Lenctening Days

No, that’s not a typo.

Recently I learned that the word “Lent” {today–Ash Wednesday–is the first day of Lent} comes from the Old English ‘lencten,’ which sounds a lot like “lengthen” and, not incidentally, was the Old English word for Spring–that time when the days, well, lengthen.

Despite the admiration I’ve always had for traditional Lenten disciplines, this time of year–when I forget to start dinner on time because the growing evening light tricks me, when I’m drawn from sleep by the unexpected brightness of the morning sun–this time of year tends to make me a bit giddy. Meditating on dust returning to dust seems opposite to how I feel when Spring is, well, lenctening. Springing.

But maybe that’s reasonable. Lent is the season where deadness springs to life: snowdrops, crocuses, and daffodils cautiously raise their green and brilliant heads, stoic strawberry leaves unfold and tentatively sent out runners, tired, swollen goats bend to release their burdens in bringing forth light-footed young.

At this time everything in nature seems to be stretching and yawning awake after a long sleep, lively after months of sluggish drowsing.

Maybe Lent serves as a counterpoint to all this; a reminder that even as the grass “flourishes and is renewed” in the morning, “in the evening it fades and withers.” That God alone is everlasting.

It’s a sobering thought, but somehow, a joyful one. And so I hope this Lent not to curtail or cut back but to lencten: to take joy and satisfaction in God and in God’s gift of each lengthening, springing, light-filled moment.

Overly cute bunny gnawing a strawberry leaf. I can't help myself.

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
   so that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
   and for as many years as we have seen evil.
{…}
Let the favour of the Lord our God be upon us,
   and prosper for us the work of our hands.

Psalm 90, NRSV

100 Posts!

Yesterday’s post on Plumpy’nut marked 100 posts here on Eat With Joy. I thought of doing some version of the ‘100 things about whatever’ meme, but I think I’m too lazy and/or busy for that.

Besides, I thought it might be more fun to highlight the top 10 posts from Eat With Joy‘s brief Internet life. And so without further ado…

(Click on each title to read the full post; italicized text represents excerpts)

#10 Film Review: “The Help” and the Supper of the Lamb

“Living the gospel acknowledges our shared humanity and need for reconciliation with God and with each other. When we sit to eat together, we acknowledge our physical needs and that shared humanity (we all eat; we all excrete) while tasting just a bit of God’s graciousness. The Help reminds me again just how countercultural that Supper of the Lamb really is…”

#9 Fake Gluten-Free Girl

“Can food preferences–not just gluten-free, not just Paleo–be a way of couching disordered eating in more socially acceptable forms?”

#8 Should Healthy Living be a Spiritual Discipline?

“We DON’T need “spiritual” reasons to pursue a “healthy” diet.

We DO need a new food culture, and there’s plenty of wisdom–in the Bible and elsewhere–that’s ready to help us shape one.”

#7 Breastfeeding and Justice

“Our ability to make choices about parenting styles is a direct result of our relative economic security and privilege. But that doesn’t mean that this ability is trivial or unimportant in light of extreme suffering. In fact, I think that how we choose to live–including how we spend our money and our time (and eating’s a big part of that)–is organically connected to suffering and justice both here and elsewhere. It’s also connected to how we view ourselves in relationship to the Creator and the rest of creation.

#6 I’m 30! (30 things about a 30 year old on the 30th)

“3. Once, when I lived in Brooklyn, our house was broken into and our VCR was stolen, with my Winnie-the-Pooh tape inside. This was extremely distressing.

4. Another time, when I lived in Middle Village, our apartment was broken into and I could hear our German landlord, who lived downstairs, screaming, “I have a knife! I’m going to kill you!” Even more distressing.

#5 Am I too thin to say “accept your body”?

“…all the ads for weight loss products and programs and gym memberships and everything else. They always carry with them the promise (the lie) that YOU YOU YOU can change your body–that it’s raw material for shaping any way you desire–if only you’ll buy this, do that, have enough control, pray enough, or whatever.

#4 Injustice of Biblical Proportions

“Alabama’s new immigration law makes it a crime to appear in public without proof of your immigration status, and requires law enforcement officers to stop anyone who “appears illegal.” If you don’t have proof of legal residency when you go to pay your utility bill, they can cut off the water to your house.

#3 Revolutionary Joy…and Basil

“Finding joy in basil grown from seed returns me to a place of joyful creativity that’s not (I imagine) unlike the Creator’s joy. It reassures me that even black specks of nothing can turn into something beautiful and delicious, something that brings three generations to the table and gives them delight.”

#2 White Collar’s Woman Problem

Gina Dalfonzo’s Guest Post:

“White Collar is showing an unhealthy obsession with the current Hollywood ideal of the skin-and-bones woman. And it’s especially saddening because White Collar is so strong a show in other ways—my friend Kim Moreland writes here about how well it handles themes like justice, order, and goodness —that slick Hollywood trappings, such as anorexic-looking women, stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.”

and the #1 post?

