Free First Date - Rachel Deals with the Money Fast

I thought I felt awkward when my friends started offering to pay for the small, unnecessary luxuries we normally shared. “Rachel, really, I’ll buy you a yogurt.” I explained, laughing, or daydreaming about the mango and brownie crumble topping, that it wasn’t really about ME not spending money, it was about not taking things I don’t need. It was about considering how I use resources and meditating on social justice. I reassured her; “I don’t think I’m fat,” and she decided it was okay to let me continue on my money fast, frozen yogurt covered in mango and chocolate brownie-less.

I hadn’t really met awkward until a week later. A first date. Eek! I said yes. How exciting. A great distraction from child abuse and cognitive behavioral therapy, topics permeating my masters in social work program. Then, it hit me. No I cannot go out to dinner with you, or see a movie, or play pool. Those all require spending money for things I do not need.

I paced campus with dear friends on our class break. How do I say this and not sound weird? How do I explain that I’m a progressive, social justice oriented Christian-before a first date? Lent can be so dark. Suggestions came. “Give it up for one night.” But the one that stuck was, “Rachel, you don’t want to be with someone who wouldn’t think that was cool anyway.” Right. Okay. So…I wrote an email. It said something like “yes, I want to hang out. I’m doing this social justice, analyze consumerism thing. So I’m not spending any money I don’t need to. Want to not spend money with me?” I’ll tell him about the Christian thing tomorrow.

Huge sigh of relief when he wrote back and told me his dad talks about the invisible backpack we carry around full of stuff. Yes, he will hang out with me. We’ll play Frisbee.

Fast-forward - it’s Wednesday, first date day. And it’s pouring rain and cold. Frisbee is vetoed. Let’s go see the amazing art museum on campus! It was closed, but there was a touch screen art computer in the atrium we played with. That took 5 minutes and it was still raining. We ended up in the student union. We voted in a photography contest, attempted a crossword puzzle, and happened upon a slam poetry contest. 19-year-old prophets rhymed about domestic violence, racism, and misogyny. Watching that is better screening of a date than any happy hour special I’ve seen.

I won’t first-date-and-tell. What I can say is that I started the week wishing I could just spend money on dinner out, to be less uncomfortable. It is easy to invite dear friends over and connect with out spending a dime. But we use consumerism to facilitate new connections, to ease our minds, to distract us from requests for real intimacy. I ended the week grateful to not have money for anything more than essentials. I didn’t eat yogurt to ease my nerves. I didn’t sit silently in a movie on a first date, wishing I were learning more about the cute guy who I came in with. This money fast, instead of making me count the days until it’s over, has made me closer to genuine connection, self-soothing, and amazing homemade lunches. Thank you Jesus!

Thanks to Rachel Cloud for this guest post.

Fasting, and then Slowing

My friend Graham asked me if I had ever shopped at a thrift store. I responded: "Sure! I go to Loehmans." That made him laugh--evidently Loehmans is not a thrift store. Oh well. This was the first of many lessons in my adventure of learning to live on about 1/5 of what I had made the year before. A combination of divorce, economy and one of those mortgages you read about had created a perfect storm, of sorts, for me financially.


Now, without house, car, almost all of my furniture and art, and thankfully about 50 pounds lighter, my life has changed considerably, and for the better. I look at things differently. I am thankful more often. I now understand what people meant when they encouraged me to "look at life's little moments and beauties." Before, I had no idea what that meant--I was too absorbed in the next business deal and what that could buy for me. Now, I am living life more slowly, enjoying good conversations, a slow and delicious cup of tea, and books from the library.



People ask me how I survived all of this. I have to admit, I cried a lot. It wasn't about money though. It was about the loss of what I call my "before friends." Now, I define what friends are much more carefully.



