Remember that thing I said last week about “extra hours?” I think I’m going to have to take that back. This week grew wings and flew right past me! But hey, who’s complaining? I’m running down the home stretch now – only 6 more days to go!!! <<extended running man dance break>> I am practically overflowing with joy, as I write this post! Not because I will be reunited with my dear sweet friend, Sugar, soon, but because God has truly been blowing my mind lately.
Yesterday was slightly hectic, and by day’s end, I was too tired to post. So today, I’m going to hit a double-header.
I had Braxton Hicks today or something, for a minute I thought I only had a few days left in my fast…it felt like the end was near! Oh well, I really have seventeen days left and I see myself lasting until the end.
I’ve heard that it takes twenty-one days to make or break a habit. Part of me wonders if I will have broken habits completely by the end of this fast, or just learn how to discipline myself in certain areas better. David Wilkerson fasted from television and then went on to stop watching it for the rest of his life. I don’t know if that’s going to be me or not…I do know that this whole venture is beginning to frighten me – in a good way.
I’ve discovered how to get extra hours in my day! Want to know what it is? Fasting. Time just draaaaaaags on by, as slow as I’ve been begging it to do for years. Seriously.
My church just started a corporate 21-day fast. The details of the fast were left up to individual discretion, meaning each person was able to choose what he/she wanted to abstain from. Some members mentioned a full fast (no food, just water), others mentioned a Daniel fast (veggies, rice, beans, fruits, and water – no sweets, no meats, no milk), and I…well I wasn’t too sure when I woke up what I was going to fast from.
Were you ever in a sub-par middle school choir? I was. And when I say sub-par, I say that generously. I went to a Christian school so we weren’t allowed to sing the standards like “Blue Moon” or “Someone to Watch Over Me.” We had to sing unknown songs about Abraham, and wildflowers, with wavering harmonies and starched peter pan collars.
My parents were kind (or blunt, however you want to look at it) enough to let me know that my choir was horrible. And don’t get me started on those band concerts! – as my mom said. Needless to say, I knew that when my choir had a concert some 50 miles from home, on a Saturday morning, leaving out at 5:00 am, I wasn’t going to get any volunteers to come and cheer me on. Continue reading