Report: The Two Month Mark

I'm na start this post off with a confession.  I have NOT been following my diet for two weeks.  Yup, I went off plan for two solid weeks.  The first week it was my anniversary, a girls trip I scheduled last December (before the diet came into play), and the celebration of my brother-in-law's birthday.  The second week we went on our Hay-cation.  While I brought about 30% of my own food, part of the farm stay is eating breakfast and lunch with the farm family.  I decided that I didn't want to be fussy about listing my restrictions for our hosts, so I just rolled with it and ate what they prepared.  Because I haven't been careful I have erased any weight loss that I previously attained (but there will be a post speaking to that topic coming soon)

But, there are always lessons to be learned even when we go off course.  In the last two months, I have learned a lot about my personality, food preparation, and how my body reacts when I go off plan.

Lessons From the Last Two Months

• Apparently, I'm not all that attached to red meat.  I've had beef maybe 4 times in the last month.  Not sad.  I've had pork once or twice and it KILLED my stomach.  Sticking with turkey and chicken hasn't been much of a challenge. 
• Cod is gross and I will never make it again.
• Sprouted grain bread is pretty good.
• There's still not a vegetable that I've met that I didn't like.  Vegetarian-ish living has been easier than I thought.   The tomatoes and peppers tend to be the hardest to work around with regard to vegetarian recipes.
• Amaranth flour tastes green and can only be used in certain recipes. If you are an intuitive chef, you'll get that.  Spelt it very versatile as it brown rice flour. 
• I HATE STEVIA.  It tastes terrible and upsets my tummy.
• Restrictive diets require a lot more time and energy to plan and prepare.  I spend WAY, WAY more time prepping for meals than I used to.   This has been both rewarding and challenging.  I feel more connected to my food.  Additionally, I have learned that if it's hard to make, I appreciate it more (and am thus less inclined to overeat it).  Conversely, I've also learned that we are a fairly busy family and if I am going to stay on track (and not spend a billion dollars eating out) I have to have some easy, throw together, go-tos.  Rice and quinoa are always stocked in my pantry.  Costco rotisserie chickens are my new best friend.  Lettuces, avocados, deli turkey, peanut butter, sprouted grain bread, goat cheese, and black beans are also staples.
• I cannot have sugar.  Once the candida diet was done, the restriction on sugar was lifted.  While I still have a fairly limited amount of sugar, having ANY form of sugar at all leads to consuming MORE sugar.   Trying to avoid refined sugar, I experimented with honey and maple syrup.  Pinterest helped me find some alternative no bake cookie and granola bar recipes.  They were great...and I shoveled those bad boys into my mouth like Garfield with a lasagna.  Not good, friends.  Also, we've had the ingredients for s'mores (from a party) in our pantry for the last few weeks...I had to eat it...I couldn't resist.  So, the take away lesson for this situation is...NO sugar...NO sugar in the house...at all...ever. 
• My family spends an inordinate amount of time eating communally.  We probably attend pot luck dinners AT LEAST once a week...especially in the summer time.   Now, I can do my best to bring food that I know is good for me.  But...I can't control it all, people!  I can't demand that people bow to my diet needs (and frankly don't wish to).  We've already covered that I am a very needy extrovert...so I'm also NOT going to stop attending all of these delightful dinners.  This presents me with a quandary.  What do I do?  So far I've just tried to make my best choices and then not care after that.  I don't want to ruin a perfectly good opportunity for social interaction by being all tangled up in keeping my diet perfect.  This is still something I need to figure out so that I don't constantly find myself putting unhealthy food into my body.
• My depression has been well managed.  My anxiety has seen a little bit of an uptick, but not severely.  It's still unknown if the diet/supplements are the cause or if it's just a "high" point for me since it's summer.  Summer is full of sunshine and socializing, two things that are like medicine for me. 

Moving forward here's what's going on.