My Audrey Hepburn Problem

“…although I admired Audrey’s humanitarian legacy and reputed grace and kindness, I was most inspired by her thinness. In the days of my Audrey obsession, her brilliant film performances were less important than the visibility of her long, lovely bones in her various stunning Givenchy and Edith Head designs.

Do YOU have a favorite post–or a topic you’d like to see more posts about? Leave a comment!

Michelle Obama’s Cookbook

So here’s Michelle Obama on the cover of her cookbook, forthcoming in April:

And here are the ingredients for a Michelle Obama recipe:

Michelle Obama’s “No Cream” Creamed Spinach

2 pounds baby spinach, washed and cleaned

2 tablespoons olive oil

4 shallots, minced

2 garlic cloves, minced

Salt and freshly ground pepper

Here’s a picture of Martha Washington from the National Portrait Gallery:

And here are the ingredients for a Martha Washington recipe:

Martha Washington’s Cake Recipe (makes an 11 pound cake)

2 3/4 cups golden raisins
2 cups dried currants
1 cup orange zest
6 ounces candied lemon peel
3/4 cup chopped candied citron
1/3 cup candied angelica
1/3 cup red candied cherries
1/3 cup green candied cherries
1/2 cup brandy
4 1/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground mace
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 cups butter, softened
2 cups white sugar
10 eggs, separated
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1/3 cup sherry
1 cup sherry

Yeah, so cooking has changed a bit since Mrs. Washington’s day. I don’t, however, understand why creamed spinach has to be made with no cream. Cream is wonderful and goes wonderfully well with spinach! So if that recipe is any indication of what’s going to be in the book, I’m nervous.

Plus?

I’m nervous that the press release says this:

“Mrs. Obama will describe how her daughters Sasha and Malia were catalysts for change in her own family’s eating behavior…

because Mr. Obama already once said this:

“A couple of years ago — you’d never know it by looking at her now — Malia was getting a little chubby.”

and because more than once I’ve heard something like this:

“My [6, 7, 8, 9] year old was talking about ‘fat’ and ‘obesity’ and worrying about what we were eating…because of something she heard Michelle Obama say.”

I’m really glad that Michelle Obama started the first edible garden on the White House grounds since Eleanor Roosevelt’s WWII victory garden. And I’m glad that she is working to bring attention to and eradicate food ‘deserts.’

no, not desserts. deserts.)

But this book, quite honestly, looks like it’s going to be a pretty coffee-table piece of political advertising, not a cookbook that’s going to inspire a new food culture.

{And I hope it’s not going to add to the fat anxiety already too prevalent in this culture.}

Well, that’s enough speculative judgment on a book I haven’t read. (!)

Anyway, change never comes from the top down. It starts where the inspiration for this book came from anyway–at the grassroots.

As in, next spring, why not pull the grass up by the roots and plant some strawberries or potatoes or lettuce instead? Forget the obesity epidemic: gardening is joyful work.

{Oh, and forgive me, but do those hair-scrolls atop Mrs. Obama’s head remind you of the ribbons on Mrs. Washington’s cap? They do me–HT Sarah–tee-hee.}

The Newest Fad Diet VS. The Vegetable Volunteers

Well, WOW. I would not have guessed that yesterday’s post about a wacky fad diet would’ve garnered so many page views. But it did, and I can’t help but wonder why. I rather hope it is because people are looking for a reason not to follow the latest “should & ought” from the newest guru. Nearly every day, it seems, someone tells me of some new approach to eating or not-eating or exercising or not-exercising and all I can say is this:

If I were still in the grip of disordered thinking and behavior surrounding food and body, the Internet would be a living hell. HCG diet! “The Plan”! “Paleo”! The Primal Urge Diet! HELP!

And yet? And yet–there is this:

My compost pile. An occasionally smelly, sometimes-ugly, always buggy home to the biggest, juiciest worms on the North Fork. The place where the scraps from our table become the food for next year’s food. Nothing goes to waste here. It takes care of two big problems:

What to do with trash?

and

How to fertilize the garden?

in one easy move. In this pile go the eggshells, coffee grounds, burned slices of toast, and forgotten leftovers. Here’s where I put the custard that didn’t come together quite right, the bread that went stale, and the yogurt that got moldy.

Here, everything, even the most putrid, vile stuff, is reborn into something new: dark, rich soil that feeds the garden and brings forth new life. And so it goes on.

And sometimes, there are unexpected graces:

This pretty little butternut squash grew from a forgotten seed discarded in the compost pile last autumn. There that little seed rested all winter until, come spring, it grew into a plant that bore another beautiful fruit.

In this ugly, forgotten corner of the garden (where the compost pile was located previously) a number of vegetables “volunteered”–they sprang forth from scattered seeds and persevered to bring something beautiful and edible and life-giving.

Oh, these little events–“random” butternut squashes, potatoes, and tomatoes growing from compost piles–don’t get much press, I know. But to me, they point beyond themselves to a story that’s much, much greater: it’s the story of beauty from ashes, a promise that somehow, the crazy, smelly, wasted and mixed-up bits and pieces of this world can be transformed, redeemed, into something that’s at once totally different from and organically connected to what’s come before.

