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Jen Hale Christy

Coach and Writer

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Personal Food Code

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Because I love my family, and because I don’t want to knowingly feed them the ingredients for diabetes, cancer, or various autoimmune diseases, I’m in perpetual learning-and-adjusting mode regarding what we should eat and how we should live. My family, of course, isn’t always exceedingly grateful and happy about this. But, I refuse to let the American food industry dictate how and what we eat (any longer). Also, it just shouldn’t be this hard. So I’ve been on a bumpy journey towards healthier eating for at least the last six years, and am often asked what I’m doing and why.

I’ve developed this food code for our family that we follow closely, but not perfectly. Sometimes other priorities (cost, time, being a guest in someone’s home, supporting local businesses, etc.) take precedence. Sometimes the school is holding a fundraiser at the Golden Arches and I bite my tongue and we go. More often than not, though, this is how we eat these days:

  1. Eat real food, not too much, mostly plants (almost a direct quote from Michael Pollan’s In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto)
  2. Eat local and organic whenever feasible
  3. Limit sugar + fried foods (*limiting sugar is definitely hardest for some of us!)
  4. Drink mostly water

There are blogs and books and websites and documentaries to thank for all of this. One of the most significant sources, which has informed several others, is Pollan’s In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto. It’s an eye-opening read and I highly recommend it to anyone who’s ready to think critically about what’s going from their fork to their mouth, how it got there, and why it matters. But I didn’t just stumble into this line of inquiry.

It all started with my friend Ben. Several years ago, he landed in the hospital with terrible abdominal pain and the doctors struggled to diagnose his condition. At some point in his 22-day hospital stay, they determined he had pancreatitis (among other complications). At one point he became septic and was knocking on death’s door. He had been an otherwise healthy guy, so this life-threatening acute sickness was a real wake-up call. After all that, his doctors said he needed to go on a strictly plant-based, real food, healthy diet (without oils or salts or sugars. Sorry salad dressings and hard alcohol—there’s no room for you here). He and his family did their research, watched documentaries (including Forks Over Knives) and as a family they all went vegan. Watching them walk through this, and hearing about what he was learning about a plant-based lifestyle, I had to see for myself. I watched the documentary and I was convicted, inspired, horrified, and changed.

We dove into plant-based eating and eliminated all animal products except for eggs (I didn’t want to give those up but we did switch to free range egg whites). Although I’m certain it’s the thing that gave us more digestive troubles than anything else, cheese is the thing everyone missed the most. Nevertheless, we persisted and discovered new foods we liked and how much better our bodies felt and responded to this new way of eating (e.g., better digestion, more energy, decreased eczema, fewer sicknesses all around).

The rails came off when I was pregnant with our fourth child. That darn first trimester always gets me. In my constant state of nausea, things I used to love like coffee, chocolate, and anything green – became utterly repulsive. The things I wanted to hate—macaroni and cheese and Taco Bell and Lucky Charms–those were the only things remotely edible. So, operation Vegan Christy’s officially went on pause. Post-partum, we eased closer to plant-based but still had seasons of meat- and dairy-eating.

In January 2018, one of my goals for healthier living involved shifting food habits. I was already convinced that plant-based was the way to go for ethical and environmental reasons, but after reading In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto along with The End of Dieting: How to Live for Life, I was convinced that it was also much a healthier way to live. My family has come along somewhat reluctantly. No one seems to miss meat. Some of them recognize that dairy upsets their stomachs, so they don’t miss that either. Overall, the biggest challenge has to do with convenience and availability. When you’re eating away from home–whether that’s on vacation, dining out, or getting lunch at school–it’s simply easier to eat standard American fare (meat, dairy, highly processed grains, and high amounts of oil and sugar). I wish it wasn’t the case, but it is. So as long as I’m doing all of the shopping and cooking (including sending everyone with homemade lunches), we can eat according to our code relatively easily. And the longer we’re at it, the easier it gets.

