The Importance of Walking

Last Sunday was one of my last morning walks to St. Patricks, the Catholic Church I have been attending for the past year. Each Sunday morning, I wake up, get ready, and walk 45 minutes to go to Mass. It is clearly avoidable – there are buses and metro lines that go to St. Patricks as it is in the heart of downtown D.C. However, I have found something special about walking this year.

I used to take the metro and bus a lot more, especially when we were in the thick of the winter. Yet, perhaps partly out of financial necessity, and partly out of desire to see more of the city, I began walking more places.

There is something to be said about these walks. If I would have taken the metro or bus to Landlord-Tenant Court in April, I would have taken the same route and seen the same streets. Yet, instead of taking the bus down 7th/Georgia Ave, I walked down 4th Street from our home. In the process, I saw different housing developments, smiled at different people, and felt as if I knew one more piece of Washington.

Walking like this has almost become a sort of ritual for me. Despite the heat of July, I walked to Lindsy and Andrews near the Navy yard, exploring new parts of NE and Capitol Hill through the walk. I took different streets when walking back from Foggy Bottom, and from various meetings this year, and walked the neighborhoods of Shaw and Columbia Heights.

Washington is relatively small, and the portions that tourists see are only a fraction of the city. Tourists know only the Mall, the White House, and perhaps parts of downtown. By living north of Shaw, working at Bread for the City (in both NW and SE), I feel a real connection to the city of D.C. I see real people living their own life experience.

Looking past the stereotypes that emerge about the neighborhood I live in, and the many neighborhoods of our clients, walking has given me the opportunity to confirm that perhaps I feel more comfortable here, rather than in Georgetown or in a distant suburb. Perhaps it is because I’ve smiled at real residents of D.C., and felt myself truly at home.

It is from this experience of walking that I came to know the city. I hope that I will continue to do the same as I move onto my next few years in Chicago.

Reflections on Amiel

“The stationary condition is the beginning of the end” – Henri Frederic Amiel.

A few months ago, this quote appeared in our house on the side of a magazine. Since then, I have seen it often and been pondering its meaning and relevance in my life. Perhaps it has provoked an inner stirring in me instantly because it’s the end of my year as a Jesuit Volunteer. I am preparing to leave Washington, to travel to Chicago, and to begin a new life in my work at Loyola University Chicago.

Does it strike me because I perhaps have done all the growing I can for this year? That is certainly not true, for I’ve often found most growth happens after the experience. It happens when we take our experience, and we translate it into tangible goals for our lifestyle. It happens because we reflect, we discuss with our closest friends and family, and we discern its meaning and impact on us.

When something becomes stationary, it is no longer migratory or changing. It has a fixed position, and it remains in the same spot.

Am I in a stationary condition now? Are things not changing, fixed in one spot? While I have no context for Amiel’s quote, I suspect it has struck a strong chord with me because I perhaps have felt my life become stationary over these past couple of months. We have established our routine as a house – we have figured out how to save money, how make our food budget stretch farther and farther each week, and have found ease in the comfortability of our relationships with one another. We know our faults and know the blessings that each of us bring to one another.

Looking broader into the values of JVC, I know that I’ve become quite stationary in my job, my understanding of simplicity, and my faith. Though I still love my work and could continue finding fulfillment in my interactions with clients and coworkers, it has become stationary. In terms of simple living, I no longer find myself challenging how I live, or how we as a community live. And, in my faith, I have come to a routine that seems easy and does not give much additional growth.

Perhaps this is the key word – growth. When something is stationary, it isn’t growing. But – that’s not the right way to look at my JVC experience. For I am still growing in relationships – relationships in my house, my work, and my broader D.C. community. And, I am grappling with inequality, with racism, with fear, with our common American values each day as I walk into Bread for the City. I am still challenged by my interactions.

I think Amiel’s quote has reemerged in my reflections because something did become stationary, despite some growth that I still may experience. And, in that stationary state, I think Amiel was signaling that the end is soon – that it will be soon time to allow my life to change. And it is true. I am essentially done with my work at Bread for the City. I am saying my goodbyes in D.C. and preparing myself for our closing retreat, and really, for a vacation to Washington State and a move to Chicago, where life will not be stationary.

But what I grapple with now is how to strike the balance between allowing oneself to continue to always grow, and yet become comfortable – to establish relationships and a sense of normalcy without falling into a completely stationary state.

