117. Food Life

But he answered and said, It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.
 - Matthew 4:4, KJV
 

I've had an interesting food life lately.  A couple months ago, I was sure I was developing a gluten intolerance (Celiac disease).  I know people who have it and apparently it's not all that uncommon.  I had been having weird reactions after meals and based on my intensive internet research, that was the most fitting self-diagnosis.

I've also had auto-immune symptoms in the past and been tested for everything under sun, all negative.  So the idea of going back to the doctor wasn't really a promising one for me.  I resoved to go gluten-free and cure myself.  I made that resolution about 5 minutes after I made the diagnosis, which obviously was not sufficient time for thought.  But it gave me an excuse to blow money at Whole Foods so I jumped at it.

The next day at breakfast I sat down to a plate of scrambled eggs, turkey sausage and toasted gluten-free bread with apricot preserves.  The eggs and sausage were their usual goodness, but that "bread"...  Well...

Let's just say that was the end of my gluten-free diet.  No offense to the gluten-free population, or the people who feed them, but you gotta be frikkin kiddin me.  As a fat girl, bread is my favorite food group.  Cakes, cookies, sandwiches, biscuits, muffins, toast, cornbread, cereal.... These are the things that make a meal.  A food life without them is no food life at all.  So we needed a new solution.  (Sidenote:  If you don't mind cooking from scratch, Bob's Red Mill products are not half bad.  They make a yummy pancake mix.  But I can't bake my own bread every time I want a sandwich, so...)

Back to the drawing board.  That's where my mom and her tv preachers come in (again).   While I was looking for the next magic bullet, one of the teachers she watches was doing a 5-part series on divine healing called "God Wants You Well."  Bits and pieces would creep in as I wandered through the kitchen in the morning getting ready for school.  One of those bits proved to be pivotal and completely changed the way I thought about being sick.

Since I love bread, and I see no reason God would want me to not eat bread, and since gluten-free bread is gross, I decided to not have Celiac Disease.  Done.

Of course there's more to healing than just being stubborn.  The last few weeks have seen some pretty intense changes in my thinking and behavior.  But the bottom line is that I've decided not to be sick.  Maybe when it's done, I'll let you know how I did it.

106. What Would Jesus Do?

When I was in high school, I was known to dabble in a yellow rubber W.W.J.D. wristband.  I wasn't a hardcore WWJD-er, but I was familiar with the concept and thought it was a good idea.  In recent years, I've considered going back to it as a guiding principle, as a way of practicing what Christianity preaches and of being a better representative of my faith.

Part of what's held me back has been a reluctance to fully embrace the WWJD philosophy as I saw it.  In my mind, the answer to the question of what Jesus would do is that he would be really, really nice, never lose his temper, and find a way to be loving even when the other person was being a jerk.  It's a sort of constant other cheek turning that frustrates me even to think about.  A not small part of me wants to reserve the option to conduct to a well-deserved snapfest, even if I never actually do.  Being nice is just too hard.

Recently though I've started to think I've had a terribly dumbed down idea of what following a Jesus example actually entails.  The niceness is a part of it.  But that's all reactionary.  It's about how I respond to other people and circumstances beyond my control.  I think a much bigger part of it is how I conduct myself in general.  Not just What do I do when someone else does X?... but, quite simply, What do I do?  What do I do with my life?  What would Jesus do with a life?

I'm sure I'm behind a lot of people's curves, but the idea that the slogan on the wristband wasn't just about being nice to mean people, that it wasn't a cheat sheet for getting out of sticky situations... The idea that it was about being prepared... being creative, and informed, and disciplined; that it was about commiting yourself to the life you've been given to live, and seeing that it's done; that it's about living well and exhausting possiblities.. that's a revolutionary idea to me.  I've never read Rick Warren's book, but I would say that Christ's was the ultimate purpose-driven life.  And if that's the answer to the question, then I have been seriously underselling those wristbands.

99. God Complex

One of the more interesting religious experiences I've ever had happened while waiting in line at the Subway near my old apartment.  As I was ordering my sandwich, a black woman waiting to pay started arguing with the young black woman behind the counter.  Apparently she wasn't happy with the service she had received.  She expressed her dissatisfaction by berating the black female employee for working for foreigners (the shop's Indian owners), thereby siding with them over her own people.