One last note – while the documentaries are intellectually compelling, the parts that resonate most with my kids have been clips from feed lots and slaughter houses that tug on their heart strings and ethical sensibilities. Some of these images are graphic, but I want my kids to know where their food comes from and what sacrifices are required to get it on their plate. I consider this part of raising responsible community members who can make informed choices now and as adults.

We just watched the movie Okja on Netflix. It centers on a young girl who raises a pig that becomes family to her, but is later threatened by the meat industry. Although the profanity might keep some parents away, the story is powerfully moving and is basically a narrative approach to subtly advocating for a plant-based lifestyle. I recommend it!

Where are you in your food journey—are you eating the way you were raised, or have things shifted? Have you made a choice to avoid certain foods? How do you feel after you eat—energized or tired or somewhere in between?

So. Much. Gratitude.

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And joy. And spoiler alert: they’re related.

I spent the first part of the morning at a volunteer training in order to teach art literacy to my 3rd grader’s class next week. We made clay pinch pots and although I spent most of my life saying I wasn’t “artsy,” I’ve learned to lean into and enjoy opportunities to flex my creativity. What a fun way to start the day! After a short work day, I left the office when the sun was still high in the sky and squeezed in a 3-mile run around my favorite lake before the girls got home from school. Oh yeah, they walk or bike or scooter home now. This parenting thing just reached a whole new level of awesome.

While one daughter made guacamole and the other practiced piano, I made scrumptious veggie burgers and French fries. From scratch, people. I Tasmanian-Deviled the kitchen sparkling clean by seven while Dave bathed the boys, and after folding a load of laundry and exhorting the girls to just.get.in.the.shower, I was able to sit down and relax. At 7:30! The sun is still out, windows are open with a glorious breeze, and my heart is full of gratitude and deep joy.

I’m thankful for a flexible job that allows me to be at home with the kids in the afternoons and on breaks from school. I know this is HUGE and I don’t take it for granted. I’m thankful for Dave, my very best partner. He makes me laugh and loves me madly and keeps me sane (-ish). I’m thankful for our family’s health and stability. I’m thankful for opportunities to travel and explore and see good friends back in CA. I’m thankful for time to cook meals. I remember the mad dash to get dinner on the table when we were both working full time, and I appreciate the gift of prep time I now enjoy. I’m thankful for spring’s long-awaited arrival, with sun and warmth and breezes that draw us outdoors and reward us with energy boosts and mood improvements. I’m thankful for this place we’ve been calling home for the past three and a half years. Beaverton, I complain a lot about your weather. But nobody’s perfect. And all that rain *does* make the grass greener up here. So there’s that. I’d still like to discuss the oppressive, opaque gray skies of late fall and winter. But for now we’re okay.

All this gratitude has the delightful effect of imparting great joy. Who knew?!

Lots of people, actually. It’s pretty well-documented.

But when you’ve had decades of practice complaining rather than practicing gratitude, realizing just how much better it is to be thankful is kind of a BIG aha moment.

When I was devastated that the church let me go, the city picked me up and said “we want you.” When the church cut me from the budget, the city added me to theirs.

Let that sink in.

The city has been so good to me: with flexibility, encouragement to use my gifts, recognition and affirmation, opportunities for professional development, not to mention–they pay me.

Yes, it’s local government and it’s hilariously Parks and Rec-ish. No, it’s not ministry per-se, nor is it the culmination of all my educational and professional experience.

Yes, it’s only temporary. No, I don’t know what’s coming next (when the temp hours are gone).

And… I’m filled with gratitude. And awe.

Here I am, no longer tethered to a religious institution but finding myself as a minister/theologian/speaker-at-large, and I’m continuing to learn ways to live and move in the world that witness the goodness of God.

And LOL here, God—what the what?!? We followed your leading up to Oregon, and although this isn’t at all what we had in mind—I’ll take it. We’re in a beautiful season in which I’m leaning more deeply into mothering and writing and reading and learning and LIVING. You know–things that are often crowded out by a full-time, demanding job. We’re in a beautiful place with awesome neighbors, remarkably tall trees, clean air, friendly people, great food, an agreeable culture and ethos, and beaches and mountains and lakes and rivers all a short drive away. I’m thankful for this unexpected gift.

