply to our lives.  What we should be, what our homes should be, what our bodies should look like, what our closets should look like, what our kids should be, how we should be doing or approaching our jobs, how we should be interacting with our communities.  You can probably add a few that are personal to you.  Can anyone live up to all of them?  I guarantee you that no one is.

When Jesus was preaching the Sermon on the Mount, he was well aware of the influence of "the good life" utopia on his followers.  Moreover, just as our Lord cautions us, we tend to run after all these things. The pursuit of holiness or its secular equivalents, is an active human pursuit.  "Upward mobility" has always been a human tendency.  Rowan Williams, the current archbishop of Canterbury, addresses the pursuit of holiness in his book, Being Disciples.  He points out that the more we focus on being holy (or sexy or proficient or domestic, I might add) instead of focusing on being happy with God or happy with ourselves, the less likely we are to achieve what we’re aiming at.  But we do it just the same.

Which is precisely why Jesus/God tells us "Do not worry."  Not you shouldn't worry.  Just don't.  I've noticed something about the Bible.  When God tells us not to do something, it's because we do it.    Imagine what life would be like if we could throw off all these things that hinder and just move forward toward greater grace and godliness.  That would require a lot of faith.