Birthday

Today was my birthday and I love my birthday. In my house growing up, you were celebrated on your day. Everyone shared Christmas and Easter, but birthday's were yours and yours alone.

Today I felt so very celebrated. My kids woke me up singing. I heard "Happy Birthday" at least 12 times today. I got 32 colored pictures, a room decorated in "fun" and a song made up just for me. I got to take a walk around the lake with friends, enjoy a delicious lunch, drinks, and treats. In the evening, I got to go out to dinner with a small group of friends where we enjoyed the view from the rooftop seating area. We closed the evening with dessert and coffee and laughs.

One of my favorite things to do on birthday's is tell the birthday person your favorite thing about them. I have often found that the people closest to you are the ones that don't hear your good opinion of them. We rarely express our deep appreciation and love and respect for those we love the most. This is what makes this little tradition so fun. My brother in law got married years ago on my birthday and my three closest girl friends pulled me outside of the reception and gave me the gift of their love and appreciation of my life. It was the best gift I ever received. To have the women I respect the most share their high opinion of me, deepened our friendship and made me desire to strive to be the person they saw in me.

If I get to celebrate a birthday with you, most likely I will demand to shower you with this gift. Last year I was in Haiti with my dad and 15 other people, and it was amazing playing this little game on the bus on our way to the work site. I saw people dig deep and get real and share their love and appreciation for my father. I witnessed him get uncomfortable and shy at the love that was being poured out on him. I watched him start to see how much he meant to all of those around him. He would never have known without us forcing ourselves to be vulnerable and share how we really feel. I now don't have to worry ever that I never got a chance to share with my dad all that he means to me.

Tonight my heart is full by how much love was poured out on me. I feel overwhelmed by God's grace in my life, by the richness and quality of people that are in my life. I wonder how I got here, and most of the time don't feel I deserve it, but I make you this promise; I do not take for granted the gift of the people in my life. I will work to honor those around me with my life. I will live to give God glory so that others may know that God can use anyone to share love and change the world.

I encourage you, when it's someones birthday, take the tradition and start loving on the people around you. Do they know what they mean to you? Do they know what value they have and the qualities that make them strong and admirable? Don't wonder, make sure they know. They will never forget that gift.

Overwhelmed

You know what happens on vacation? You get to rest. Everything in life has the opportunity to stop or slow down and you can for the first time in a long…relax.

When your body relaxes and you have the time to slow down, you start to see your life for all that it is. It’s crazy schedule, projects, expectations, difficulties, etc. It all has a chance to sink in.

All my crazy is sinking in, and what I realized is how tired I am. I am over emotional and over tired. I am dry to the bones in patience, kindness, energy, and spiritual encouragement.

I’m tired.

I realize that people live lives that are far more difficult than mine. I don’t want to be a complainer nor do I look for sympathy. What I would like to communicate is honesty. My current reality feels overwhelming.

I am overwhelmed by current and distant friends generosity to my family.

I am overwhelmed by seeing the body of Christ as he has meant it to be, loving each other and those we don’t know well in their time of need.

I am overwhelmed by the hearts of my parents in the way they care for me and my children.

I am overwhelmed by the work, phone calls, receipts, tiles, shingles, paint colors we have to deal with to fix our house.

I am overwhelmed by the wonder and difference of my neighborhood every time I see it.

I am overwhelmed by the statement, “A tornado hit our house.”

I am overwhelmed by Gluten Free.

I am overwhelmed by Soy Free.

I am overwhelmed by Dairy Free.

I am overwhelmed by Sugar Free.

I am overwhelmed by High Fructose Corn Syrup Free.

I am overwhelmed by Artificial Food Coloring Free.

I am overwhelmed by Pork/White potato Free.

(They each get their own line because each comes with their own issues, and each is equally overwhelming, let alone all together.)

I am overwhelmed by being the “No mom”. No, you can’t eat that, No you can’t drink that, No we can’t eat there, No we can’t buy that, No mom can’t make you that. Etc.

I am overwhelmed by two boys who truly do love each other, yet can’t seem to get through a day without fighting every 10 minutes.

I am overwhelmed by a daughter who is stronger willed than my other two strong willed boys put together.

I am overwhelmed by our budget and money.

I am overwhelmed by the lack of attention my speaking business has received the last couple months.

I am overwhelmed by all the thoughts in my head that want to become blogs or books or talks.

I am overwhelmed with guilt that I haven’t taken any serious time to read scripture or pray for strength.

I am tired.

I admit to these things publicly not to receive sympathy or judgment (maybe you think I shouldn’t feel overwhelmed, and to that I say good for you, you are a stronger person than I am and don’t come to my house cause I’ll be angry with jealously for you). I say these things to be honest about where I am.

I used to be a person who thought I had it all together, or pretended enough to try to fool others and myself. Not anymore. This is my day of freedom. I am done trying to impress people. I am done trying to look or sound or act or fool myself into believing that I have this thing called life figured out.

I am having not just having a hard day, but a hard couple of months. This is my reality. In being honest about it, I don’t wish to be a complainer or not look for joy in my situation. Admitting it, frees me to be honest, and take down my false expectations. In being honest, I don’t have to waste time trying to impress anyone anymore. Now I can truly just be me, and try to find the light in every day even when I feel overwhelmed.

Today my daughter hugged me tight and giggled when she saw me. A light.

Today my son told me his life was better because I was in it. A light.

Today my parents kissed me goodnight and encouraged me to go to bed at 8pm and take the night for myself. A light.

Tonight I get to read a book for pleasure. A light.

Tonight I pray. A light.

Sunrise

For all the sunrises that I have seen in my life, I measure them all by one I experienced a few years back in Haiti. I woke up earlier than expected and noticed that it was starting to get light outside. I thought a sunrise would be a perfect morning quiet time. I remember sitting up on the roof of the guesthouse for over an hour waiting for the sun to come up. Dawn really is a truly beautiful process. Watching the world come to life, the sky, the earth and everything in it left me quiet and content and full of peace.