When I wasn't crying, I was laughing. The conundrum of how to interview (yep, unemployed too!) when I have nothing that fits my new size and my new budget was stressful, yet hilarious all at the same time. We have laughed until we have cried at pot lucks and game nights here at home. My girlfriends and I shriek with laughter as we compare notes of real thrift store finds. It is all an adventure, and a welcome one.



Cath's top 5 tips for financial fasting and surviving on a dime:



1. Use cash. There's nothing like handing over one $20 bill after the next to convince you to stop doing that.

2. Go to the library. It is one of our most underutilized tax benefits.

3. Sell things on Craig's list. I survived for almost a year from what I made from selling my...stuff. It is just stuff! How much do you really need?

4. Avoid restaurants, even with your cash. Eating at home is often healthier and you can even lose weight! For me, after my mortgage, this was my number one expense.

5. Make a game out of paying off your debt. For me, the moment I changed my attitude about my debt is the moment it began reducing in size.


Thanks to Cath Shaw for this guest blog.

Guest blog by Alicia -- Sharing our Faith

Several years ago I was worshiping at a church in Chevy Chase DC and also volunteering with an organization that provides furniture to DC area families. I enjoyed my work with both groups, but viewed them as separate, mostly because I wasn’t comfortable mixing my religious life with my service activities.

One day I talked to Jonathan, the director of the non-profit, about my church hosting an event for some of the families they serve. I was thinking of something off-site, with no religious content. Jonathan said that the families would probably prefer an event at the church. Apparently, many of the families have a strong religious faith, but can’t make it to services on a regular basis due to transportation issues.

We decided to hold a brunch after service one Sunday. Church members picked up the families from their homes and brought them to service. Afterwards, everyone enjoyed brunch in the fellowship hall.

During brunch, a 14 year old boy named Max introduced himself to Jonathan. He thanked Jonathan for providing beds and other furniture to his family; he asked if there was some way to he could help the organization. He started volunteering the next weekend. Throughout high school, Max volunteered every day after school and every Saturday. Whenever we said goodbye he told me to “Be Safe.” For some reason that has always stuck in my mind. He became part of the non-profit’s family – becoming friends with the college interns and receiving tutoring and mentoring from the extended network of volunteers. I have no doubt that these friendships have changed the course of his life.

I have had a very blessed life, always having a bed to call my own and never having to worry about losing the roof over my head. I’ve also always had a church community and before this brunch I never realized that this was a blessing that many are not able to have. I still am shy about sharing my faith with others, never wanting to appear to be pushing my religious beliefs, but Dean’s sermon reminded me that an invitation can lead to amazing, unexpected things.

Sometimes money fasting is just inconvenient

I had lunch meetings scheduled twice this week. So I invited people to my office for lunch. Monday I made a variety of sandwiches and a salad in the morning and carried them with me to work. Four of us sat around my coffeetable and had sandwiches and little salads for lunch.

Yesterday I wanted to "run" to church for some morning exercise (note that "run" is in quotes). I couldn't carry lunch with me conveniently. So I stopped at a grocery store near the church and bought makings for hoagies and a bag of potato chips. I hurriedly made sandwiches between a conference call and my lunch meeting. The person I was meeting with probably would have preferred a restaurant but he accommodated me. I am not sure that buying the ingredients and making the sandwiches myself was, in this case, much cheaper.

After the money fast is over, this is a practice I will not continue. It is too hard and not as friendly as having conversation over lunch at Bua's or the Commissary or even the lunch room at Whole Foods.

Yet, inconvenient as it has been, even this has been a good practice. In spite of not wanting to prepare lunches for meetings, I will carry my lunch rather than grab a sandwich somewhere more often. And I will remember how privileged I am to be able to have a relaxed conversational lunch with others at restaurants pretty much whenever I prefer to.

(Tomorrow ... a guest blog from Alicia.)

So I guess I cheated

People we love, who had been out of town for a few months, arranged with us long ago to spend an evening together this past week. We invited them over to our house for dinner. They said, No, no, we want to take you out to dinner. Jane asked me what she should say to them.