• I plan to get back on track with the Blood Type Diet.  It feels good when I eat that way, so I have to stay with it...get back on the wagon, if you will.
• My doctor ran blood tests a few weeks ago.  I also did a saliva test to check for some hormone stuff and track it through a typical day.  Our next appointment is in two weeks.  We'll see what comes up at that one and determine where I need to go from here.
• During my last therapy session, I chatted with my therapist about meditation.  She gave me some good pointers.  My homework for the month was to work up from 5 seconds of quieting my mind to 5 minutes.  She explained that people often quit meditating because they get frustrated that they get stop the barrage of thoughts that hits you when you try to "get quiet".  Since we had a busy two weeks, I haven't done much work with it. 
• I have decided to make a little spot for yoga on our 3rd floor (that is currently used, primarily, as storage).  I love yoga with my heart.  It's quiet and peaceful and challenges my body without yelling at it.  To create the sensuous environment I associate with yoga, I have arranged to room to manipulate lighting, chosen calming fabrics, purchased good quality incense, and found some soothing Pandora stations to stream while I exercise.  This space will also serve as a dedicated place for meditation.

That's the plan kids.  As soon as I have more info on my blood and spit test results, I will share those with you.  Again, I have some suspicions about what we will find...but, only time will tell.  The next report will be at 3 months. 

Side Effects May Include Creative Impotence

2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
-Anna Nalik (Breathe)

Blech, you know you "gots issues" when you are a little sad that you are not sad anymore!  I've been following my plan (mostly, we'll get to that next week) for almost 2 months.  Mental health-wise, I am feeling really good.  There have been a few scary moments, but depression and anxiety haven't been pervasively running my life like they did for the past year. 

So, I feel great...but...I'm sort of in mourning right now...mourning the loss of my creative drive.  Writing has been part of my life since I was in 5th grade and used a thrift store typewriter to hammer out the first few pages of a mystery novel.  Since that time I've always used words to express my heart and my mind. 

In high school I found good company in the form of Writer's Workshop.  Every high school kid is a poet, right?  Everyone writes sad, angsty, forlorn poetry when they are feeling down about whatever (usually a relationship).  But, I was different.  These kids in Workshop were different.  We understood writing as a craft. It was more than just whiny couplets decrying our heartache.  Some of these people were extremely talented.  While I wouldn't count myself among the best and brightest writers, I could hold my own. 

As I've grown, I have been able to see the process of my writing.  Like the Anna Nalik lyrics above, I get some sort of idea in my head.  It's usually a picture.  If I were to describe my writing style, I would say I am a painter.  My words are the thick, rich, oil paints that fashion the picture. It's a compulsion.  If I don't write, there is something stuck inside of me that messes with my mind.  Then, once it's spilled onto paper, I feel like I've laid myself bare for the whole world to see...especially if it gets published. 

The issue at hand is that, when I am happy or balanced, I don't get the pictures in my head.  They just don't come.  Oh, I can still write. I can use the same techniques and tools, but instead of my writing being a Dutch masterpiece, it's more like a Bob Ross.  The elements are all there, but it's missing the spark, the mastery.  Sometimes, I can't even write at all.  There's no compulsion. It's sort of the plight of the artist to be a little insane (or so I've heard). The frustration that comes when the desire to create and the inspiration to create do not match up is maddening. 

Clearly, the answer to my conundrum comes in the form of finding a way to become inspired without being in a state of depression.  That's harder.  It won't come as naturally.  But, I want it.  I'll need to work for it.  The real question is...how?

The Farm As An Object Lesson

Last Sunday was a whirlwind of craziness as I rushed to pack for vacation, take the dog out to the dog sitter in the suburbs, get the van loaded, get the children loaded in the van, and attend church before heading out for our vacation.   Yeah, we went to church before vacation.  My husband is weird about skipping church.  In the time that we've been together (9 years) we've only missed church a handful of times due to illness or travel...my personal attendance might have been a little spottier if it weren't for him.  Anyway, it ended up being a timely sermon.  It was a sermon about work. 