This morning I started out at 330am with my three kids to drive 12hours to my parents house just outside of Detroit. I knew the sun rose at about 530, so I was hoping against all hope that if we started in the dark, they would go back to sleep. I had them in the car at 3am. Then before we even left house, one had an accident and we had to get out, clean up and get changed. Then as we pulled away from the house, I dropped my cell phone and bent down to pick it up. While I wasn't looking, I ran into a parked car on my block. Just a bump, and no damage done, but not the thing you want to happen in front of your kids.

We were off to a great start wouldn't you say?

The kids were full of wonder and awe as drove away in the middle of the night and they watch the city lights. It's the best way to start an adventure.

We were half an hour into our drive and 37 questions later at around 4am, dawn started to break. I couldn't believe it. Just the very smallest crack of light changes that section of the sky.

The kids quickly fell asleep almost right after that and I had the incredible opportunity to drive, watch, reflect and listen to soulful music.

Its amazing to me how scripture says we are to be the reflection of Christ/God himself. That we are to point to the one to come. That our life is a smaller light to the real light that will cast out all darkness.

It truly reminds me of the dawn and sunrise. Our lives are the dawn before the sunrise. Our Christ like examples in how we live, speak and love one another is a taste of what is to come. It casts out fear, doubt, hatred, judgements, anger, and all things that take life away from us. We can be that light. We can be that foretaste.

But...

nothing compares to the sunrise.

I remember sitting on that roof in Haiti and even this morning on my drive. It was light outside. There were no shadows, you could see everything, but then the sun came, and everything lit up. The trees reflected light. The water glittered. There was radiance around everything, and the sky changed. The light that seemed perfectly acceptable before was all of sudden less.

Twice a day the sky is different. It's pink, red, mauve, lavender, teal, orange, cream, tangerine as big would say. It's stunning. Of all the colors the sky can become, it is only at sunrise and sunset that these colors appear. The reminder that no matter what happens in life, you can count on the sun to rise and to set. It has never disappointed. It has always been faithful. It has always shown up. It has kept its promise to be there, even amidst clouds, it shines above. The Son shows up and brings radiance.

Brilliance.

Power.

Beauty.

Breathtaking faithfulness.

No matter the beauty of the dawn, and dawn is critical to wiping out darkness, nothing compares to the Son.

After my pondering's, my peacefulness, and my hour of worship, the kids woke up.

We sang along to musical's, had diarrhea on the side of the road, made five potty stops, clogged a toilet and watched it spill over all over the bathroom, listened to books on CD, ate yummy food, told jokes, got stuck in crazy traffic, I drank two sodas (which is a lot for me), one large coffee and had more plantains that I care to recount to stay awake and finally made it my parents house.

The rest of my day was loud and filled with joy and life. I didn't see the sun set, but I know it did because its dark outside. I can count on the sun. I know that after the dark of midnight, the dawn will come and so will the sunrise.

Be the dawn.

Point to the Son.

A fun distraction

I currently have a thousand things to do. Truly. We have contractors we are setting up, we are getting a new boiler, new windows and trying to plant before we leave for a month of travel. The kids and I will be leaving on Sunday to visit my folks in Detroit. My in-laws surprised us yesterday by coming and visiting for a couple days. Its been crazy and good.

Instead of doing anything I should do, I made some new napkins!

I received an early birthday present today. My in-laws bought me a new sewing machine. I had been using Paul's grandmother's machine to get me started, but since it has been decided that I enjoy and will be sewing clothes soon, we upgraded! To test my skills, I wanted to start something small and simple. Cloth napkins seemed perfect!

So tonight instead of cleaning or cooking or organizing, or even better, SLEEPING! I made 12 napkins! Here they are.


There are three different patterns and four napkins of each pattern. They are a smaller Tea time size and perfect for us!



We use the dishes my husband grew up with. They are white with little blue flowers. I thought these napkins would fit perfect.

And yes, because they were so fun and easy to do, you can expect a similar pairing for a Christmas present from me. I am currently in love with my new sewing machine and I have gained confidence in my ability to sew straight lines. I have a shower curtain waiting for my attention, but I'm not brave enough yet.

I think I will find the ability and time later this summer and I can't wait. Doing something creative with my hands really helps give me perspective and makes me feel energized. It feels good to be crafty.

Thank you Mom and Dad for supporting my creative habits! I love you both.

The grind of daily life

I have often wondered what the point of my blog is. If I knew, than it would be easier to figure out what to share with you all. Most of the time, its to remind myself to see God in all things and have hope that I am not alone. I believe that by sharing life we encourage one another and support each other in making through each day.

Lately, some of my energy has returned and it has felt like there just really aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done. My children have been extra needy, little has been sick for over a week, and not only is my house messy and dirty, its highly unorganized. Its the trfecta of chaos. I don't need a really clean home, I truly don't, but when half my windows are boarded up, there is still glass in my yard and tarps on the roof, I need something cleaned. Give me at least one room, or part of a room. I'll take even that. So the past week has just been staying up late, cleaning, organizing, and just more cleaning. I haven't slept much and haven't once opened my Bible for encouragement.

I am running on empty.

You know what happens when I run on empty? I become the leader of cranky. I become the worst version of myself. The version of myself that I try to never admit to anyone that she really exists. I want to pretend that she never shows up, but frankly, she has taken up camp in my house. Every time I open my mouth, I'm not proud of what comes out. When I'm running on empty, every spill is a tragedy, every disagreement is the end of the world, every nag for a snack sounds like a shouting match. When I'm running on empty, there is no peace in my house.

Yesterday was probably one of the worst days I've had in a while, and that's really saying something considering how overwhelmed I've felt as of late. I couldn't believe who I had become. I think I apologized for my behavior every half hour.

Then family snuggle time happened.

A few times a week the whole family piles into mine and Paul's bed. We turn the soft lamp on and some gentle music, then we just hang out. We bring a book in, we read, we giggle, we tickle, we snuggle. We pray over the kids, and talk about our day. We ask for forgiveness and whatever happened that day just sort of washes away. Family snuggle time grounds us. It cleans us. It strengthens us. It reconnects us. No matter what feels overwhelming in life, this cherished time in bed is protected.

