Just say NO

The thing about me most people may not know (and my husband still denies) is that I am horribly undisciplined. It's true. I have a very hard time saying no to things--especially things that are bad for me.

I know, I know. I am a healthy eater (high raw, no sugar vegan). But you may not know why. I ended up very sick at a very young age (Eppstein Barr--an auto-immune disease--at age 15). Dropping to around 80lbs before my sixteenth birthday and not strong enough to hold a glass of water on my own, I was in bad shape. And while it may be hard to know exactly how or why I had it, I do know what beat it: diet. Cutting out sugar, wheat and dairy and taking a crazy amount of supplements (somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 vitamins 3x day), my immune system bulked up and made me healthier than I had probably ever been in my short life.

I know it can be a hard concept for a lot of people. I hear a lot of concern over extremism or depriving myself. But it's not difficult math--cut out the junk food and feel amazing or eat a balanced American diet and slowly lose energy, functionality and vitality. For me, it's not depravity or extremist. It's health.

Before my illness, I lived off of biscuits and jelly for breakfast, sandwiches and Taco Bell for lunch and would often skip dinner. I was a busy girl and took myself for granted. I am learning more and more to keep the basics of life central to my day. So now, making meals and shopping for food are easy priorities and eating well is something I make time for.

Which brings me to television. If you think I am disciplined, it's probably because you've never seen me in front of a tv. I can watch and watch and watch and watch and watch and....well, you get the idea. I am a true veg queen. I also knew that I can tune the world out with a few well-timed sitcoms, which is why Rory and I chose not to own a television.

What I didn't expect, however, were things like Facebook and Hulu. Before we knew it, our evenings (and weekends) of talking and spending time together were slowly eaten up with checking Facebook and scouring for our favs on Hulu. The very reasons we were committed to not owning a tv were completely lost on us.

Now to top it off (and this is where the crazy takes a sharp turn into straight-wacko-ville), laptops and cell phones give off more EMR/EMF radiation than is safe. I told you I was heading for wacko-ville... But it is something I am seriously concerned about.

So, as if I needed any more motivation anyway, I am just saying no to my laptop and keeping my cell in the car for emergencies. With the little body attached to my mama one, I am especially convicted over the amount of radiation I am exposing to her--daily.

I plan on using Rory's laptop as necessary and hopefully keeping an semi-updated blog to help keep in touch.

In the meantime, I have to brave the Christmas crowds in search of a hard-line telephone to plug into our new landline...Who woulda thought?!

The Power of Family

Wow. Where to start?

I'd like to start with the small stuff: the sweet smell of her milky, pure baby breath, how she turns her head to look at EVERYTHING, that she finally noticed the dogs, how she holds my hand and/or shirt while nursing, how she rubs the small of my back with her little tiny perfect hand while nursing, that she cries less and now has more of a one syllable "waah" as if to say, "Hey, don't forget about me!", that her gigantically beautiful blue eyes still light up every single room she enters, and how she does not like to sit, but must be moving, going, exploring and she will wriggle her way to where she wants to go as fast as she can....although, her body hasn't quite caught up with her mind yet, so she often ends up face down....on the bed, on the couch, on the floor, etc.

You know, just those little things we notice as we spend our days with India.

To be honest, I blog all the time about her--well, in my head at least! Rory and I are always noticing even the smallest change, the slightest advancement, the tiniest of growths. She is beautiful to watch and inspiring to be around. And yes, there are many times I still find my face dampened with tears just at the sight of her.

We are especially enjoying "wearing" her. Babywearing is a pretty common practice--every where but in America! I think it's probably more common than we assume (I know my parents had different kinds of carriers), but we love it. And our mover and shaker D sure loves to be included. We have that mei tei wrap I've mentioned before, but we also use a sling given to us by our friends and former LP leaders the Tripkehughes'.


You can see how comfy she finds it!


And the other day at Farmer's, D was in the mei tei wrap when I realized she had been holding my finger the whole time! My heart totally melted.

One of the most fun things about life with D now is how she interacts with people. If you're on Facebook, you may have noticed my latest update: she gives kisses! To be fair, there isn't much of a pucker yet--it's just an open mouth coming right at you with the occasional tongue ready to lick away! And I can't tell you what a thrill that is! It is pure delight! And there's nothing like shrieks of joy from her aunties and grandma and grandpa to make mom and dad feel absolutely normal in their obsession!

I know my parents (and even Rory's parents) raised their children primarily on their own--grandmas and grandpas were for special occasions but not necessarily there for the day-to-day stuff. I don't know if it's a generational thing, but it's certainly not how we are doing things. I depend on my mom constantly! And we absolutely love love love sharing our Joy with our sisters and parents. And Dia seems to like it, too! She is starting to recognize them and is working on a special relationship with each one. Her Auntie Jessa is like a second mom. I am so amazed at how natural Jess has been with her. The other day D had her first "explosive" poo-poo situation and who was the first to run and grab hand towels? Jess! She went right to her, wiping her legs off and entering into the "mess" with us. I know D feels safe and loved with her sweet Auntie.



Aunt Alli has been a blast from the get-go. Alli started talking to Dia about buying books (Auntie Alli has an amazing ability to hold the most fascinating one-sided conversations with incredible detail!) and India went ga-ga for her! Smiling and grinning up a storm! They have become fast friends and I know their bond is special. D lights up when she sees her Auntie loves.


D has also found special bonds with her Grandpa and Opa:

With Grandpa, it's football! Dia loves the colorful little jerseys running all over the big screen!



And Opa and she share a special love of all things jazz! (I have a video of them dancing, but it's not working correctly right now.....hmm....)

I remember reading once about a famous and accomplished scientist who referred to himself as having stood "on the shoulders of giants." He recognized that his feats could never have happened were it not for the great minds who came before him. And that's exactly how I feel about mommyhood. I am standing on the shoulders of some amazing women (and men!) whose feats of love and selflessness empower and inspire me in so many ways. I can't tell you how blessed I feel to be able to look back and confidently ask what they would have done or recall what they did do. I am more confident for Dia knowing that we both rest on their work and love.

Thank you, Lord, for families that pray and stay together.

Where did You go?

While Dia does love her jazz music for road trips, there are many times that nothing works. She is simply miserable in her car seat. It breaks my heart and often tempts me to break any and every speed limit to get home that much faster!

Yesterday I took extra time to feed her and change her in the car before we left to ensure that she would be comfortable for our fifteen minute ride home. I turned on the jazz, started the car and got about ten feet before she started fussing. As time went on, her fussing turned into fists of fury that stuck daggers in my mommy's heart. Her cries were getting so intense it made me wonder if her skin was pinched or there was some form of physical harm befalling her in the backseat where I couldn't reach her. We have a giant panda mirror that attaches to the backseat and reflects her face back to me in the rear view mirror so not only am I hearing the cries for help, but I am visibly witnessing her distress. I looked and looked yesterday and even reached my hand back to feel around and make sure she wasn't in any physical harm.

By the time we pulled into the garage, I just threw my keys over to the other seat and ran to my baby. The minute I sat in the next to her (before I could even unbuckle her), she completely calmed down. It was instantaneous. As my mom says, "She's like any baby. She just wants to see her mommy's face and be held."

And all I can think is how similar I am in my relationship with the Lord. Sure, sure I can hear Him. "Don't worry, child. I am here. I have shown you that I am by your side. Why do you cry?" But I don't care. I cry and cry all the more. I scream. My face bunches up and turns red. I feel terror and uncertainty. And there's His voice again, "Stephanie! What is wrong my love? I am right here. You can't see Me, but I can see you. And you are just fine. You are perfectly safe. In fact, you must stay in the position you are in for your own good. I know it doesn't make sense that I have put you here, but I have. Trust Me. I am not doing this to hurt you but to bless you. It's almost over and soon you will be in My arms."

I can rarely get upset at Dia--she's just a baby. But the Bible asks me to get past the milk stage. To grow up, to mature and trust Him. Boy, watching my little Dia just shows me time and time again how baby-like I still am with my Father. I could feel sorry for my sad state, but instead I am so grateful to my Father to even use my own child to show me my immaturity.

