I continue my journey of faith and food by acknowledging, for today at least, that God wants to shape me both physically and spiritually. I search the bible for new meaning; new insights; new ways to get a tangible sense of God’s presence to help me manage my food choices.
Help, God!
The quickest prayer that came to my mind was this simple two-word prayer. But I realized that it has a tiny comma in between the words: Help, comma, God…which implies my request for help with a pause in between. That comma is the moment of stopping where I change from what I asked (“help”) and who I asked it from (“God”!) My tendency, though, is to slip through this request in a different way, without the comma. It then becomes “Help God!” and here I go again, taking on the task of thinking that I can actually help my heavenly Father do what He needs to do in my life. If I stop the control issues and pause at that comma, it makes all the difference.
Romans 8:25-26
“But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.”
The Romans scripture speaks of waiting for what we do not have in a patient way. Not just waiting, but waiting patiently. This comma between the words Help and God can be my visual reminder to wait patiently. Then I can move on to the next words of wisdom and rest in the assurance that the Spirit does, in fact, help me in my weakness.
Striving to increase my faith each day, a little at a time, and lose the things that weigh me down.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Grocery Math
Every time I go to the grocery store, I think I should bring my calculator. I used to bring the calculator so I could estimate my food bill as I shopped, so I knew when to stop according to my budget. Now I have to estimate the food bill in my mind because I need the calculator for grocery math.
Why do hot dogs come in packs of 10 but the rolls are packs of 8 or 12? How many packages of hot dogs would I need to be equivalent to the number of packages of hot dog rolls? Hey, who wants a hot dog without a roll anyway? Gotta pull out the calculator.
When soda is on sale, how do I quickly calculate if the two-liter sale is better or worse than the price for the individual cans? Gotta pull out the calculator.
Why is it that when I used to buy pre-packaged shredded cheese, I knew it contained two cups? It said so on the package. Now there are packages that contain two cups, but others that contain one and one-half cups. Is it worth buying a second package of cheese to get the other half cup? Then how many packages would I need to get an even two cups, which I need for most recipes, again? Gotta pull out the calculator.
Don’t even talk to me about the nutrition information on those food labels. What is a serving size, really? It used to mean a suggested portion for a reasonable serving of a given food item. Now it has changed so that it means how much of that packaged food equals about 100 calories. We’re all into this hundred-calorie thing now, admit it. And so my cereal has completely lost its mind. One type has as its serving size to be ½ cup, another is 1 ¼ cups and yet another is 1 cup. How much cereal should I be eating? Calculator time again.
The most critical use of the calculator: popcorn math. I have calculated and re-calculated a variety of popcorn labels to determine how many calories, fat and fiber are in two tablespoons of popcorn and in an entire bag of popcorn. Why do I need to know the number for two tablespoon if that’s not what I’d eat anyway? Does 94% fat-free popcorn mean it contains 6% fat? Okay, forget the calculator now. Just pop the popcorn.
No wonder I’m tired and hungry after I get groceries. Time for a snack. Start calculating.
Why do hot dogs come in packs of 10 but the rolls are packs of 8 or 12? How many packages of hot dogs would I need to be equivalent to the number of packages of hot dog rolls? Hey, who wants a hot dog without a roll anyway? Gotta pull out the calculator.
When soda is on sale, how do I quickly calculate if the two-liter sale is better or worse than the price for the individual cans? Gotta pull out the calculator.
Why is it that when I used to buy pre-packaged shredded cheese, I knew it contained two cups? It said so on the package. Now there are packages that contain two cups, but others that contain one and one-half cups. Is it worth buying a second package of cheese to get the other half cup? Then how many packages would I need to get an even two cups, which I need for most recipes, again? Gotta pull out the calculator.
Don’t even talk to me about the nutrition information on those food labels. What is a serving size, really? It used to mean a suggested portion for a reasonable serving of a given food item. Now it has changed so that it means how much of that packaged food equals about 100 calories. We’re all into this hundred-calorie thing now, admit it. And so my cereal has completely lost its mind. One type has as its serving size to be ½ cup, another is 1 ¼ cups and yet another is 1 cup. How much cereal should I be eating? Calculator time again.
The most critical use of the calculator: popcorn math. I have calculated and re-calculated a variety of popcorn labels to determine how many calories, fat and fiber are in two tablespoons of popcorn and in an entire bag of popcorn. Why do I need to know the number for two tablespoon if that’s not what I’d eat anyway? Does 94% fat-free popcorn mean it contains 6% fat? Okay, forget the calculator now. Just pop the popcorn.
No wonder I’m tired and hungry after I get groceries. Time for a snack. Start calculating.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Turkey Reflections
The day after Thanksgiving. Back to the healthy eating and exercise routine. While reflecting on the Thanksgiving meal, I decided not to gripe about what and how much I ate, but instead to think about the food as a metaphor for the relationships I crave, particularly at this time of year. Time for this foodie to see the turkey and trimmings in a new way.