I like to be honest about my life. I want to communicate the reality of who I am and what life can be like, but I don't just want to complain when things are hard.

I feel beyond blessed to have a family that forgives me when I am at my worst. I am so thankful for friends who remind me that life is overwhelming right now. That it's OK to mourn all the things lost in the last month and thankful for friends who send loving emails and cards in the mail. I am indebted to my mother who listens to me everyday and lifts me up in prayer.

Even at my worst, I have so much to be thankful for. When God feels distant or my relationship with him is stale, I am encouraged to know that he meets with me through the friends and family in my life.

The only thing I have read in scripture in that two weeks in my children's Bible stories, and yet, even that is enough to remind me that God is and will be my strength. That I am not left alone to my own devise.

I should go to bed now so I can get up and spend time with the Lord in the morning, or I could just do it now.

Morning breakfast conversation

This made my day. Enjoy.

This morning at breakfast while we delighting in kale/onion/garlic egg scramble with cucumbers and grapes on the side, the boys wanted to know about chicken eggs. How come they weren't babies? I told them it was because the eggs weren't fertilized.

Big (Noah) - "What does fertilized mean?"

me - "The eggs need seed to form a baby chicken."

Middle (Caleb) - "Where does the seed come from?"

me - "From the rooster. The boy has the seed and the girl has the egg. This is the way it works for all boys and girls in animals and in humans." (in my head, I was worried about where this was headed.)

They didn't miss a beat.

Middle - "you have eggs in your tummy? WHaaaT?"

me - "All girls have eggs in their bodies. Remember how I told you that God took a piece of me and a piece of daddy and created a baby? I have the egg, and daddy has the seed. (please don't ask where they come from!!!) When the egg doesn't get the seed, it just washes out of mommy's body. It doesn't become a baby."

Big - "So God goes into your body to make a baby?"

Middle - "No he's already in there remember Noah, he's in your heart, so he travels through your body from your heart to your tummy to make the baby. Right mama?"

me - "well..."

Middle - "But what about the fire?"

me - "what fire? when did we get fire?"

Big - "Ohhhh, remember mama the Holy Spirit came and there was fire on their heads? The disciples got the Holy Spirit after Jesus left, and that's whose with us. Is that in your body?"

Middle - "Noooo, not that fire. God sent down fire remember Noah. They built the rocks and poured water on it and than God shot down fire with his hands, (make explosion noises here).

Big - "Ohhhh, you mean Ahab! Yea he was worshipping Baal and then Elijah threw down a challenge and God sent fire on his alter."

Little just sat there looking at her big brothers like it was a ping pong match stuffing her face with a banana.

I'm not sure how the conversation happened, and for some reason beyond me we started talking about where babies come from and ended up discussing the Holy Spirit and old ancient Biblical kings.

I giggled at the end. At least I didn't have to explain sex. Dodged a bullet there.

Trust is hard

I'd be hard pressed to find a word to describe this past month. Overwhelming doesn't cover it. Paralyzing is better. Almost everything has changed here and it feels like all at once. I haven't had much energy to do anything. If I've cooked anything, it's because all the food that my kids can grab on their own is gone. They need me then to feed them. Most of the time I just go to the store to buy them more fruit and carrot sticks they can feed themselves. I've just been really tired.

I can admit that this last month has broken me. I have had no choice but to rest in God's goodness to take care of us. But this morning I realize that trust can be two different things.

I got to go for a run this morning. It's the first time in over a month and it was glorious. Running while the sun comes up in the morning is hands down my favorite thing in the whole world. It clears my mind, my body is moving, and the world is quiet around me. I can think or not think and nobody is asking anything from me. It's my perfect moment.

This morning on my run, I was reminded of running at my parents house last summer. We are headed to their house in a couple weeks, so my mind is starting to prepare for that adventure.

Last summer on one run particular, God revealed to me how little I actually trust him. I'm a pretty capable person, so I often live in a false security thinking I can do it on my own. The words, "Trust me" just kept ringing over and over in my prayer. It was very humbling to have God speak to me and realize that I'm missing out on a part of our relationship and a deeper part of life by not trusting him more.

So this morning on my run, it felt like that again, but somehow different. This last month the only thing I've been able to do is trust that God is enough. I have been the weakest version of myself and therefore can only trust that God will be enough. Enough to get us through. Enough to cover my lack of parenting. Enough to help my children. Just to let God be enough. I have only had energy to fall in the hands of God and let him take care of the rest.

That's when I realized that trusting God because I have no where else to turn, is different than choosing to trust him even when I feel capable of doing it on my own.

Yes I have trusted God more in the last month than I do on a daily basis. It has been amazing and humbling and overwhelming to watch Him provide, care and love our family. He is the only thing that has gotten us through, and I have trusted that He could.

But...

In the last few days my energy is slowly returning. Things need to be tended to, and I have started to take over my life once again.

Active trust is different that desperate surrender trust. Both are needed, both are critical, but when things start going our way again, can we actively choose to trust Him, when we falsely believe we don't desperately need him anymore?

Not to walk alone

I don't really believe in dieting. I just want to eat healthy. I don't want to have guilt when I eat something delicious that maybe isn't healthy for me. It's OK every now and then right?

Its been six weeks since I've had gluten or dairy, (OK I did test some gluten today just to find out if it will put my system into whack.) This is huge for me. I've cheated on every goal of loosing weight I've ever created for myself. Even when my husband and I ventured into P90X, I cheated after the first month.

Food often times to me is my reward for a long day, a bad day, a bad moment, stress, tiredness, being emotionally drained, taxed, overwrought, you name it. For all the things that I'm "supposed to do, need to do, am told to do", food I can control. I eat what I want. This gets me in trouble when I am trying to eat healthier. Emotional eating doesn't leave a lot of room for self discipline.

So six weeks of living a new lifestyle in regards to food is monumental for me. I've even lost five pounds! Oh, yeah I fit in my jeans again.