This sermon was particularly pertinent because we actually do a farm stay for vacation (I call it Hay-cation).  My husband and I take our kids to a real working ranch in Central Missouri.  The owners of the ranch are a husband and wife who spent most of their adult lives as missionaries to Africa.  They are very patient teachers who delight in imparting the ways of the farm to us, the urban vacationers.  This year, in addition to learning the ropes of farm work, we learned about how to prepare a pasture, how to select traits for breeding cattle, how to use physics to mend fences, and how a diversity of animals can use the land to it's fullest potential.  Above all, it is a HANDS ON learning experience.   

A basic rundown of the farm stay goes like this:

7:00am- chores (bottle feed calf, feed weaned calves, move the herd)
8:00am-breakfast
9:00am-more farm work (set fence for tomorrow, break down chicken wagons, mend fences, cultivate the garden, etc)
12:00-lunch
12:00-4:00pm- time to do berry picking, fishing, resting, reading, etc.
4:00pm-short evening chores (feed goats, gather eggs, bottle feed calf)
The rest of the evening is ours to use to make and eat dinner, hang out, play games, pet the calf and goats, and other such things.  There is no television. 

We go on vacation and work.  That may seem strange to some of you.  But it really IS very relaxing and fulfilling for me to go on this farm stay.  When we come home I feel connected to the land, connected to the greater good of food production, connection to my agrarian ancestors, and connection to God and His creation.  I come home ready to turn my whole yard into a tiny farm.  I love it and I plan to go again next year. 

What made this Hay-cation even more meaningful were the words of my pastor's work sermon bouncing around in my head as I worked this week.  On Sunday he shared with us that people are created to have a need to work.  Our need to be productive and useful is innate...it is holy and right.  In Genesis we see that Adam was working before sin entered the picture.  He was entrusted to care for the garden.  And he did. 

I felt the joy of that reality on the first day of our farm stay.  Everything went the way our host planned and the work was fulfilling and enjoyable.  The weather was pleasantly mild.  Most of the morning was spent breathing in the freshness of the farm and soaking in the simple beauty of a small ranch in the Ozarks.  It was during this morning that I realized that it's easier to delight in work when you have no stake in the outcome.  We were there for 4 days.  The fortune of the herd had very little to do with the small chores we were doing.  It must have been that way for my First Father.  Just working and cherishing all that surrounded him.  He didn't have to worry about the abundance of the crop...it would come and he could trust that. 

The Hebrew word for work that is used in the passage in Genesis means service or worship.  So not only was Adam working, but the very act of his work was worship to God.  There was no separation between work and play...no disconnect between Sunday and Monday. 

Our second day on the farm solidified that for me.  We woke up to a beautiful misty morning.  Chores went smoothly.  After lunch we went blueberry picking.  Being so close to nature and literally harvesting my food was cause for worship.  I loved every sweltering moment of this venture (well, except the few where I had to holler at my sons to stop throwing blueberries at each other).  Half jokingly, I told my husband that I hope that one of my jobs in heaven is picking blueberries! 

But, as my pastor said...that blissful work as worship relationship only lasted for two pages.  Two pages later the humans decided that God wasn't trustworthy and broke His only rule.  They were punished.  The punishment...well one of them... was that work suddenly turned into sweaty, futile, toil.  Work is hard as a consequence of sin.  Instead of the ground yielding, it took blood, sweat, and tears to make the ground produce food. 

Oh, that third day, did I feel the weight of that!!! A little while before we came to the ranch, their creek had flooded it's banks and washed out a section of fence.  When I say "washed out", I mean the water, rocks, and plants knocked down, twisted up, and entangled this barbed wire fence.  We worked HARD for most of the morning and only managed to sort of untangle the wires.  It was a huge mess.  I was sweating buckets.  My poor thigh muscles screamed as I had to crouch for several hours to loosen clips from posts.  The muscles of my abs and shoulders strained to free posts from both soil and masses of long, woven stands of hay.  I had to work until lunch time.  It needed to be done and there was not an option of quitting.  I gritted my teeth and worked as hard as I could waiting expectantly for the moment when I could quit working!

