Day 39: Football, Family and Food (Well, Kind Of)

A beautiful, sun-splashed day at Memorial Stadium.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this Lent has proven time and again the old adage that "a way to a man's heart is through his stomach."  But I might amend this statement further to read . . . "if no food is available to placate said man's hunger, then football would be a good second option."  Today we went to the University of Nebraska "Spring Game" in Lincoln.  What could be better than football in April?  Well, lunch in April, I suppose.

To dove-tail on yesterday's post, I am finding that the closer I am getting to Easter the more difficult this fasting becomes.  Forgive me for whining, but even with football to watch, food was about the only thing I could think about all day.  I woke up early to eat something before sunrise and it turned out to not be nearly enough.  

So far this Lent I had managed to avoid going out to eat with the family (the lone exception being the second day when we stopped for lunch on the way to Colorado), mostly this is because I don't expect everyone to wait for me until they eat.  Well, today it happened not once, but twice.  We met Brandi's aunt and uncle (with whom we went to the game) and mother for breakfast before we headed to Lincoln.  You may recall that the one time we did go out it was a bit awkward for me when I had to tell the waitress I didn't want anything to drink or eat.  This time I asked for an ice water (which remained untouched) and I told the server I would just share someone else's food.  This was a bit of an untruth, I realize, but it is far better than having to explain Lenten Ramadan in a busy restaurant on a Saturday morning.  In the end, breakfast was no big deal.  I had eaten about three hours earlier and was still somewhat satisfied.

The problems began when we arrived in Lincoln.  We had to park about a half mile away in a parking garage.  To get to the stadium we had to walk through downtown, passing countless restaurants and tailgaters along the way.  En route, my olfactory nerves experienced a full-frontal assault from the likes of bratwursts, hamburgers, french fries, barbecue, soup, fried chicken, coffee and several other odors the likes of which could not be determined but which registered in my brain as "absolutely delicious."  Then we sat down.  Soon a second sortie was conducted by vendors of pizza, popcorn and "Runzas," a local delicacy which could best be described as bread stuffed with hamburger and other goodies.  And this went on and on.  For.  Three.  Hours. 

After the game we of course had to run the gauntlet back to the car which included, once again, all of the wafting scents mentioned above (only in reverse order) plus the wonderful smell of fresh pastries from Panera Bread into which we had to take a detour in order for Nicholas to use the bathroom. And I'm still not finished.

Upon arriving back in Omaha we went to dinner at the Upstream with Brandi's aunt and uncle.  This happens to be one of my favorite places in town.  Not only do they have a deliciously creative twist on classic pub fare, but they also brew their own beer!  This was absolute torture!  Again, I ordered an ice water and pulled the same trick as in the morning.  

I am so hungry that right now I would eat this computer if I weren't afraid the silicon in the processor would somehow give me stomach cancer.  As soon as I post this I am heading out the door and going for a walk to another favorite establishment, The Dundee Dell.  I'm going by myself and I am going to have a hot meal for the first time all week.  And I will savor it.  And I will thank God for it.  And I will wash it down with an ice cold beer.  By the time you read this, I most certainly will have said,  "Ahhhhh-men."

Day 38: The Pain of Hunger

If these next two and a half hours are any indicator, the next eight days are going to seem as long as the last thirty-eight days combined.  This hasn't happened much this Lent, but right now I am confronted with a situation where I am a bit more idle than usual.  Brandi is in Kansas City today for her uncle's funeral and I am home with the boys.  It being Friday there are no pressing school matters that need my immediate attention. This would usually be a quiet, relaxing time that I would look forward to, but to be honest, I am bored.  It has rained all day so we are cooped up in the house. So I find myself sitting down here by myself confronting my hunger.

Hunger is an uncomfortable feeling unlike any other.  I don't know if it can really be classified as "pain" per se.  It's not sharp or piercing and there's no blood. It doesn't strike at a nerve or break any bones. It's neither inexplicable nor out of the ordinary.  And unlike most other pains, it is both preventable and easily treatable.  Ibuprofen can be hit or miss for a headache. A trip to the doctor may or may not alleviate pain.  A visit to the hospital may actually cause more  pain before getting to the cause of the ache (assuming it can at all).  But the fix for hunger is simple and quick . . . a glass of water, a few bites of bread or fruit or veggies and, voila!  No more hunger!