I understand that going gluten free/dairy free is for my son. He is the one who truly needs it. (Which by the way, we have just recently discovered that we will also be going soy free/high fructose corn syrup/sugar/ and pork free. That's another post.)

We have all decided to enter into this process with him for a few reasons:
1. We want him to feel loved.
2. I have never supported making two different meals. Way too much work.
3. We want to support him.
4. It's too hard having food in the house that he can't eat. That seems a bit cruel in the beginning of detox. So its all gone.

Now, Paul is probably the least GDSS free person in the house. He has lunch outside the house and we can't tackle that battle yet. With Lu and Caleb, we haven't really made the choice to make them allergy free. (All their meals are GFDFSF, but their snacks aren't always.) We discuss the pros and cons every day and are just trying to do the best by all our kids. We are using up our other food on those three. Also, because we aren't sure of them going completely dairy free, they have had a little dairy every day to make sure they can still process it till we make our decision. That leaves me.

When I was in St. Louis for my dear friends wedding, someone asked me if I wanted a bagel. I declined and they asked why I wasn't eating gluten. They wondered since Noah wasn't around then why did I need to adhere to the diet?

I just kept thinking, if he can't have it, I shouldn't have it. It felt like cheating to eat behind his back. Going through this process with Noah I want to know fully what it is that I am asking of him. If I said he can't eat any of these things ever, than I want to know the depth of the frustration of what that means. He won't always be with me, and I still need him to adhere to the diet, so I want to do the same. I want to honor him that way.

He is five years old, and his whole little world has changed. He is constantly bombarded with food he can't eat that others are enjoying. I want someone in his corner. I want someone to walk with him, hand in hand and by his side, to say you are not alone. He needs a friend, a companion. Isn't that we all want? Not to be alone in our journey? I am a believer that we aren't ever alone thanks to the love of Christ, but let's be honest, its nice to have a physical person in your corner. One who understands your journey, your joy, your hurt, your struggle. One to be with you when you feel alone. And I believe God uses people to be that love in person for him. I want to be that for my little man. I want to understand as much as possible what his life will look like being allergen free. I want to know what it means to have others eating ice cream and not have any. (It means we stash coconut milk ice cream just for him in the freezer.) I want to know what it means to crave a sweet and fill my craving with strawberries. I want to know the weight of his cross that he will bear. I don't want him to be alone carrying it. (I fully recognize that I can't carry this for him. That this will ultimately be his choice, but you can guarantee I will do everything in my power to help him. That's what mom's do.)

So, no matter what else happens with the other three, I am allergen free. I've lost five pounds and I feel great. I feel overwhelmed with the need to cook everything from scratch, but I hear that will pass. I don't know how our budget will do this, but God is faithful and will provide. What I do find beautiful is that nothing else could keep me eating healthy. Nothing, but my son. I guess we all need a greater reason other than ourselves sometimes to change our habits that hurt us.

There a dozen spiritual parallels in this story that warm my heart. I am again reminded of how God uses our lives, our stories, and the people within them to teach us and remind us of how great his love for us is.

I could continue, but honestly, I'm just trying to hold it all together and I've impressed myself that I got this far with a blog. There are so many thoughts and things rolling around in my mind, this is just the one that slipped out today.

Thank you for walking this journey with us.

to bless others

Today we had an issue with a water bottle.

We left all of our family's water bottles down in St. Louis a couple weeks ago. The one water bottle left in the house is my son's Noah. It's his special water bottle from his T-ball team.

Today we were planning on being out all morning and I grabbed the one water bottle and filled it planning and anticipating that we all would be able to share.

We are big on sharing in this house. Sharing with each other and sharing with others. We try to limit our belongings for this reason and truth be told, all three kids sleep in the same room. They are used to sharing.

I have recognized the need for the kids to have their own special things. So each child has a box where they can keep their own personal special things. These things do not need to be shared. It is a child's seceret treasure box. I support that.

Well, today, Caleb grabbed the water bottle, the only one to be seen, and not being stored in the special box so it was fair game.

You know the saying "heaven on earth". This was the complete opposite. I didn't realize one could get so upset about sharing his water bottle. Honestly, I was just really disappointed in my kid for not having a heart to see the needs of others. I can own that I have extremely high expectations for my five year old. I'm working on it. But in the same breath, we need to learn from the beginning about seeing the needs of others, especially those we live with and see everyday. Ironically, the needs of the people we live often times become invisible.

So we had a couple chats about the water bottle during the day. Then tonight during prayer time, I asked Noah if he had anything to confess to God. He said he had a good day, and he couldn't think of anything.

I brought up the water bottle. (I'm totally that mom that can't let issues dropped until I know my point has been received.) He looked at me with sad eyes, and said, "But mom, its my special water bottle. Its mine and I should be in charge of my things. I make the rules for my stuff."

I stood there. I get his point, I really do. But the idea of STUFF is something I really wrestle with.

We all get really attached to stuff. It becomes apart of us and then we don't know how to live without it. We become obsessive about it and all of a sudden it becomes about the stuff. How do we get more? How do I keep you from touching my stuff and breaking it? How do I protect it? And so and so forth.

Somewhere the words came out of me, and God must have put them there, because I didn't think them before I said them. I replied to my son, "Noah, God gives us stuff to bless others. There is no other reason to have things. The water bottle is yours, but the water in the bottle can bless others. You sharing can bless others. You loving, blesses others."

God uses our stuff to bless others. To give away. To invite over and share a meal on your table with your dishes. To use your pool. Loaning out tools to help those in need. Giving up your bed for a night so that someone else might sleep there. our stuff can bless others, if we have a heart and a mind for it. We have to change the way we see our stuff. It is all tools to further the kingdom of God.

Pretty sure we will fight over the water bottle again tomorrow. But I can guarantee that God spoke truth into my heart today regarding our things. That in turn will hopefully change the way I speak to my kids about their stuff. Instead of demanding my kid shares, I can gently remind him why God has given us stuff.

