Lent is a season for embracing change in our lives - whether it's giving up sugary foods or finding more time for prayer. For 40 days each year, we reconsider our habits and how they impact our relationship with God.
I recently embraced change in my own life by becoming a vegetarian. I've been meat-free for over a year now, and it feels fantastic. But this change was a long time coming.
For me, becoming a vegetarian was like slowly getting into a romantic relationship, and, over time, deciding to commit.
But it didn't happen all at once. At first came the crush.
In seminary, I became curious about vegetarians. I was intrigued. I tentatively imagined myself with plates of veggies and tofu, and I thought it might be fun. I'd heard good things about the social impact of vegetarianism, and I had never been crazy about meat anyway. The idea of making that change was attractive.
And so I flirted - trying vegetarian meals in the cafeteria, googling vegetarian recipes after class, finding soy and tofu and tempeh at the grocery store. And vegetarianism flirted back. The soy burgers were delicious. The tofu wasn't as bad as everyone said. And the "Gimme Lean" really was a lot like "Jimmy Dean"! I was head over heels before I knew it, and I wanted more.
And so, I sought out vegetarians friends and asked them if it really was as good as it looked, and they confirmed my hopes. I read articles on the benefits of vegetarianism, and I like what I learned. I could live a less violent lifestyle while doing healthy things for my body. I could prevent world hunger and reduce my carbon footprint while eating delicious food in the comfort of my own home. The more I got to know vegetarianism, the more I loved it. I weighed the pros and cons, and finally, taking a deep breath, I asked it to go steady.
I didn't want to see anyone else. Meat was nothing to me. I only had eyes for veggies and textured vegetable protein. There was no going back, and yet, I was not quite ready to commit. I needed to be sure. I didn't admit to being a vegetarian in public. When my friends asked if I had quit eating meat, I'd say, "I'm just trying this out for a while - it's nothing serious." I squirmed at the thought of never eating another slice of pepperoni pizza, of never satisfying my hunger for crispy, mouth-watering bacon, of never loading up a plate with the pulled-pork barbeque that my southern roots taught me to love. I was scared of commitment.
But, before I knew it, a month passed, then two. And I didn't miss the pepperoni, the bacon, the barbeque. I knew it was delicious, but I didn't need it anymore. I was a vegetarian, and I declared it to the world, or to my roommates, anyway. We were committed, and I knew we would last. We were a match made in heaven.
A year and four months in, things are going well. Vegetarianism feels so natural, it's like we've been together forever. We're a good fit. And while the change was slow-going, the time I took with it has helped it last.
Not all change is this simple, and not every issue fits this well. I've tried to change in other ways and called it quits much sooner. I renounced Diet Coke for a while, but I was guzzling soda again, three weeks in. And I try, occasionally, to do most of my shopping through fair trade companies. But then, I find myself, once again, in the express lane at a big-box store. I've had weeks when I've tried to greet everyone I see with a friendly smile, and two days in, I find my head down, focused on my next task and latest stressors. I'd like to be more generous, I'd like to tithe, and I'd like to give my possessions to the poor, but I'm just not ready to commit.
But I've found something I can commit to, something that fits, something that reminds me that change is possible. And for today, that's change enough.
posted by Marsha.
I recently embraced change in my own life by becoming a vegetarian. I've been meat-free for over a year now, and it feels fantastic. But this change was a long time coming.
For me, becoming a vegetarian was like slowly getting into a romantic relationship, and, over time, deciding to commit.
But it didn't happen all at once. At first came the crush.
In seminary, I became curious about vegetarians. I was intrigued. I tentatively imagined myself with plates of veggies and tofu, and I thought it might be fun. I'd heard good things about the social impact of vegetarianism, and I had never been crazy about meat anyway. The idea of making that change was attractive.
And so I flirted - trying vegetarian meals in the cafeteria, googling vegetarian recipes after class, finding soy and tofu and tempeh at the grocery store. And vegetarianism flirted back. The soy burgers were delicious. The tofu wasn't as bad as everyone said. And the "Gimme Lean" really was a lot like "Jimmy Dean"! I was head over heels before I knew it, and I wanted more.
And so, I sought out vegetarians friends and asked them if it really was as good as it looked, and they confirmed my hopes. I read articles on the benefits of vegetarianism, and I like what I learned. I could live a less violent lifestyle while doing healthy things for my body. I could prevent world hunger and reduce my carbon footprint while eating delicious food in the comfort of my own home. The more I got to know vegetarianism, the more I loved it. I weighed the pros and cons, and finally, taking a deep breath, I asked it to go steady.
I didn't want to see anyone else. Meat was nothing to me. I only had eyes for veggies and textured vegetable protein. There was no going back, and yet, I was not quite ready to commit. I needed to be sure. I didn't admit to being a vegetarian in public. When my friends asked if I had quit eating meat, I'd say, "I'm just trying this out for a while - it's nothing serious." I squirmed at the thought of never eating another slice of pepperoni pizza, of never satisfying my hunger for crispy, mouth-watering bacon, of never loading up a plate with the pulled-pork barbeque that my southern roots taught me to love. I was scared of commitment.
But, before I knew it, a month passed, then two. And I didn't miss the pepperoni, the bacon, the barbeque. I knew it was delicious, but I didn't need it anymore. I was a vegetarian, and I declared it to the world, or to my roommates, anyway. We were committed, and I knew we would last. We were a match made in heaven.
A year and four months in, things are going well. Vegetarianism feels so natural, it's like we've been together forever. We're a good fit. And while the change was slow-going, the time I took with it has helped it last.
Not all change is this simple, and not every issue fits this well. I've tried to change in other ways and called it quits much sooner. I renounced Diet Coke for a while, but I was guzzling soda again, three weeks in. And I try, occasionally, to do most of my shopping through fair trade companies. But then, I find myself, once again, in the express lane at a big-box store. I've had weeks when I've tried to greet everyone I see with a friendly smile, and two days in, I find my head down, focused on my next task and latest stressors. I'd like to be more generous, I'd like to tithe, and I'd like to give my possessions to the poor, but I'm just not ready to commit.
But I've found something I can commit to, something that fits, something that reminds me that change is possible. And for today, that's change enough.
posted by Marsha.