So why do we fast?  Why do we willfully inflict this mild discomfort on ourselves?  Are we masochists?  There are many reasons, of course, and I have tried to examine these at least in part throughout this Lent, but right now I am sensing solidarity . . . a solidarity of sadness and compassion for those in our world who suffer from hunger everyday.  What for me is mild discomfort is to many others a way of life.  What I have whined and complained about this Lent is for others not a choice but a situation they neither asked for nor deserved.  What for me can be alleviated by a few short steps to the refrigerator, a trip to the supermarket or a drive to any number of fast-food joints within five minutes, is for too many others a terminal illness with no cure in sight.

I feel guilt.  Guilt for ever complaining about being hungry.  Ever.  Guilt for looking forward to eating as soon as sunset arrives. Guilt for being complicit in a culture which tells us we need more, more, more.  Guilt for participating in a system which fights for tax breaks for those who can have whatever they want when they want it at the expense of eliminating opportunities and necessities for those who struggle for the basics day in and day out.  Guilt. Guilt for having so much when others have so little.   

Day 37: Planning for Life After Lent

In all my anticipation for Easter and the end of Lent I seem to have overlooked one important detail:  What is life going to be like for me when my Lenten Ramadan is over?  I really had not given it much thought until I met with my spiritual director today and he asked me that very question.  It dawned on me that I really need to seriously be making a plan.

I have heard it said that it takes something like three weeks to break a habit.  Well, Lent is over twice that long, making me wonder how long it takes to start a new habit and if my various new routines these past five weeks are bordering on habitual.  I have written a great deal about how this entire experience has been very meaningful to me.  Gratitude, simplicity, prayer and awareness of things beyond my nose have all revealed themselves as significant lessons.  What I had not really considered is . . . what next?

Trust me, I am not worried that I will have forgotten how to eat lunch.  I will welcome that habit back with open arms!  What I am wondering about is how I can maintain the routine of prayer that I have established and which I have found to be both valuable and necessary.  I always used to think that the morning was the best time for me to pray . . . the house is quiet, the day is fresh, a time to focus before the craziness starts.  But the problem with early morning prayer is that I’m not quite awake yet, there is too much activity looming on the horizon and, quite honestly, I need my sleep and my day starts early enough as it is.  To actually get out of bed, fully wake up and center myself for prayer, I’d have to wake up at 4:30am . . . and that ain’t gonna happen.  Evenings are generally a train wreck as far as prayer is concerned.  I am exhausted from the day, have dinner to prepare, need to spend time with Brandi and the boys, have school work to do . . it’s just not very conducive for prayer either.

What I have really enjoyed and what has been really productive for me in prayer this Lent has been this middle of the day time that has carved itself out due to the fasting.  By noon my day has hit a rhythm, I am alert and things have already happened that give me pause and provide fodder for thought and prayer.  The problem is, after Easter I am going to resume eating lunch with my colleagues and this chunk of time will no longer be available to me.  There is some time here and there throughout the day but I typically use it for lesson planning and other school related business.

So from my vantage point it boils down to this: something has to give.  It might be rising earlier, staying up later or squeezing out some time midday.  I am not sure right now which one of those "somethings" it's going to be, but whatever it is, it will require sacrifice of time and discipline; two areas I think I have learned a lot about these past five weeks.

Day 36: Five Week Update

Only two more of these updates left!  Spring has sprung, Lent is waning and Easter is looming on the horizon.  Here are a few ramblings:

• First things first.  This morning's sunrise was breathtaking!

• Working overtime.  Typically Ramadan is twenty-nine to thirty days long.  Not counting Sundays and the Solemnity of the Annunciation (days when I did not fast this Lent), today is the thirtieth day of my Lenten Ramadan fast.  Counting today, there are still ten days of fasting remaining, making Lent a bit longer than Ramadan. Of course, Muslims don't have the luxury of breaking the fast at all during Ramadan, and I am certainly not claiming to have "outdone" anyone here. This never was about competition but about faith and understanding.

• Leftovers are better than nothing . . . I guess.  I know I have mentioned this before, but it is worth noting again: I am absolutely sick of eating food warmed up in the microwave.  I haven't really been keeping track, but I imagine I have only eaten freshly prepared hot meals four or five times in the past five weeks. Of course, I realize this is still more than many people in our world get.  It is simply something I am not used to.  Not eating with everyone else has been one of the biggest challenges this Lent, and not just for me.  Brandi has commented numerous times that she can't wait for Lent to be over so we can all eat together again.