I remember saying to my sister-in-law Sheena the other day, "If God loves us even a tenth of how much I love Dia (and we all know He loves us a million times more), then we have nothing to worry about." I am realizing how much I focus my relationship with the Lord on me and not Him. I dwell and cry over my sin (not that this is necessarily wrong) and worry and worry over how I did this or didn't do that. And then I look at Dia. Could she ever make a mistake that would break my love for her? Of course not! She doesn't really make mistakes yet, but imagining her doing unwise things only makes me sad for her--not me. I guess what I am trying to say, is that for me, my relationship with the Lord could use a lot more resting and trusting in Him and a lot less crying and fussing over me.

Thank You, Lord, for love. For the little glimpses we get of Yours in big ways. Thank you, again, for Dia.

Lovebug

I really should be boycotting Blogger. I am somewhere between broken-hearted and seething. I had been working all week on a post updating all of D's new achievements and fun little quirks when Firefox shut down on me and lost it all! Don't you just hate that?! I do.

(One time when I was in high school, I had to write the history of Egypt or something equally extraordinary--gotta love homeschooling!--when my sister somehow exited Word without saving my work. I think I was somewhere around page 12 or so! Talk about frustrating. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise because the paper came out a lot better the second time around. Hopefully the same will be said of my Dia post!)

So I'll just post a few of the wonderful things that you simply must know about our little D:

1. She has found her Daddy. It happened about a week or two ago. Sure, sure, she knew his voice the moment she was born and they are the best of buddies (especially nap buddies--she'll sleep for hours on his chest!). But only recently has she started really seeing him and taking him in. We were sitting at the table one evening while he was holding her and all of a sudden, she turned her head up to look at him and just stared. She just stared and stared and stared. It's been our greatest joy watching her come to know this hunky, hairy Daddy who is so crazy in love with her. Here's a little video of her loving every minute of her Daddy (it's a little bit long, so forgive our first attempt at posting video!):



2. She is a jazz fan. A few weeks back, D and I were coming home from somewhere when she started getting upset. Unable to reach her (thanks a lot, safety restraints!), I tried talking, singing, everything! I finally turned on the radio and once I hit the jazz station, she completely calmed down. I looked back in the mirror and her face was completely calm listening to some throaty female vocalist (I couldn't place the song or singer at the time). I was thrilled and quite entertained! We have since tried country music, popular stuff (hip hop and techno and the like), classical, Christian and even talk radio. But no. It's only the female vocalists on KYOT that calm her. She loves it! My thanks to Diana, Aretha, Mariah and the rest. Although we do need to get a CD because the radio sure likes to play commercials at the most inopportune moments...Remember those things? CDs? What a concept!

3. She is beginning to take in her world. The sleepy infant of the past is now a bubbly observer of everything! Not even a mile-long walk in her stroller puts her to sleep anymore. Instead she's taking in every tree and house and light post that crosses her field of vision. She even caught me using my cell phone. Aunt Jessi held her and took her around Farmer's Market last week and D just watched and watched and watched all the produce and the commotion. It's amazing to think how these images she's processing now will form the foundation for so much of her life.

4. I don't know for sure how much color babies see, but she is still enthralled by black and white. So kudos to Ikea for selling us the three black and white photos that hang in our living room! We call them Dia's Pictures now because she loves to just stare at them! It's pretty cute.

5. Dia and I are officially workout buddies! If you have never heard of Stroller Stride, you need to check it out! It's amazing. My friend Christina turned me onto it and since she looks great in a bathing suit, I figure I should give it a try. :) It's one of those kick-your-butt-make-you-wanna-puke-after-the-first-day workouts, though, just to warn you. But, you get to bring your baby/toddler/stroller-aged child/ren with you! And as anyone who was at yoga with me last week knows, I do not want to drop my child off yet! (Rory actually met us at yoga and walked D for the hour and a half that I had yoga!) This is a great workout and Dia did phenomenally--I thought I might have to skip out early if she was fussy, but she loved it. We had a great time working out together!

I know there were so many many many other things, but I'll have to close it here with just a few comments on how much she is developing and growing. We went to the doctor's for her 6 week check-up and she has put on two pounds and gained two whole inches! She's almost two feet tall! And she is a wonderful, happy, beautiful little lovebug. I'll close with this little video I snuck in while she and Daddy napped one afternoon (watch her tummy rise and fall with Daddy's snores!). As you can see, we are obsessed!!

A Day in the Life

Is it weird that I actually always dreamed my days would be like this?

I am the kind of girl who stays in the lines, always listens to the teacher and when advice is offered, I usually take. I remember when I was still pretty young (6th grade?), they came out and said that too much salt and butter is bad for you. I then and there made a conscious decision to avoid salt and butter (you know, because my eleven year old arteries couldn't take much more....lol). And it stuck. I began to change my tastebuds and within no time, I began to prefer my bread dry and my meals seasoned with pepper and lemon instead of salt. I was a determined little booger and have always been committed to doing what I believe is best.

So when I was growing up and began to hear older moms advise younger ones to savor the moments and put work last, kids first, I stored that in my heart. And now I am getting the chance to embrace it. And let me tell you, it is wise to do so. Oh so wise.

Maybe part of it is due to my generous husband whose only expectation he has placed on me in the last few weeks is to hold and nurse our baby. He brings me a freedom I don't think I can describe....

I, however, somehow managed to put pressure on myself. I gave myself a week after Dia was born to rest and soak her in and then felt tremendous pressure to keep the house spotless and dinner delicious. I didn't actually DO any of those things, mind you, I just felt the pressure. But day after day, when Rory would come home to a messy messy messy house and the only thing cooking was my idea for dinner, he wasn't bothered in the least. This surprised me and I doubted it would last.

But alas, turns out he has been listening to the sages of old as well and we are both committed to simply enjoying her. Just being with her. Watching her. Listening to her. Learning her. And amazingly, in a matter of no time, she is already sleeping in the mei tei wrap to which I have found myself with plenty of time to cook and clean. In fact, dinner's been on the table just about every night the last week or two. And while the floors could still use a good vacuuming, the house has not given itself over to dust and bugs. It's actually pretty clean.

She's growing up already. I know it sounds trite and probably a little obsessive, but it's true. I look at my parents and their children have left adults in their places leaving my parents free of just about any daily responsibility. That happened fast! I was there for the whole thing, trust me, I know. I remember reading a poem, I'm sure you've all read it, about how we will not remember if the kitchen was clean and laundry done, but the time and love we invest. And in my own way, I am getting to live that out. And I love it. I don't have too much company, lol, but I love it.

I believe it is about balance in so many ways--but not balancing clean time with family time. I am looking at the bigger picture--balancing these little one's young years with our old years. Looking at life as more than just today, more than just this week. I keep hearing it--don't blink, it will all be over so soon. I really believe that. So for today, I'll probably fold laundry (her diapers are sitting in a pile on the table) and I will most likely throw together a quick (but healthy) dinner...potatoes and a big green salad? But I would be evil to boast of tomorrow...so my only real goal is to hold her...and nurse her....and enjoy her. She's only 5 weeks and 4 days once, you know. ;)

Mommy to a 5-week Old

Isn't there a song about catching time in a bottle? I am pretty sure it's a song from the 70's, so I had always dismissed it as some weird concept that mystified potheads. Turns out, I was wrong--dead wrong. Time has never gone faster or been as sweet as these past five weeks watching Dia grow. That's right--five weeks. Our girl is five weeks today and I just have to stop and document.

First of all, I am writing this while standing at our kitchen bar. Our little D is safely cocooned in her beautiful mei tei wrap, softly and steadily breathing as she sleeps against my chest. I don't want to sit down because I know how comfortable she is! So I am counting this towards a workout and remaining upright, rocking back and forth as I type.