The turkey. This is the meat of the traditional Thanksgiving meal. It’s a wonderful food, full of protein, providing me with the strength and nourishment to fuel my muscles for strength and good health. It’s the star of the show on this holiday, and I find it interesting that of all the foods we usually prepare, it’s the simplest. Rinse off, sprinkle a little oil, salt and pepper, and roast. The turkey reminds me of the strongest relationships in my life. My husband, close friends, family. Certain of the people in my life are the ones who are the true fuel for my strength and good health. I know that if I don’t spend the time I need with these protein sources, I get drained more easily and life’s circumstances affect me more than it should. These meaty relationships are simple, but require time.
The stuffing. It’s the flavorful, fun, fill-in stuff. With all its varieties, the stuffing can enhance the turkey with its spiciness. However, the stuffing can also absorb the juices from my primary protein source if I simply stuff too much. Like the big bowl of bread chunks that seems bottomless, I find it interesting that I can stuff way too much into a little space. Volunteerism, guilt, busy-ness, useless traditions. All these and more can provide way too much filling for my good health. It can be tasty and fun, and might fuel me for the short run, but it doesn’t give the long-lasting energy I need to sustain myself.
The cranberry sauce. This sweet enhancement to the Thanksgiving meal is exactly what makes everything else taste a little better. I love to have a bit of sauce with the turkey, with the stuffing, with whatever else ends up on my plate. It’s like my sweet relationships that lack the obligatory side effects of time and attention. They include old high school friends, new friends, temporary acquaintances—all of who add just what I need to enjoy the meat of my life a bit more.
Green. Bean. Casserole. This is an attempt at healthy living gone bad. I’m okay with the green, and even with the green bean, but when it becomes casserole, it becomes a dish I avoid. The healthiness has been masked in creaminess and crunchiness, like the healthy relationships in my life that seem simple but get masked in obligation and need redefining or skipping altogether. There have been seasons in my own life when I held onto a relationship just a bit too long that it became this unsavory side dish, and I have had to make this decision to either change it or skip it to maintain my own health.
The salad, asparagus, or brussel sprouts. There is usually one side dish that retains its simple, healthy state on the Thanksgiving table. The crunchiness and deep green colors of these foods can provide the vitamins and fiber that help us to enjoy the rest of the meal in moderation. I find it interesting that I usually skip eating these foods on Thanksgiving, even if they are on the table. There’s no room left for healthiness on a day devoted to indulgence. There’s a problem, however, when the sense of abundance makes me skip the simplicity of this day which is all about giving thanks. I want to remember not to skip giving thanks on this day, or any day, even if I skip the green stuff.
The pies. The pies epitomize indulgence and sweetness in all its forms: apple, pumpkin, lemon, cherry. The aspect of the pies I appreciate most is the sweetness of the family traditions tied to them. The passing on of the recipes and techniques for pie baking is in itself enough for dessert. I love the traditions and heritage passed on from generation to generation through these desserts. It’s a great finishing touch to a day devoted to thankfulness. This sweet gratitude is the treat for all of our days, not just the holiday season.
I’m full now, how about you? Be blessed this holiday season with the relationships you crave.
The turkey. This is the meat of the traditional Thanksgiving meal. It’s a wonderful food, full of protein, providing me with the strength and nourishment to fuel my muscles for strength and good health. It’s the star of the show on this holiday, and I find it interesting that of all the foods we usually prepare, it’s the simplest. Rinse off, sprinkle a little oil, salt and pepper, and roast. The turkey reminds me of the strongest relationships in my life. My husband, close friends, family. Certain of the people in my life are the ones who are the true fuel for my strength and good health. I know that if I don’t spend the time I need with these protein sources, I get drained more easily and life’s circumstances affect me more than it should. These meaty relationships are simple, but require time.
The stuffing. It’s the flavorful, fun, fill-in stuff. With all its varieties, the stuffing can enhance the turkey with its spiciness. However, the stuffing can also absorb the juices from my primary protein source if I simply stuff too much. Like the big bowl of bread chunks that seems bottomless, I find it interesting that I can stuff way too much into a little space. Volunteerism, guilt, busy-ness, useless traditions. All these and more can provide way too much filling for my good health. It can be tasty and fun, and might fuel me for the short run, but it doesn’t give the long-lasting energy I need to sustain myself.
The cranberry sauce. This sweet enhancement to the Thanksgiving meal is exactly what makes everything else taste a little better. I love to have a bit of sauce with the turkey, with the stuffing, with whatever else ends up on my plate. It’s like my sweet relationships that lack the obligatory side effects of time and attention. They include old high school friends, new friends, temporary acquaintances—all of who add just what I need to enjoy the meat of my life a bit more.