• Tic-toc, on the clock.  It is amazing how rapidly daylight has been added over the past five weeks. When I started on March 9 there were 11 hours and 37 minutes of daylight.  As of yesterday there were 13 hours and 11 minutes, an increase of one hour and 34 minutes.  This is something I never really paid much attention to in the past but it has been remarkable to witness.  While most of me very much enjoys the longer days (especially the later sunsets), it does increase the length of each day's fast.  Mornings are becoming more of a challenge too.  At the start of Lent it was no problem to eat breakfast because the sun was rising after I left for work, but now I have to hurry to get breakfast in.  I hate to eat too early since it is so long until dinner. One of the things I am most eager about is getting my Saturday mornings back to sleep in a bit. As it stands, I have to wake up early in order to eat breakfast . . . although I have been known to return to bed for a bit afterwards. I am certainly much more aware of what spring means this year!

• Almsgiving update.  Last week I mentioned the importance of giving alms during Lent.  While I have not yet determined a total amount (and I'll probably keep that confidential anyway) I think I am going to split it in half and donate half to Catholic Relief Services.  CRS consistently has one of the lowest overheads of any charitable organization and more of your dollar goes directly to those in need than with most other groups.  I am thinking about donating the other half to Project Interfaith, an organization I have mentioned here several times.  The blend of feeding the hungry and promoting inter-religious dialog seems like a good fit for my Lenten Ramadan.

• Weight watchers.  It's looking like I'm down ten pounds in five weeks.  The weight loss really seems to have slowed down a bit and that is fine with me.  It may have slowed down because I have tried to eat just a little bit more in the evenings.  We've had a lot of leftovers in the fridge from the family reunion on Saturday and I can't let all that perfectly good food go to waste!

• And in the spirit of gratitude . . . I want to offer you all a thanks once again. Lenten Ramadan has surpassed 1000 page views and, on average, receives over 30 views a day.  Recently a number of page views have been consistently coming from Thailand and Denmark.  This truly is a small world! Thanks too for those who have posted comments, especially "kat" who is the first Muslim to have done so and whose insights on Ramadan and fasting I have greatly appreciated this past week.  When I began this journey part of my hope was to create understanding and respect between faiths instead of the fear and animosity that is more often reported in the media. At least for me personally, this has certainly been the case and I hope it has for you too.

Day 35: Ring Ceremony

The calm before the storm.

Growing up, I always wanted to be an architect.  I enjoy the spaces we create for ourselves. The homes we live in, the buildings we work and play in and the structures we worship in are more than just four walls and a roof.  They are the products of great creativity and become the environments that mirror the things we value.  Consequently, I have always been a sucker for places.  I love to explore interesting architecture and to travel and visit places that are inspiring or of historical significance . . . the spaces we shaped and the spaces that shaped us.

Yesterday I mentioned how much at home I feel in our school's chapel.  It is one of those spaces that has great meaning for many.  For over 125 years it has been a place of refuge and ritual for thousands of students and faculty. We gather there regularly for liturgies, honors assemblies and guest speakers.  It is a place where we share our talents with dance and music for Christmas programs.  It is a space where we congregated seemingly by instinct the morning of September 11, 2001 and a space where we have remembered the lives of colleagues, alumnae and family members who have died.  It is also a place of great celebration, and today was such a day.

It is a tradition in Sacred Heart schools that seniors present the juniors with their class rings.  The ring is a symbol of faith, learning, service, community and family and many alums continue to wear their rings as they chase their children through the park or rock their grandchildren to sleep at night.  The day of Ring Ceremony is one of the most joyous days of the school year.  The juniors have been waiting for this day for at least three years and the seniors are passing on the torch of leadership as they prepare to depart us.  The ceremony is full of laughter, smiles, tears and hugs.  It is a very special day in the life of our school and is a ritual that reminds us who we are and gives us a sense of direction and purpose.

