You can’t afford a baby.

Please read this post, a short-but-slightly-snarky response to Suze Orman, a financial adviser who recently told a couple that they couldn’t afford a baby, with its $700-1000 monthly expense.

I agree wholeheartedly with Connie, the author.

Having a baby in America CAN be expensive, but it doesn’t need to be.  I’ll never forget when I told a former neighbor that I was pregnant with my third and she sighed and said, “You’re so lucky.  I’d love a baby, but we just can’t afford it.”  It was all I could do to not let my jaw hit the sidewalk.  She and her husband lived — by themselves — in a 2500 s.f. house, had an RV, brand new vehicles, two ATVs, two Jet-skis, expensive mountain bikes, and who knows what else.  In other words, they could totally “afford” a baby if they got their priorities straight.  AND, yes:  it can be difficult and expensive if you have to have everything new and fancy and trendy, bottle feed, use childcare for when you go back to work at 6 weeks, and use disposable diapers.  But, heck.  Even name brand disposables will run you about $40-60/month.  NOT $700-1000.

Maybe this is inflammatory, but I also believe our American culture which values independence over community is partially to blame.  We’re disconnected from our extended families, we don’t root ourselves in a church family either, and we value income and material wealth over family.  Even things like baby showers and hand-me-downs are most often provided by our extended community, which we as Americans have less and less of.

Don't YOU need a $5768.89 crib??

I have a wooden cradle that is “making the rounds” between friends from church.  This DELIGHTS me.  I bought it for $40 from Craigslist, used it for my fifth baby (as I had given away a previous cradle), and now a third friend is about to use it for her her newborn, due in Feb. But, if you have to keep up with the Jones’ baby who had a $2,000 Bellini crib (or this $5,800 one!), you’re going to have a pricey infancy.  However, if you breastfeed, raise your own child, and don’t mind having used or hand-me-down things, it’s really quite inexpensive to raise a baby.

EDITED TO ADD:  One other thing… (can you tell this has struck a nerve???) I’m not suggesting that selling baby things is wrong, but I have learned that you get back what you give — sometimes literally, sometimes from elsewhere.  I have given away cribs, strollers, swings, clothes, countless other baby items, partly because I saw someone in need, and partly because I thought I was “done” with having children.  But, whatddya know??  It has ALL COME BACK to me. I have, in return, been given cribs, clothes, toys, slings — I don’t use swings anymore! — everything I need for a baby, when I did have need.  My youngest is three and the goods still keep pouring in.  Someone just gave us three bags of virtually brand-new girls toys — voila! Christmas for my 3 and 5yo girls. Whether you call it karma or attribute it Luke 6:38, or whatever, if you give, you will receive.  We are a panicked, hoarding society, and often fail to recognize that if we are generous, we’re going to be provided for.

More garden stuff, including a little seed giveaway… (plus, any takers for an online/e-mail natural birthing class??)

I promise that there is more of note going on in my life than just my garden, but since I have such a nice pic, I thought I’d post another garden update.

One other thing I wanted to mention, though (buried, here in the garden post) is that I’m thinking about making my birthing class notes available as an online/correspondence/something-like-that birth class.  Anyone interested?  I can e-mail you the PDF of the first class (of six, total) as a preview.  I would send copies of each week’s class, one at a time.  I highly suggest that you take two weeks to go through each class’s material and homework, because there is a LOT of info!  And, for full disclosure, the classes are really geared to married Christian couples, but I’m thinking about editing them to be more appropriate for other… uh… demographics.  The basic idea of them is to show the wonder and amazing, kind plan of our Creator God in the process of birth — so that the mom would birth, filled with that wonder, and eager to participate fully in His transformational intentions for her… and that there would be NO FEAR in birth.  If anyone is interested, I will take on three student couples for $40 each, and you can help me work out any communication kinks that may need fixing.  Beta test, if you will.    ANYONE can have a free copy of the first class’s notes, though.  karenjoy@onlysometimesclever.com

OK.  Back to this day’s regularly scheduled garden post:

This was yesterday’s harvest:  Red chard, green beans (I found more hiding under the red chard after the picture), two dinky tomatoes, and two Dragon carrots.

The carrots would have benefited from another week or two in the ground.  The packet says that they should mature in 70-90 days, and they’ve been in the ground more than 120 days!!  Things grow more slowly in the winter growing season here… less sunlight.  But, sheesh!  Mature already!!  They’re lovely carrots, though.

