The God-sized Void

So. I'd chunked up a bit, but I wasn't particularly bothered until my fingers swelled up like hotdogs. My feet swelled, too, and I could barely squeeze them into a pair of shoes that--I kid you not--used to flop off my heels. I felt fatigued and thirsty often, dizzy sometimes, and after a couple weeks, I decided to see someone.

I didn't have a doctor but found a physician assistant who could see me within a couple of days. She ran a bunch of blood work and, a week later, assured me I was fine: cholesterol a wee bit elevated, she said, but not enough for her to recommend a course of treatment. She advised my losing twenty pounds and taking it easy on the sodium.

I'd been planning since mid-August to enter a Daniel fast on the date of the follow-up and received the PA's words as a sign. I'm thankful for my lab results (and pleasantly surprised, in particular, by the ones related to my blood sugar) but know I'm pushing it. I know I'm too heavy. I know I'm too sedentary. I know I'm too tired, too often, and I know I struggle in holding my eyes open after I eat dessert.

I know this isn't God's best for me. I know I'm not my best, for God.

I love the cleansing aspect of the Daniel fast but the spiritual aspect, even more. I know God sees me. I can hear His voice more clearly when I'm fasting, and over the last couple weeks, He's used the words of others--Lysa TerKeurst, Jen and Craig Ferguson (more about their book, Monday), Seth Haines, Laura Boggess, and my own Pastor David--to reveal to me: all my life, I've looked to man, food, or both to fill a void only the Lord can fill.

I've asked God to heal me: to help me turn to Him--no one and nothing else--for approval, comfort, and love. He is so faithful. I know He will continue to work in, through, and with me.

I have eight days more to go with the Daniel fast. I appreciate its three-week time frame because it takes three weeks, supposedly, to break a habit. I've written that before. I've also written before: I hope to continue making healthy food choices after coming off the fast. I'd like to continue avoiding dairy, gluten, sugar, and sugar substitutes for the most part.

I appreciate Lysa TerKeurst's strategy with sugar/dessert, which is to consume it only according to a long-range plan: never spur-of-the-moment. I've thought about what that might look like for me. What desserts do I know I'll want before the end of the year? I can think of three: an apple cider doughnut on Carter Mountain,  a Nutter Butter ghostie at halloween (a tradition), and a slice of my mama's pumpkin pie over the holidays. What if I were able to commit to eating only those three desserts between now and the end of the year? What if I were able to commit to one sandwich per week (on wheat bread)...one bowl of cereal per week...Diet Coke only when we go to the movies or eat in a sit-down restaurant? These are the sorts of questions I'm asking prayerfully.

Will you pray for me? Will you ask God to make my hunger for Him, only? I'm tired and tired of being tired, and more than that, I'm tired of feeling desperate. I know God alone is the source of the peace I've sought in so many misguided ways.

On Entering and Breaking a Fast

I confess I've been overwhelmed, lately, in my spirit: so overwhelmed that I haven't known how to separate--in my mind or heart or writing--the wheat from the chaff. Truth is, a person can write in a line or a circle, but there should be a vision. I like my writing tight. I believe every word matters, and if I can't write in a way that makes sense, to me, of me, I'll wait. I'm more patient than you think, too, especially with myself.

Also, I know: in the end, this business of separating wheat from chaff is the Lord's. He's not the author of confusion. When I'm not hearing Him well--when His voice is just one of so many others in my head, when all the words (His, other people's, mine) whirl around in my nog like debris in a dust cloud--I need to let something(s) go: to simplify in order to discern.

I quit facebook almost two months ago. My thinking improved but not enough, so I entered a Daniel Fast on the 3rd. In case you're not familiar, this is a twenty-one-day, partial fast based out of scripture (see Daniel 1 and 10). It's like a vegan diet with extra limitations.

I feel stronger when I'm fasting. I don't mean to downplay the spiritual implications of this statement but know: for me, the increase in strength is tied to my avoiding sugar in all its forms (including carbs). Sugar makes me sick, but it calls to me from the cupboard, and I'm weak.