What season are you in? Is everything teeming with new life, blooming with possibilities? Or does it feel as though winter hasn’t left your heart yet? Wherever you find yourself: give thanks. What are you thankful for?

Motherhood Mondays: Selfishness

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I mentioned here that enjoying my children was a difficult concept for me to understand, let alone live into. I was confused and ashamed at first. And you might be judging me. But trust me, lots of parents struggle with how to fit children into all of their other hopes and dreams and goals and plans. It’s not so much that our children get in the way of those…

Wait… Actually they do.

It’s in the best way possible, but it’s hard to see it in those early years. The transition to motherhood brings a full assault on those hopes, dreams, goals, and plans (assuming they were anything otherthan having children).

Becoming a mother brings to the surface all of your self-absorption and selfishness. Sure, you can go on being the selfish human being you once were; working, shopping, resting, and dining out as you like. But there’s a little human who will protest and make you aware of how your choices affect them. And you can choose to keep putting yourself first and remain at war with this infant, or you can start carving out a yet unknown path towards balancing your own desires with the needs of your new child.

I didn’t realize how selfish I was until I had my first child. It actually started during pregnancy. With my hormones and body locked in a never-ending race to see who could change the most wildly each day, I was a hot mess. Cravings were intense and immediate, so when one came on – whether it was the need to puke, go to bed at 6 p.m., eat two bowls of ice cream, or get out of that yankee-candle-smelling-room asap – I obeyed the impulses. Life shifted somewhat abruptly to being all about the pregnancy. Conversations with co-workers, friends, family, and strangers all focused on how far along I was, whether I knew the gender, whether this was my first and if I would be having any more. I started to resent that a part of my identity was slipping away as the status of this pregnancy seemed the most important or interesting thing people wanted to know about.

Post-pregnancy, the baby was definitely the most important and interesting person. But that wasn’t the hardest part for me. It was the conflict between what I wanted to do and what the baby wanted or needed. It was all of the ways that my life and my body and my schedule and my relationships changed. In short, it was all of the ways that “my” wasn’t the most important anymore.

Selfishly and secretly, I wanted to be able to just add baby to the mix as if it were an accessory. But in reality, baby changes everything. Everything from the laundry detergent you use, to when and how you eat dinner, to whether you go to that party, to when in the world will you ever see a movie in the theater again, to when will you be able to be away from the baby or milk machine for more than 3 hours?! Everything changes.

But if you can lean into it, it changes you for the better. It has the potential to re-orient you towards an Other. In fact, it’s not unlike marriage in these ways…If you’re open to it, it can rip your heart open to levels of empathy and joy and love you’ve never known before. If you let it, it will steadily chip away at your selfishness as you have daily opportunities to choose to put the Other first.

In my teens and early twenties, as much as I wanted it to be true, I couldn’t say for sure whether I would put myself in harm’s way for another human being. Since having children, it’s not even a question. I would absolutely die for any one of my children at any moment. I’m light years from selflessness, but becoming a mother is helping me to more fully live into the person I’m created to be. One selfless decision at a time.

How is motherhood changing you? Have you had similar experiences of reckoning with your own selfishness? Have you had an opposite experience of having to dial back how much you sacrifice yourself for your children, and make sure you’re taking care of yourself?

Motherhood Mondays: One Day They’ll Leave (Part 3: Middle School)

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She’s going to middle school. MIDDLE SCHOOL!

In just FOUR months, she’ll be a middle schooler and the anxious dreams have already started. That’s actually what signaled to my conscious brain that the anxiety had set in—the dreams. Of course I knew that 6th grade comes after 5th. And in this part of the country, 6th grade means middle school—no more elementary school.

But it’s not just a transition to the next grade like it was from first to second, or second to third. This one is HUGE. She’s going from recess and reading buddies to tween drama and pimples and periods and crushes. She’s going from I’m not sure my parents know what’s best to my parents are completely clueless and my friends are my only hope.