Outings
The first two weeks of fortressing up in home was amazing. That was probably the closest to bottling time as it gets. Rory was home for a solid week and guests would come visit us usually where we were holed up in bed as a family. It was a time like no other that I will treasure forever. But after about two weeks, I was ready to visit the outside world. We hit up Whole Foods (and called and invited the whole family, of course!) for lunch and had a great time. We were just learning to be in the world and yet with our babe and it was an entirely new experience. It was then I learned that I will probably never ever fully hear the words someone else is saying to me again! My ears, from now on out, are always innately tuned to listen first and foremost for my baby. It makes for a lot of, "I am sorry, what was that?" So deepest apologies to friends and family! I do love you. :)

We have since been to Whole Foods a few more times as well as our first attempt at going to church. We arrived a good thirty minutes after service had started (freeway closures and bad timing on our part!) and once we arrived, our crying baby was relieved that we finally paid attention to her as she had been sitting in quite the mess in her car seat! Poor thing! So we then took some time to clean her and her carseat off and comfort her and put her in the mei tei. By the time we got into the service, we heard the pastor thank everyone for coming and bless them on their way out, lol! But we still got to see some friends and hey, we did make it to church! We counted it a huge success and will probably even go again.

The big accomplishment of the last two weeks, however, was Dia and me leaving the house just the two of us! (Well, that and me getting to eat breakfast before 3pm--that happened Monday and it's been our new thing all week! It's actually made me realize how much she is growing now because I can just sit her in the bouncy and she will look around while I prepare my food and brush my teeth--at the kitchen sink, of course!) We were both pretty excited to be picking Grandma up and heading for the Farmer's Market. I didn't even have my regular produce list--I was mostly going just to go and see how it went. Well, it was one of the best days ever!

First of all, Grandmas are the best people on earth. They innately "get" what my mama mind is already focused on and their sole purpose is to help! Lord bless my mother because she has empowered me and blessed us so much. Being able to be late and then stop myriad times to feed and change her is an amazing feeling. We got some great produce and this was actually when we first found the mei tei wrap that Grandma bought for us. (And as you can tell from this post, we love it! Use it ALL THE TIME!) The other great thing about Grandmas is their unparalleled generosity. She didn't hesitate to pick it up for us (not to mention a pair of earrings for me!) and we are soo grateful! We ended up walking all around Town and Country and finally sat down outside near a violinist and spent a good few hours talking and feeding Dia. It was a glorious day! (Grandma also watched D while I got my eyebrows waxed! It felt good to look like a girl again!) The sad news, however, is that I forgot the camera. I am still learning all the things a mom needs on outings!

We have decided to make the Wednesday market a weekly thing, but Grandma couldn't make it this week. While we were super sad to miss Grandma time, Stephanie, Aravis and Judah were able to go so we had a great time with them! I wore the mei tei, of course, and we enjoyed the cool weather outside and then went for lunch and a stop at Wildflower Diapers. And, we learned that three car seats will in fact fit in the back of a Toyota Corolla! We were one super fun car, let me tell you! Overall, it was a wonderful day.


Last Friday was a special day for us--Dia was one month! We planned a little family dinner at Pita Jungle and while we loved the atmosphere and food, it was a bit much for D. She ended up spending most of the night nursing or at least cuddled against me--which I definitely did not complain about! We all went and sat outside afterward and she fell asleep laying against my chest--her favorite and safest place to be these days.


We also made it a point to hit up a little local pumpkin "patch" downtown. It was 100 degrees, though, so we didn't stay long. It's wonderful to make these little memories with her. We had a great time even with the heat and plan on carving a big D pumpkin for our little one.


Growth and Development
Well, it's a fact. Our girl is a hand talker! Rory and I were just watching her this morning and remembering how we could see her wave her little hand in the ultrasound--the exact thing she still does all the time. She "talked" in her sleep the very first night we had her and she has been super "talkative" ever since. Her cooing has changed so much already though and you can tell that she is responding to us more and more. This morning for instance, she would open her mouth as wide it would go and her whole face would light up while Rory was playing with her. I tried peek-a-boo with her yesterday, but when Rory did it today she totally got it! She even loooked around for him when he would duck his head under the covers. It was amazing--our whole world stopped to watch her enjoy her Daddy! She even did her little coo laugh when he would say her name! She apparently is very fond of the name India!

She is also a very very good eater! I had been a little worried about breastfeeding before I had her, thinking it would turn "my" body into some kind of utilitarian communal trough, lol. It has turned out to be, however, my favorite thing to do in the world. It's beautiful, soft, bonding and amazingly natural. I love being able to soothe her when she's upset and feed her on a whim. It is something special that I will treasure forever.

Oh man, I have so much to write and say. I literally have been in awe for five weeks now--counting every moment with her a true treasure. Hopefully we will get better with the camera and I'll have more pictures and videos to post soon. This little one is amazing and has wonderful things in store. She's growing fast but like a butterfly, it isn't something you'd ever really want to hold captive. So I'll leave the 70's lyrical ideals in history and just enjoy this beautiful transformation as it unfolds before me.

Baby baby baby!

I think I am most surprised by how beautiful I felt. Truly and purely, inwardly and outwardly, beautiful. After 14 hours of labor and 49 minutes of pushing, my hair was disheveled in a messy ponytail, my top was gross and sticky and I had just felt a 9lb baby leave my body, and I was overcome with a sense of power and beauty. I had heard about the sense of empowerment that can accompany birth (especially a natural birth), but the deep sense of true beauty lasted for days and surprised me the most.

I have had the hardest time writing and blogging lately--well, ever since the 3rd trimester actually. When the 3rd trimester hit you would have thought that I would have finally felt "in the clear." After having our miscarriage a year before, though, I could hardly let myself believe that we might actually be this close to this miracle I had been dreaming about for years. And when the 3rd trimester hit, I think I held my breath. I literally stopped breathing and just sat on my couch waiting to see if dreams really do come true.

They do.

I have to say that the idea of a home-birth was not one we made lightly. I had done tons and tons of research, and we felt confident that it was the best, safest option for us. But in the back of my head, I still worried. I worried about the unknown, and I think I would have worried just as much had we opted for any other kind of birth. In my heart, all I wanted was a healthy baby. I was committed to doing anything and everything necessary for her. I remember even during the hardest part of labor when they would check her heartbeat, the world would stop, the labor would pause, "Is she okay?" I had to know.

Our world is still in pause as I nurse her and we watch her grow. She is amazing. India June Starks, our Dia, is miraculous and amazing and adorable. And truly beautiful. I remember when they handed her to me right after she left the birth canal: I was practically in shock--in my arms was my baby! My baby! We had spent the last 9 months talking about her and watching my belly grow and now she was here. Her name is one I picked out as a high school girl and holding her and looking at her was and is like touching a dream.

We are all adjusting now to life with our dreamy babe--the most fun is when she smiles and giggles. Her Opa (Rory's dad) is sure she smiled the first time he saw her, the day she was born. My mom says the same thing. I am not sure about the first day, but within the first week she was looking at us and smiling. Today I started singing, "Chicky chicky boom boom" and she giggled at that. She's adorable.

I remember dressing her in her pink and white striped sleeping gown that first day she was born and feeling somewhat bothered--the clothes took away from her! I liked her in her natural state! It sounds so funny to say, but it's true. I am very much her mommy and I find her most beautiful in her most natural state.

Overall the birth was wonderful. The labor was hard and I very much threw the towel in about an hour before she was born--the very reason I knew a home-birth would be best for us! Had we been anywhere else, that anesthesiologist would have been sticking me with everything he had! But being at home, while hard, enabled me to endure. And the best part is that it all took place in our home. I never had to leave, never had to come home, never saw a stranger the entire time. I remember conciously thinking during the labor, "I am so glad I am at home." We were able to sleep in our own bed (I tore slightly and the doctor even stitched me up right in my bed!), I was able to use my own bathroom, and when the family came (about 2 hours or so after she was born), they all had the comforts of our home. They all cooked and cleaned for us and came to us in the room when they wanted to talk or visit. The next day when the doctor came back to check on us, she came right back to our room to do all the examinations. Afterwards, Dia and I napped and the doctor had lunch with our family in the kitchen! It was all a little "where's the drama?" if you ask me. It was calm and comfortable. And we felt completely safe. And everyday, we all three go to sleep in the same room Dia was born in.

She's just over three weeks now and is already growing and changing so much! We are consciously aware that these are the fleeting moments, these are the most precious times to be alive. We certainly can't stop time (and wouldn't really want to), so we do our best to enjoy each moment. And while I have since recovered from the all encompassing beauty I felt at first, looking at her, holding her, nursing her stirs a sense of meaning and power that I could never have imagined. She is amazing and I am still in awe.