To build a heart for God, we must speak truth into our little ones daily, but be open to change our own ways so that they have an example to live by.

Happy Anniversary to the man of my dreams!

Nine years ago yesterday I married the man I love. I met him when I was 19. At the time, I was not interested in dating anyone, and truth be told wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get married. When I started to get to know Paul I was scared to death because from the very beginning, I knew he was special. I knew you didn’t walk away from a man like him.

Last night my husband and I got to go for a walk down this beautiful stone path up to the stone arch bridge, over the Mississippi and into downtown. We strolled arm in arm casually talking and walking discussing life and our dreams and our future. Walking with my husband is hands down one of my favorite things. Something we don’t get to do often with the little children needing pushed in strollers and demanding our attention.

For all the reasons that I know I love my husband on a daily basis, I was reminded last night why he is the perfect partner for me.

When we were married, I was 22. I hadn’t done much in being completely self aware and mature. I still had some growing up to do, which I think many young 20somethings do. I remember my husband saying to me one time, “If you never change, I love you just the way you are. But I see such potential in you. You are the kind of the person who can be anything you want to be. I want to be along for that journey.”

My husband knows me better than anyone, truly sometimes even more than I know myself. He saw me before I had found myself. He has walked through life with me as I have grown up and become the woman I am. In the truest way, we have grown up together. He challenges me when I am less than I can be, and loves me when I am a wretched mess. He knows how to show me love, and most often forgiveness. I have never known, aside from my parents, someone who embodies Christlike grace and mercy, much like him.

When I get into a funk, which I can easily do, and wish for another kind of life, it’s never without him and the kids. (OK, in full disclosure, sometimes without the kids, but never without him.) Last night when we were walking we were discussing being content with life and yet striving for more. Trying to live individually and as a couple/family up to our God given potential. Trying to figure out how to be content in the moment and see God in everything we are, but, believing that God has put dreams in our heart that we want to make happen.

I love talking to him about these things because he is my equal and partner in how we approach life, deal with life, and love each other. We can share our dreams with each other, and its always received by the other in most intentional way of supporting each other. I want more than anything to see Paul become the man God has destined him to be. I want to support it, to pray over it, to love him through the process. He desires the same for me. And so we dreamed together last night of who can become together and as a family. And when it was over, and we drove back to the ghetto, which truly looks like one now, we were still content because we have each other.

To my amazing husband, best friend and partner. I love you with a commitment that will never die. Every morning I know I would pick you again in a heart beat. You know me at my worst, and choose me anyway. You are not without your faults, but you are perfect for me. Thank you for nine years of laughs, inside jokes, struggles, pain, forgiveness, love, mercy, chore sharing, and fun. I love doing life with you.

I heard a quote one time that said, “We don’t choose marriage partners to have someone to share the chores with. We choose to get married because we have hope.” We have hope to be loved forever. We have hope that we can be accepted as we are. We have hope that we are lovable. We have hope for joy, passion, commitment, and acceptance.

I am passionately in love my husband. I am still very attracted to the sexy man whom I live with. I still have hope that our life will be filled with love and adventure and commitment forever.

I pray that others have this story.

I pray that others have hope in their marriage.

I pray that others will wait to have this hope before getting married.

Walk a mile in someone elses shoes

Stick with me on this one. All the pieces will come together at the end…hopefully.

There have been a few times in Haiti where I hear this comment, “Why don’t the Haitians want to do anything about their situation? Why would they just throw their garbage on the ground and add to the problem? Doesn’t anyone want to fix this? Why don’t they want more for themselves?” The questions sometime differ, but the point is the same.

There is a small sense of judgment on the people for the lack of response to the problems that the Haitians face. Not always, but I hear it creep it out every now and then.

My family and I try very hard to live to love others. Mission work and service projects have been apart of my life since I can remember. We would go to local homeless shelters, we would go to other parts of the country, and then we ventured to Haiti. There all different levels of helping others out. We try to be aware of the needs of our immediate neighbors, those living in our city and then thinking globally.

This is the first time in my life where I have lived where the mission exists. The only word that was used for days after the tornado was “war zone”. It was surreal, the whole thing. The streets were black and quiet when night time came. Police shut down our neighborhood to keep people out and to keep those who lived there safe. There were wires and trees down everywhere, no one could see where they were going. The red cross food truck would drive up and down the streets three times a day offering free food to anyone who needed it. Churches were coming down by the bus load to help remove trees and debris. Friends were coming and bringing meals and groceries. Other friends were taking the kids so we could clean. The city brought in 2000 volunteers this last Saturday to help with the final debris and clean streets, alleys and sidewalks.

It was overwhelming. It still is, and we aren’t even one of the houses hit the hardest. We can still live in our home. We can stay. We have insurance to cover our damages and take care of us. My whole family is alive.

I remember sitting on our stoop, my kids playing in the front yard, our windows boarded up, debris still in our yard and the Red Cross truck came. My kids scurried to the truck to get a water and an apple. They were so delighted for the free snack.

The parallel universe hit me then.

For my life before the tornado, I was metaphorically in the truck. The one bringing aid. The one helping. I would see people out sitting in front of their metal tin shacks or half finished homes. They were chatting with neighbors, or doing a chore, their kids playing in the yard. Here we came handing water or treats or clothes to anyone who wanted them. We were happy to share and to give, but also wondered if it did any good.

(This is where comments of infrastructure, economy and what not enter. This is not the point of this conversation. I am all about those things and helping for a lifetime not hurting the long term solution with short term guilt giving. Please stick with me.)

Now I found myself as one of those women. People were coming from all over to help. Emergency food was being delivered, volunteers coming to help clean, it was all so bizarre.

One of my first thoughts was “wow in any culture, if you’re going to hand it out for free, doesn’t matter who you are, you run and go get it.” The next one was a bit more difficult for me. I was wondering if the volunteers had judged me for cleaning my whole yard. Why after two weeks was there still so much debris by our garage and in our backyard? What was I doing that I didn’t want to improve our situation? I was just sitting on my stoop, not helping.

Let’s pause this train of thought real quick for a new one.