My tomatoes are thriving.  I’ve harvested a dozen or so in the last couple weeks, though it doesn’t look like any will be red and ready for Thanksgiving.    There are probably 200+ tomatoes growing on my plants, but the bad news is that they’re all about one ounce “big”.  Teeny tiny.  Bigger than cherry tomatoes, but not by much!  I bought my seeds from Native Seeds/SEARCH, which is a fabulous, to-be-esteemed organization for growing, promoting, and selling native and heirloom seeds that do well in the Arizona desert.  However, the Native Seeds’ description of my Punta Banda tomatoes neglected the mention the size, and I neglected to notice the lack of description.  Here, on another site, they’re listed as cherry tomatoes.

My basil plants just won’t die.  Not that I really want them to, but when I add basil to any dish I’m making, I must confess that I use my basil-and-olive-oil “ice cubes” from the freezer.

Fiala, my three-year-old, ran off with a packet of carrot seeds and a packet of onion seeds a few weeks ago.  It is now clear where she planted them, as there are about one hundred carrot sprouts in about a one square foot area of my garden, onions sprouting in the gravel (leading me to think about the parable of the sower), and a sprinkling of onions and carrots in other less-than-ideal spots.    Precious, rascally girl.

I hope my garlic has lovely, round, purple blooms like this!!

I have one Mexican grey squash plant that is hanging on…  Broccoli that is sprouting (not too vigorously, though, and I think the birds like the sprouts), green onions that are slowly but beautifully growing, mystery volunteer tomato plants that are starting to flower and bear new, tiny fruit…  I planted some garlic cloves, too, and they’re coming up beautifully.  I love garlic and we eat a TON, but I’m kind of planting them for their flowers.  My green beans (Yoeme Purple String Beans, to be exact) are still hanging on, though I’m only harvesting about 1/4 – 1/2 pound every week from four largeish bamboo teepees.  I have set aside 33 seeds that would be good for planting, and will give them to the first taker who mails me a self-addressed, stamped envelope, if you wanna give them a shot!  Again, e-mail if interested.

My tomatillos are fairly pointless.  I have 1/2 gallon of teeny tiny tomatillos in my fridge, waiting to see if I will make salsa out of them for Thanksgiving.  I guess I should take them out of the refrigerator and let the husks dry all the way…  I’m fairly disgusted with how much space those giant plants took up, compared to the tiny fruit.    I started pruning the bushes WAY back, in hopes that the roots and stalks would super-charge the remaining tomatillos and make them grow big, but no such luck.  After Thanksgiving, I do believe I will just pull them out, amend the soil, and plant more broccoli, and maybe some cauli and rutabagas.

Now that I have a fruitful garden, I can’t imagine even NOT having one.  I pray I will continue to learn, and that my little plot of ground will continue to produce.

And, that’s it!  For today.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers, if I get overwhelmed by cleaning and baking and cooking and don’t make it back to the blog before then. 

Embracing the pain (sort of)

If you’re here for the recipes, you may just wanna skip this post.

The more I think about it — and I’m thinking about it a LOT lately — there are so many incredible parallels between natural childbirth and our walk in relationship with our Creator.

Something that has been percolating through my thoughts is the idea put forward in this verse:

To the woman He said,
“I will greatly multiply
Your pain in childbirth,
In pain you will bring forth children…” (Genesis 3:16a)

There is the idea floating about, in some Christian circles that a woman just MUST birth in pain;  it’s part of the price she pays for the fall of man, the sinful nature, the original sin of Adam and Eve, et al.

I’m not saying that childbirth is or even should be 100% pain-free — though I’ve heard of pain-free births, I’ve not experienced any.

HOWEVER.  I think the focus on the pain misses the point.

In Christ, there is never purposeless pain.  GOD DOESN’T JUST HURT US TO HURT US.  Ever.  I’m not saying that God’s ways are entirely pain-free.  Until we get to heaven, there simply IS going to be pain, as part of our lives here in on earth.  However, our God isn’t sitting up there in heaven saying, “You’re in pain?  You deserve it.  Ha ha.  Part of the Fall, baby!!  It’s the price you pay.”

Every trial we endure — no matter what kind — even if not directly ordained by God (though some are!), can ALWAYS be ultimately beneficial for us as His children.  Always.  God isn’t a masochist.  The pain He allows us to go through will — if we submit to His ways and if we’re intent on gaining HIM in the process — produces a “harvest of blessing” if we don’t try to opt out of the trial, or circumvent His process, seek a shortcut, or try to… self-medicate, rather than lifting our heads to look squarely in His face and say to Him, “What are you trying to teach me, Father?”  If, instead, during difficult times, we yield completely to Him, and allowing Him to teach us, to bring us closer to His heart, to — for our own benefit — prune sin or dysfunction or destructive behavior from our lives, we’re ALWAYS better off in the end.  His ways have an end, and the end is GOOD.