As part of the money fast, we have not been eating out no matter who is paying the bill. Otherwise folk who know we are doing a money fast would just pay for things for us and we would not experience the full experience of the fast. This is my reasoning, anyway.

But these friends really wanted to do this. I don't think they even knew about the money fast. I was afraid that they would feel the need to cook if we turned down their invitation to go to a restaurant and I didn't want to put that on them. I also did not want to be ungracious.

So I told Jane to tell them we would be delighted to be their guests for dinner. They asked us to pick the restaurant so we chose one that is very reasonably priced but a great place to talk. We enjoyed our meals, had a long conversation, and it was a good evening.

Sometimes friendship trumps discipline.

Standing in line at Panera, wallet in hand: Guest blog by Erin Ruberry

I'm standing in line at Panera with my wallet in-hand and coffee on the brain. 'It's a couple of dollars I'll never miss for a caffeine boost I really need,' I thought to myself. 'What's one cup of coffee?'

The 21-day financial fast was in its first weekend and I was already close to cracking. As I crept closer to the cash register, though, a small voice in the back of my head said, 'Don't do it. Turn around. Be strong.' The nagging voice prevailed. I got out of line and sat down at a table with my pre-packed sandwich to wait for my friends to order. Coffee could wait.

Doing without the ritual of friendly coffee date or the ease of socializing at a bar or restaurant has been the most difficult part of the financial fast. As a fairly frugal person, I'm used to packing lunch and making more meals at home than I eat out. But when it's grey, rainy and cold, all I want is a grande nonfat soy latte from Starbucks, not a mug of black coffee with a splash of almond milk at home.

Why am I doing the financial fast with Foundry? It's not to save money. For me, it’s about being conscious about where my money is going. Shelling out ‘a few bucks’ for a cup of coffee or a cute pair of Target flats isn’t going to break the bank. But for the nearly 1 billion people worldwide who live on less than $1 a day, ‘a few bucks’ has a different meaning.

I’m lucky to live in a city where there are an abundance of things to do for free: museums, parks, festivals and special events. Not spending money for 3 weeks doesn’t mean sitting inside being bored. In fact, I’m hoping to discover new attractions that normally would have fallen off my radar. When my weekly small group met last week, we took our gathering to the steps of the American Art Museum. Instead of meeting friends for post-church brunch, we've been hosting brunches at home and trying new recipes. Rather than hanging out at malls, we're getting together for hikes along the C&O canal.

To stay in the right spirit, I’m donating the money I would normally have spent on eating out (based on my Mint.com monthly budget) to the Capital Area Food Bank, ‘the largest, public nonprofit hunger and nutrition education resource in the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Area.

I’m hoping that this 21-day exercise makes me think twice before handing over my credit card at Target, Caribou Coffee, the cafeteria at work or any of my other usual haunts. And if it also makes me accustomed to brewing coffee at home and cooking brunch rather than going out, so much the better.

(Erin has been attending Foundry since she was a baby. She officially became a member last year. we are grateful for her reflection!)

Guest blog by Alicia

I met a woman at Foundry a few months ago. I will call her Diane. In some ways we were similar and there was an ease to our interaction, but there was one big difference – I have a home and she does not. As we left the church, I invited her to my nearby apartment to continue our conversation.

We spent several hours talking about all sorts of things – work, religion, family. I made some tea and she brought out a banana that we shared. I had some clothes set aside for donation; she looked through them and found a couple of warm sweaters. But, mostly we just talked, like teenage girls who became fast friends.

As she left, she thanked me for my hospitality and said she most appreciated the opportunity to just relax and “feel normal.” For her it was a taste of an earlier, easier time and a welcome break from her days and nights on the street. As she left she asked if I had a prayer request that she could keep in mind.