What I love about our Almighty God is that he provides opportunities for our world to be turned upside down. For us to loose control of what we think we can control. That he allows to know pain, failure, fatigue, mistakes, bad choices, and just generally crappy life stuff. I believed but am now convinced that it is to open our minds to others and understand their story a bit more. To carve out the judgment in our hearts and replace it with compassion, empathy, and understanding. It allows us to truly just love others, releasing us from understanding their actions, and leaving that to God.

My family went Gluten free/Dairy free two weeks before the tornado. That means we had just gotten past the detox, almost, and we were starting the “I would really like a sandwich now. Where’s the mac and cheese? Why can’t I have a yogurt? phase.” The mountain looked bigger than I anticipated. Then a tornado hit our house. How does one even start to process that?

I’ll be honest, this past year I have said that having a third kid kind of felt like I was sinking. All year I’ve struggled with how to manage to demanding kids and a baby. It’s been hard. Where I was sinking before, the last month has sunk me completely. I was feeling like I was drowning, that I couldn’t breathe and all I wanted was a pizza, or ice cream, or anything I was allowed to have anymore.

I didn’t know what to do first. I didn’t know what to do at all. My house was unsafe for my kids, but I had to clean it to bring them home. Once they were home, I still had to clean the yard, but they want to be with me, and I can’t have them in the grass where glass is still imbedded everywhere. I have to call the insurance guy, the car guy, the window guy, the adjuster guy, the tire guy, the other insurance guy, the contractor guy. I have to pay our bills, return phone calls, discipline my kids, feed my kids, pay attention to my kids, clean up after sick kids, and somehow return over 400 emails.

So I sat on my stoop.

It was a break from the pressure in my head and in my heart. It was my time to breath under the weight of my current life. That’s when the volunteers showed up, and I was off to take my kids to a T-ball game. I was going to leave my house, while someone else cleaned it up. Wow, talk about hard. I felt guilty, ashamed, disappointed in myself.

Then I remembered that my kids need this. We live here, so we are constantly reminded of all that needs to be done. We work a little bit each day to try to make it better. This was our break from our reality. Maybe I was judged for that. Maybe you judge me, but I can’t take that on.

It’s funny. The pastor who we worked with in Haiti always said, “We want you to come. Then you see our life and you can share it with others. You can be our voice.” Even more than that, I think people with an outside perspective can see things that those who feel overwhelmed can’t. I can’t see the forest past trees right now. I live one day a time. Truth be told, I just try to make it to nap time, and then start over again.

But when others came and stepped in and took my kids to swimming lessons so I could stay and get our car fixed. When groceries came, and friends visited, and they listened, and they offered their tools, most of them thought of our needs before I did.

Those in need rely, depend and can’t survive with the generosity of others. The mountain is too big to climb alone. The ocean’s too deep. We need each other to pull ourselves along, without judgment.

I also have a great new found appreciation of the little things that matter. How a meal being provided changes my whole day and frees up mental and physical space in my life. How a friend coming over to just do my dishes lifted my load by tons. Another friend taking my three kids along with her three kids and wouldn’t even accept a Thank you.

Knowing that people are there to help changes my attitude. It makes me want to fight to improve things quicker. To try harder.

I don’t feel alone in my mountain.

Never underestimate the power of helping.

Never underestimate the power of helping in small ways. They are never small to the one who needs it.

Thank you.

Our story

I keep thinking about how we each have a story to share. A story to live, to share, to experience. A story that touches others lives and stories. Stories that cross over and are lived together. We learn from each others stories. Movies and theater and music can inspire stories, tell stories that move us to feel, to know, to move into something sometimes even great than ourselves. Stories change lives. How we live and respond to the things that happen to us, shape our stories.

For all of you out there who have sent prayers, good wishes, donations, and your time, we are humbled by you and you dear friends are apart of our story. But here is how our story began…


It was Sunday afternoon. Lu was sleeping, the boys were finishing up their rest time, and Paul and I were finishing a movie that we both had fallen asleep during the night before. Saturday had proven to be an incredibly stormy day with major thunderstorms passing through every couple hours or so. At almost 2pm, Paul and I noticed the sky going dark. To us, it was just another rain cloud. There was no wind. Just the darkness starting to creep into our house. I looked out and said, “It looks like its gonna rain again. I didn’t realize we were going to have storms again today.” (Paul and I used to be big TV watchers, but in the last year, it doesn’t go on much anymore except for the occasional show we watch or movie on the weekend, so that means we also don’t watch the news or weather. We’re pretty ignorant people with worldly happenings.)

Within moments, literally less than five minutes later, the wind picked up. We heard it. We both looked outside and still it didn’t feel like a tornado. Paul muted the TV because he thought he heard a siren. The siren was ever so faint. It actually sounded like it was coming from the next suburb over.

This is where I like to point out that many people at this point say, “When you heard the siren did you go downstairs?” I don’t about you, but I have never gone downstairs when I hear the siren. That may seem silly, but when I hear a siren, I mostly just look outside. That may change now.

We faintly heard the siren, looked outside, and it still just seemed stormy. The lights flickered. Those three things, lights flickering, wind growing louder, and the siren going off caused Paul to look at me and say, “We should probably take the kids downstairs.” Not more than a minute later, as we were starting to get up, the wind picked up out of nowhere. We knew instantly that we needed to get the kids downstairs right away. It wasn’t an option anymore. I grabbed Lu from her crib where she was peacefully sleeping and Paul gathered the boys who were reading and playing quietly. As we were headed downstairs, I opened the door to our renters space and called up to him. He was already on his way.

Our house is not that big. Truly. You take 10 steps in any direction, and you are in the next room. In most cases it’s only five. Everything I just described took less than a minute.

It was getting louder. The lights were flickering just a little. I made it to the stairs first with Lu, the boys were behind me with Paul and Chad directly behind them. I was halfway down the stairs when the lights went out. That was my first conscious thought of not having a light source with us. With the storm outside, our basement windows were pitch black. We couldn’t see a thing. We are standing on the stairs, in the pitch black, and my kids can’t see where they are going. This is where we were when the tornado went over us.