He disciplines those He loves.  I’m not suggesting that birthing a child is discipline or God correcting us…  But the experience of birth can DEFINITELY be used by Him to perfect us in His love — our experience of His love for us, our love for our husband, our love for our newborn, our love as a family, our love for Him…

I posted recently on I John 4:18a (NASB) “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear…”  But, I want to take this a step further.  I know that the Amplified Version makes for awkward reading, but hang with me here:

There is no fear in love [dread does not exist], but full-grown (complete, perfect) love turns fear out of doors and expels every trace of terror! For fear brings with it the thought of punishment, and [so] he who is afraid has not reached the full maturity of love [is not yet grown into love's complete perfection].  I John 4:18 (AMP)

What I suggest, and what the very end of the Amplified Version of this verse is saying is that, when we walk in fear of punishment (i.e., God is out to get us, God just wants to hurt us because we have it coming to us), that perspective is based out of a lack of understanding of His love.  “…he who is afraid has not reached the full maturity of love.”

GOD LOVES US.  He really does.  And when we see birthing as an extension of His love — even when it involves pain — and instead of being afraid of the pain, choose to embrace His process, and trust Him completely, we will then reap the fruit.  In terms of natural childbirth, the “fruit” doesn’t just refer to the baby, but (among other benefits):

• Feeling profoundly grateful to Him
• Closer to our husband and more appreciative of him
• In awe of our Father God’s creative power working through us
• An overwhelming experience in delighted love
• A profound sense of a job well-done
• Optimal physical health (natural birthing is better for both mother and baby)
• Creating an amazing experience for EVERYONE who witnesses or participates in the birth
• And a billion other things, most of which you could not anticipate or appreciate beforehand, but just have to experience to believe and understand.

In short (or, shortish), PLEASE don’t just brace yourself for pain and think that pain is just “meant to be”.  Embrace the process, even if the process involves pain.

Next up (as soon as I can get it written down, in my spare time between tending to my home, homeschooling four of my five children, baking the perfect gluten-free loaf… ):  why just “getting through” labor short-sells you as a mother.

 

Perfect love…

I had a thought yesterday that had me trippin’!

I absolutely adore it when I make a discovery or read something where science supports the Bible.  Add that to the science of birthing, and it nearly had me hyperventilating with excitement.  (I know, I get excited about weird things.)

Let’s see if I can explain my logic:

I was thinking about how, during the time when a woman is in labor with a baby, it’s really beneficial to completely banish fear, to have a 100% fear-free birth.  This is because fear releases adrenaline and noradrenaline (or epinephrine and norepinephrine), which triggers the “fight or flight” response.  These “fight or flight” hormones are also the polar opposite, endocrinely speaking, of oxytocin;  adrenaline pretty much negates the action of oxytocin:   adrenaline will “inhibit oxytocin production, therefore slowing or inhibiting labor“.  Oxytocin is a beneficial hormone released during labor that empowers contractions, enables breastfeeding, helps the mother to feel loved and to feel love towards her baby, and strengthens mother-child bonds.  Anything a mother can do to feel at ease, to feel protected, to feel loved and well-cared-for while birthing enables her to birth in such a way where her body is not fighting against the mechanisms of the birthing process, and enables her to feel better, all around.  In other words, it becomes a reciprocal process:  A mother feels loved and safe, so oxytocin is released.  That oxytocin, in return, enables the mother to feel even more at ease and calm.  “The baby also has been producing increasing amounts of oxytocin during labor;  so, in the minutes after birth, both mother and baby are bathed in an ecstatic cocktail of hormones.“

Healthy birth, the way God created it, is a fear-free experience.

In other words, “perfect love casts out fear.”

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.  I John 4:18 (NKJV)

Drawing by Cindy O. Used with her permission.

Housework! Summer soup! Beef jerky! Computer viruses!