That feeling I had on the third day on the ranch was how work feels most of the time for most of us.  If you don't like your work, it is a grind.  It is mind numbingly boring.  It is grit your teeth and work until you can quit and pick up your paycheck and go on with life.  It isn't a whole lot rosier even if you are fortunate enough to love your work.  Then it becomes about throwing yourself into it, often to the detriment of all else.  It is obsessing.  It is thinking of yourself and how you can get promoted or move up.  It becomes what defines you. 

When I look at work in terms of the first few days at the ranch, I can see that, when I just work for the joy of working and worshipping, I am free.  I am free to enjoy the sights and sounds of a beautiful country morning.  I am free to take pleasure in working the soil in the garden and leading cattle to new pasture.  I am free to relax and trust that plants will grow and cattle will stay healthy.  I am free to stop what I am doing and lend a hand to the other workers around me...or to pick up a chore without being told to. 

When I come back to my world, my normal work, the challenge becomes translating that experience into my every day.  How can I trust God to make my work fruitful without obsessing about it?  How can I labor without using my role to create my identity (mother/homemaker/substitute teacher)?  How can I understand how my odd little medley of gifts are able to serve others and glorify to God?  How can I live in the freedom that allows me to prize the beauty and wonder around me without being lazy?  How can I, in the midst of hard, nasty work, understand the importance of that work and keep going?  How can I monotonously wipe another counter/bottom/table/nose/spill while looking ahead to a time when work is redeemed and returned to the way it was created?

It's something I'll probably struggle against for the rest of my life.  Thanks to God, I can hope that one day I will be given a job to do in His city...an enterprise I can adore...work that is worship... labor without frustration...wonder filled pursuits free from futility .

10 Lessons From My Father

 Now that I am an adult with my own children, Father's Day has mostly become about celebrating my husband and the way he gives himself to our family.  He is an amazing father and I appreciate everything he does. 

 

But, this Father's Day, I want to take a moment to celebrate the man who helped to raise me.  My dad influenced my life in many ways.  Today I want to honor him by sharing a few things that he instilled in me. 

 

 Here are 10 lessons I learned from my father:

How to appreciate Science Fiction

Saturdays during my childhood were often about relaxing and watching some TV.  We'd watch cartoons, then dad would get to watch his Westerns, then around lunch time we would all settled in together.  We'd hear those famous shrill notes "doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo" and Twilight Zone would begin.  Twilight Zone was basically comprised of short Sci-Fi stories. I loved figuring out the stories and the twists.  To this day I am a huge Sci-Fi fan and general nerd. 

 

The value of trivia

Along the same lines, another show we always watched together was Jeopardy.  I can remember being a 3rd grader and challenging my dad (good naturedly) to Final Jeopardy.  He was also a fan of Trivial Pursuit...a game that I love with my heart.  This ability to retain trivial knowledge has served me well.  Firstly, I was able to get through both high school and college without studying because I have an amazing ability to recall facts (and maintained a high B average, by the way)  Not only that, but I am often a top choice for board game teams.  Most importantly, possessing random knowledge helps me make connections with people.

 

How to make connections with people

If you've ever seen me in a crowd or at a party, you know that when I meet new people I start with "the interview".  I ask a series of questions about the person I am chatting with.  I'm not trying to assess whether or not the person is worthy of my time, rather, I am trying to find common ground with them...I am trying to understand how we are connected.  This is a skill that I acquired from my father.  He has always been adept at forming bonds with new people.  He is at ease and confident in social situations.  I have always admired that quality in my dad and I am proud to effortlessly follow in his footsteps.

 

 My home is for sharing

While my mom taught me about homemaking and hospitality, I wouldn't had had such extensive opportunities to learn from her if it wasn't for my dad.  Some of my earliest memories are of men from my dad's company joining our family for dinner.  My dad went a step further and always invited single GIs to our home for holidays.  Because he is a good judge of character, they were always respectful and kind gentlemen that I remember fondly.  They were young and thousands of miles away from their family and home...they just needed a little traditional family time.  My dad never sat down and explained that to me, I just understood it.  As a grown woman, sharing my home is one of my core values.  I love having people over for meals...I love hosting porch parties...I love inviting my unmarried friends to join our family for dinner. More importantly, I don't "entertain".  While I try to keep my home tidy and my food tasty, I am not overly concerned with presentation.  I want people to feel like they've been invited into my life, not just my home.  I learned that from my dad. 