Perhaps then, when we are really living, we never reach the stationary condition, but only get close. It is like a curve that begins dramatically and begins to have a smaller slope as time goes by. It is not a parabola – the growth never reaches a point of regression; rather, it continue to increase and grow, but its growth becomes slower and approaches a state of stationary condition.

Is that what has happened here? Have I found myself experience less and less growth, or rather growth that is lower as this year has happened?

Perhaps. Perhaps we aren’t capable of reaching a purely stationary condition? Perhaps because I value growth, I can get close but can’t reach it.

Perhaps that is why leaving is so painful. I am still growing in my interactions with my housemates. I still love going to work each day. I still feel a sense of connection to Washington, and to the clients at Bread for the City.

But perhaps because the growth has slowed, perhaps that’s my equivalent of a stationary condition. And as Amiel says, it’s a sign. It’s the beginning of the end.

Alas, it is true. The end is in sight. The end of this experience, and the beginning of my reflections into how to take this experience and make it forever part of my lifestyle.

Experience vs. Lifestyle

In less than one month, I am boarding a plane back to Seattle for a short vacation before heading to Chicago. In many ways, it seems unreal to think the year has gone by so rapidly. And yet, as I look back on many reflections, many conversations, and many thoughts I have had this year, the year becomes a rich pool of experiences that have shaped my perspectives and helped me grow in my understanding of society and myself.

The word experience stands out to me, in part because of an ongoing conversation I have been having with my good friend Liz. Looking at her own service experience in Georgia, she asserts, “Jubilee has taught me that I am not looking for good experiences anymore; rather, I am looking for ways to live the lifestyle I am looking for. It is not enough to have independent good experiences – but rather, it is time to live the lifestyle I want to have.”

Experience – a particular instance of personally encountering or undergoing something; all that is perceived, understood, and remembered.

Lifestyle – the habits, attitudes, tastes, moral standards, economic level, etc… that together constitute the mode of living of an individual or group; a way of life or style of living that reflects the attitudes and values of a person or group.

The Jesuit Volunteer Corps has been a one-year experience. Working at Bread for the City has given me experience, and has been a certain type of experience – a type of radically opening my understanding of the United States, of stretching my perspectives on race, economic inequality, and injustice. It has been an experience of learning a richer version of accompaniment, one that is sustained through longer term relationships with our clients.

The Jesuit Volunteer Corps has been an experience of living in a community of other Jesuit Volunteers – a community where we are interdependent, where we share all the money we have. It has been an experience in joy and challenge, an experience of sacrificing and of reflecting on what is actually pertinent to who we are and what is periphery.

The Jesuit Volunteer Corps is an experience in simplicity – in attempting to live on a quantity of money closer to what our clients might live on. It is an experience of lessening what we have, because we as more privileged members of society can make the choice to do so. It is an experience of developing a consciousness of the ways we impact the world, and then trying to lessen that impact.

The Jesuit Volunteer Corps is an experience of living faith, of reflecting on how our faith compels us to act, to work for justice. In this, it is an experience of dissonance, both inside of us, and around us. This dissonance is a challenge that we reflect on – with it, we discern the differences in faith perspectives in our community, in our churches, and in our work. The experience challenges us to either confirm or condemn what we believe, to strengthen and nurture, or to break open and confront. Our faith is innately individual; the experience calls us to find the communal elements and to share that faith with one another. It is a challenge; it is not always fun and easy, but it is life-giving and sustaining.

So this is the experience – the one year experience of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. It is what I have perceived and understood from what I have encountered this year.

But as Liz points out, it is not enough to have these experiences in our lives. Liz and I are blessed enough to be able to point to many experiences that have been transformational. But what is the sum of these transformational experiences? Do we float to yet another transformational experience? Or do we take the sum of these experiences and make a lifestyle out of them?

Looking back on my year as a Jesuit Volunteer, I have been reflecting on how my experience as a JV will shape the lifestyle I would like to live. Perhaps easiest to describe is my pledge to incorporate aspects of simple living into my lifestyle. Challenged by the ideas of my community, my recollections of my childhood, and the experience as a whole, it seems much more practical to live a simple lifestyle. Of course, this year has forced me to reconsider and discern the purchases I make, and to truly consider need vs. want. But it has also made me reflect on what I am eating and the overall impact on the world I live in. Part of my lifestyle will continue to keep discerning what ways I want to live simply environmentally.

