Friday, August 2, 2013

Lucky number seven?

I’ve been reading Jen Hatmaker’s book Seven.  I’ve spent 30 minutes sitting here trying to figure out how to summarize it, so I’m just going to post the description of the book from her website: 


  • 7 is the true story of how Jen took seven months, identified seven areas of excess, and made seven simple choices to fight back against the modern-day diseases of greed, materialism, and overindulgence.


Essentially she focuses on seven things each month for seven months.  The first month she limited herself to seven foods, the second month she only wore seven pieces of clothing, the third month she decides to give seven things away each day, etc.  This book really has me thinking about how our family lives.

On one hand, I’d like to congratulate us on buying used cars and driving them ‘til the wheels fall off, mowing our own grass and having very little credit card debt, but then I’m confronted with how much spoiled food we throw away each week, the staggering number of pairs of black shoes I own, and the piles of toys we end up picking up every evening before bed.  Maybe that’s why I love watching “the Real Housewives” of wherever, because I can comfort myself with the knowledge that at least I’m not THAT materialistic and indulgent.

Seven has also caused me to question my motives for the half marathon goal.  There are races closer to home that would be more budget friendly.  (I mean, if you’re going all the way to Disney World to run a race you might as well stay a few extra days to visit the parks.)  Also, did I really need the expensive (and more importantly CUTE) earphones and shoes?  Was it necessary to download $20 of music from iTunes to motivate me to run?  Thankfully (I guess) I’m too fat for really cute workout clothes because that would definitely be another thing I MUST HAVE in order to achieve my goal.  Actually the “too fat for cute workout clothes” is the reason I splurged on the really cute earphones.  And it’s the reason I have a bunch of adorable baseball caps that I have since learned I can’t wear when running because they make me sweat twice as much as normal, which is a lot.

I spend a lot of time on this we’re so poor/we’re so blessed fence.  (I spend a lot of time on metaphorical fences.  See my “Coke is the elixir of Satan/not a big deal” debate in the previous post if you need to be convinced.)  And I’ve come to the realization that it is because I am physically blessed yet spiritually poor.  There’s not really anything we can’t (or don’t) buy for ourselves.  We have a hard time when asked for gift suggestions for ourselves at Christmas and birthdays because there isn’t much out there that we (or our kids) don’t already have.  But I’m pretty sure we bought all those things thinking that they would make up for what was lacking spiritually.

Let me veer off a bit to define what I mean by spiritually poor.  I have struggled with the parable of the prodigal son for years, always identifying with the brother who stayed and worked with his father while his sibling was off having a grand old time spending his inheritance on hookers and blow.  (Sorry, “hookers and blow” is my new favorite go-to phrase for summing up overindulgence.  Just got a raise at work?  Let’s go spend it on hookers and blow.  Need a theme for your 40th birthday party?  How about "hookers and blow?")

Back to the prodigal son.  As I said above, there was always a simmering resentment of the younger son, feeling bad for the one who got up early and fed the pigs, planted the wheat, went to temple whenever he was supposed to, even when it was raining and his sandals got wet and caked with mud.  It is only very recently that I’ve realized the reason I identify so much with the older son is that he is spiritually poor like me.  We both think we can earn the love of our father by what we do.  But the point, I think I’ve finally realized, of the parable of the prodigal son is that being a child of God means that he loves all of us however we are, that we’re enough.  For the first time I’m beginning to understand that I am enough.

But, as UT football coach Butch Jones frequently says, “It’s a process” and I would currently put myself at “spiritually working-poor.”  There’s a point in Seven where Jen Hatmaker talks about donating a large part of her really nice but no longer needed wardrobe to a domestic violence shelter.  She says that she’s praying for the recipients of her clothes, that they will make those feel special and worthy until they heal enough to know that they are special and worthy.  Now, I don’t equate my body image struggle with that of a victim of domestic violence, but I do think that choosing the Disney Princess Half Marathon was my way of pretending to be special and worthy.  Interestingly, each training run helps me realize that I’m actually getting closer to knowing for sure that I’m worthy.

So I’m not going to regret choosing the Disney Princess Half Marathon.  The entrance fee has been paid, and plans are in place.  And I honestly don’t know that any other race would have motivated me to get off my butt and start running.  But I don’t expect this “journey to worthiness” to end on February 24, 2014.  (Although it may take a day off to recover in a hot tub.)

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