Green. Bean. Casserole. This is an attempt at healthy living gone bad. I’m okay with the green, and even with the green bean, but when it becomes casserole, it becomes a dish I avoid. The healthiness has been masked in creaminess and crunchiness, like the healthy relationships in my life that seem simple but get masked in obligation and need redefining or skipping altogether. There have been seasons in my own life when I held onto a relationship just a bit too long that it became this unsavory side dish, and I have had to make this decision to either change it or skip it to maintain my own health.
The salad, asparagus, or brussel sprouts. There is usually one side dish that retains its simple, healthy state on the Thanksgiving table. The crunchiness and deep green colors of these foods can provide the vitamins and fiber that help us to enjoy the rest of the meal in moderation. I find it interesting that I usually skip eating these foods on Thanksgiving, even if they are on the table. There’s no room left for healthiness on a day devoted to indulgence. There’s a problem, however, when the sense of abundance makes me skip the simplicity of this day which is all about giving thanks. I want to remember not to skip giving thanks on this day, or any day, even if I skip the green stuff.
The pies. The pies epitomize indulgence and sweetness in all its forms: apple, pumpkin, lemon, cherry. The aspect of the pies I appreciate most is the sweetness of the family traditions tied to them. The passing on of the recipes and techniques for pie baking is in itself enough for dessert. I love the traditions and heritage passed on from generation to generation through these desserts. It’s a great finishing touch to a day devoted to thankfulness. This sweet gratitude is the treat for all of our days, not just the holiday season.
I’m full now, how about you? Be blessed this holiday season with the relationships you crave.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Strawberries and Lard?
Strawberries. Ahhh—the scent. Fresh-picked strawberries from the farmers’ market, still warm from the sun and ready to ooze red juice and satisfaction in an instant. Paired with whipped cream, strawberries are a beautiful sight, indulging the tastebuds of young and old alike. Cut vertically, strawberries reveal their heart shape in the center, symbolizing how deeply we love them. They’re healthy, too, which only enhances my personal enjoyment of these fruity treats.
Lard. What IS it? Defined as “The rendered fat of hogs, esp. the internal fat of the abdomen.” Yuck. It’s white, pasty with little odor or interest. Perhaps I could spackle the wall with it, I thought. Cook with it? Who would’ve imagined…?
My grocery shopping cart on a recent trip contained both strawberries and lard. The strawberries were on sale, and are always enjoyed in our home. The lard? Part of an old family recipe to make a traditional Italian Easter bread containing eggs, butter, cheese and the finale of the cholesterol-enhancing recipe, lard. I could have substituted lower-fat alternatives, I thought, but this was the real deal. I was baking something that was an old family recipe from my in-laws. This does not allow for change, I thought. How could I change a tradition?
I struggled with the crazy dichotomy of food in my cart. For so long, I’ve practice and mastered the art of making good choices at the grocery store. Why didn’t the cashier even give a second glace when she scanned the lard? I felt like a hypocrite, purporting to be a healthy example of low-fat living with a wad of the white stuff being placed in my bag. Somehow, though, it makes sense. Something about balance. I cannot be perfect like those strawberries all of the time. Sometimes I simply make decisions that are like the lard: boring, bland, unhealthy and messy. Tradition or not, we’ll have lard in our lives from time to time. It’s what we do with the rest of the time that counts. For me, it's faith in the Lord that helps clean up the messes.
Lard. What IS it? Defined as “The rendered fat of hogs, esp. the internal fat of the abdomen.” Yuck. It’s white, pasty with little odor or interest. Perhaps I could spackle the wall with it, I thought. Cook with it? Who would’ve imagined…?
My grocery shopping cart on a recent trip contained both strawberries and lard. The strawberries were on sale, and are always enjoyed in our home. The lard? Part of an old family recipe to make a traditional Italian Easter bread containing eggs, butter, cheese and the finale of the cholesterol-enhancing recipe, lard. I could have substituted lower-fat alternatives, I thought, but this was the real deal. I was baking something that was an old family recipe from my in-laws. This does not allow for change, I thought. How could I change a tradition?
I struggled with the crazy dichotomy of food in my cart. For so long, I’ve practice and mastered the art of making good choices at the grocery store. Why didn’t the cashier even give a second glace when she scanned the lard? I felt like a hypocrite, purporting to be a healthy example of low-fat living with a wad of the white stuff being placed in my bag. Somehow, though, it makes sense. Something about balance. I cannot be perfect like those strawberries all of the time. Sometimes I simply make decisions that are like the lard: boring, bland, unhealthy and messy. Tradition or not, we’ll have lard in our lives from time to time. It’s what we do with the rest of the time that counts. For me, it's faith in the Lord that helps clean up the messes.
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