People ask us if we heard the freight train sound. I’ll be honest, it was loud. The storm was just loud. What I remember is kids screaming, the wind being so loud and windows crashing. I heard Paul and maybe Chad and of course myself, yelling over all of that for the kids to grab a hand and come downstairs. They were too freaked out and kept trying to go back upstairs where they thought there was light because the basement had just become a big black hole and they couldn’t see. Their parents were responsible enough to bring lights, so we were all in a bit of a panic.

The guys grabbed the boys, and we moved downstairs. Even at this point I wasn’t really thinking that we were in a tornado. I’ve never been in a tornado. I just knew it was really bad outside, and at that moment, I was convinced our basement windows were going to blow out. Paul felt the pressure in his ears build. We have windows all over our basement, so I was trying to maneuver us to one of our closets. Of course all of those closets are filled with junk and we needed to cram six people in there.

I could hear the storm growing calmer. The kids were still crying and we were standing in the basement in the dark. I was holding Caleb and Lu and looked at Paul and told him I needed to go get a light. I was handing him the kids when he told me not to go upstairs.

This is where Paul likes to tell me he doesn’t like being in emergency situations with me because I don’t listen. He doesn’t think its funny that I have a mind of my own and not very helpful in taking orders when necessary. I knew where the lantern was and the lighter. We had to get light down in the basement so the kids could see and have some sort of comfort. The storm was quieter so I knew the worst was over, but I didn’t know the worst of what.

As I went upstairs, listening to the kids crying in the basement, the first thing I saw was our climbing tree up against our kitchen window. You couldn’t even see outside because the tree was pressed to close to the house. A tree that grew up against our garage on the other side of the yard. I walked through the kitchen to the dining room to grab the lantern. The storm was still going, so I didn’t want to check everything out. My people were waiting in the basement. As I went to grab the gas lantern, all I could see around our house was tree branches, debris, and glass shattered all over the house. I couldn’t step into the dining room because I didn’t have shoes on. I took the lantern downstairs with a lighter, and told Paul and Chad they needed to go upstairs to assess the situation before we brought the kids up.

Its funny, my responses are very natural and real most of the time, but there are times where all I can think of is, “how you react will directly affect your kids and how they handle what’s happened.” This whole day was like that. With the exception of all of our freakout on the stairs, we tried very hard to stay calm, talk gently with the kids and reassure them that God was with us no matter what.

I knew there was glass everywhere and branches in the house. I needed the guys to go upstairs first, knowing that my children would have a hard time seeing their house like this. We sat in the basement and prayed. We encouraged each other, and we were calmer. Paul called us upstairs and told us to stay in the kitchen, so we came. He and Chad cleaned out the kids shoes from glass and debris so that they could walk through the house and come outside. It wasn’t raining anymore and things seemed to have settled down. I remember Noah looking out the kitchen and saying, “what happened to our house?” (How we handle this will directly affect their understanding of emergencies and where God is present in hard times.) This is all I could think. Be wise in how you talk to your children.

We walked outside with the kids, and its so funny, I’m not even then that I knew that a tornado touched down on my neighbors house. It all looked different. Trees were everywhere. I saw garages missing. I say houses without roofs. People everywhere were coming out of their houses and walking down the streets making sure everyone was OK.

What do you do when you don’t know what to do? Our dear friend Jeromy called and asked if were OK. I told him we had some windows out and trees down. He said he was on his way with wood to board up our house. Within an hour, I saw Jeromy chain sawing his way down our street. So many trees were down, he couldn’t get through. So he cut his way through. Then more people brought out their chainsaw’s and started going to work. It was crazy.

That next hour, Chad and I took the kids for a walk just to see what had happened around where we were. It was difficult to navigate with all the trees and wires down. It was still gently raining. I know it might sound crazy that we took the kids for a walk, but truly, there was glass everywhere in our house and outside our house. There was nowhere safe for kids to be. They were going to get hurt no matter where we went.

So that night our friend of ours took the kids for the night so that Paul and I could get some work done in and around the house. By the end of the night, we had our windows boarded up, our tree cut down out back, a tarp over our roof where there was major damage, and the car windows covered with plastic. A friend loaned us his generator to keep our fridge and freezer going. It was amazing!

I know we could have taken up a dozen offers to sleep somewhere else, but we just couldn’t. Its funny, leaving your house kind of feels like leaving a man behind. We were in the dark, our house covered in glass, but we were safe. Our kids were safe. It still didn’t feel real. I had to laugh, because listening to the generator made it feel a bit like Haiti. When Paul and I went to bed that night, we laid there and I said, “A tornado hit our house.” It was the first time I could really say that. “I know” was all Paul said. Not sure that it still has really sunken in.

Its just apart of our life now.

It’s our story.

We’ve always been near or far away from the news story. This time, we were smack in the middle of it. When you drive away from our house, houses and neighborhoods looked untouched. When drive towards our street, you drive right into the middle of it.

Its still surreal.

There are many houses that are worse than ours. There are other towns where hundreds have died because of tornado’s. I don’t belittle their story or have any delusions that we have it rough, I just want to share ours.

I have lots of other thoughts that I plan on sharing, but that is the story of what happened to us last Sunday at 2pm.

A tornado hit our house.

Here are a couple photos.


This is the entry into our alley.


This is in front of our garage on one side. On the other side is a wall from a garage compeletly blocking entrance to the alley.


Our neighbors tree in front of our house.


The corner where we live. Our house is the second one in.


This is our street that was once a canopy of trees.


This is what so many of the streets look like.

My version of Gardening

Between figuring out how to cook GFDF and trying to get our garden planted, there hasn't been much time for anything else. So even though yesterday was a bit chaotic, I took a couple minutes to snap some pictures and welcome you into our process.

But I have found this time of year everyone is posting beautiful pictures of their garden, and that just isn't the case with us. I have three kids tagging around my ankles and they all want to help. The process isn't a pretty one. In the morning, it was just us, after school let out, the other three neighborhood kids came and helped out.