Thanks, Mom

Being home-schooled never seemed weird to me. I know it seemed (seems?) weird to a lot of other people, but it felt perfectly normal to me and my sisters. Most of our friends were home-schooled and all of our classes (until sophomore year of high school) were at "home" (meaning either our home or another family's or a church/location we rented out). It seemed normal to us! Each year, our family re-evaluated our commitment and considered all our options. Each year, it only became more obvious that we should continue on.

It's funny how many times I felt deep in my heart that I hated my mom throughout those years. I mean, really really hated her, I am ashamed to say! But I never had the opportunity to walk away. I never had a group at school to go to confide in about her. ALL of my friends deeply respected their parents (as did I...it's just that aforementioned flesh raring it's uglier than life head) so there was never a time to speak poorly of them. We all trusted our
parents and knew that God placed them in our lives for a holy reason. We never spoke of this respect--it just was how we lived. I didn't realize then, but this WAS rather strange. I didn't know it was strange--I didn't know any different.

I know some worry about home-schooling--especially about isolation, or over-protection. Others encourage their young ones to be the light in the dark world. I totally understand.

But for me and my sisters (and majority of our friends) it was a unique time in our life when our parents, orchestrated by the Lord, took time to lay a foundation in our hearts. We meet a lot of people who say (and mean very well), "You don't seem like a home-schooler." I think they're expecting a nerdy prodigy who has no ability to relate to the world or others. And there are kids like that--in public school AND in home-schooling.

But looking back, Rory and I both are almost emotional thinking about the covering our parents placed over us as we grew and matured. Our ability to relate to the world or save the world was irrelevant. Our parents' sole focus was on covering us, preparing us and loving us. It was such a special, special time where we got to be us. We got to figure life out. We got to explore and learn and talk it out--all with our parents an arm's length away. They talked things out with us. Shared their mistakes. Bore with us as we made ours. In the meantime, we were also able to excel academically. I mean, think about it. Learn in a room of 20 others, or learn directly from the teacher one-on-one? It's simple math--anyone (even and maybe especially if you had learning disabilities) would be able to finish more faster this way.

But it's not the schooling that touches my heart. Sure I have accolades and academic accomplishments. But it's the time my parents took to cover us and protect us and teach us that overwhelms me. I was never a bother. I was never an after-thought. My sisters and I were our mother's focus. What an amazing way to demonstrate self-less love and endless security (especially to a young girl going through puberty and beyond!). Looking back now, I didn't realize how much I really needed my mom.

I came across a blog today called "emotional PURITY." I don't know if she was home-schooled or if she home-schools her little ones, but reading this I was stunned by her ability to be relevant and yet so separated from the world's thinking. It was a clear shot into how truly different Rory and my childhood/adolescence was. And it's really quite beautiful!

Growing up, my friends didn't listen to much music--unless it was Christian or swing (old time jazz). We didn't date. We didn't swear. We didn't know much about MTV. And I remember at our high school graduation the speaker declared us a generation set apart for such a time as this. I was inspired by this and see now how truly set apart we were/are.

I know home-schooling is not for everyone and I am so grateful to live in a country of options. But if home-schooling is/was/will be right for you, what a privilege to invest yourself into everyday of your child's life. To show them daily by your example that there is a way other than the world's. We were exposed to so much through home-schooling--and not teenagers making out or cigarettes or even music videos. We were exposed to purity (we went at least annually to hear Josh Harris talk about kissing dating goodbye), to Godly history (Little Bear Wheeler anyone?), family time (yes, siblings were highly valued and taught to be an asset in developing our own Christ-like ways at home), and so much more. It wasn't a way to keep us from the world or even criticize the world. It was a way to set our eyes and hearts on Him. We were so focused on learning more about Him and His ways that we didn't have much time to look at the worldliness around us. But now as adults, it sure does come fairly easy to discern His ways from the world's.

Looking back, I am so grateful for my parent's active protection and participation in my life. I NEEDED it. Some kids are good to go. I think I needed special attention. Really I do. I would have done fine in public school. But I don't know that I would have known to reserve my first kiss. I don't know that I would have known that my heart was uniquely for my future husband. I don't know that I would have known that short-shorts are not appropriate. I am a perfectionist and for me it was (is?) very important to fit in. I am so glad my parents had the foresight to surround me with people to whom character and Godly ambition were the status quo.

For us at least, if emotional purity, modest dress, Christian music, intelligent dialogue, respect for parents and peers, and having your first kiss on your wedding day is "weird," then bring it on. I don't want to be normal! But in our very unique childhood/adolescence this was the NORM. How cool is that?!

I know many Christians who were not home-schooled who did live this way. And I also know home-schoolers who did not. It wasn't the schooling necessarily. It was my parents' willingness to lay it all down and seek Him for us. It was an example of Christ-likeness that rubbed against me everyday, all day. I often hated it. I now feel like crying in gratitude for it.

Thanks, Mom.

NOT Moving

I have dreams of farm life. Can't help it. They started in my late teens (you know, after I got past my feminist pull to become first woman president).

I think often about the beautiful simplicity of life away from tv, away from media, away from malls, away from grocery stores. Yes, a hard, dirty and very unglamorous life. But one that draws me in like Rory to candy. :)

I thought a bit about my inner hope for farm life today and realized (such a funny word, by the way--as if I have ever "realized" anything--so scratch that)--make that, the Holy Spirit revealed to me today--that the country has no hope for me. See, my flesh follows me to the farm, too. No, the sin would look different. (And one of the worst things about Christianity as a religion is that sin actually can look better and worse depending on the outward appearance.) It would be coated over with home-grown food and lots of images from Little House on the Prairie. But, sadly, for me, I would still be there. Does that make sense?

My flesh tags along with me just about everywhere I go--sometimes I think it even makes it to places before I get there. I blame very little on Satan, though I well know and have experienced that he is alive and well. See Satan doesn't have to work too hard in my life--I do a great job giving into my flesh and squashing the Spirit all on my own.

Sweetly, I experienced a lot of peace when I came to hear what the Spirit was saying. (Don't get me wrong! Country life is still attractive and beautiful and hardly inherently evil--it's me that won't change.) It was freeing to think that I don't need to move to find more of the Lord--I need to see Him here. And if I can't see Him here, I really don't know what I expect to find in a location alteration.

All this to say, that as I was pondering this this morning, I headed over to my first La Leche League meeting. Have you ever been to one of these?! Whoa. Total coolness. Just everywhere!

And you know what I found? Like-minded moms who live in MY area (that's right the area within the city limits) who home-school and go somewhat against the grain. I sat there and before I knew it, I said aloud, "Wow. I feel normal here." Everyone smiled.

I am so grateful to the Lord that He freed me and then blessed me. The freedom in itself is truly a gift, but then to enter into encouragement...well, wow. And I didn't have to move to find it. I just had to stay right here and listen.

Update on Twilight Market

Ok, so we came, we saw, we conquered! And we left with some yummy yummy organic produce!

The Twilight Market I mentioned yesterday was a lot of fun. It started at 6pm, but seeing as it was still bright and sunny we waited until 7 before going. First of all, it was fabulous to have a farmer's market so close to home. (We usually have to plan what feels like a day trip to hit up the Saturday or Wednesday morning ones!)

This market is held in The Citadel--a small outdoor shopping plaza in Arrowhead. There was a lot of fun stuff going on! A child's entertainer (complete with balloon animals!), some kind of hair-styling makeover (we didn't stay to watch, but they had two styling chairs up on a stage), a live band and tons of yummy things to eat (ice cream, European pastries, frozen lemonade, etc.).

But, armed with our produce tote bags, we felt a little out of place looking for the stands of produce. We finally spotted some (although, not organic). By the time we wandered over to Maya's Farm stand, I was getting skeptical. For such a small stand, it sure was a bustling place to be, though. We waited a bit and then got a chance to ask Maya about her produce/soil.

What a pleasant surprise! This woman knows her stuff! Her sign read something about "Certified Naturally Grown," which if you're like me, doesn't mean much. Can't anything claim to be natural? Even Safeway and Fry's advertise "fresh, natural" produce.