 

How to travel like a native

When I was young we lived abroad.  By the time I was 11 (and my dad retired from the military) I had extensively traveled through many European countries.  From the earliest of ages, I knew one thing for certain...we were not to act like tourists.  My dad always seemed to find a way to connect with the locals (again with the connections) and get insider information on where and when to go see the sights.  That meant we used public transportation, shopped at local shops, ate at local restaurants, and tried to use as much German as we knew.  We did see some "tourist-y" places, but we went off season or on weekdays.  We never acted like spoiled, backwoods Americans.  It's not a lesson we were "told" but just an attitude that my dad modeled and we emulated.

 

 

"What do I have to do right now?"

I've shared that I have a problem with over committing myself to activities.  In college it was so severe that I had to make my own planner (we still used paper in those days) because I was scheduling my day by the half hour.  When I was in the midst of a terribly frenzied day, my dad called me.  I was rapidly listing off everything in my life that needed to get checked off my list.  My dad just calmly said, "Just stop for a minute and think 'what do I have to do RIGHT NOW?'"  As far as sage advice goes, this was truly priceless.  I've often used this mantra to get myself calm in the face of stress.  This short phrase has been a treasure as I deal with anxiety and overwhelmedness.

 

Debate

Dinner time at our house was not a calm experience.  Sitting around a table together gave my dad and me the perfect opportunity for debate.  We've always had differing ideologies.  Themes such as theology, immigration, race relations, and other social justice issues were the "hot topics".  We would both boisterously state our cases.  In the end he would call me a "bleeding heart liberal" (which is going to be HILARIOUS to my actual liberal friends) and I would walk away thinking he was a right wing nut job (seriously, the man voted for Pat Buchanan for Pete's sake!!).   We rarely reached agreement.  Even so, we never let our debates affect our relationship (for very long).  This is a skill that has allowed me to maintain meaningful friendships with people of different races, political parties, faiths, and orientations.  I learned from my father that it is possible to fervently and wholeheartedly disagree with someone and still love them and be "for" them.  

 

How to pray

I remember being 7 years old.  My dad tucked me into my new bed, in our new house, in a new city.  For the first part of my life we'd prayed the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep prayer.  But on this night my dad decided to teach me the Lord's Prayer.  That's the prayer I prayed every night until I became a Christian and learned to pray in conversation with God.  It made me feel safe and covered each night as I went to sleep.  This prayer helped me connect to God on a basic and childlike level. 

 

How to be a believer

Growing up our church attendance was spotty at best.  Though that was the case, my dad was still able to instill a sense of faith into our family.  At the time I was 15, we were having a weekly family Bible study.  We'd read through some books together and had some interesting conversations.  One afternoon, between school and work, my dad randomly asked me if I'd ever confessed my sins to God and asked Him to be Lord of my life.  I hadn't, but I wasn't adverse to it, so in my living room my dad prayed with me to accept the sacrifice of Jesus.  While it was just a first (and feeble) step in my faith journey...it was a HUGE one.  That day I embarked on a path that would change my life forever and my dad was the one who led me there. 

 

This holiday is a day where we choose set aside any strife that exists in our paternal relationship and decide to focus on why we are grateful for our fathers.   My dad played a key role in the development of the collective randomness that is...me.  His words, actions, and attitudes helped to influence my values and even changed the course of my life.  

Thank you daddy. 

I love you. 

Happy Father's Day.

 

My Sacrifice: Accepting Grace and Molding Men

Grace: unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification -Merriam Webster Dictionary

 

 

If you'll notice, I often blog on Sunday nights.  This is not a coincidence.  Each Sunday, my family and I attend church.  Our pastors have excellent, thought provoking, Bible based, Jesus centered sermons.  Their words often inspire my heart and my writer's soul. 