My experience compels me to want to continue to live a life where I am sharing my faith with others, and living with a sense of community. Returning to a previous reflection, I think the sense of community I take away is a community in which I feel invested – a community where I feel grounded and where I am in a circle of others who care about intentionality and who are committed to growth. Despite me not returning to a formal community setting, I know that I will continue to live this value in the relationship I share with my closest friends, and the ways I invest myself in my community, church, and city.

Finally, I cannot imagine my lifestyle without a commitment to social justice, and it is perhaps in this context that I see the others merge into one lifestyle. Working at Bread for the City has shown me the power of working for justice in a way that is life-giving and sustaining. I cannot imagine my understanding of the world, of inequality, and of humanity without taking into context my time here. I see my faith lived out in my connections with my clients and my understandings of the theories I learned in school, as well as my readings of the Gospel. I understand why it is important to live simply and to be intentional with money when I see the disparities between our clients and those living in Georgetown and Capitol Hill. I feel a sense of authenticity and purpose when I walk to work, and smile at the people I pass by in my neighborhood. It is the aggregate feeling of all of these that make me know that it is more important to work for justice than it is to be wealthy. I cannot imagine a lifestyle that is not working for justice and positive social change.

In many ways, the idea I have about my lifestyle is quite vague and needs continued reflection. But I suppose we can’t just have one idea of lifestyle. For if that is true, we become stagnant and begin to lose our sense of intentionality. I guess this is start as I continue to discern what my lifestyle will be like. I will re-evaluate, fill in those vague concepts, and continue to make sure that my lifestyle is reflecting that values I have experienced this year.

Ruined and Transformed for Life

Over these past couple of weeks, I have come to see what it means to be “ruined for life,” one of JVC’s official taglines. I doubted this would apply to me when I began my year in JVC. In fact, I felt this had already happened to me in East LA… in my experiences meeting others in Europe… in Zambia… in my conversations with friends over coffee… and in the many other shaping experiences throughout my life. It is true – it did happen in high school, in college, and in those many experiences listed above. I attribute my family, my friends, my teachers, my mentors, my faith, and my experiences to be the guiding forces that have led me here, and have instilled in me this thirst for justice, and a deep hearted compassion for the poor.

Yet, it’s funny how true the statement, “ruined for life” really is. In my most recent encounters, I have found myself surprisingly changed, and cannot helped but reflect on this change. Perhaps a couple examples illustrate this most clearly:

A conversation in Maine about the causes of inequality left me unsatisfied, frustrated, and upset. Perspectives raised focused on the laziness of the poor, while neglecting any sort of criticism of the structural barriers that have oppressed and crushed them. Despite my attempts at advocacy, I found myself unsuccessful in showing structural level problems that leave many Americans beginning their lives without equal opportunity. No longer, though, am I upset because I have merely lost a discussion in which I feel passionate. No – it is no longer about me. It is about my clients. My outrage is not because of my pride, but because I picture my personal clients and point to their own lives as living testaments to society’s condemning of our poor.

Another conversation in Maine, reflecting on the simplicity of rural life (in contrast to the materialistic emphasis of the fast paced urban life) has resurfaced in many thoughts over these past weeks. Yes – it is true that living out in the country provides one with less distractions, more emphasis on the present, and less focus on material possessions and appearance. It is easy to contrast this with urban life. Challenged by this conversation, and entering the material shopping scene of downtown Portland, I found myself facing inner dissonance between the call to a simple lifestyle, and the temptations of life’s beautiful treasures. I continue to reflect on what it means to purchase responsibly, to consider what it means to live simply, and to examine my own true needs.

That same conversation, challenging my views of simplicity, and my desires to live an urban life, also forced me to reflect on my own clients – their life experience, and the lack of choices they face. It is true – I as a privileged member of society can decide what simplicity means to me, and whether I truly find myself in the most rural or urban places. Yet, trapped and segregated to the most destitute of neighborhoods in D.C., my clients mere choices forgo personal growth and are replaced with true questions of need in order to survive.

Institutional racism, a concept that seemed so abstract one year ago, now shines as bright as the North Star. No longer can I view society through a color-blind race-less society in which all races interact with equal opportunity and privilege. No – though I can appreciate the accomplishments we have made for our non-white citizens (especially as we see Barack Obama as our current president), it is impossible for me to ignore the institutional racism that has left my African American clients born into poor families with a lack of positive family structure, trapped in schools that consume the dreams of children and instead fester and perpetuate hopelessness, and continuing into adulthood engulfed with this hopelessness, find no escape from the cycle of poverty. This institutional racism persists and continues to deepen despite our thoughts that we have emerged into a new color-blind society.

