21 Days, One Day at a Time

When hunger became the doorway back to God

I didn’t wake up one January morning and casually decide, “You know what sounds fun? Not eating for three weeks.”

This wasn’t about willpower flexing, weight loss goals, or impressing anyone. It came from a much quieter, more desperate place… that at the time, I didn’t even fully understand. What I came face to face with was a grief that wouldn’t lift, a faith that felt stuck at arm’s length, and a growing sense that God was gently inviting me into something deeper.

Full transparency - the holidays last year blindsided me which left me very confused because this wasn’t my first Christmas without my mom or other loved ones we’ve lost—it was my third or fourth—but the raw ache that often accompanies a fresh wound hit harder than ever. I cried at random times nearly every day, and sadly I snapped at my husband and kids more than I want to admit.

The worst moment came when my eight-year-old accidentally broke a snow globe my mom had given the kids one of her last Christmases. It was just a thing, but in that second it felt like the last piece of her shattering.

I lost it—completely. I yelled, I cried, and then I felt ashamed. Grief, I thought I’d processed came roaring back, and I couldn’t shake it.

Around the same time, my walk with God felt… distant. Not abandoned, but held at arm’s length. I knew He was there—He’d carried me through harder seasons—but I kept asking, “Where are You in this chaos?”

The world felt upside down: political battles, endless questions about what we’d been taught, influencers clashing online, a sense that nothing was landing the way I hoped. I never stopped praying. I never stopped going to church. I kept leading constitution classes—but my faith walk stayed surface-level, and I wanted more closeness, more trust, more of Him.

I didn’t go looking for fasting. It found me.

That’s when I finally picked up Atomic Power with God through Fasting and Prayer—the old book that had been sitting on my nightstand for over a year. I thought I understood fasting enough because I’d done it before, but this book brought a fresh perspective that I hadn’t considered before. It wasn’t dramatic hype; it was more grounded.

Fasting isn’t reckless spiritual showmanship—it’s biblical, purposeful, and paired with wisdom: hydrate, listen to your body, seek God first.

The book talked about 21-day fasts as a way to humble the flesh, sharpen the spirit, and draw near to God in ways everyday life rarely allows. Then the number 21 lodged in my head. Truly, I don’t know if it came from the book, the Holy Spirit, or both—but it wouldn’t leave.

On January 4, I started.

I told almost no one at first. I didn’t even fully believe I’d make it past a week. My longest previous fast was barely three days.

Days 1–4: Easier than expected (sort of)

Day 1 was a wash—I’d gorged on holiday junk (peanut butter balls, cake-mix cookies, all of it), so I didn’t feel hunger at all.

Days 2–4 were still manageable, but I kept telling myself: Just today. Don’t think about day 21.

Day 5: The wall—and the breakthrough

Day 5 crushed me. Hunger wasn’t just physical; it was rage-level irritability. I barked at my kids, felt like a monster, and by 10 p.m. my husband gently said, “Just eat something.”

I snapped back, “Why would I quit now? The day’s almost over.”

But inside I was screaming: I can’t do two more weeks of this.

He looked at me calmly and said, “Maybe go pray somewhere.”

(Spouse wisdom is brutal when it’s right.)

That night, after the kids were in bed, I hit my knees and poured it all out—confession, repentance, tears for sins I’d forgotten, grief I hadn’t fully released. It wasn’t pretty. It was raw. And the Holy Spirit met me there in a way I hadn’t felt in years. The presence was thick, tender, overwhelming.

Day 5 broke something in the best way—and opened doors for election integrity in Pennsylvania that I didn’t yet know existed. (more to come on that next month)

Days 6–11: Still hard, but leaning now

The hunger waves kept coming, and irritability popped up often, but I stopped trying to muscle through it alone. I learned to lean—on praise music in my earbuds all day, on Scripture, on honest prayers like, “I need help right now.” Posting a little on social media helped too; the encouragement and accountability made me think, People are watching—I have to finish.

Around day 12: The shift

Somewhere between days 10 and 12, the book’s promise came true: the crazy, angry hunger vanished. I woke up one morning and felt… normal. Then better than normal. Clear-headed. Steady energy. Almost euphoric.

I kept thinking: How can I feel this good after two weeks of nothing but liquids? (That’s a rabbit trail for another day.)

The last nine days were almost effortless by comparison. My body adjusted. My spirit settled. I slept better, moved easier, and felt wrapped in God’s presence again—not at arm’s length, but close.

Breaking the fast: Day 21

At 6 p.m. on day 21, I roasted vegetables in the air fryer: sweet potatoes, carrots, zucchini, mushrooms, with a little avocado oil and spices.

Simple. Warm. Solid.

My family sat together, prayed, and broke bread. I can’t describe how grateful that first bite felt.

What I didn’t expect

Physical bonuses: I slipped into jeans I haven’t worn since college (or at least since grief briefly took my appetite after Mom died). Not the goal—but nice.

Family ripple: We’re rethinking food. Less emotional attachment, more celebration like in the Bible. The kids love simple fruit smoothies now (almond milk + frozen mango = magic). Less sugar. More peace around meals.

Spiritual reset: The distance is gone. I’m back in His arms, praying I never drift again. This fast reminded me of something essential: I can’t do big things in my own power—whether it’s fasting, election integrity work, or just daily faithfulness. But He can carry me.

If you’re reading this and fasting—or anything hard—has been on your heart, don’t jump in flippantly. Research. Pray. Prepare.

And remember: take it one day at a time.

You don’t need strength for the whole journey today. Just for this moment.

We serve a ridiculously good God. Even when the world feels chaotic and we feel distant, He never leaves. If He carried someone as ordinary and stubborn as me through 21 days, what might He carry you through?

One day at a time. By grace alone.

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What Did I Drink?

During the fast, I stuck to plain sparkling water, low-sodium V8, bone broth and veggie broth in the evenings, and simple fruit smoothies (½ cup almond milk + frozen fruit; occasional banana + citrus fruit or berries). Nothing fancy—just consistent.

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