 

Today's sermon was about worship and sacrifice (text from Hebrews 13).  The pastor said that worship is what you do with your lips and your limbs...and sacrifice is putting off an immediate comfort for the knowledge of greater things to come.  I listened and I reflected. 

 

Our church is big on sacrificial living...go to hard places, love unlovely people, give your time-energy-money away, and don't be concerned with your own comfort while doing it.  I get excited about those kind things!!!  I've shared previously that I intended to be a key player in the betterment of the world...this is my kind of church culture...EXCEPT that...well...right now...that's not my sacrifice.  As Pastor rattled off a list of examples of ways to sacrifice, I was listening for something I could jump in and help with.  THEN  he said we can't get our directions for sacrifice from a pulpit...or an article on the Internet...or a Tweet...or from anywhere but from God.  *Sigh* 

 

Again, I continue to mention that I am a DO-er.  There is nothing I enjoy more than being helpful and being joined into some sort of mission...some plan.  This is sometimes a problem in my relationship with God.  I have a strange bent when it comes to works of faith.  Often times, I lose sight of the reason why I am trying to love and serve the people around me.  It is supposed to be because God loved me when I was unlovable and died that I might be accepted...but in the end it becomes about how awesome I am...how many things I can put on my resume.

 

And let me tell you, when things are going well...that feels GREAT!  When things fall apart, that's when I understand the nature of my "good works".  I fall into self pity, self blame, self loathing, self condemnation...SELF.  I then transfer those feelings to God.  I think He is disappointed in me, He hates me, He is disgusted by me. 

 

Romans 8:38-39 says: ³⁸ For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,^[a] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, ³⁹ neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

That my friends, is Truth.  God brought me to Himself.  He picked me even when I was at odds with Him.  He has adopted me as His own through the sacrifice of His Son and NOTHING...not one thing can change His love for me...EVER. 

 

You know what I did to earn that love? Not.One.Thing.  Even the dictionary defines Grace as UNMERITED.  That means unearned, undeserved, uncalled for.  I can't do enough good works to make Him happy with me...He already is.  I can't sacrifice enough time-energy-money to make myself worthy of His love...I already have it.  Even if I commit sin, He will cause me to feel remorse and compel me to repent because He is always loving me. 

 

Right now, and maybe not always, it is my sacrifice to accept the Truth that God loves me no matter what I am "doing" for Him.  He loves me whether I am an inner city teacher or a suburban substitute.  He loves me whether I am volunteering in my neighborhood or just enjoying the company of my neighbors at a porch party.  He loves me whether I take foster kids or decide that it's not for me.  He loves me whether or not I join This team or That ministry.

 

In this season of life, I am convinced that God is asking me to sacrifice by NOT being a joiner.  I think my chief mission right now is to care for my family...my sons.  It's a sacrifice because that is NOT my natural tendency.  I want to be BUSY for God and working hard for Him outside of my home.  It takes discipline for me to say no to things.  It takes determination to stare opportunities in the face and know that it's not the right time to choose them.  The amount of self control that I have to display when I hear of a need from the pulpit is massive. 

 

One of the "take away" lessons from being a foster parent was understanding that I don't have margin to ADD things on to this mission that is clearly before me.  Raising my sons is not an easy task.  They are smart, intense, strong willed, and endlessly energetic.  It takes supernatural strength and patience to live with them on a daily basis. 

As an exercise, my therapist asked me to create a Mothering Mission Statement. 

 

Here it is: 

In my home I will intentionally endeavor to raise sons who are men of strong character.  I desire for them to be productive members of society, authentic  followers of Christ, and caring participants in

their community.