• Fourteen upper cabinets.  Twelve lowers.  Fifteen drawers.  All cleaned, inside and out, sorted and re-organized.  Plus, as they don’t go all the way to the kitchen ceiling, the tops are cleaned off, as well as all the decorative items that reside up there.  ~sigh~  That is a sigh of exhaustion.  And relief.  In our nearly six years of living here, I have never done all of the kitchen cabinets in one fell swoop.  It had been nagging at the back of my brain daily, each time I took something out of a cabinet and saw an accumulation of crumbs, dust, and/or greasy grime.  Note:  Gel Gloss looks fabulous for about ten minutes, but then that gleaming shine washes off super-easily with soap and water!  Not great for quartz countertops in a kitchen that gets regular abuse use.  Bummer.  Anyone have a favorite stone countertop product they love??
• Have you ever tried my Thai Chicken Noodle Soup?  I just updated the recipe.  I can’t believe it’s been almost four years since I originally posted the recipe.   The soup –  more of a meal-in-a-bowl than an actual soup — is a staple in our home, even in summer.  Lots of fresh veggies, tasty and fun.  Mmmm…
• I turned seven pounds of London Broil into beef jerky the other day.  Smoky-garlic and soy-garlic.  It’s in preparation for our vacation.  Jerky comes in handy for snacks and meals-while-driving, as well as made into various recipes (which I learned from this fabulous cookbook for hikers/campers — it’s a shame it’s out of print!  One review says “Invaluable!  Wore out library copy — had to buy my own.”  That is exactly what I did!!)…  Anyway.  What wasn’t fit for jerky got put into a pot of what was supposed to be red chile stew.  Which it was, sort of.  But, I got enticed by a Really Big package of dried chile de arbol at the grocery store last week, and thought, “Oooh, those are the chiles in Cholula [my fave hot sauce],” and I bought it, really knowing nothing about them.  Well, it turns out they are REALLY HOT.  I removed the stems, seeds, and… pith (or whatever it’s called), and my hands burned for hours, even though I think I only used five chiles.  Also, the broth was SO HOT that I had to scoop out all the beef chunks and — sadly — drain the broth, which seemed like such a waste, but I knew if I kept it as it was, it would be inedible for my kids.  I added water to cover the remaining beef (to which some crushed chile still clung), added a chopped onion, sea salt, and about eight cloves of chopped garlic.  After it had simmered for nearly three hours, I thickened the cooked-down broth with some corn starch, and served it with some Spanish rice (which I had made earlier in the week) and some refried beans (from Trader Joe’s — my favorite).  It was good.  Still, lesson learned:  very judicious use of chile de arbol in the future.
• My computer contracted a nasty virus, somehow, a few weeks ago.  It died.  Actually, it would power up, but Windows wouldn’t start.  The virus was called Windows Repair Module, which — obviously — was a fake.  How insidious.  I kept getting warnings from Windows, and it turns out that each time I clicked the “OK” button, I was unknowingly activating the .exe file associated with various aspects of the virus.  A friend of my husband’s took my hard drive home with him and worked on it every night for four nights.  He was able to pull most of my documents and pictures (THANK GOD!  I cried when I thought they were unretrievable), and save them to an external hard drive.  Then, he reformatted my hard drive.  Now, I just have to load a bunch of software that got wiped out… but that’s OK.  I then thanked my oldest son, Ethan, who will be 14 later this week.  Why?  Because “…with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”  Ethan worked a hot and hard day at the home of a friend, laying tile and cleaning…  and with that measure of service and giving, it was returned to us, in the form of a repaired computer.
• If you’re still reading… today is my birthday.  I am 38.    The only thing I really love about growing older is the history, the perspective that it brings to my life.  I freak out less, because I can say, “Look.  We had that really rough patch five years ago, and God brought us through.”  When I was younger, everything was new and untested, and every challenge threatened to topple me.  Now, I’ve had years of tasting God’s goodness, and seeing His faithfulness first-hand.  To me, that’s a really, really valuable birthday present.

So, maybe He wasn’t trying to kill me after all…

When I was 27 years old I was fairly certain God was trying to kill me.

I was reminded of this upon recently reading about an old acquaintance’s plans to adopt a baby after two birth children, but not perhaps as you might initially be thinking as you read this account of the hardest season in my married life — a season that lasted, oh, about five years.

Reading the adoption-plan story also made me consider my standard response to the numerous people who ask me whether or not my husband and I are having more children.  For a canned response, perhaps it falls under the category of “TMI”, but it encapsulates my thoughts on the subject,  “Well, we’re not planning on it, but we’ve done nothing permanent to prevent pregnancy, nor will we do anything permanent, and two of our five were conceived when we weren’t ‘planning on it’, so you never know what God has in mind.”

Back to when I was 27:  I had a one-year-old boy and my oldest son was three.  My second son had been a surprise:  I had decided, after one, that one was more than enough, and I privately extended grace to all the mothers of “only children” over whom I had stood in judgment.  I also — seriously — asked the Father for forgiveness for my wrong attitude, rooted in abject ignorance, over how difficult mothering is, and how one child can truly feel like plenty — very fulfilling.   So, there I was with my two boys, and daily, I felt like I was barely, barely, barely keeping my nose above water.  Literally, every day, I felt like I was drowning, only to just survive another day.