I was so glad I asked her about the naturally grown certification. She explained that the Certified Organic label as issued by the FDA has lost most meaning to truly organic farmers (she is so right--you wouldn't believe the amount of pesticides legally allowed within the organic certification standards), so she and other local farmers have their own certification in which they adhere to their own, higher standards and inspect each other's farms to insure high quality.

Here's what I found online about Maya: "Maya's Farm keeps the growing process as simple as possible by utilizing organic and biodynamic techniques and laboring by hand to cultivate our land and grow our food. We believe our products are the most natural, fresh and delicious you can find in the Phoenix area. Visitors are welcome to stop by and see our beautiful farm where we sell our products as well as food and handmade goods by other local artisans."

Wow. So impressed. She had great prices and lots of fun, different foods. We packed our bag with cantaloupe, spinach, a purple bell pepper (So excited about this! Did you know green peppers are green because they aren't ripe? A definite no-no for your digestive system.), cherry tomatoes, an onion, a bunch of basil, apples and green beans. She had fresh flowers, eggplant, squash and all kinds of goodies attractively displayed under her bigger-than-it-looks tent.

Overall, it was a huge success! There were tons of people (though we felt like the only ones there to do our grocery shopping), but even more exciting, I learned a lot! Maya's Farm is over at South Mountain and I can't wait to get out there to visit it for myself.

The nights are cool in the summer....

Summer is usually my favorite time to shop Farmer's Market. It's so full of color and life! This summer, though, I am finding it harder to get up early and harder to enjoy time in the sun.

Enter: the Twilight Farmer's Market.

I just "happened" upon this market while researching this morning and I am so excited! First of all, it's the only serious farmer's market on the west side and secondly, it's at night! I haven't been yet and am always a little skeptical of the buzzword "farmer's market"--it can mean anything from a craft fair to a lemonade stand. My intent in farmer's marketing, though, is to get local, affordable organic produce. And from the buzz surrounding this market, it sounds like it may be promising!

I am very excited!

It's every Wednesday from 6-9 pm in the Citadel off of the 101 and 59th Ave. Can't wait to tell you how it goes!

Also, if you're looking for something fun and affordable in the evenings, try Kierland Commons' Summer Concert Series. We went last Saturday and couldn't get enough! A different live band plays each week and the place gets packed out early. Bring a lawn chair or blanket or just find a spot in the grass. The fountains are on for the kids and the night is filled with fun and music. Come to dance, listen or just play!

Saturday nights, 7-10pm at Kierland Commons.

Here's to a glorious summer!

Update

Update: I can't find any local showings for the 24th. The soonest I can find is July 17.

Soo.....It's still coming! Just not quite as soon. :) Will keep you posted!

It's coming!!

Rory and I are pretty excited about the movie Food, Inc. coming to the Phoenix metro area. If you haven't heard about this movie, check out my previous post or some of the other buzz on the internet. Here's what one viewer has to say:

"I'm certain you will hear this opinion more as reviewers see this documentary, so let me be the first to express it. This is a great documentary. Seriously great. Like Oscar nomination great. The cinematography is stunning. The investigative journalism impeccable. Eight years in the making, this incredibly important film grabs you in the opening frames and doesn't let go until the end.

One might expect PETA-style shock-and-awe to pound you over the head with shrill and strident anti-establishment dogma. But Food, Inc., delivers quite the opposite. Every point is presented fairly and responsibly -- understated, if anything, and never overstated."

Basically, we plan on going to it opening night June 24 and paying to see it all weekend long! My dollar is a vote and I vote yes on responsible, nutrient-rich food!!

Pray It Out

I know there are some serious prayer warriors out there and I am asking for your battle skills!

A friend of mine's little girl is set to come into the world in a few months and the ultrasounds show that she has spina bifida and will not be able to walk. For some reason, as soon as I heard this I just knew that this wasn't true. Will you please bring this before the Lord? Will you please join me in proclaiming and beseaching the Lord for complete HEALING? I am praying for a completely healed and whole spine, legs and skeletal system. I am praying for God's hands to enter that womb and knit her wholly and completely together. I am praying for a beautiful, healthy, safe birth and life--complete with walking legs!

Pray also for the sweet mama--for a hedge of protection around her physical being and her heart/spirit. Pray that she will be humbled and encouraged as she watches her Lord work inside her towards healing. Pray against guilt, shame and fear--that they would be bound with Satan and kept far from their entire family. I am praying for joy in her days as she seeks Him out.

Much love and appreciation.

Jubilee!

A year of Jubilee. It hit me listening to the radio. A woman in deeper than she planned credit card debt was chatting about the new Credit Card Bill of Rights. I asked the Lord to grant her her own year of Jubilee.

What credit card company would forgive debt? Well, maybe if you're persuasive you could get your fees reduced or minimum payment amount altered. But completely forgiven? No way.

But the Lord had different plans. He had jubilee in mind, he had freedom in store. He said that every 7 years should be a year of jubilee--debt forgiven.

I was at the Farmer's Market today and when I came home and was washing the strawberries, I smiled to see the "ugly" berries. I try to check for them in all of the produce I buy. I know that if the fruit and veggies have imperfections that they are real. Only soil-grown, organic produce doesn't look perfectly pretty and shiny. You have to go the supermarkets for that stuff. At the Farmer's Market, it's just the real stuff--the dirty, varied stuff.

Is that how I can know I am real? My imperfections? My many debts? My dirt-rubbed skin? Do they prove that I am real, that I exist in this struggle to glorify Him in all I do? I think so.

Too often, we can sit down and even in an iron sharpening iron situation, point out the one who is always struggling. The one who just seems to always be in something or other. But the struggle is so worthy and the fighter so honorable! Not shiny and attractive like pesticide sprayed food, but they are the non-glamorous juicy and nutritious real thing. Fighting the struggle, being in the midst of laying things aside and picking up your cross doesn't look shiny. It looks ugly.

But it's the half-picked through, dirt-rubbed and sometimes even dented produce that is the real fruit. And God has already planned for us messy ones--He has promised Jubilee. It is here in Jesus! And the messier we are, the more we need Him!

Thank You, Jesus, for imperfect food, dirt and most of all, for You, our Jubilee!

Cheap fun for the Fam

I would like to remember to post this closer to the date, but I can assure that I will not remember! So, here it is a few weeks early:

Family Fun Day at Tolmachoff Farms in Glendale
Saturday, June 6 8am-2pm

"Pick your own seasonal fruits and vegetables in the U-pick garden, see how fast you can husk some corn, tour the farm on a train ride, find the needle in the haystack and remember the moment with a picture on a pony. If you get a little hungry, enter the watermelon-eating and seed-spitting contest or simply visit the food sample and vending booths. Admission is $4 for ages 2 and over." For more info click here.

Hope to see you out there!

Farmer's Encouragement

One of my favorite people in the world turned me onto a new blog: A Holy Experience.

I am in love. First of all, it's a husband and wife team who up and moved to start a farm in Canada. Her insight into their daily life and incessant redirection to our Creator inspires me. Maybe today you're wondering if anything can grow in your life, in your day, in your family, in your heart. If so (or if you simply like to hear more about Him in our daily life), here's a post I have to share from her blog (if you visit her blog she has pictures of the crops of which she writes):

Monday, May 18, 2009

Time and Space

They said that's all we'll need.

Farmer Husband takes me to the field to see where they think the miracle will take place. With a little time and space.

When we laid those seeds into the ground, it was wet in the fall, and late, nearly October, winter wheat before the snow. Wheat sprouted in autumn dampness.

We saw green before the freezing, barely.

The snow came early.

I felt it in my bones before it came, chill snaking up the spine, and when it finally coiled around us in a hiss of white, I kept thinking of homeless Ken and his buddies huddled in their sleeping bags and how winter would slither up those stark Toronto streets, up a man's back turned.

For weeks, the snow lay over the fields, lay that wheat down to dormancy. I only imagined how it covered humps under blankets around Toronto's Nathan Philip Square.

Then, restless and wayfaring, snow moved on for a bit in February, stripping that wheat back bare. Leaving it naked to that wind howling and moaning over snow's going.

Subfreezing temperatures, standing water, ice encasement, bitter winds, all the elements corkscrewed around our wheat. When the land finally heaved high with frost in March, the wheat writhed a death heave of its own.