I haven’t seen Diane since that day. I think of her as an angel who came into my life to teach me lessons that I continue to learn. I thought about Diane during Dean’s recent sermon about what we would give if we had no money. Simple fellowship is sometimes the greatest gift we can provide. And it’s something we can all give without spending a cent.

(Wow. Thanks, Alicia.)

The money fast and our waists

Several Foundry folk have told me they have lost weight while on the money fast.

In one case, the person who told me he had lost weight thought it was because he was walking instead of taking cabs. In another case, somebody thought it was because of not eating in restaurants. Another person said it was because he had decided not to buy beer while he was on the money fast.

It made me remember something I heard from a denominational leader 25 years ago or more. This particular leader, noticing the waistlines of some of us clergy, started a campaign to get us exercising. One of the unintended but positive consequences of the program, he said, was the number of clergy who told him that --when they started exercising-- they also began praying in a regular and more disciplined way again.

He said clergy (who often go into ministry because they really, really want to pray) would come up to him with tears in their eyes and say, "I want to thank you. Since I've started exercising, I've also started praying again." It was very touching, he said.

His conclusion was that, when we practice discipline in any one area of our lives, it tends to increase the odds that we will become more disciplined in other areas of our lives as well. Physical disciplines stimulate spiritual disciplines, and vice versa.

So there may be a larger dynamic at work with those of us losing weight during the money fast. It may be that when we discipline ourselves to set limits on one kind of appetite, it may actually become easier to set limits on other appetites.

Guest blog from Nancy Groth

The money fast has caused me to focus on the money aspect of a perpetual New Year’s resolution: to waste less food. For the money fast, I have committed to packing my lunch for work instead of eating out; eating takeout or in restaurants also puts a lot of food to waste because my portion size is so much smaller than the norm, and I’m not very systematic about the leftovers.

By “packing” my lunch, like most any other verb of physical activity, I mean using my outsourced production capabilities. I order to contract for the limited physical assistance I need to be disassembled and transferred to bed at night, I have had to commit to an aide’s three-hour shift every evening from 8-11. What this means in practical terms is that three hours out of every twenty-four, I have hands [my grown kids are fond of claiming to be ahead of me evolutionarily because they have opposable thumbs but I do not] and reaching arms for housekeeping, laundry, cooking by loading a crock pot for the next day’s cooking, or now packing a week’s worth of lunches. So the challenge of “packing” my lunches is not a physical task for me, but a matter of ingenuity and organization and planning, areas where I excel. I can do this.

I decided to make a batch of sesame noodles, which with some fruit and my newest favorite food, Greek yogurt, would make packable lunches. I already had sesame oil, whole-wheat linguini, soy sauce and peanut butter in the cupboard, so I went to Whole Foods to get a small piece of ginger and a modest assortment of shredded veggies from the salad bar, cheaper than buying a whole one of each of the veggies for one person’s batch of noodles. While there I also bought an $8 can of tahini, which I decided was a “staple” even though I only needed a couple tablespoons for the sesame noodles; my college-age kid will be home for the summer and loves tahini, so surely it will get eaten. So far, so good.

That evening the weekend aide boiled some linguini and mixed stuff under my direction. Trying to open the can of tahini, her efforts with the electric can opener produced an awful grinding noise. I realized that the last attempt at using the electric can opener was by the weeknight aide, a lovely man from Nigeria who apparently has never cooked anything before working with me, and is unfamiliar with American appliances, even implements I thought were pretty universal and low-tech, like the vegetable peeler. I can’t tell if the electric can opener is broken from the previous attempt, or if the weekend aide, who is from Cameroon but is also a mother who cooks, has it lined up with the can top or not. I can’t tell because it is her hands and eyes on the electric can opener, not mine. Note to self: go to Bed, Bath & Beyond, and get an OXO hand-crank can opener that will be aide-proof.