I remember my own transition from fifth grade to sixth grade. It was worse than it might otherwise have been because it was the summer in which we moved from small-town middle America to the booming silicon valley of Northern California. One day my friends and I were making up skits on the playground, and the next I was being shoved up against the bathroom wall by another middle schooler demanding to know my gang affiliation. My eighth-grade sister had it bad too: her bathroom episode involved a girl using a lighter and can of Aquanet as a blow-torch over her bathroom stall. Sixth grade was the year in which I had my first #metoo on the school bus, was referred to only as “schoolgirl” instead of by my name, had my first kiss, and learned how important the numbers on the scale were. I also learned how to cuss, hate my parents, and combine the two for colorful effect.

It’s likely clear now why I’m so anxious about my own daughter entering middle school in just a few short months. I want so badly to protect her from the awful experiences I had and dumb choices I made. Even though we’ve never been big into child-proofing our house, I think that’s essentially what my instincts tell me to do in this situation–barricade and protect! I’m nervous about the performing arts magnet school she’s been accepted into because the boundaries seem a little too loose. I imagine all of the trouble that 6th graders might get into with relaxed boundaries and a school that goes up to 12th grade, and have to talk myself down from a near-panic attack. My instincts say: protect! Set up boundaries, barriers, rules! Talk to the principal and make sure the students won’t be roaming empty auditoriums (as they were on her shadow day—much to my dismay). To some extent, these instincts are well-intentioned and good. But there’s something more. Something harder.

I’m realizing that even more important than making sure there are rules and boundaries and all the things—is having regular conversations with my child about healthy choices and doing hard things and becoming the person you’re created to be. I have to do the intentional work of helping to shape my child’s ethics and character so that she will make good choices whether the rules are strict or lax.

One day, she’ll leave.

Kindergarten, day one: I had the gut-wrenching feeling of my heart walking around out there – outside of my body, exposed to all of the elements and outside of my watchful protection.

Middle School, day one: I fully expect it to be worse…if I continue course. But hopefully as Dave and I have the hard conversations and continue to shape this beautiful child, the difficulty of that day will be diminished. And our trust and confidence in our child will grow. And as she makes the little hard choices each day, she’ll keep growing in her ability to make the big hard choices that matter the most.

But also, please God, not a first kiss. I’m not ready.

What advice do you have for parents launching their kids to a next level like this?!

Motherhood Mondays: One Day They’ll Leave (Part 2: Kindergarten)

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The first day of kindergarten was the first big day of “leaving” for us – much moreso than the first day at this daycare or that one. Kindergarten signals the beginning of the educational journey that now has a departure date: 13 years from now. Thirteen years from now, for college or career or something else, you’re going to leave.

I’ve had three first-day-of-kindergarten drop-offs so far, and while all of them have been surprisingly emotional, I suspect the last one will be at least as hard as the first. We have about a year and a half until the last one, but I’m already anticipating it. On each of these days, I’ve been blindsided by an abrupt awareness of just how precious little time I’ve had with them so far, questioning whether I’ve had all the influence necessary before this journey begins – did I model kindness? Have I taught you how to be a good friend? Have we had all the fun and play and silliness I wanted to have before this day? I just want to hold you a little longer. I want you to stay little, for a little longer.

One day we’re sending you off to kindergarten, hopeful you’ll make friends and have fun and learn how to be a student. Just thirteen short years later, we’ll be sending you off to college or wherever you’re headed after high school, hopeful you’ll continue to make good choices and build a good life and learn how to be an adult.

The time we have together is so short. One day you’re going to leave, so today I’m going to hug you as much as you’ll let me, tell you I love you until you’re sick of hearing it, and be fully present for our life with all of its laughter, crankiness, silliness, dancing, arguing, and forgiving. One day you’ll leave, but you’re here today so I’m going to slow down and listen and notice and love you with all that I am.

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Has your child started kindergarten yet? What was it like for you?