Yes, indeed. There are glimpses of grace within and among and emerging from the confusing bits and pieces of this life, and they are worth holding onto.

Second Generation, Part Two

While I’m away, I’ve been posting essays, reviews, and articles that have either appeared elsewhere on the Web or else have never before been seen! This one originally appeared in Catapult, but was written more than three years ago…still, the story’s worth telling, I think…

{Part Two}

A recently-published book that presents itself as a guide to raising a “green” baby seems to suggest that “green” parenting is all about purchasing the right products: the organic sleepers, the low-VOC nursery paints and the petrochemical-free baby wash. Though consumption of these products probably has a place, I want to think that we can do more for our children than simply teach them which products to buy. Certainly, I don’t want to use a toxic baby shampoo on my newborn. And, on balance, I do think that diapering with cloth is better for his health and for that of the planet. But if I am concerned about the future — of the earth and of my sons as they make their way upon it — I need a vision of sustainable parenting that goes beyond yet another consumer choice.

I think sustainable parenting should begin with the Creation narrative — that God created the world and declared it “good” should call us to affirm its goodness with respect and thanksgiving.  As we teach our children about God, we should not neglect teaching them about God’s Creation.  From there, it’s important, I think, to combat what Richard Louv has called “nature deficit disorder.” Even if you live in the city, it’s possible to help your children enjoy the outdoors: take them to the park or playground and point out plants, flowers, and birds. They may surprise you with what they can learn and remember.  My toddler can distinguish several species of bird, for example, and knows the names of a few flowers. Providing books with quality illustrations of animals and landscapes can also help instill a sense of wonder, as can carefully selected nature documentaries, such as the BBC’s Planet Earth series. If we want our children to care for and protect God’s creation, we must teach them both about God and his creation. They won’t be able to love either without first knowing something about each.

As we meet our children’s basic physical needs — food, clothing and shelter — we can build upon their understanding of God and his creation, and teach them to recognize the effects our consumption have upon the earth. If you can take your child to the farmer’s market or to a farm, she will learn that food comes from the earth before it comes to the supermarket. Even better, grow a garden with her, even if it’s just an indoor herb garden. That’s all we have the space for right now, and my toddler gets a kick out of seeing freshly plucked leaves of basil go into his pasta sauce. Eating locally helps develops a sense of connection to and dependence upon the earth, and eating seasonally helps develop a sense for the rhythm of the year — it’s strawberry time, it’s pumpkin time, and so on. Also, it teaches our children (and us!) the virtue of patience as we wait for the strawberries and for the lettuce. In her advocacy for local and seasonal eating, Barbara Kingsolver pokes fun at the parent who insists that his child save sex for marriage yet can’t himself “wait for the right time to eat a tomato.”

When it comes to clothing and shelter and other kinds of consumption, instilling the virtue of voluntary simplicity will be easier if we ourselves have learned to be content with what we have. And although we should be careful not to burden young children with guilt, exploring together how other children around the world live — and that the planet cannot support all of us living as most Westerners do — can be a way to help curb consumptive desire. UNICEF has a beautifully illustrated book for children ages nine to 12 called A Life Like Mine that provides a positive, though sobering, perspective on children’s lives around the world. Mick Inkpen and Nick Butterworth’s Wonderful Earth! is a funny, sobering, and hopeful meditation on the wonder of God’s handiwork and the need to care for creation. Books and stories that value simplicity, creativity and thrift, like the Little House series, can also help a child to value these things over unnecessary consumption.

But again, I think our teaching must be mostly without words.  We must embody the values we wish our children to embody. But it’s equally important, I think, to enjoy the things we wish our children to embody — and the things we want them to enjoy! It’s one thing to tell a child how important it is to eat local food; it’s entirely another to explore a farmer’s market together, and then to give thanks to God for a delicious shared local meal. Let them see your genuine joy as you choose simplicity, as you seek out earth-friendly alternatives and as you reduce your consumption generally. Perhaps the best way to teach our children to care for the earth is simply to demonstrate our love for God, our love for our neighbors and our love and respect for the creation. We should love our children enough to love these things; by loving them, we will teach them. My children helped me to begin to care for God’s creation; it’s my turn to help them do likewise.

Author’s Note: I wrote this piece over three years ago, when my children were really small. As I read back over what I’ve written here, I realize how much they’ve continued to teach me. Aidan, now an inquisitive six-year-old, routinely asks me things like, “Do motorcycles make carbon dioxide?” and, “When will it be cucumber time?”  I’m so grateful to see how even some of my puniest efforts to live more lightly — sewing and repairing clothes, canning my own jam and growing a huge veggie garden — have inspired my boys to adopt a “can-do,” DIY spirit, a spirit that sends them outdoors to design imaginary gardens and rescue worms (“We need them for the soil!”) and to cardboard boxes, tape and string instead of to the toy store. I’m grateful that they have the freedom to create and delight in Creation, and I hope that in 30 years, they’ll be living in such a way so as to help bring a similar kind of freedom to the millions of children who don’t yet have it.