Farmers call it winterkill.

I have no idea how Ken and friends fared.

"Ann?" He calls from the back door, work-wizened hand still on the doorknob. I come find him there with wind-burnt face, his coat still on.

"The neighbors have got to be laughing at me out there fertilizing that wheat. There's whole acres out there where it's pretty scarce. Hardly anything. A sprout here and there... and a whole lot of empty space." He shakes his head.

"I'm wondering about just ripping it up."

"Tonight?" I don't want to ask how tearing up the wheat might tear up our pockets.

"I guess I should call Agricorp in the morning, and get someone out here just to make sure that's the right decision." He sighs deep and we're two weak smiles made stronger by the sharing.

"He's all good."

Come morning, after the crop inspector leaves, I'm running a stunted wheat leaf through my fingers, veined life reaching for sun, and Farmer Husband's bending over a worn patch of earth.

"He says all we really need is one wheat shoot for every square foot. That's it."

"Really?" I can't envision it. Patches of the field look rubbed raw.

"Yeah, I know. It's hard to believe when you look at it. But he said he's seen it before like this. Just be patient and give it time and each stalk will stool out."

I scuff the bald earth. "Each shoot will fill in with more stalks?"

"That's what he said. It sure doesn't look great right now." He's counting out how many shoots every few feet. He straightens up.

"Give it a few weeks and she'll fill in, and he thinks we should get 80 to 90% of the yield." Farmer Husband's smiling, chuckling, believing the unexpected.

And I'm thinking about Ken and me and those who are cast offs. Some rough days with some kids I know. A bad life-patch that looks like it should be ripped up. People and hopes and love rubbed raw.

Maybe nothing in life is ever a write off? People. Relationships. Dreams.

What seems hopeless today may be flourishing tomorrow.
What appears barren from here may be yielding heavily up there.
What's rubbed raw may surprisingly fill in.

Farmer Husband digs his hands deep into pockets and grins. He's digging in for the long haul. "Looks like we won't give up on this field just yet."

Maybe that's all we all need.

Just a little time and space... and faith.

To let the miracle unfold.

Lord God... this despairing stretch that doesn't look like it can bear much good? What if I just gave You the time and space ... and faith... to yield the impossible?

Ah, a Mother's Day Treat for a Mother-to-be

Agh! So much on my mind right now.

First of all, what a wonderful mother's day. I have always loved celebrating my mom and more recently getting to include Rory's mom, too. Both of our moms went in this weekend and got Rory and I our dream stroller for Dia. I cried! But we also spent a lot of time laughing. When you think about it, it's pretty crazy that two home-school families who didn't know much other than Jesus, got together 16 years ago and just this weekend bought a stroller for their mutual granddaughter.

We've been sharing memories all weekend. I still remember the first time I met Rory. We were ten years old and his mom was hosting/teaching a home-school public speaking class. By God's clear direction, he brought my family to their house and the rest is history--literally. After the speech class, our families created a history co-op. They instilled so much Jesus in us so early on that not one project went by or one story read that they did not direct back to Him.

At 21, their two eldest children married. It was the single-most greatest day of my life. We recently watched the wedding video and laughed and cried.

And now, this Friday, we are celebrating 5 years of marriage with a little girl on the way. It brings such tears to my eyes! I know these past 5 years, not to mention the past 16, have been quite the ride for all of us. I know that a lot of the time, they thought we were crazy. And sometimes, we felt the same way about them! If the emotions of these past 5 years were to form a quilt, it would be more rich in color than anything our human eyes could fully appreciate.

As any of our friends know too well, we have not pretended even for a minute to have a perfect marriage. Just writing that makes me laugh! But it is so real and so genuine. It is so deep and so passionate. It so evidently our testimony and that is exactly what I want Dia to see in us--in her creation, is our testimony of the power of Jesus. There aren't words or time enough to fully explain all that has taken place over these past 5--and 16--years. But we think on it often. I think it's a big part of why we don't want to sell our home. It has been the setting for this powerful testimony.

There's the wall where I threw my Starbucks coffee at Rory (ah, yes, one of my finer moments). There's the floor where I sat and single-handedly cut up every single one of our wedding photos. There's the door that Rory punched a whole through. Oh yeah. It's been a rough ride.

There's the floor where we camped out our first night here--newlyweds with no possible way to undestand what we had just entered into.

There's the table where I bought Rory his favorite cereal and set up a mini-celebration for his first day at ASU. There's the kitchen where we dance together--a lot more now than before!

There's the wall where I scrubbed the coffee clean and the door that we patched up. Our home is such a physical representation of what we have been brought through.

For the past 3 years it has also been the setting for our Mother's Day brunch. What a joy it brings to my heart to have all of our sisters (and some boyfriends!), both of our dads and our two amazing mothers all at the same table. It is a testimony to the power of friendship, the bond of home-schooling and the love of Jesus. And yesterday, Rory surprised me with a seat of honor with two moms I am hardly worthy to sit with. And he had a letter (that I couldn't read out loud due to tears streaming, streaming down) and a jewelry set: a necklace, matching earrings and a beautiful vintage style right-hand ring--all in Dia's soon-to-be birthstone, Sapphire.

I have never owned such beautiful jewelry. And I have never been more at peace as Rory planned and prepared and hosted all of yesterday's festivities. I sat perfectly calm and perfectly honored as Rory set up everything just perfectly--from the table settings to the food to the cleaning. In years past I would be super nervous that he wouldn't know how to do things "just so." But he's been studying me and learning me and made yesterday better than I could have ever dreamed.

Thank you, Rory!

Thank you, Jesus!!!

Things I am Learning to Love About Pregnancy

Ok, well I have a perfect precious tiny sweet girl growing inside me. That is L-O-V-E that I can't even explain. But I'm learning to have a sense of humor with some of the other aspects. For instance:

1. If it's chilly out, I can warm up a room simply by walking around as my thighs create enough friction just brushing against themselves--at a campsite, I would probably require a license...

2. My knees, biceps (or lack thereof), bottom and everything else however have retained all fat that used to be more evenly distributed. When I run into something (as I often do without any balance), there's plenty of cushioning all over my figure to prevent any bruising.

3. I have a permanent shelf bra: my belly.

4. If anyone knows of a cat they'd like to have "put away," I have enough stretch marks that look as though a cat had attacked me to have anything with claws legally "put away."

5. My husband has never been more impressed with me: I can eat a veggie burrito, a bowl of "protein" cereal (Ezekiel brand), salad, a side of rice and beans and more and then be ready for dessert in about 5-10 minutes. He just sits back and stares in astonishment.

So basically it's a pretty sweet deal all around.

Fear, fear, fear, fear, fear, fear......

I'm turning it into a song (sung to the tune of a marching beat like The Ants Go Marching):

Fear, fear, fear, fear
Fear, fear, fear, fear

I am not proud, but it's become my mantra. I repeat it non-stop.

Fear, fear, fear, fear
Fear, fear, fear, fear

Ok, so I don't actually sing it. I have engaged more in living it. Yuck.

I write about all the things to fear and the reasons God calls us to be bold, and yet, last night I was terrified. I had a pain. It's in a very girly location so I won't offer TMI and describe it, but it scared me, so I googled it. I should know better by now, but I couldn't help it. The google results were anything less than comforting, so I cried myself to sleep and called the doctor in the morning.

She's a wonderful doctor/midwife. She asked me questions and took my concern seriously and then gave me very real reasons not to worry, but signs to watch for just in case.

I tell you this body is changing so much! When I first started to feel Dia move, I didn't know what it was! I immediately figured it was a ruptured placenta. See, the song had snuck in...

Fear, fear, fear, fear
Fear, fear, fear, fear

And to be honset, there ARE lots of things to be afraid of. I am watching my government change in scary ways. I got an email yesterday about parental rights and the threat the future may pose to home-schooling. Sometimes I figure that all Christians will be living more like the Jews in early Nazi Germany--marginalized into ghettos and slowly forced into concentration camps. I have had the actual thought that it doesn't matter how well Dia does in school because by the time she's old enough to go to college, we'll be wearing gold stars and on our way to the ghetto.