Then, I found out that I was pregnant again.

I remember laying on my back on the floor of the family room one night, early in the pregnancy, after everyone else — including my husband — had gone to bed.  I was weeping, laying it all out there before God, in ugly and brutal and heartbroken honesty.  I told him that I was sorry I didn’t want the pregnancy, sorry that I was having great difficulty accepting His choice for me, sorry that I was even having those thoughts, and so on…  I had to lay there  — a position of my choice, being entirely vulnerable, before Him –  and in all seriousness, confess to Him that if He was intending for this to literally kill me, that He was going to have to help me trust Him on that, too.  It was just… too far beyond me to consider that this pregnancy, and the resulting baby, could be for my benefit at all.  So, I considered that maybe that God wanted that baby’s life so dearly, for such a specific and important purpose, that He would need to sacrifice mine in order to bring that little one into existence.  I’m not being melodramatic.  I was completely serious, and that was the best I could come up with:  That the baby needed to be alive, even if it killed me.  Even if God killed me.  “Though [You] slay me, yet will I trust in [You]…” reverberated in my mind, alternated with, “Lord, I believe;  help my unbelief!“

Feminism, marketing, raising little girls, plus a bit of homeschooling

From the couple of articles I’ve read, and the excerpt of her book, I can tell I’m not nearly as feminist as Peggy Orenstein.  But, I still put her brand-new book, Cinderella Ate My Daughter:  Dispatches from the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture, on hold at the library.  We seem to think very similarly, at least on some things.  In one article, Orenstein recounts how her daughter’s tastes radically and immediately changed, upon entering “preschool” at the age of two, discarding her formerly beloved pin-striped overalls and love of Thomas the Train and taking on a new, rabid adoration of pink tulle and Disney Princesses.  For now, let’s skim past the part where people feel compelled to SCHOOL THEIR CHILDREN AT THE AGE OF TWO, to the part where marketing and peer pressure have so adversely affected our society that our two-year-olds reject their “first loves” in lieu of what’s being shoved down their teensy throats by Madison Avenue!

You think I exaggerate?  I do not, fair reader!  It starts even earlier than that!!!

Late last month, the company quietly began pressing its newest priority, Disney Baby, in 580 maternity hospitals in the United States. A representative visits a new mother and offers a free Disney Cuddly Bodysuit, a variation of the classic Onesie.

In bedside demonstrations, the bilingual representatives extol the product’s bells and whistles — extra soft! durable! better sizing! — and ask mothers to sign up for e-mail alerts from DisneyBaby.com.

The above excerpt is from a New York Times article dated February 6, 2011, my emphasis added.

Another disturbing tidbit:

Disney estimates the North American baby market, including staples like formula, to be worth $36.3 billion annually. Its executives talk about tapping into that jackpot as if they were waging a war. “Apparel is only a beachhead,” said Andy Mooney, chairman of Disney Consumer Products.

For those who may wonder about Disney’s intentions to further infiltrate your home,

Beachhead:

1. A position on an enemy shoreline captured by troops in advance of an invading force.

2. A first achievement that opens the way for further developments; a foothold.

I am stridently opposed to marketing directly to children.  I praise the likes of my cousin, Romney, who has campaigned to rid her own preschooler’s school of its McDonald’s affiliation, in which the school receives money in exchange for “events” where children attend mandatory pep rallies with Ronald McDonald, and are given Happy Meals, all without parental consent, all built into the school day.  (And people wonder why homeschooling school days are so short.  Why, because we actually LEARN STUFF during our school day — apparently trivial, outdated stuff like math, and literature, and grammar, and history — and don’t attend baldfaced marketing sessions given by the McDonald’s corporation!!  But, I digress.)

Well, maybe I’m not digressing.  One of the unintended benefits of homeschooling is that my children feel much more free to develop into the people God made them to be.  They’re not mocked (at least, not regularly!) for their interests, nor pressured away from something — anything, be it their Christianity, to their choice of clothes! — just because The Herd does not endorse it.

So.  I’m sure Orenstein, in her book, is not trying to make a case for homeschooling.  But, since that’s a passion in my heart, I can’t help but see that part of the problem might be the pressure to place our children in preschools as early as the tender age of two, schools which aren’t so much a center for real learning, but a hotbed of social conformation, where our wee ones are unknowingly being sucked up into the “invading force[s]” of the likes of Disney Baby!

ALL OF THAT SAID…  Part of me is really pleased that my four year old, Audrey, feels very free to be a girl.  I was startled when she began exhibiting true girlie-girl behavior — coyly flirting with Daddy and having a passion for shoes — before she could even crawl!!  And, I’m glad to give her a home in which she feels confident in her super-girliness.