Jim spent just over a week of my fast with his mom, and I put my extra strength to good use: taking care of the children, yes, but also shampooing the living-room carpet, getting the minivan inspected, helping Cade with his science-fair project, taking two children for well visits, taking two children for haircuts, putting away the piles of clean clothes in my bedroom (which almost never happens), hosting small group. I felt empowered, and loved ones came alongside.

I prayed while fasting. A lot. I asked the Lord to enter four different situations, and I know He entered all of them. I experienced most profoundly His entering my marriage; I'm sure I'll write more about that, later. God showed up, too, in smaller, quieter ways; one Sunday morning, I stepped into the choir room and a warm-up of the same hymn I'd sung over my crying baby the night before.

I vomited four times in the wee hours of the eighteenth day. A virus. (Clementine had done the same twenty-four hours before.) When I got up to take Cade to the bus, I felt released from the fast.

***

"I don't need your sacrifices," He says. 

"I know," I tell Him. "I needed my sacrifices."

He nods. "Yes," He says, and pushes the cup of flat ginger ale in my direction.

The Just Before

I'm sitting here watching Jim pace back and forth by the front door. He's on an important call, and I wish I could close my eyes and float on the expertise in his words, but I can't, and he's wearing sweat pants. Our five-year-old's holding his hand and pacing with him. Also, there's random....just...trash on our living-room floor. Half a cheese stick. A long piece of toilet paper. A sucker stick and broken pieces of crayon.

Jim was supposed to have his truck repaired yesterday and leave for his mom in Knoxville, today, but we're snowed in again. My big kid's sleeping in the cave of his room: puts me in mind of a big cat, these days. The baby and I haven't been up long enough for me to attend to the living-room floor, which has been trashed by my daughters just this morning. We call this rat behavior.

"Were you a good girl, today?" Jim will ask one of them, some evenings.

"Yes, Daddy," she'll answer, "excepting some rat behavior."

Speaking of rat behavior, the five-year-old cut a big hunk of hair from the front center of her head, the other day. (Thank you, Nana, for her scissors that I should've locked in the school cabinet weeks ago.) The good news is that it should take only 2-3 years for the hair to grow back to its previous length. For now, she's sporting a bit of a spike. It suits her; we don't call her the Wild Orange for nothing.

And I feel thankful to be snowed in with these, my people: my man in his sweat pants, my lean and lazy big kid, my Wild Orange Spike, my redheaded ninja (who's asked to be called Pinkie Pie), and my Chip of a yumster (who started adding smacks to the ends of his kisses just yesterday). Soon enough, the snow will melt, and we'll have to share Jim in ways that will require his leaving the house and, probably, the state.

Yesterday, I started a Daniel Fast because I recognize this season for what it is: the just before. It would be easy for me to sleep, or better yet, bake! through this moment, but I'm choosing instead to pray and watch and go a little without. My brother's having spinal surgery, tomorrow (It'll be the third time someone tries to do the same durn thing.), and my mother-in-law's very sick. Please cover our people in prayer.

The other day in the grocery store, I inhaled hard and felt my lungs fill to the brim with air. How long has it been, I wondered, since I've taken a deep breath? And so I declare it good, in times like these, to create a calm environment for my babies: to watch them drift down, down like loosed and colorful leaves, to watch them sleep in peace wherever they land.

 

**writing in community with Heather

Unblogged Happiness

Truth is, I got aggravated and overwhelmed and did a poor job of blogging our December. It seems a pity not to have blogged so much of our holiday cheer, so for the sake of posterity:

1) Cookie Day. This is Christy's and my annual tradition of at least a decade, and Sarah Duffer has participated in one form or another for most of those ten years. What stood out to me, this year, was the participation of Christy's daughter Abi, who's been present for Cookie Day every December of her life. I can close my eyes and see her in an Exersaucer, but this year she brought her own recipe and whipped up her own batch of cookies.

Baby Chip was a total whiny pants, this year, but Cookie Day went on.

Life goes on, and so quickly. Bittersweet, the fast-growing of the children.