Fear, fear, fear, fear
Fear, fear, fear, fear

Last night, though, I was talking candidly to a wonderful woman whose miracle grandson was just born this last weekend. She said that when she was pregnant, she believed that the rapture would occur before her kids got old enough to go to college. But here we are, just fine.

She stopped me in my tracks. I've had that exact thought!

I think I found comfort in hearing her words. But then a few hours later, I googled. And the fear hit. My dear sweet kind loving best friend of the same name sent me texts of comfort and wisdom last night and I got a good night's sleep plus lots of reassuring belly kicks. Then this morning another dear sweet kind loving friend prayed words of power and faith over the phone. I wish I could live in the texts and that phone call. Actually, I think I am supposed to be living there--between the Word, the Holy Spirit and community.

I have learned a lot about the "tapes" that play in our head. From our nature and upbringing, our thoughts replay themselves over and over again in our head without any wisdom or discernment. They simply are. It's our job to learn to identify them and record over them. I am going to use my friends' words and the Holy Word to do just that.

Until "Fear, fear, fear, fear" becomes

Faith, faith, faith, faith.........

Do you know where it comes from? They do.

Rory and I are a little hyped-up. We are so stinking mad at the big corporations who are playing around with the very food we eat.

Some of the intentions are good. Certain companies have begun pursuing genetic modification of food in an attempt to stop world hunger. But, and I quote, "Hunger is not a technological problem." There is plenty of food--there's just a roadblock when it comes to distribution. Too many 3rd World governments will receive the money and aid and simply NOT DISTRIBUTE IT. To quote Mahatma Ghandi, "There is enough in the world for everyone's need. Just not for everyone's greed."

Other intentions are evil. Monsanto, a humongo chemical company, is currently buying up seeds. That's right--the US Supreme Court overruled the US Constitution to make it legal to buy, own and patent seeds (aka life)--"Whoever controls the seed, controls life." Monsanto, The Dow Chemical Company and Dupont (all major chemical companies) own about 85% of our seed/food supply. Monsanto has genetically modified their seeds to be "Roundup Ready"--meaning that the seeds contain the herbicide Roundup. Guess who owns Roundup? Monsanto. This "Roundup Ready" method is not to ease the cost of food, but increase the sale of Roundup. Scientific studies have shown that Roundup causes the first cellular growth of cancer. Monsanto, however, advertises Roundup as biodegradable and safe. They have a scary history of falsifying scientific information--including early findings on the toxic chemicals dioxin and pcb.

We are a little fired-up just thinking about this gross injustice. Food is critical for life.

Not to mention terrified what these kinds of modifications mean for our future.

There is hope, however. The only answer is to either grow your own food, or know your grower. The best and most convenient way I know to do this: farmer's markets. Unfortunately, greed still exists in farmer's markets, though, so be wary. Ask questions and get to know your grower. If it looks store bought, it very well could be. And chemical companies, like Monsanto, are working very hard to ensure that we never find out which items are GMO and which are not.

This summer, a new documentary will be hitting the theatres: Food, Inc. This film (although somewhat politically-driven.....and leaning heavily towards the Left) exposes one of our greatest threats: the future of our food. We don't know where our food comes from (unless you grow your own or shop farmer's markets) and wealthy companies are working hard to keep it that way. If things continue the way they are headed, soon all of our food will be owned and modified by companies like Monsanto.

So, shop your local farmer's market. If you can't afford organic today, there's a good chance you won't have any options left tomorrow. As a consumer, your dollar speaks volumes. Let these companies know where your support lies--with honest and decent growers!! As they say in the film, each time you run an item across the checkout, you are voting. "People have got to start demanding good, wholesome food. And I promise, we'll deliver." -Farmer quoted in the Food Inc. preview.

And, go see the film this June!

Here's the trailer

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mf4ZmfjyEvI&feature=related

A little more controversy

As you may have already guessed if you don't already know me too well, I like to dig deep. I like to question. I am motivated by discovering truth.

What really impresses me (and totally surprises me!) is that Jim Carrey and I seem to be alike in this manner. Below is a link to his article regarding vaccines. While I don't have a particular stance at this point (and certainly do not criticize anyone who does!), I endlessly appreciate his candor in his own research and feel that his search has a lot to offer us all. I find it extremely well-written and surprisingly neutral--that is, neither for or against vaccines directly, rather challenging our assumptions (which I think is almost always a very, very good thing!).

Here's a quote from his article that has me thinking:

"The truth is that no one without a vested interest in the profitability of vaccines has studied all 36 of them in depth. There are more than 100 vaccines in development, and no tests for cumulative effect or vaccine interaction of all 36 vaccines in the current schedule have ever been done. If I'm mistaken, I challenge those who are making such grand pronouncements about vaccine safety to produce those studies."

So, again, this is not to say that vaccines are/aren't safe. Rather, as parents, as adults, as educated humans, let's take responisbility for what we put into our kids' bodies and discover the BEST for them.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jim-carrey/the-judgment-on-vaccines_b_189777.html

The Weeping Prophet

Sometimes, deep in my soul, I feel akin to the weeping prophet (Jeremiah). He was weeping over the state of his city, his Jerusalem, his people, his God's chosen people.

I remember being very young (Jr. High?) and coming across my first images of famine in Africa. These black and white images blown to the size of a TIME magazine page of skeletal babies sitting in dust--actual age: ten years old. One image really made me mad (and I believe I still own it). This wealthy merchant walked up to a rice stand run by a starving family and stole a bag of rice. Tall and in white flowy gowns and a matching turban, the obviously wealthy and well-fed man didn't even look down at the skeletal frame of the little boy who reached his hand out to stop him but whose skeletal frame was too weak to get up to chase after the thief. Justice is so clear in that picture. So clearly not served.

I used to read The Economist and other foreign policy magazines to learn about national atrocities. I would take the most descriptive images and tear them from the magazine and tack it on my bedroom wall. This, I knew so deep in my heart, had to stop. Tack. Up on the wall they went until my room was nearly covered.

I look at marriages and families today with some of the same intense passion of justice not being served. Of women and men who lie about their marriages--first to themselves and then to the rest of the world. Of people afraid. Afraid to seek God's best? Of men who refuse to stand up, die to themselves and start leading the way by following in Christ's example.

I am now learning about childbirth in America. Suddenly, I feel like the rest of the world could be teaching us. "Even though the United States has the most intense and widespread medical management of birth--99% of women give birth in a hospital--we rank near the bottom among industrialized countries in maternal and infant mortality....According to the World Health Organization, we rank second to last among 33 industrialized countries in this regard and 30th for maternal mortality. Although we are superior in saving the lives of infants born severely premature, women are 70% more likely to die in childbirth in the United States than in Europe."

"In the countries with the best maternal and infant outcomes....the vast majority of laboring women get individual support from a midwife, are free to move about and birth in whatever position feels best, and are rarely induced, anesthetized, or cut" (Pushed, xv).

This is wrong. It's wrong that we have stigmatized birth and a woman's natural process of labor by declaring it a medical condition. It's wrong that we wreak our fear all over their bodies and force them to take great risks to protect the doctor's backs.

Don't even get me started on the food processes and toxic chemicals that NO OTHER country in Europe will even touch but that we hand out as safe because IT MAKES US MORE MONEY. Pesticides are poison!!!! I don't know how we can be so ignorant. If it kills the bugs, it CAN KILL US. And don't even get me started about the ridiculousness of fortified foods that MAJOR COMMERICAL CORPORATIONS pass off as "healthy."

"Selling salt is actually a side line for salt companies; they make most of their profits pulling out the minerals and selling them back to us through health food stores and to companies like Kellogg's that take a naturally healthy food, process the pee out of it (till it's worthless) and then add back some minerals and vitamins. The minerals come from the salt companies. This is called fortified food."

"For every gram of PTS (processed table salt) that your body cannot get rid of, your body uses twenty three times that amount of cell water to neutralize the salt. Eating PTS causes excess fluid in your tissues which can contribute to cellulite, arthiritis, and kidney stones."

Hey, but it comes in a nice, handy box! And the men who sell it say it's healthy--mmmmm, fortified! Must be good for us--the cartoon Tiger says so! These are the same type of men who we criticize for running companies like Enronr, AIG, etc. Come on, guys. THEY WIL SELL YOU ANYTHING!