 

 

Those ideals are not easy tasks.  I can't build into my sons the way I desire to if I don't focus on the work at hand.  I don't know why I struggle to see motherhood as a mission...but it most assuredly is.  My sacrifice is learning that I can joyfully empty myself out, wear myself thin, come to the end of my rope for God's glory merely by choosing to focus on raising my boys.  Even if they don't turn out to fit the principles set forth in my Mission Statement, I've done the best I could and obeyed God by sacrificing JOINING (at least in this season) and giving motherhood all I had to give. 

QUICK NOTE:  I would again like to reiterate that this is MY conviction...it is not the ONLY right conviction.  Every person is different...every family is different...every circumstance is different...YOU have to do what YOU have to do. 

 

 



On Our Anniversary

 However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.  Ephesians 5:33

This Tuesday is my 8th wedding anniversary.  While it seems like we were walking down the aisle just yesterday, it also seems that we've been married forever!  I don't mean that in a disparaging way.  What I mean is that in our 8 short years of marriage, my husband and I have been through a lot together.    

It's strange what makes you fall in love with someone.  Some people get that electrified, love at first sight kind of moment.  We didn't have that.  My husband and I met at a Sunday School Super Bowl party.  He was new, I was new, we didn't talk much.  For the next few years, we were part of the same large group of friends (who were also all 20-something singles).  We had a great time just being social and enjoying the company of everyone. 

As time went on I found myself enjoying his company specifically.  I began to notice things about him that I admired.  He was smart...very, very, smart...which is a huge point of attraction for me...the brainier the better!  He was kind and thoughtful...I found myself swooning as he volunteered to help set up for a conference at church that he wasn't even attending.  He loved God and wanted to serve his friends and neighbors. I enjoyed his perspective, his laugh, his broad shoulders, and his cute behind.  After what can only be described as a junior high school she-told-her-friend-who-told-his-friend-who-accidentally-told-HIM-that-I-like-him situation...we began dating.  And a little over a year from our first date, we were wed! 

The road from our wedding day has been paved with disruption, blessing, change, friendship, tears and laughter.  We've been through a total of 5 jobs, 2 houses, 3 pregnancies, 2 births, 2 dogs, 2 churches, 3 cars, 3 Griswold-tastic vacations, 3 ER visits, and 1 pervasive mental illness.  As we've navigated the ups, downs, and in-betweens of life, my husband has proven to be a steady source of strength.  Day after day he proves his love for me and for his sons by actively choosing to care for us, even when we are unlovely. 

The Bible has instructed wives to respect their husbands.  It has been my blessing to be married to a man who is worthy of respect.  It's easy to respect a man who works hard and spends wisely.  It's easy to respect a man who both plays with and disciplines his sons.  It's easy to respect a man who supports me and trusts my judgment.  It's easy to respect a man whose chief goals in life are to glorify God and strengthen others.  It is my honor to be on the journey of life with this man. 

Happy Anni-birthday love.  May God give us many more years together and the strength to walk through them. 

You Can't Predict the Weather

Here in the Midwest, it's been a rainy few weeks.  My garden is LOVING it!  The plants are green and healthy and I've already got squash setting on.  While my garden is full of life...I have not been. 

This year I have noticed just how sensitive I am to weather.  I've always known that winter is not my season.  This Spring, especially, I can almost predict my mood by what the weather is doing.  This week it rained for 3 of 5 days.  I could not get enough sleep.  (Though I have to admit that one day I stayed up way past my bedtime). It felt like I was walking through mud the entire week.  My eyes wouldn't stay open and every single activity I tried only made me more exhausted.  Each day I took a nap and was still able to go to sleep at the normal time at night.  It's not that I was depressed or irritable, just inexplicably and insurmountably tired.

Today...today the sun is shining brightly.  I've already done more housework in the last two hours than  I did altogether in the last 3 days.  My energy is still fairly low, but I am able to conquer it and get things done. 

While it's an interesting observation, I'm not entirely sure what to do with this information.  I am a young mother of young sons...I've got responsibilities.  I can't afford to be out on any day it isn't sunny.  Any suggestions on how to perk up on gray, rainy days are welcome.  NOTE: I cannot have caffeine.

ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences):Stress

My very tired husband went to bed early tonight.  Instead of napping while the kids were away at the grandparents (like I did) he mowed the lawn.  I was left with several hours to myself.  In a mood for some knowledge, I pulled up Hungry for Change on Netflix.  Truly, it held fast to most of the diet information that I am already following.  There was one new thing that I picked up that I think is going to be impactful in my journey toward health.

Toward the end of the documentary, they began to talk about something called ACE or Adverse Childhood Experiences.  A few years ago a study was done about the link between obesity and childhood trauma.  Basically the correlation was, if I child has experienced abuse or stress, they are far more likely to be an obese adult than someone who did not experience these things.  The best quote that I heard from this study was:  "Being fat [or having other unhealthy behaviors] is not the problem. It's the solution."  That is to say...fat has solved some sort of problem in the lives of people...it isn't really the ROOT problem.

Oh, Hallelujah!  I could not agree with that more.  I know exactly when I began to gain weight.  I am not being dramatic when I say that I have been continually stressed out since I was 6 years old.  This time in my life was when I first began to feel deep hurt and experience massive amounts of stress.  Part of this story isn't my story to tell, so I'll just say that there was some serious family drama and leave it at that.

From that time on I added stress to stress as moved to 8 different schools in from 1st grade to 12th grade.  We moved houses, countries, and cultures.  Stress.  Additionally, since I was a fat kid, I got to endure the abject abuse of my peers for my girth at ALL 8 schools.  Stress.  Serious family drama continued to flair up time and again.  Stress.  By High School I had gotten so used to this feeling of stress that I would WAY overbook my after school activities so that I would be going from play practice to voice lessons, from voice lessons to work, from work to hanging out with my boyfriend, from hanging out with my boyfriend to homework, and then finally to bed.  I took AP (advanced placement) classes and watched my GPA like a hawk as I tried to keep it high enough to get scholarships. STRESS!

From High School I went to college where I finished my Elementary Ed. program in 3 1/2 years. Stress.  I was tremendously committed to extracurriculars.  I had tutoring, test prep instruction, Christian ministry, mission trips, leadership training, YouthFriends, etc..and on and on.  On top of that I was still enduring issues with my body image as the few boys that I had crushes on friend-zoned me immediately.  I also had some fairly serious dental issues that kept me in constant pain for over a year.  Stress.  I jumped from the frying pan into the fire as an adult and have made (what seems like) nothing but stressful decisions.

You know what cortisol is?   It is the stress hormone; and chronic levels of cortisol can EFF you up!  Yeah, it can cause weight gain (got it), impaired immunity (got it), and has even been shown to be a contributing factor for depression (got it).  For my depression, stress and overwhelmedness are tied as my number ONE triggers.  My naturopath is testing my cortisol levels.  I imagine she's going to find that they are elevated (if they aren't I will be SHOCKED).  I don't know what the treatment is, but it's bound to help.

Shifting my thinking from fat being the source of all of my problems to a symptom of deeper problems is meaningful to me.  That means if I can find healing for the trauma of all of this stress, healthy weight will likely follow.  I am doing many things to pursue healing for my issues with stress.  Self care is a component...protecting myself from my own desires for achievement and "hard things" is going to be very important.  Exercise is being added in starting next week...in the form of Tai Chi...which I am hoping will have a calming effect.  I cut out sugar and caffeine.  Having a healthy view of food and what food is for (not for giving my heart a hug) will also play a role.

I am also going to do some research on meditation.  I am a Christian, so some of the more traditional forms of meditation aren't wholly applicable to my view of life.  But, meditation is mentioned time and again in the Bible with regard to scripture.  I plan to kind of figure out what that is going to look like for me. 

Knowing about the correlation between ACE and weight is going to give me some freedom.  It will be really interesting to see how this plays out.  In the end, my hope for health is to be able to enjoy life and serve my family and community with a vivacious zeal for the heart of God...something I've not been able to do of late because I am heavy and tired and depressed.   For me, health is a tool that I can use to keep myself walking in the life I wish to live.