And returning to themes of simplicity and social justice, I found myself in Georgetown this weekend indulging myself at JCrew. As I looked around Georgetown, in a way I haven’t felt yet, I experience our American culture in a way I haven’t quite noticed before. I was suddenly aware of the racial divide of Georgetown and the neighborhood of Anacostia. Sure, of course I’ve been to Georgetown, and course I’ve noticed it before. But more present this time, was a sickening feeling of our masking of poverty. Though I enjoyed my time in Georgetown, I felt a deeper awareness of the materialism that consumes us, and the individualistic mindset that forces us to keep our eyes on ourselves, insulated from problems just blocks away from us.

I walked into Bread for the City today, and felt a sense of ruth fill my soul. At home, I felt, seeing the clients who patiently wait until 9:00am on Monday morning. Seeing a familiar face as I meet with Ms. N and continue our journey through the process of the Social Security Administration. Here I feel at home. At home with the people of my neighborhood, and my work.

It is true – there are many who do not continue to take full responsibility for themselves, and I continue to see this in some people. What is greater, though, is the lack of responsibility that has been instilled in them, and the dependence society has fostered through our institutional racism, through our systems of inequity, and our focus on our individual mindset. It’s easier to keep our clients dependent because then we can criticize them. It’s easy to label them as lazy and rotten because then we can justify our own existence. It’s easy to do this because we don’t know the poor as true humans, but rather, as the inhuman lazy statistical poor.

And it is easy to continue to live lives of consumption of self investment only. It’s easy because it’s our culture, and though it initially feels satisfying, it leaves us quenched for more, for more, and for more.

Forever will I look at the world through the eyes of my experiences, but most especially, through my experience at Bread for the City. I continue to grasp what it means to grow closer to God, to find a way to live the words of the Gospel, and the words of Micah. It is true, I am ruined for life. But perhaps, more accurately, I am transformed for life. I continue to pray that I will live for and with my clients, that I will accompany them, and that I will grow closer to God who calls me to this work.

Additional Thoughts on Simplicity

I have been thinking a lot about what it means to live a simple lifestyle. It has been one year since I’ve headed to Zambia, and the Gonzaga-in-Zambezi daily blog has caused me to reflect on my own experience there, and the ways my life has changed since then.

It is easy to call Zambian life as simple. Simply put, the people of Zambezi aren’t generally attached to their cell phone at all times, aren’t watching hours of television or surfing the internet, and aren’t cluttering their lives with excess consumption like we find ourselves doing each day. Back in the United States, we struggled with the concept of need versus want in our daily choices.

I wonder if simple lifestyle fully takes into account the Zambian life experience. While in Zambia, I remember thinking that I had a lot less to worry about while in Zambia (I wasn’t thinking about finals or moving to Washington, DC, or the things I’ve cluttered my life with). Yet the realities of my worries seemed almost trivial in comparison to the Zambian worries. Mama Kuwatu shared with our students here daily journey to collect water from a source that is too contaminated for us to drink from – a hole in the ground where she waits to collect water and carry it back on her head. She grows her food and takes care of her many children. Despite the fact that her home is nice in comparison to others in Zambezi, it is still without heat and has a dirt floor and electricity. Is this simple? Or is it more to think about than I must think of? Perhaps my lifestyle, with its modern conveniences and comfort is simpler in a sense.

Yet it was also easy to see the Zambian life as more simple, without the distractions that are present in my life. Never have I felt as present as I felt in Zambezi – no cell phone, no internet to distract me. All I could focus on was the relationships present to me, and the ways I was growing there.

Here in JVC, I think we’re challenged to think of “simplicity of time,” a concept that refers being intentional with our time and the way we use it. This intentionality has become a game of tug-a-war: spending time communicating with friends and family via email, phone, and letters while staying ever present to the people in my house while staying present and active with the other relationships here in the city. Being present here is harder than that presence in Zambezi, and it becomes something that is chronically a challenge for me.

I think my conclusion from this year, and from my reflections on Zambia is that we both struggle with what it means to live a simple lifestyle. Based on our cultural and societal norms, simplicity has different meanings. Yet the goals are ultimately the same – by living a simple life, we become free to live more authentically real lives, lives that aren’t wrapped up in the complexities of our society.

