For the duration of the past summer, I fasted from beef, chicken, and pork. During the year, I watched multiple friends of mine fast from the same foods for Lent, but I was non-denominational, so Lent was foreign to me. I made zero religious commitments to give anything up. In speaking to my friend Joseph who gave up meat for Lent, he shared a quote that resonated with me: "For as long as man continues to be the ruthless destroyer of lower living beings, he will never know health or peace. For as long as men massacre animals, they will kill each other. Indeed he who sows the seeds of murder and pain cannot reap joy and love," quoted from Pythagoras.

For years, I was content being ignorant to plight around me, until I was surrounded by people who opened my eyes.  If not that, being told that “pro-life” just meant being anti-abortion encouraged me to be vocal about the humanitarian issues that break my heart.  I became a woman who wanted to talk about healthcare issues, starvation in third world countries, or abolishing the death penalty.  I wanted to reap joy and love.  I am a radical believer in being pro-life and nonviolent, so the quote by Pythagoras struck a chord. I asked myself, “Should I be a radical writer of nonviolent and pro-life arguments, or actually give up something for it?”

So, I gave up something for the summer. I gave up beef, chicken, and pork. "It can't be that bad," I told myself. "There's still pasta.. and rice.. and bread. I love bread. And then there are other kinds of pasta.. and flavored rice.. and, well, bread."

And in truth, at first it really was not that bad. Sure, bread, pasta, and rice got old, but vegetables remained high on the list of foods I consumed.  I lived in an apartment for the summer rather than on campus, so I was able to cook my own food and eat just fine. It was not too difficult to abstain from beef, chicken, and pork, because the only food in the house (for the most part) happened to be food I could eat. But then, I went to Montgomery.

LeAnn is an old friend from high school days and when I went back to Montgomery for a weekend to see family, she and I got together to hang out. We stopped by Sonic to grab slushies before we walked around a shopping mall, when I had my first encounter with breaking my fast. LeAnn had ordered chicken fingers with her slushie, and without thinking, she had offered to share them with me, since neither of us were hungry enough to eat the whole meal. Three nuggets in, it hit me.

"Those were not bread nuggets, nor rice nuggets, nor pasta nuggets.  Those were chicken nuggets," I yelled at myself.

Somehow, I had forgotten. Up until then I had cooked all of my food, so I knew I wasn't eating any meat. In this new environment, it had completely slipped my mind. I felt horrible. It sounds silly, but I did.  LeAnn watched my face flush, and then drain in color. It sounds like I'm overreacting, and I probably was, but making vows to do anything is important to me. Do I think God hates me for eating three chicken nuggets?  No. I think God was probably laughing at me for being an idiot, which is justifiable, because I later laughed at myself also. But, I had made a decision to fast from beef, chicken, and pork to reflect on peace and non-violence, and yes I had broken it, so I felt bad.

I moved beyond my initial mistake and continued with my fast, yet more mistakes ensued. I ate a soup that had beef fat in it, I ate ramen which uses chicken fat in its sauce packet, and there were a few other broths that I thought were free from animal products, but weren't.

Through the summer people would ask me why I was fasting or sort of look at me like I was strange for giving up something as epic and important as meat.  After being questioned again and again about why I was doing any fast at all, I began to get concerned that I was fasting for nothing, what with my inability to answer some of the questions, as well as my mistakes.

"Why are you fasting? What has changed about you? If you're just giving something up to give something up, why does it matter? Are you just fasting to make yourself look good and all 'deeply religious' like? What does not eating meat have to do with promoting peace, anyway?" These all happened to be questions that were either asked of me, or questions I asked myself.

Even if the fast wasn't doing anything, I couldn't dip out now. Then I would be an irreligious wuss who started a fast, couldn't hack it, and looked directly into the sky at God and said "My bad." Rather than feeling like that, I had to try to find answers.  The answers came to me through prayer, but not how I expected. A few years ago it dawned on me that I almost never prayed for anyone who was starving. One huge spiritual question that has always baffled me is why people are starving when Christianity believes the world has a provisional God. Since I can't know the answer, I try to do my part in assisting in help efforts and praying that God, or anyone, will assist those that are starving and feed the hungry. When I realized I rarely do this, or even pray about it, I made it a point to pray for those who are starving when I blessed my own food.

One day though this summer, about a week prior to when I’d planned to end my fast, my prayer time went a little differently. It did not end with an "Amen" and instead, became something I wrestled with for a while.  I sat on the couch I had gotten used to over the summer with my knees pulled close to my body.  I stared at the bowl of white rice for lunch and sighed.  The rice was cooked rather well and had butter.  I’d wanted to make broccoli to go with it and do some sort of Asian inspired lunch, but I had to get back to campus quick for class.  I knew that part of every meal was blessing the food and thanking God for it.  But I wasn’t thankful.  I couldn’t find a reason to be thankful for white rice and butter that I had eaten all summer and gotten sick of.  I knew the prayer I prayed to bless the food would be out of habit, not adoration.  I didn’t know if I should pray at all.

Then it dawned on me that maybe there is more outside of "peace" than simply what I conceive of it.  It was in that moment that I realized there are people in today’s world that would kill to eat pasta, bread, or rice. It could literally serve as a four course meal of the highest grandeur in some areas.

I think my fast this summer helped me realize that peace isn't the same for everyone. Peace for me may occur when I don't have to scramble to pay a bill, while peace to another may be eating a cup of rice. I am quick to complain, slow to realize my blessings. I wondered all summer what this fast could have to do with peace and non-violence, or how any of this would matter later when I was back to Burger King and Outback. What does this have to do with maintaining peace?

The end result is that I am thankful and I've realized that there is a peace that lies within thankfulness, too. When I pray and realize my rice, bread, and pasta are something, that they are sustenance still, I realize that I should be thankful. When I am thankful, even just for a moment, I realize that I don't need to clamor for more. In that moment, I know that I am provided for and that puts me at peace.

The truth is peace should not be so still and quiet that it does not rouse my heart to do something for those that are not at peace, for those that are hungry, for those that are searching for something to be thankful for. I yearn for an active peace that challenges and restores.  My experience has encouraged me to promote peace and nonviolence through serving people in such a way that meets the needs of others and helps sustain life in all ways. Only in doing so can I help others reach the peace I've reached myself.