In the few seconds it takes me to ponder this, the aide opens the silverware drawer, grabs a kitchen knife, and happily and efficiently stabs the top of the steel can of tahini, proceeding to saw all the way around the top with the kitchen knife. Yikes! I only have mediocre kitchen knives which are difficult to sharpen and don’t hold an edge worth anything, and I’m pretty sure that sawing through the top of a steel can has hastened or precipitated this knife’s demise.

Tally so far for one batch of sesame noodles: an $8 can of tahini, one electric can opener, one hand-crank can opener, and one kitchen knife.

What I notice in all this, for the zillionth time, is how little control I have over producing my intentions, and how quickly I jump to technology, i.e.money, to troubleshoot, like the hand-crank can opener. The overwhelming majority of people with disabilities do not have dedicated aides or my resources to troubleshoot with.

OK, so actually the can openers and knife were casualties of my cost of doing business, not the sesame noodles. This week’s lunch menu: sandwiches, alternate days of roast-beef-with-provolone and peanut-butter-with-nutella. And fruit and Greek yogurt.

(Nancy is a wheelchair user. Thanks to her for her delightful and thoughtful sharing!)

Anybody notice lately how much gasoline costs?

I needed gasoline the other day. Gasoline for travel for work or for family visits is on my list of necessary and allowable expenditures during my 21-day money fast. I'd had a meeting out of town that day and had another meeting out of town scheduled for the next day and did not have enough gas left in the tank to make it to my meeting the next day. So I needed gas.

Since I am not using credit or debit cards, I needed to use cash to pay for the gas. It has been years and years since I have paid for gasoline with cash. I can't remeber the last time I used cash to buy gasoline.

I looked at how much cash I had in my wallet. I am trying to be a little careful not to run out of cash since I am carrying no plastic in my wallet and don't want to be out of money altogether, just in case. Without using my debit card, I can get cash only when my bank is open.

Heck, I thought, I guess I have enough cash so I'll just go ahead and get $25 worth while I'm here.

Twenty-five dollars bought me 6.65 gallons of gasoline! My gas meter registered just a hair over half full. What??!! When did gasoline get this expensive??!!

I sat in my car trying to figure out whether there was some way I could get to my meeting the next day by public transportation? Was there someone else going to the meeting I could share a ride with?

I confess that I have the capacity to be a little oblivious when it comes to the practicalities of life. When I am filling up the tank of my car with gasoline, my mind is likely to be thinking about the theological implications of the discovery that the universe is expanding faster than scientists had previously thought or what it means that the country seems to be going through an unusually wacky season. I guess I usually hardly even notice how much I am paying for a tank of gasoline.

The most interesting thing to me is that, when I used cash to buy gas, I had a new appreciation of how much gasoline actually costs. And my mind immediately went to alternative possibilities for transportation ... which is a good thing for other reasons as well.

I guess the money fast was working.

I'm becoming a squirrel!

This is embarrassing.

I was at a meeting Tuesday. Refreshments were on a table outside the room where the meeting was being held. I took a bottle of water with me into the meeting. I stayed for a conversation with someone after the meeting and was the last one to leave. The refreshments were still there. I stuffed two cereal bars, a banana, and two bottles of water into my rain coat pockets.

I am on a money fast and it had suddenly occurred to me that if I wanted something to eat or drink while I was driving back to the city (only a 45-minute drive), the money fast would prevent me from stopping to buy something. So I squirreled up on free refreshments.

The next day I was at another meeting. I left this meeting early. They had just put new refreshments on the table and I stuffed some peanut butter crackers and a bottle of water into my pocket and almost took even more refreshments with me.

I assume nobody would get too upset because I swiped some refreshments, even though I assume the purpose of refreshments is to keep us alert at the meeting, not to take home with us.

What embarrasses me is the neediness within me that worries at a very primitive level that I will not be able to satisfy a need or desire when I want to. It is a neediness that reacts by stuffing my pockets with free stuff. In all honesty, I actually looked around to see if anybody was watching me before I stuffed my pockets. Really. At my age.