Gratitude has emerged as the dominant theme for me this Lent and today's Ring Ceremony provided another opportunity to be thankful.  As I watched the genuine sense of pride in the faces of the seniors and the unadulterated joy in that of the juniors, I was grateful for what this place has meant for me and for countless others.  I have taught and learned from so many wonderful young people, have had the great honor to work with a dedicated and inspiring faculty and have built friendships not only with people in my school but also with many others from Sacred Heart schools throughout the country. God has truly blessed me to be a part of this great endeavor and to work in a place that is more than bricks and mortar, more than walls and ceilings, more than stairs and windows.  I am fortunate to work side by side with people who have become my family and in a place that is also my home.

Day 34: A Sign of Hope

I was happy to return to the chapel in the middle of the day today.  I think that part of my feeling scattered and frustrated this weekend had to do with being out of a routine.  It was a busy weekend with a family reunion, friends for dinner on Saturday, a soccer game, Cub Scouts, baseball practice and Ignatian Associates.  I am not complaining . . . those are the choices we make, but in the meantime it was difficult to find the quiet time I so desperately need to focus and pray when so much of the time I felt like, "Go, go go!"

While today was nothing spectacular, it was the kind of day I needed at this point.  I am ready for Lent to be over and the school day provides a rhythm that more or less keeps my mind from wandering too much.
So I was looking forward to some quiet prayer in the chapel at lunch time.

I entered prayer asking God to help open my eyes to the ordinary ways God is present in my life.  An emerging theme I have found throughout this Lent is an abiding sense of gratitude (perhaps that is what I was missing this weekend more than anything else) and that theme once again resurfaced today.

I teach seniors who are anxious for many things right now.  Of course, they are anxious to graduate in a few short weeks and to begin the next chapter of their lives.  But with this also comes the anxiety of the uncertainty of leaving familiar places and faces to venture out into the unknown.  And before that happens many are also anxious as they still await news of college acceptances and financial aid packages.  It is understandable why they are a bit stressed.

They had their senior retreat this past Friday and Saturday.  Today when I asked them how the retreat was, the responses were invariably, "Great!" "Awesome!" "We all bonded so much!  We needed this!"  I haven't seen that much energy and excitement out of them in months!  I enjoy the great blessing of teaching at a school where each person is valued.  No place is perfect, but this is a place where respect and concern for others always seems to win out in the end.  I have been very blessed to have taught these students when they were ninth graders and it has been a real gift to teach them again as seniors.  They are kind to one another, good natured, exceptionally bright and full of life.  I am inspired by them and they give me hope in the future. And for that I am grateful.

Day 33: A Dry Patch

"And these [seeds] are the ones sown on rocky ground who, when they hear the word, receive it at once with joy.  But they have no root; they last only for a time."  Mk 4:16-17

Follow-through is not one of my strong suits.  Ask my wife.  My bed side table contains a stack of books that are only two-thirds finished before I pick up another book to continue the cycle.  Our nearly twelve years of marriage is littered with slow-moving home improvement projects that stall out, eventually finished only after much pushing and prodding (or with the assistance of a professional).  And don't forget the failed diet plans, fitness plans and plans to ride my bike more and drive the car less.

This is a problem I am confronting right now with Lent and it has led to a bit of a dry patch for me.  Truthfully, I have never had a Lent where I have stuck through with my discipline for the entire forty days.  It's the same reason I have so many unfinished books, a bathroom remodel disaster to my credit and ideas for better health down the drain . . . it's just not in my nature. I feel very much like the seed thrown on the rocky soil in the Parable of the Sower (Mk 4:1-20).  To start with I am full of ambition, great ideas and genuine excitement.  But then life happens, I lose focus and forget what it was that drove me to begin whatever venture is the crash and burn du jour.

Right now I am feeling a great frustration with this Lenten Ramadan.  The last few days I feel like I have just been going through the motions.  I'm not yet to the point where I'm counting down days and I really don't feel like I'm doing this because I have something to prove.  I just feel like I'm missing something.  I feel inattentive, distracted and exhausted.  I feel like each time I come here to write I am empty.  I feel like God is right there in front of me but for one reason or another I am missing God.  I feel like great insights I received this past Tuesday were ten years ago.

I almost just wrote that "I hope something big happens this week to give me my focus back," but I know that's the wrong approach and ego-driven.  What I do hope for this week is that whatever needs to happen happens.  Who knows, that could mean more dry patches, an epiphany of great magnitude or something entirely different.  Whatever it is, I pray for the grace to be attentive and available to God this week and, unlike so many things in my life, to see this through to its completion.  Perhaps the rains will come.