2) Tacky Lights. Jim and I think this an ideal Christmas activity with very small children: they're confined, for the most part; the lights are fantastic; and there's no cost aside from gas and the (optional) hot Krispy Kreme doughnut. 

3) Little Kids' Party at Rachel's. Charleigh had been on the podium at gymnastics earlier; thus, her unconventional attire. Somewhere in the archives, there's a similar picture in which the older of these children are much younger, and the younger are unborn. Again, bittersweet, but next year Baby Lake will join the others on the couch, and I'm so excited I can hardly stand myself.

Charleigh and Rachel (Aglow)

4) Bevell's Hardware. This was a new experience for us. We were blessed in that our friends Wendy, Luke, and Cole made the little trip to Blackstone with us, and we were delighted by not only the 18'x56' train display but also the train that gives children rides through the parking lot of the store.

Chip with Bobby Daniels, the Mastermind behind the Train Display

5) Christmas Morning. Santa was good to the little kids on Jesus's birthday. He was good to Cade, too, but Cade's gotten a little dodgy with my camera.

6) Christmas in Tennessee. I want to stay true to my theme of happiness, but our time in (and in route to) Tennessee presented some challenges. So, an aside? Any prayers that you could send up for my mother-in-law would be appreciated. She started chemo and radiation, yesterday.

We drove home in a much nicer minivan; I'm thankful. I'm thankful to have watched my daddy crack open his Bible, to have heard him read the Christmas story to us, one more time. I'm thankful for each moment we shared with our loved ones and for all the gifts, but for my parents' homemade gifts, especially. (I've got a brand new bottle of hopped-up vanilla with which to flavor my cookies: yay!)

Love this photo of Chip with his aunt Jill.

Cousins

Clementine with her aunt Sarah.

Mom made Charleigh's dress from a clover-seed sack.

7. Shrinky Dink Tree. How had I never had a Shrinky Dink experience, before? I was mesmerized, enchanted, and all the rest.

Clementine Looking in the Oven

Right around the time we started baking the things, Charleigh announced: "I'm going to snuggle with my papaw!" And this is how I found them, just a little while later:

Mom's Hands

8. New Year's Eve at My Brother's House. Food, games, fellowship, and my brother led us in the Lord's Supper: one of the holiday traditions I hold dearest. My mother-in-law joined us, this year; I forgot my camera but managed to capture this with my mom's cell phone:

9. The Unphotographed. Then there was Frozen: Sharon's Christmas gift to the little kids and me. Also an afternoon with Kyndra Steinmann of Sticks, Stones, & Chicken Bones. We'd kept up with one another in the blogosphere for some time but hadn't met until right before her move to Massachusetts. She invited me to go through her children's outgrown clothes (Score!), and it so happened that I needed to drive into Richmond to pick Cade up from the airport. What a blessing to spend time with her and her children. Kyndra, like all the other bloggers I've met in person, is just how she seems in words. And let me not discount the blessing of my big kid's returning safely from Indiana, where he'd attended the funeral of his paternal grandfather.

My Relationship with Food, Pt. 2

After the miscarriage, Jim and I decided to just kind of "go with the flow" for awhile: if we happened to get pregnant, fine; if not, we'd start actively trying in the fall. I wanted to get some weight off in hopes of avoiding gestational diabetes with the next pregnancy, but just the thought of dieting made me want to lay my head down and cry.

I've always felt so deprived when dieting. I know; I'm ridiculous. But, always, in the back of my head, I've asked: when will it be appropriate for me to eat a piece of chocolate-on-chocolate cake as big as my head? I've remembered over and over: the answer's "never," and that's just ticked me off beyond your wildest imaginings.

I wrote more about it here, but I started the Daniel Fast because I looked at it as an opportunity to reset my eating habits, to start from scratch. I wondered if dieting has frustrated me because I've worked so hard to appease my sweet tooth (by limiting my portions of sugary foods, also by consuming mass quantities of sugar substitutes) and found, instead, that my sweet tooth grows until it's about to jut out of my mouth. I wondered what would happen if--for 21 days--I gave up not only sugar and sweeteners, but also dairy, meat, eggs, leavened and white breads, pasta, white flour: everything, basically, except fruits, vegetables, nuts, whole grains, and water.