The Value of Simplicity

This year has challenged me to explore what it means to live a simple lifestyle. When paired with the work we are doing in our placements, the value of living in community, and intentionality in our faith, there is a dynamic of both challenge and peace that come with living simply.

I have come to understand hat there are two main virtues in living a simple lifestyle. Perhaps most intuitively is the idea that living simply, in all aspects of the word, leads to more freedom from the realities of a consumerist and materialistic society. So often, our world tells us we need the newest product of everything. The newest product will make us happy. We need the newest style of clothing. Yet the message is false: for as soon as a new more stylish piece of clothing arrives in the fall, we will no longer be happy, but instead will crave what is new. The reality is that most of my clothes are just fine. In fact, I brought less than half of my clothing with me to JVC and I've been more than fine. I apparently don't need the rest, even if I may still want them.

I think there is something to be said about the way simplicity helps us understand who our clients are, and to understand their own life's journey. Each month, I am paid less than the SSI check my clients receive, and unlike them, I'm not receiving additional assistance like food stamps. Instead, most of my check has predetermined endpoints: rent, utilities, food, household items, and transportation. Eighty five dollars remain intact after our house bills are paid.

In some ways, simplicity, at least financially, has been especially challenging. The question becomes, what do I really need and how do I budget to make that happen? Perhaps I don't need another drink at our Legal Clinic Happy Hour, but I would enjoy another. I suppose I don't need Starbucks coffee beans, but Starbucks does taste a lot better than Folgers or ChocFull of Nuts.

The challenge becomes balancing the simplicity choices. The joy I have found is in the simple instances when I indulge into the luxuries I had previous found common. When thrown into the blend of many days of ChocFull of Nuts, suddenly Starbucks seems to taste better, richer, and it becomes much more enjoyable and special. Happy hour is filled with much more happiness and delight.

And, though maybe it's an exaggeration to say, but simplicity - the act of budgeting, of sacrificing, and of delaying our pleasures, gives me a little insight into the lives of our clients. The difference, however, is that I live in a house of other volunteers whose safety nets are tight and comprehensive. Our immediate safety net is in one another, and the contribution we bring to our household expenses each month. Our budget ensures that we will be challenged, yet successful in meeting our basic needs. An SSI check can't ensure that each month.

While I can't say I can understand all of my clients' daily experiences financially, I believe my challenge in simplicity has helped me move one step closer to empathizing with their difficulty and painful financial options they get to choose from each day. While it's clear that in many ways, my life will never be the same as my clients', at least this way I can try and accompany them on their life journeys.

Reflections with Fr. Greg Boyle

My experiences travelling to East LA during college, both my sophomore and senior years, were places of some of the greatest growth. Being present in the community, attending Mass and Stations of the Cross, staying with Rosa and her family, and working in the Dolores Mission School helped shape my understanding of what it means to be in accompaniment with others.

Last night, we had the opportunity of seeing Fr. Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries speaking on his new book, Tattoos on the Heart*. Many of the stories Fr. Greg shared were stories I had heard before. Yet sitting there, listening again, I was reminded of my own experience in East LA, and the many things he has said that have touched me.





“Long lay the world
In sin and error pinning
Till He appeared
And the soul felt its worth”

In multiple occasions, Fr. Greg has brought up this quote from the popular Christmas Carol, O Holy Night. He explains that while this quote is literally about the birth of Jesus, it should also be about our interactions with each person we meet. Isn’t that how it should be, that the soul feels its worth when we interact with someone?

Moving to another though, he discusses his vision of kinship – seeing a world that is “no longer us and them, but just us.” Just us – without divisions, without seeing others as the outsider or the inferior person, but as seeing all as full of worth and value.

I was first drawn to think about the people of East LA when hearing his comments. After all, the context of his words are about the gang members he works with each day. The images in my mind are of the streets near the Dolores Mission, of having lunch with Chino at Homeboy Industries, of talking with Rosa in her home…

Yet in another sense, I think about my own experience here at Bread for the City - aside from the service experiences in college like travelling to East LA, I can't really say I've spent long periods of time working with those who are low-income. Here I find myself deepening my understanding of "no longer us and them, but just us." Of course, there are still divisions. I return to my JVC house where we have enough money and don't have to worry about meals or paying our bills. Yes, we are living without many luxuries of society, but we are still comfortable. In many ways, my stipend is more than enough.