The young woman ignored her at first, but the customer kept on, insisting that "This is what's wrong with black people," and that "They come into our neighborhoods and our own people help them work against us."  Eventually the young woman grew exasperated and said desperately, "Ma'am, I didn't do anything to you."  The woman immediately took offense, and replied sharply, "You can't do anything to me!  I'm covered in the blood of Jesus!"

I spent the next 20 seconds seeing how far my jaw could drop without actually unhinging itself.  It got pretty far.  As the woman walked out, I apologized to the cashier on her behalf.  I felt like the crucifix hanging from my neck required as much.

I am truly fascinated by people who cite God as a reference in their meanness.  How is it possible?  I feel like I would choke on the contradiction.

This happened again recently when I was trying to catch a bus in a neighboorhood I had never been in.  When an older woman came and sat down, I decided to ask her for help.

Me: Do you know if the 95E is running right now?

Her: (silence)

Me: (Hmmmmm... Either she didn't hear me, or she's crazy.  I really need to get on this bus though.  Let me try this again).  Excuse me... do you know if the 95E is running?

Her: (venomously) I don't know nothing.  We don't have to help y'all.  Y'all supposed to know where y'all going.  I know 290 is running.  I know that.

Me: (WTF?!?)

At this point I'm sure this woman is crazy.  For one, 290 is a highway, and it doesn't come anywhere near 93rd and Commercial.  I'm thinking maybe she thinks I'm some spoiled suburban chic (I am), who should have her own car (I do), and she doesn't wanna help me.  But she never says that.  And frankly, a) I still need to find out how to get where I'm going, and b) I really wanna know who "we" and "y'all" are.  I calculate the risk that this woman has a weapon in her purse, and proceed with caution.

Me: I'm sorry.  Who do you think I am?

Her:  I don't know who you are.  We don't have to help y'all.  290 is running.  I know that.  Y'all should help yourselves.

(a little more back and forth)

Her: I'm not gon sit here and argue with you.  I don't answer to you.  I know the man above.  I don't answer to you.

Me: (tugging on my crucifix).  Oh, you mean God.  Do you see this?

Her: I don't care about that.  I don't owe you nothing.  I don't have to help you.  Hell no.

Me: (Wowness)

Her: (as I'm walking away) Blah, Blah Blah... You ain't Jesus!... Blah, blah, blah.

Now... This woman's obvious craziness notwithstanding, I was still amazed that she cited her relationship with God immediately prior to informing me that "Hell no..." she was not going to help me.  Wowness.  And given that the woman in the Subway shop was not perceptibly insane, what was she thinking?  And what would a person who witnessed her Jesus-rant, but who hadn't spent much time in Christian churches, think of those of who do?

I have lots more to say on that.  This post is long enough as it is.

89. Now Reading: The Reason for God

One of the more interesting parts of my life as a writer is my complicated relationship to reading. The one thing every writer (I've ever read) agrees on is that writers must read. A lot. And I don't.

Not because I don't enjoy it, but because I'm so particular about it. I don't read for pleasure, only for enrichment. If a book isn't going to make me a better person, if it's only going to entertain me, I'd much rather watch a sitcom or a movie. Of the books that make the cut, I come across a new one every 2 or 3 years or so.

The latest is "The Reason for God." I'm particularly fond of this one because a) it was a gift, and picking out a book for me that I'll actually read is no small feat; and b) it treats religious skepticism (something I have plenty of) as not only an acceptable trait for a Believer, but a necessary one.

So I'm all over it.

On deck: Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke

15. Preach, Preacher!

One of the benefits of living with someone as zealously religious as my mother is that you can't help but absorb some of the hours of television preaching she watches everyday. Right now she's on Bishop Arthur Brazier.

Generally speaking, I don't mess with TV preachers. Just not my flavor. But Mr. Brazier is kinda rocking my world right now. He's preaching on Fear, and how it is not an appropriate motivator in the life of a Believer.

What he said that struck was quite simply that Fear is the biggest problem in some people's lives. "They're afraid to live. And they're afraid to die." Thinking about that, and what it really means to Live, and to be afraid to undertake it, is awesome to me. I think a lot of life is wasted that way. Stuck somewhere between life and death, because we're afraid of all the little deaths and failures we might suffer, if we were to live too audaciously.

This has actually been a running theme in conversation with one of the homies. I think it'll only become more important.