Here's what happened. (You may receive some of this as TMI.)

• I expected the water-only thing to drive me crazy. Surprisingly, it may have been the easiest part of the fast, for me. I flavored it, generally, with True Lemon or True Lime (each packet of which consists only of a powdered fruit slice). In all fairness, I did end up drinking very small quantities of 1% milk because I found out I was pregnant after I started the fast. I plan to continue drinking only water and small quantities of 1% milk.
• I also expected the no-sugar/sweetener thing to drive me crazy. I had a killer headache the first day, and I believe it was a sugar-detox headache. After that, nothing. I really didn't even think about sugar, which proves to me that 1) sugar poisons me, 2) I can live without sugar, and 3) I'm better off to avoid sweet stuff altogether than to torture myself with sweeteners and small quantities of sugar; moving forward, that's my plan. Honey only.
• I got very hungry at mealtimes, but I didn't have to stay hungry. I just had to fix myself something Daniel-Fast friendly to eat. I discovered that tofu satisfied my hunger like none of the other appropriate foods but tried to limit my consumption of it to 3x/week.
• Within days of being on the Daniel Fast, the stiffness in my fingers went away. I don't even know what the stiffness in my fingers was, but it's gone.
• Within days of being on the Daniel Fast, my eyes felt less dry, like they were moving more freely around in my head. Also? I had a great deal more energy. (I'm feeling very tired, again, as of the last few days, but I think it's because the pregnancy's kicking in.) I'm pretty sure I was dehydrated. 
• Within days of being on the Daniel Fast, I started--*cringe* I'm just going to say it!--having bowel movements once or twice a day instead of once or twice a week, which has been my body's pattern my entire life.
• I feel much more confident in the kitchen, now, when it comes to preparing healthy foods. I've experimented with soup, tofu-based smoothies, stir-fries, pizza (Yes: believe it or not, there's a way!), homemade hummus and salsa, homemade tortilla chips, and baked oatmeal. I will absolutely continue preparing these foods for my family.
• The hardest things, for me, were 1) eating out (I pretty much had to go the salad route!), and 2) no sandwiches. I guess I'd never realized how much I count on sandwiches.

So, it's too soon to say if the Daniel Fast has been a life-changing experience for me. I feel like it could be life-changing. I've absolutely stripped my diet down to the point that lunch meat and cheese on whole wheat sounds like an indulgence. Scrambled eggs and healthy cereal sound like indulgences. Wheat pasta sounds like an indulgence. Fish and shrimp sound like indulgences. (I allowed myself small quantities of chicken after finding out I was pregnant.) The hamburger I plan to eat tomorrow sounds like a HUGE indulgence!

Realistically, if I'm able to limit myself to eating red meat and white bread once a week, otherwise incorporating only healthy foods back into my diet, my life and health will change forever. Over the last 21 days, I've prayed consistently for this kind of strength.

Any prayers you offer up on my behalf will be dearly appreciated. I don't want to suffer with gestational diabetes during this pregnancy, and I'll be honest with you: I'm a little afraid. It was a terrible disease to navigate when I had only an eight- or nine-year-old son. I don't know how I would manage, now, with the little girls in addition to Cade. Furthermore, I don't think my husband will mind my saying: he struggles with his weight, too, and my choices in terms of what foods I prepare and bring into the home impact him tremendously.

For me, it had to be cold turkey on sugar and sweeteners...just like it had to be cold turkey on cigarettes. If there's any hope for me, it will come in this form: cold turkey, and with the help of Christ.

If you're interested in reading more about the Daniel Fast, you might check out this website, which was my primary resource for recipes. I loved every one I tried and have since ordered her [Kristen Feola's] cookbook. I found help at this website, too.