In other ways though, I still debate this us and them idea. Yes, it's true - I live in the potentially the same neighborhood as my clients, we shop at the same grocery store, and I interact with clients and walk-in individuals each day. I sit with them and listen to their story and try and give them some information. I work with my SSI clients so that together we can ensure they receive the benefits they are entitled to.

I think there are still many differences and I continue to think about them and reflect on them. I am still trying to grapple with this idea of living in solidarity and kinship with those I am working with. It is true that in one way, I'll continue to live my life the way I raised - still interesting in things such as the Smithsonians and getting a glass of wine at Vinoteca or cup of coffee at Starbucks... in other ways though, I think I am a few steps closer to understanding what Fr, Greg is talking about when he asks us to begin building kinship.


*100% of the proceeds from Fr. Greg's new book, Tattoos on the Heart, return to Homeboy Industries to support the continued efforts to help give hope to the gang members of Los Angeles. To learn more about the book, please click here.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

JVC is founded on four core values - community, social justice, spirituality, and simple living. This fourth value, also known as simplicity, has in many ways been the most challenging for me. Sure, in some ways I have mastered financial simplicity, and now even find myself saving some of my $85 stipend each month for future months when I anticipate increased costs.

So there is financial simplicity, something that most think of when hearing about my experience. I too wonder what it means to live a simple lifestyle in more ways than material wealth... Questions originating in my Human Ecology course my senior year return. Does simple lifestyle mean buying locally grown organic produce or shopping at the Farmer Market instead of conventional standard grocery stores? Does it mean lowering one's impact on society? How is it linked with faith?

In Human Ecology, we read an excerpt from Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I must admit there was a heightened level of frustration that emerged, especially as both an economist and sociologist. For example, Kingsolver (and arguably, many of the authors we read) were not offering suggestions or solutions low income clients could financially adopt. Does it make sense for my SSI clients, receiving $661 in SSI, to spend an extra $1.00 so that they are certain a product is organic?

I must say, however, after reading a book review in the Global Citizen, an annual journal published by the Krista Foundation for Global Citizenship, I decided that perhaps I could give Kingsolver's book another try. I was surprised to find many of Kingsolver's ideas on simple living to be similar (if not the same) to the way I was raised. Just to name a few, I have included the following:

1. Eating Produce that is Locally in Season: Though California strawberries fill the produce section at Safeway, I distinctly remember my mother never buying strawberries outside the two-three week period our local Spooners Strawberry farm would have their ripe berries. Every summer, my mom would go to Spooners, sometimes daily during that entire season, to ensure we'd have more than our fill. Flat after flat, the brightest most vibrant red, most ripe, most juicy and flavorful strawberries would disappear hours after entering the Sharma family house. Spooner strawberries continue to be something our family (and city) look forward to with anticipation each year. I have to say, I agree with Kingsolver - as sad as it is to abstain from strawberries 11 months of the year, those few weeks of locally grown in-season Spooner berries are a highlight of each year.

2. Organic Farming: The term organic is a buzz-word in modern society - certified organic must be better, right? Even before it was popular, I was raised on our own home-grown organic produce from the Sharma family garden. And what's more, our summer meals were dictated by what was fresh that day, week, or month. Even today, when I come home during the summer, our meals focus around what is fresh and ready in the garden. If spinach is ready, we're having a spinach salad. if green beans are ready, that day's vegetable is green beans...

Which brings me to winter months...

3. Canning and planning for the winter: I remember summer day trips to Eastern Washington where we'd pick our tomatoes in the hot, scorching sun. Over the next few days, my mother would slave away in the kitchen washing, slicing, and canning hundreds of jars of tomatoes so that we'd have our own version of "canned tomatoes" all winter. The same was for vegetables, such as mixed vegetables, for fruits like peaches and pears, and even tuna fish. To plan for those months when blackberries would be a treat, my mother would pick blackberries during the summer, make multiple pies, and freeze them before baking them, so that come January, we could pull one out of the freezer and enjoy a taste of summer. Simple ideas such as these made us enjoy the blessings of summer all through the winter.

So perhaps Animal, Vegetable, Miracle doesn't address my low income clients, providing them a practical alternative exactly considering their income, but it isn't as revolutionary as I thought it would be when I picked up the book. In fact, in many ways, Kingsolver's experiment looks a lot like growing up at the Sharma family home.