Just this morning, I laughed delightedly over the Pillow Princess she made.  Onto the floor, she laid a (hand-me-down) Disney Sleeping Beauty dress-up dress, under which she placed various throw pillows, to give it a plumped-out appearance.  Another pillow, fringed, formed the Pillow Princess’s head, onto which she placed an Ariel tiara (also hand-me down), and cut-outs, made from white paper, colored with Crayons, which formed the eyes, nose, and very pink mouth.

There’s a fine line there…  I know I’m treading it with care, trying to give my daughters the freedom to express their femininity — even if it does include an excess of pink frilly stuff! — without exposing them to so much marketing that they feel like they’re “supposed” to love Disney Princess, and they need to discard anything not-pink.

~sigh~

Training pants duke it out. Easy Ups win.

Reasons I’m liking Pampers Easy Ups more than Huggies Pull-Ups (and no, no one is paying me for this post.  Ad-free blog, remember?):

1. NO easy-open sides.  Fiala, who is 27 months old, and not able to “hold it” when she sleeps, was having a fabulous time, during nap and nighttime, removing her jeans (or whatever) and Pull-Up via its easy-open sides.  Just like velcro.  Rrrriiiipp! Easy Ups don’t open like that.  Whew!
2. Cheaper.  Pampers Easy Ups are less expensive.  Occasionally, I had a $2 coupon which took away a bit of the sting when I bought Pull-Ups, or I could buy a store-brand version of them.  But, on my last trip to the store, Easy Ups — with no coupon — were cheaper than even the Target/store brand of Pull-Ups!
3. More appropriate marketing.  I’m not a huge fan of Dora the Explorer, for a multitude of reasons, but I’m even LESS a fan of Disney Princess.  Actually, I’m even LESS LESS LESS of a fan of marketing to toddlers, but if I’m going to have to put up with some marketing, I’d rather have Dora on my toddler’s training pants than Disney Princess.  Way more age-appropriate.
4. Softer finish.  Both the exterior and interior of Easy Ups are softer, and just have a nicer finish to them.
5. They smell better.  Actually, Easy Ups smell just like Pampers, and I try not to think about how that scent is chemically-produced — nothing natural about Easy Ups, I’m sure! — and scent generally is not high on my list of reasons to buy something.  But, it’s a small factor.

We’re only going through 2-3 Easy Ups daily, but as I write this, I realize I still have some cloth diaper stuff… Maybe I could try that, instead, when we next run out of Easy Ups.

 

Not in order of importance

• Wish I lived in Minneapolis!  Well, not really, but if I did, I would DEFINITELY be going to this:  A Procraftinator’s Delight, hosted by one of my favorite bloggers.
• When I was in the process of choosing which college to attend, I automatically disqualified any whose promotional literature had misspellings, glaring grammatical errors, sloppy art layout, etc.  With that in mind, one might be leery of a website called The Best Colleges when it publishes articles rife with the same.  Still.  This article, The World’s 15 Most Extraordinary Homeschoolers, is well worth a read.  Tim Tebow?  Who DOESN’T know he was homeschooled?  The Jonas Brothers?  Knew that, too.  But Condoleezza Rice?  Francis Collins (the evangelical Christian and renowned scientist, appointed by Obama, no less, to be director of the NIH)?  The list is inspiring and profoundly interesting.
• 

  The lift pin assembly

  Weird things make me feel old.  Yesterday, it was the fact that my pressure cooker apparently needs some parts replaced, the gasket and lift pin assembly.  Why does this make me feel ancient?  Because these parts are made of rubber, which becomes brittle (and ineffective) with AGE.  ~sigh~  Finding out that these parts would cost me $21 plus shipping made me a wee bit upset.  Doing some searching to find out that