My Relationship with Food, Pt. 1

I'm nineteen days in, which means I've only two left to go. I've never done anything like this before. The only fast in which I'd ever participated before this Daniel Fast was a 24-hour fast from everything but water. To be honest, I've never even counted calories for longer than two months at a time.

My commitment to this fast has required me to take a long, hard look at my relationship with food. I've been overweight my entire adult life, my (non-pregnant) weight ranging anywhere from the 150s to 205 lbs., my pants size 11 to 16. Exercise (particularly waiting tables) and breastfeeding have taken me to the lower end of my weight range moreso than healthy eating habits.

Honestly? For the most part, I've been perfectly comfortable in my own skin. I'm known for saying (and meaning) things like: "I look in the mirror and see extra weight, and I tell myself: those Peanut Butter M&M's were totally worth it!" And--if I'm to be completely honest with you--my extra weight has made me feel mostly sturdy...like a Morgan mare I used to ride.

Things started to shift a little, though, during my pregnancy with Clementine. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, and--although it wasn't technically a severe case--I've never in my life felt so sick. The nausea was bad. The dizziness was worse. For months, I cooked and washed dishes while sitting on a stool. I passed out in a Dollar Tree, one day, while shopping for Cade's school supplies.

Interestingly, after Clementine was born (weighing 9 lbs 7 oz), it became evident that--even though the scale hadn't said as much--I'd lost weight in carrying her. (Thanks, I'm sure, to a healthier diet.) I was back in my old jeans two weeks after she was born. In two weeks more, I was wearing clothes I hadn't worn for years. Because I was breastfeeding, my weight stayed down until nine months after Clementine was born, when I got pregnant with Charleigh. I didn't suffer from gestational diabetes during that pregnancy.

Still, in the last couple of years, I've felt less physically reliable. I experience dramatic sugar highs and lows. I've been lethargic more often than not. Also, I've the sense that sugar (especially chocolate) is calling me. I used to smoke, and my cravings for sugar are at least as intense as my cravings for nicotine used to be.

And then there was the miscarriage. Now, don't misunderstand: I've no reason to believe my miscarriage had anything to do with my weight or my eating habits; however, for the first time, I realized my body's capability for failure. My body had always done what I'd asked it to do. Even with the gestational diabetes, I'd gotten myself a beautiful, healthy baby girl.

(To be continued...)

Here We Go Again

Aunt Anita smiles and says: "Let's go see some Christmas lights. I'll ride with you." We climb into my red, 4x4 Ford F-150 and drive onto gravel and into dusk. I struggle in keeping my truck on the road; it keeps veering left, then right. Aunt Anita doesn't look at the road; I feel her gazing lovingly at my profile. "You're driving really well," she says.

"I don't feel like I'm driving well at all!" I tell her.

"You're driving really well," she repeats. "You're doing a great job."

I told Jim about my dream Saturday morning, and, Sunday morning, Rev. Hutton read from I Samuel 30. I knew his choice of scripture wasn't random: that it was for me, from the Lord. Rev. Hutton doesn't know about my history with the story of David and Ziklag: how--during a Beth Moore study a few years ago--God used its words of restoration to heal a broken place in my heart. No one knows.

I took a pregnancy test Sunday evening. I don't know why. I'm a test taker, and, probably, I had David in the back of my mind, not to mention Aunt Anita. (I tend to dream my loved ones in heaven only when I'm pregnant.) I was definitely thinking: if I'm pregnant, I need to know, because I've stopped consuming dairy and meat products.

I tested positive for pregnancy.

The doctor, today, said: "I don't think leftover hCG is triggering the urine tests. I think--based upon your history--this is a new event. It's too early for an ultrasound. I'll order blood tests for today and Thursday to make sure your hCG level is rising as it should, and we'll go from there."

So I'm waiting. Again. Please pray. My doctor says I don't have to modify my Daniel Fast diet until we know for sure.

On Lent. And the Daniel Fast.

I desire to draw nearer the cross: to experience Christ's sacrifice more profoundly so as to experience, more profoundly, the miracle of His resurrection. It should be such a source of joy: Christ's resurrection, but it's challenging, isn't it? to live in joy, sometimes. It's been a long, hard (albeit mild) winter, here, and I want to burst forth into spring, leaving all my disappointments and hurts behind.

