In the depths of this early morning, with moonlight streaming in through closed blinds, lights flickering on and off changing the angled shadows around my bedroom, recent turns and twists of experience played across my mind like an old movie theater projection. This blog, though often neglected as of late, was part of the ever-changing scenery. I recalled my last post, written in despair, as a cry of help in honesty, seeking understanding.
Late on Saturday night, I decided to fast. Fasting–to me–is abstaining from food or drink for a period of time (often two meals) as an act of faith to draw neared to God, to sacrifice something meaningful to me in pursuit of enlightenment or strength, and includes an offering to be given to those in need of what I would have spent on meals during that time (a “fast offering”). As I fasted through my Sabbath day (Sunday), I was given renewed courage and faith as I sought strength and healing. I was able to smile and laugh. Stories that others shared as I went through my day took on new meaning, as if those I loved shared them just for me. I felt known, loved, and joyful. My problems did not go away; however, I felt renewed, rejuvenated, revived, restored. I felt better than I was when I began fasting on Saturday evening.
We typically spend one Sunday each month in fasting and prayer accompanied by donating an offering equal to the amount of the cost of the two meals (or more generously, when possible) to help those in need. Last Sunday was such a day, and because of fasting and the schedule of the day, we ate just before 5 p.m. Not wanting to prepare another big meal after–and smelling the smell of my kiddos’ brownies baking in the oven–gave me the idea of having brownie sundaes for “dinner” (which typically happens for us between 5:30-6 p.m.).
The kiddos crowded around the counter where we scooped warm brownies into bowls, topped them with scoops of vanilla ice cream and drizzled over dark chocolate syrup. YUM. My mouth is watering as I type. They were pretty delicious and kinda looked like this:
As we joked over the idea of having dessert for dinner, one of my (hesitant vegetable-eating) children piped up, “Maybe we should have green beans for dessert!”
We all chuckled at the thought until my (green-bean-loving) child headed to the freezer and proceeded to hand me a bag of frozen green beans.
I explained that we use the frozen green beans mainly for her favorite (Olive Garden) minestrone soup recipe, but that she was welcome to find a can of beans in the cabinet. She headed there and promptly removed two cans and placed them on the counter.
I helped her heat one can at a time, and she relished in the yummy, salty, mushy, green bean experience.
It. Was. Fantastic.