  • a) a replacement pressure cooker would run me upwards of $50, and
  • b) doing some price comparisons online would save me $10 or so (from here) made me feel slightly better about my purchase.  I still feel old, though.
• I am THRILLED to report that Fiala is doing much better. The infection on her face is gone, though it’s having a hard time clearing up, as she keeps scratching the still-healing spots.  The bed situation that I wrote about a week ago or so finally came to pass;  I set up both girls in their new beds yesterday — Audrey in her new-to-us twin bed, and Fiala in the toddler bed that used to be Audrey’s.  Fiala fell out of bed once last night, in spite of a guard rail, and she did not nap well — well, didn’t nap at ALL — in her new bed yesterday, but that was really due to the visit of our beloved nephew Nick and his darling girlfriend PLUS it being a new bed PLUS us working on potty-training PLUS her having diarrhea every 10-15 minutes because of horrid Augmentin due to her ear infection.  I don’t think I wrote about that.  Her eardrum burst on Friday.  Apparently, the bacteria which caused it were not covered by the antibiotics that she’d already been on for more than two weeks.  In spite of the fact that the Solaray BabyLife probiotics that we have for her contain rice maltodextrin, and she’s previously demonstrated that rice is an allergy problem for her wee body, I had decided that an eczema outbreak from the maltodextrin was the lesser of two evils, even though her skin is finally starting to clear up from the six weeks?  two months? of outbreak that she’s suffered through.  ANYWAY.  I was remarking to a friend that the “good news” from her having diarrhea is that it seemed to be giving her a greater awareness of her… elimination process, of which she was blissfully unaware, which made potty-training heretofore impossible.  We’re not all the way there yet with toilet adeptness, but we’re getting there.  I have hope.
• Having local gluten-free friends ROCKS.  These may seem minor to most of you, but I am so thankful for:
  • a neighbor, whom I “met” through the Phoenix Celiac Yahoo group (and subsequently discovered we live a couple of streets away from each other), dropped off a darling little box of goodies:  three truffles, some oat-almond candy crunch, a mini pumpkin pie, and a mini cheesecake.  Usually, treats received from loving friends and well-meaning neighbors receive wistful glances from me, as I give them to my two gluten-eating children, Ethan and Grant.  I can’t recall ever having something dropped off to our home where I could eat every single thing.  I meant to only sample the goodies, but, I confess, I schnarfed down ALL of them.
  • Last night, at the grocery store, I called my friend Kim.  We live across town from each other, but she feels closer.    Even though she was sick, the poor raspy-voiced thing, we chatted about teff and millet, and grinding our own grain, and what grain works well in which application, etc.  She looked up some stuff online for me, as I shopped.  I had a goofy grin the whole time, because it is SO NICE to be able to just pick up the phone and talk with someone about things that are akin to a foreign language to most people…
• I am thankful for:  At least $300 in new or nearly-new jeans, given to me by my sweet friend, Brenda, who had been given them by her sister.  Her sister had recently lost a lot of weight, and now, two pairs of Lucky jeans, a pair of Guess jeans, and five or six other pair, are now nestled happily in my drawer.    I’m set.  That’s a good thing for me, because I wear jeans virtually every day of my life.  I have to lose more weight for some of them to fit better, but that’s a good thing, right?  Motivation.

Why I’m weathering the storm better this time (and: Restoration)

About a year ago, I was pretty despondent over Fiala’s health.

I’m doing much better this now, in spite of the fact that she’s had her worst month of 2010.

Fiala is now on the tail end (bless God) of about four weeks of a really bad outbreak.  She’s still on Septra;  we have another week or so to go with that;  I’m so happy, though, that she’s really turning the corner, and the infection is abating, and her skin, body-wide, is healing.

When listening to my pastor Dennis’ message yesterday (http://www.vcfphoenix.com/message.html, the December 5th one), I realized that one of the biggest reasons that I’m weathering this “episode” so much better this time is directly related to something he said:  Thankfulness while IN a dilemma releases God’s activity. And, even if my dilemma doesn’t get better, if God just SHOWS UP, then it’s OK.

That is something that some other sweet sisters in Christ had encouraged me in, months ago…  In spite of their teaching/correction/kicking me in the rear, it took me several months to pull out of the pit of feeling like perhaps God didn’t love my little girl enough (or something that would keep Him from healing her).  This time around, I’m not even tempted to go there.  Or, if I am tempted, it passes quickly, because I don’t give that line of thought the time of day.  I don’t let myself think that.  I rest in His sovereignty;  He can choose to heal her, but if He doesn’t, I will still trust in God my Father.

I’m definitely still praying for her healing, but more than that, I just want the Holy Spirit’s activity and presence in our home, and in her body and her life.