So I'm participating in Lent. I've given up my computer during the girls' awake hours, and it's been harder than I'd like to admit. Just this morning, I opened my laptop and played around for a few minutes before looking at Jim, exclaiming: "Oh my goodness! I'm not supposed to be on the computer, right now! Why didn't you say something?" and hurriedly shutting that business down.

Because I've been in the blogosphere less, I've been up in actual books more, and--as I shared with you the other day--I just finished Mark Batterson's The Circle Maker. Batterson writes about fasting as a way to circle something in prayer, also about how he's used the Daniel Fast, in particular, to commune more closely with the Lord.

I'm truly not easily influenced (Just ask my mom, who's been participating in fasts for years!), but I felt an immediate pull to try the Daniel Fast for a couple reasons. First of all, my weight's as out of control as it's been for a long time. Now, before you get your feathers all ruffled, let me explain: I know one shouldn't fast in order to lose weight; however, since the Daniel Fast is a 21-day fast, and since it takes 21 days to change a habit, I'm looking at this as an opportunity to reset my body and change my eating habits permanently with God's help: the only way these things will ever happen.

After the 21 days, I'll reintroduce lean meats and small amounts of dairy. Hopefully not so much giant bowls of ice cream and slices of cake.

In The Circle Maker, Batterson encourages his readers to write down life goals, which is the second reason I'm fasting: I feel led to write down my life goals, and I want them inspired, approved, and blessed by the Lord.

I'd intended to start my Daniel Fast March 1, but--when I told Jim--he got this crazy look on his face and confessed: he'd secretly arranged for Mrs. Darlene to babysit that evening so he could take me to The Melting Pot. So I started my Daniel Fast just yesterday. Not to discourage anyone, but I suffered with a terrible headache all day. At one point, I sent a text message to a friend who participated in a caffeine/food detox at the beginning of the year, asking how many days of headaches. ("Three," she answered.)

Thankfully, I feel great, today. I'm eating plenty of the approved foods and forcing myself to drink lots of water.

Anyway, I'm writing about my Lenten and fasting habits not for recognition, but for accountability. I want to be well in body and spirit, and I appreciate any and all prayers you might offer up for me over the next few weeks.

Book Review: The Circle Maker

I want to preface this review by telling you: for Lent, I've given up my computer during the girls' awake hours. They nap a couple hours most days and go to bed around 8 pm; still, I've struggled more than I'd like to admit. I'm praying for the fortitude to continue on this path after Easter because I know: this way is better for us.

So I've been reading more books than blogs, and I've just finished The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson. Rachel gave me this book--my third by Batterson--and it's excellent.

As with In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day and Wild Goose Chase, Batterson overlaps some stories. I would've organized the book slightly differently. (Chapter 15 "Life Goal List" could've easily been folded into the first of Batterson's three circles: "Dream Big," and I think that section of the book would've been stronger for it.) I'll admit, too: Batterson challenges my faith less than Peggy Joyce Ruth of Psalm 91.

Still? Batterson is brilliant, and his thinking--while profound at points--goes down smoothly thanks to his conversational style of writing.

Batterson's other two circles are "Pray Hard" and "Think Long." In terms of praying hard, Batterson encourages boldness and persistence in prayer, tenacity of faith, and the praying of scripture. He writes: "Praying hard is hard because you can't just pray like it depends on God; you also have to work like it depends on you" (112), and the work to which he refers requires discomfort and inconvenience.

So far as thinking long goes, Batterson assures: our prayers matter forever--not just for today. Additionally, he writes with insight of the biblical Daniel: his prayer routine and posture, his fasting, his integrity.

I know I'll return to this book many times and hope you'll make a point of reading it. Batterson writes: "Don't let what you cannot do keep you from doing what you can. Draw the circle. Don't let who you are not keep you from being who you are. You are a circle maker." And I agree with him; I think I'm a circle maker, and I think you're a circle maker, too.