I've occasionally seen this kind of stuffing-your-pockets behavior among very poor people and always had a sort of smug liberal superior amusement about it. Now I've learned that the same spirit is in me.

A blog from Alicia

In the spirit of the money fast, I recently decided to purchase a reusable mug. It's something I'd thought about forever and I was finally getting one. I found a stainless steel one that I liked. I asked an employee for her opinion and she suggested a larger one to leave room for milk, etc . . . I thought about it, with the idea of unnecessary consumption in mind, and opted for the smaller 12 ounce option. I had deep thoughts about how here in the U.S. we are always think bigger is better, always planning and hoping for more.

Yes, I was feeling a bit self-satisfied as I walked out of the store.

Then another reusable mug caught my eye. This one was clear with colorful graphics. It was so cute! I immediately thought about how I could get it someday to use for coffee. Of course I could have both, even though one is perfectly satisfactory if washed between uses.

I was soon humbled as I realized the many money traps I constantly fall into.

(Our thanks to Alicia Gutierrez for this blog!)

Day Three of the Money Fast

Today is my third day actually doing the money fast. I have neither cheated nor run into serious problems so far. I have had to think ahead much more than usual.

For instance, bottled water. I have to remember to bring it with me rather than just buying a bottle whenever I want some.

Lunch. I have to remember to pack it in the morning.

Tea. I have to remember to carry tea bags and humble myself enough to beg hot water.

The hardest thing is giving up window shopping. Egad, I window shop a lot on my computer, more than I would have ever imagined. When I open my email in the morning, there are newsletters from Runner's World, Men's Health, MLB, The Sports Authority, Amazon, and even Christianity Today that are just glorified ads. They inspire within me a desire to spend, spend, spend.

I figure I've saved a bit of money already. On Sundays I usually buy two cups of tea at Starbucks and have lunch out with Jane -- $26.00. Mondays I often stop at a local health cafe and have a salad and bowl of lentil soup and then tea at Starbucks -- $14.00. Monday I refrained from downloading a book I almost bought for my Kindle but didn't really need -- $9.99. Today I had a meeting outside the city and would have grabbed a sandwich at a convenience store for lunch, plus another visit to Starbucks -- $13.00.

At minimum, this would have been $62.99 in just three days.

My friend Don Lowe has bugged me mercilessly that we ought to give away the money we save during the money fast. I kept saying, "No, Don. This is a spiritual exercise. I don't want people to think this is a gimmick to raise funds."

Don would not let up. Finally, last week the Holy Spirit said to me: Don is right, you know. So I am giving the money I save during the money fast to our Volunteers in Mission's project in Haiti. It is beginning to add up.

Guest blogger Alicia Gutierrez returns

In a recent sermon, Dean discussed how we use purchases in an attempt to feel some power in a world that often feels beyond our control. This encouraged me to reflect on a recent experience.

I have become friends with a Street Sense vendor who works outside CVS on P Street. I frequently buy a paper and he’s always happy to look after my dog if I run in to get something. I’ll also sometimes buy him a snack. One day he asked for cranberry juice. I went in, saw that the cranberry juice was sold out, and bought another flavor. I thought he would be happy, but I was wrong. When I came out he got angry and was quite rude. He ended up exchanging the juice for another flavor.

I must admit that I was quite annoyed. After a while, I was able to summon compassion and reason that he obviously had some feelings that I could not understand and I forgot about it. Dean’s sermon gave me a completely different understanding of this situation. I take for granted the ability to go into a store and buy myself a treat for a couple of dollars without much thought. My friend does not have this luxury. He wanted cranberry juice and was hoping to at least be able to control the flavor of his juice.

It made me wonder, what would it be like to not have a spare dollar or two to buy myself a treat when my day was full of difficulties beyond my control? What if I couldn’t rely on this coping mechanism that many of us use all the time?

(Our thanks to Alicia. Your thoughts are welcome, too. Email them to dsnyder at foundryumc.org).