Other things that are happening:

• A dear friend had a dream that Fiala’s reactions were not caused by food at all, but from a small animal in her bed.  She wrote to me, not suggesting that I take the dream literally… but, completely unbeknownst to her, I had noticed that Fiala seems to get WORSE upon sleeping/resting in her bed, and I had already theorized I thought maybe her mattress was infested with something, and we should get a new mattress.  The one we have is a second-hand mattress, and not in very good shape, though I rather rationalized that it would be OK since we use a waterproof pad each time, under the sheet.  So, we’re working on the mattress thing.  (She doesn’t have a new one yet, though.)
• Also, I realized that her clothes are bothering her — pretty much the only place she’s not broken out right now is in her diaper area.  My husband Martin is having a similar reaction in his sock area — everything covered by his dress socks has been itchy, and he’s had a sandpapery rash there, very similar to Fiala’s.  I have been making my own laundry detergent for the last year+, and cannot think of anything in the ingredients that might be anything other than innocuous except, perhaps, the soap itself.  I use Kirk’s Castile, which is made from saponified coconut oil.   I know Fiala has problems with anything palm-related, so perhaps even though it’s gone through the chemical process to make it soap, it’s still giving her problems.  So, this weekend, I went out and got All Free & Clear and am washing all our clothes (and re-washing her clean clothes) in that, plus a half cup of baking soda, and an extra rinse with 1/2 cup vinegar.  Last night was the first night she was in newly washed pajamas and bedclothes, and she woke up looking significantly better this morning.   Coincidence? Perhaps.   But, I’m just trying to do every little bit that may help, considering environmental things, as well as food.
• And, I read recently (in my Clean Eating mag) that larger-than-USRDA-doses of Vitamin D have been shown to improve/resolve health issues, especially those related to the immune system.  So, I have my son Wes* and Fi on 2000 IU daily. We’re just on the third day of that, and I’m uncertain, of course, if it’ll have any positive effect, and how long it’ll take.  But… I felt like I had to try.

Unrelated, really, other than that the above song has ministered mightily to me in the last month:  A couple of months ago, I suggested to my hubby, Martin, that our church’s worship team learn the song Restoration (written by Clay Edwards, led above by David Brymer and Clay’s sister, Misty).  He didn’t go for it.  Then, a couple of weeks ago, he borrowed my oldest son’s MP3 player, so he could listen to music while doing yard work.   I had loaded the song (weeks ago, for Ethan) onto the player.   Shortly after the yard work was done, Martin had pulled up the chords… and he’s been playing it periodically over the last couple of weeks.  Hehehe!

While preparing my set list for small group last week, I came across the chart for the song, and played it several times, just to “warm up”.  Guidelines for small group worship leaders are that song introductions should be rare;  we would rather do songs that the people in the group know and can easily worship to.  But, I called my friend Sheila to see if she’d be going to small group that night (she was) and did she know Restoration (she did) and would she sing along, if not otherwise engaged, if I led a bit of it during ministry time, after the main worship set (she would).  So, that was the plan.

It’s hard to explain what happened during worship and ministry-that-wasn’t-normal-ministry time.  Worship, in my estimation, didn’t go fabulously.  It seemed like many were distracted, and people weren’t really engaging God.  It’s my job, as a worship leader, to facilitate that.  I can’t make God show up, but I can sure invite Him, and help pave the way for people to engage. So, I was a wee bit bummed out.  Only a wee bit, though, because appearances can be deceiving, and I didn’t know for certain what was going on, and I just continued to lead us in worship.  After worship, we had a time of prophetic ministry, and the Holy Spirit just poured out a bunch of words through lots of people for lots of people.  The small group leader just had everyone gather in the center of the room, and asked me to just play over everyone, which I did, praying all the while.  Then, I started playing Restoration… and the Holy Spirit fell, even more.  It was just what everyone needed.  It seems like God wanted me to play that song, on that day, at that time, not months ago, when I wanted my hubby to teach it to the team.  Everyone learned it quickly, and sang it wholeheartedly.  It was His timing, and I wasn’t even aware of it!!

So, anyway.  Equally unknown to me was that Martin planned to teach it to the team that coming Sunday (yesterday).  He did.  Practice was wonderful.  We just sang and played and worshiped.  I abandoned the vocals and picked up an acoustic, just because I wanted to play it.  I wanted to express that song with more than just my voice.  (I don’t play guitar on the regular worship team;  I just sing.)  Martin invited me to change guitars to one that was amplified.  (He was playing electric.)  At one point, he told me not to strum so hard;  I don’t know how he can keep himself from NOT strumming hard when a song gets intense!  So, that took a little concentration, to not play so hard, even when the song built dynamically.  Hehehehe!   In sixteen years of being on the church’s worship team, I don’t think I’ve ever played acoustic, plugged-in, during a practice.  Maybe once previous.  It was fun.

So, I guess to tie those two lines of thought together:  I am encouraged that — even when I’m not 100% aware of it — I am growing.  I’m following the Holy Spirit.  I’m becoming more teachable (historically, that’s not one of my strong suits).  And, I’m seeing fruit from it, and I’m happy about that.

God is good.

———————-

*Wesley’s asthma is by far the worst in the winter months, December through March.  Hmmm….  And, of course, celiac disease is autoimmune.