We are poisoning our own people from the inside out.

It brings me to tears, to weeping. I want to scream. I used to want to move to the developing world to feed them myself. I used to want to get into politics. But slowly God started showing me that I am not the Holy Spirit. I can't make lasting change. Only He can change hearts and that's our real problem. I started to see that the greatest method to bring about change is genuine, transparent motherhood. Suddenly I want dozens and dozens of children.

Oh, the difference a year makes!

I sit here amazed at what a year can bring.

This last year brought unexpected blows to me personally. It all started five years ago--when I got married. Watching my wedding video last Valentine's Day, Rory and I both found ourselves emotionally impacted by how trusting, how joyful, how confident I was in Rory's hands. But as the next few years would show, Rory had no idea what to do with that. Little by little my confidence and joy and trust were thrashed. I found myself alone and hurting and crying--a lot. And he didn't know what was wrong with me. Even worse, I didn't know what was wrong with me.

I started to think and feel like I was going crazy.

Then we found the gospel of Jesus. Don't get me wrong--we were raised Christian and I knew Jesus intimately most of my life. But we hadn't heard much about how Jesus is supposed to behave at home. And by Jesus, I mean the husband, the spiritual leader, the stronger partner of a marriage who is called to love and walk in His likeness.

I remember a man asking me one day to name some emotions that Jesus caused me to feel. I hesitated and so he helped me. By the end I had a list that looked something like this:

safe
loved
important
accepted
cared for
heard
valued
respected
beautiful

And so on and so on. Just touching those wonderful emotions that Jesus causes me to feel brought me to tears. He then compared that list with how I was feeling at home: alone, hurt, neglected, unimportant, like a bother, etc. That list really hurt to talk about.

Then he looked at Rory and asked him if Jesus would make me feel the way he was making me feel. I was an emotional basket-case at this point.

This was the beginning of our realization that I wasn't crazy. I wasn't the problem at all. By getting married Rory took on a grave spiritual responsibility that few people in the world are truly aware of. He became the leader of my spirit. There was no way out of it. We were one (Ephesians 5:31). We were partners. I am the weaker, he is the stronger (1 Peter 3:7). He is the leader, I am the follower. He is the head, I am not (Ephesians 5:23). He is the Jesus, I am the church (Ephesians 5:25).

Suddenly, Scriptures I had read my entire life became alive. The living word of God spoke to us and applied to us. And began to change us.

These changes have literally taken years. We are having to re-learn our ways and our thoughts (Isaiah 55:8). And it has been hard. It is often misunderstood by the world and even the church.

But it works. I didn't always believe it would, but literally about four years into it, I felt my heart open up to Rory in a way I had never imagined and could have never manufactured. I wasn't loving him just because I married him, I found myself deep in love and respect for him out of his selfless care and love for me. I began to feel, literally in my very core, the things that I had once ascribed only to Jesus. Safe, loved, very important, etc.

It's why I can say that I get to live with Jesus. Rory has literally spent the last four years of his life learning to lay it down. For me!!! ME! Little old, used to be crazy, me. This kind of love blows me away. I can't tell you what it has done for me to have my husband's undivided attention, complete heart and whole understanding. We are truly one, now, in heart, mind and spirit. Something I never knew to imagine!

And I did nothing. Just like the gospel of Christ. He did it all. It humbles me more than you can ever know.

Cue the big blow of my heart. Last fall, Rory made a horrible decision and let a relationship with a mutual friend go too far. Nothing technically happened but he lied about it. And I felt like dying. He had opened his heart to another woman. And just when I had finally found faith in him. But again, he was the leader. He has full control over my spirit and he had spent that last four years learning to understand it (1 Peter 3:7). He acknowledged the pain, his horrible decision and learned how vulnerable he is. And somewhere in the middle of all that, all his years of work and self-sacrifice, appeared to me and convinced me deep in my heart that he loved me.

We still talk about that situation and thank the Lord regularly for what it taught us. And we are learning that there are lots of people who can relate to it.

A year or so ago, we had a miscarriage. But while I was still pregnant, I shared with Rory my heart in having a midwife help me give birth. Boy oh boy did he let me know how ridiculous that idea was! He shut me down so quickly that I knew not to bring it up again. His fear had crushed my spirit.

Here I sit, a year later and several major blows under my belt, and laugh. In sincere joy.

Now, as he has learned to value me and truly seek the Lord as he seeks to understand me, things are so different. Just last Sunday at Easter, Rory sat at his family's dinner table and explained in long detail about the birth process and the benefits of having a home-birth. Can you believe it?! I sat there, eating the delicious bar-be-que, listening to my husband share with his family how blessed he feels to be able to learn all about birth and to be able to have our baby at home. He talked about how talented and educated our midwife is and how important the birth environment is and so on. He has become my biggest champion. And I find myself becoming very quiet and humbled and beaming with respect in the process.

I am literally laughing out loud as I type. Oh boy. A year ago it was such a different story. And there are so many other stories we have as our testimony to the value of a husband truly taking up the call to love and live as Jesus--even in his very home.

It makes my heart shout, "The gospel of Jesus lives!" It's in my very home. I invite the whole world in to come, see, taste and feel the goodness of the Lord.

Sunday is coming...

This week feels like death week.

On Monday I got news that one of the spunkiest, most intelligent and confident women I have ever met, passed away just shy of her 94th birthday. My Great Aunt Edna lived in New York so I never got too close, but just hearing about the way everyone spoke of her and chatting with her a few years back when my grandpa died, kind of bonded me to her in a unique way that I don't even think she was aware of. I was sad on Monday but proud of her long life and strong legacy.

Yesterday was Rory's birthday (which is like a mini-holiday for me, too, because he's so much fun to play with on his birthday!) and in the middle of the movie we went out to see, he passed his phone over so that I could read an email from our Children's Pastor. One of the smartest and wildest little boys that I had known through Sunday school was killed in a car accident. Marco was in 2nd grade but we would always let him hang out with the 3rd-6th grade boys because I think it made him feel good about himself. I remember praying strong prayers for that boy. And I remember the strong prayers he would pray during class.

Today I found out that some dear family friends lost their father/grandfather in the wee hours of the morning. I didn't know him too well, but his passing is a definite loss in our family.

And all week long, being as it is Passion Week, I've been gearing up for the horrible Good Friday. I know, I know. Sunday is good news!! But I can't read His last words and last steps and not grieve.

I felt very sad on Monday (not directly because of my aunt's passing) and called Rory to ask him to come home early if he could just to be with me. For some reason he had already felt the need to go home early so he was on his way. When he got home I just cried and sat with him. I couldn't explain the melancholy.

Now I feel surrounded by it. It's not a depression, it's not even grief. Just sadness.

I remember being a young girl and hearing for the first time of someone I knew who had died. She was my grandma's roommate of sorts (she rented a room in my grandma's duplex). She had lived long and her death was not a shock--at least not to anyone else. But I remember hearing the news and telling my mom. Tears came without notice.

Death has always hit me hard.

So today I am mourning and honoring the lives of three amazing people and preparing my heart for the most powerful death of all time: Jesus'.

Rory and I are reading through Jesus' words and actions during Passion Week (we are using an amazing book I used in Bible school that blends all four of the Gospels to give a chronological telling of Jesus' life) and I am struck by his repetition of love, love, love, obey, obey, obey. It was on the night of the final Passover meal (Thursday) that He implored them to lose their lives for His sake. He talked of how the world cannot receive them (the apostles) because it could not receive Him. How the world hates them and Him because they are not of the world.

He also talks a lot about the coming kingdom--the end of this world and Satan's rule as we know it. This helps me a lot. This confirms that this world is home to no one who is His.

It's not that I grieve for their loss or even for ours. Death has clearly lost its sting and the grave its power. I don't believe for a second that death is not appointed or fitting.

But it is just so sad. I think of the Jews and the wailing wall and how openly and publicly and loudly they grieve (almost all of the Middle East grieves death very openly). And I feel akin to them. There is something healthy in acknowledging pain and grief--not living there, but being very present in it while it lasts.

So here I am, the day before Good Friday, feeling very, very present in death.

Sunday, come quickly!!