Whole30 & Whole Souls

I’m really not the latest food craze kind of person. Back when I really, truly became gluten intolerant (PTL Jesus heals), I hated feeling like another dumb white girl refusing to eat gluten to lose 5 pounds. I realize not everyone who doesn’t eat gluten is like that, but it was back during the height of the fad when people thought cutting out gluten was the new cutting carbs and kale hadn’t yet become queen of all things healthy.

I kept hearing about this Whole30 nonsense and I admit I was intrigued. (For those of you who don’t know, its a 30 day cleanse of dairy, grains, sugar, legumes, alcohol, and a handful of other things.) I found out it was a “diet” where you can eat as many avocados as you want. And steak. And sweet potatoes. Um, what? You had me at “bacon”, Whole30. Read More

We’re On Fire

My office building caught on fire Wednesday.

Well, we weren’t sure it was a fire, the man pointed out, as there was smoke pouring out of his suite and fire fighters rushing in. There was just a lot of smoke.

It was a normal afternoon. I was stressed out, trying to prioritize too many tasks given to me at the same time, trying to figure out a way to make everyone happy. I really had to pee, but sometimes I ignore my bladder for the sake of getting work done. Healthy, I know.

I finally got up to walk to the bathroom down the hall, and smelled smoke. Not a lot, not a scary amount, but definitely smoke. I walked past a suite with the door open, smoke wafting out, and some people in the hallway. Awkward smiles, no explanations offered, I kept walking. Weird, I thought. Maybe someone blew something up in the microwave.

Until, a few minutes later, as I excited the bathroom, and I immediately smelled smoke. A lot, a scary amount, of definite smoke. I walked back and hesitantly asked, “Do we know what’s going on…?”

“Oh, there’s a fire,” a woman answered nonchalantly. Almost as if I simply asked what color her shoes were. Read More

Chisomo

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Grace.
Upon grace.
Upon grace already given.

When I first heard those words, they were as foreign sounding to me as Chichewa. I remember thinking the speaker had misspoke – it sounded like a grammatical error to me, the words literally didn’t compute in my head. Grace upon grace? Grace already given? It was the first time I realized that ‘grace’ was just a church term to me; a word I didn’t fully understand and had never fully experienced. Ironically the pastor of Flood Malawi spoke those words – but in sunny San Diego. I had no idea how the community of both those places were going to shape that word for me and give it new meaning. Read More