I thought gardening with three kids was a bit much, but with six kids, holy cow! I am really surprised that we weren't covered with dirt from head to toe. Our process started with organization, bring me a cup of water, and then you get to dig the next hole. But then, they realized they could dig their own holes, and all chaos happened. Dirt everywhere, holes wherever it looked good, and we watered everything, even Lu.

Enjoy!


Ellie Lu was kind of bossy, so we made her project manager.


Our hose isn't hooked up, so this was our time consuming watering method. The boys brained up this genius idea.


Here's Caleb digging a hole for the spinach.


At some point I lost control, and didn't realize that Caleb wasn't wearing the appropriate shoes.


One had the wrong shoes, and this one decided not to wear any shoes at all. Seriously, whose this child's mother?


Then the neighbors came to help! Notice all the bikes in the yard and all the toys strewn about. I think we had every sandbox toy and cup from our house in our yard at point. It was not a pretty sight, but so enjoyable.


Here's all the kids digging the holes. Most of the dirt stayed in the garden.


Some did not.


Here's what we found when digging our holes, "Look mom garbage!!!"


Here's our neighbor Mcwan helping carry the water.


Here's our other neighbor Jesse watering the plants.


q
Dirt and water make mud, ask Lu how she feels about that? She loved it! This is her second outfit from the day.


Outfit one didn't make it.


But in the end, we made it. Here is a look at our finished product.




The brown paper bags around the spinach are to help hold off on weeds. Since we are gone a couple weeks out of the summer, I try use any method to help.

So, we don't have beautiful pictures, our just real life in what it looks like to plant with little people around. I hope some of you are able to get in the dirt and grow some of your own food! Its so much fun.

Apparently the kids had so much fun gardening with us, that we are doing it again today! Yay! Please pray for me.

its not all about me

I used to think it was all my fault.

Every temper tantrum. Every freak out. If it wasn’t my genetics, than he was yelling because he had seen me yell.

Nature and Nurture together right?

I am sensitive and emotional. I also have a flair for the dramatics. Maybe some would say in my youth I was a drama queen. (I’ve matured a tad, maybe a tidbit is a better word. Which ever one means the smallest amount, that would be it.) I am also intense and an extremists. I go all out when I can. Not just a party, but a full menu, homemade decorations, all food made from scratch kind of party. That’s the just the way I like it. We won’t just watch a movie, we’ll plan for it. Pick a day, make stove top popcorn, eat dinner early, take baths and make a bed in the living room just for the movie. It’s a lot.

I’m a lot to take sometimes.

I just thought my son was like me. He’s intense. He’s sensitive. He’s emotional. He’s our drama queen. So if I didn’t teach him to behave the way he does, than he just naturally gets it from me by instinct.

I also often thought that our schedule and lifestyle was creating his instability and insecurity. That my traveling sometimes once or twice a month was too much for him. This past winter I actually consider stopping my speaking career because he needed so much of my time and attention and I took that on myself.

I blamed me.

Were we not disciplining him enough? Too much? Were we too busy? Did he not enough have structure? He hasn’t been going to bed on time, so he’s overly tired and we need to be better about our schedule. Maybe he watched something he wasn’t supposed to and that taught him to act out. Are we eating right? How much screen time has he had? How much reading time has he had? Does he need alone time? Does he need school? Does he need me home and not traveling? Does he need his dad home more?

The questions wouldn’t stop. The insecurity of myself as a mother was getting worse. The blame and shame and guilt of doing something wrong and how it was hurting my son started to feel like my new skin. I was never without it.

I would cry. A lot. I would call my mom all the time. I was praying constantly and in my prayers of asking for answers, I was repenting of all that I had done wrong to damage my son.

This is the place I was in.

It was a battle most days. In my head I knew it wasn’t all my fault. I really did. But I couldn’t figure out how to lay to rest with my fear and guilt.

Then we went to the doctor. Then we found out that something was really wrong with Noah. His intestines’ were damaged, and leaking out and his body was craving the vitamins it so desperately needs to function properly. It wasn’t my fault.

Saturday I saw a glimpse into who my son really is. It was an incredible day. He was listening, he was attentive, he didn’t overreact when all the kids got Doritos after the T-ball game and he couldn’t have any. He was disappointed and bummed, but was excited to have lime corn chips when we got home. If he didn’t understand our decision, he asked about it instead of falling to the ground whining, or folding his arms and getting what we call “Angry face”. His angry face is REALLY intense. He has very dramatic eyes. Paul and I looked at each other more than once in astonishment.

It was our Sabbath so we didn’t do any work. The whole day was spent together. At the end of the day we had family snuggle time in our bed. After Caleb went to sleep, Paul and Noah and I laid in bed for about half an hour. We talked, snuggled, and we prayed over our son. And then I realized something was different.

I didn’t feel guilty. There was no bad feelings between Noah and I. There was no fear or questioning or shame. Before even on good days, I would have this feeling, of “why can’t it be more like this? What am I doing right or wrong to get this reaction instead of the bad reaction?” The thoughts were always there. The questions never left. Saturday was different.

1. I wonder how often we make our children’s issues about us. If you notice, most of my response is all about me. Though I am, with my husband, the ones in charge of creating the atmosphere and controlling the hurtful things that come into house, the issue still remains that I need to see my children for who they are, and not my agenda or mistakes, or accomplishments.
2. I was allowing Satan to use my insecurity as a mother to change the relationship with my son. It was effecting how I felt about him and us all the time. The issue wasn’t even about me, but I made it about me and then in turn, it changed us.
3. We have to have more grace and forgiveness as parents. To allow God to work through our mistakes and insecurities. To know that he has a plan for our children even with our ability to fail. God is more powerful than our mistakes.
4. Always, always pray. Over your children, for your children, for yourself and over your spouse.
5. It is important to look at all aspects of our children and ourselves and our home. To look at what is going on spiritually, mentally, physically with our kids. The best way to love them is to evaluate everything going on their lives and then pray for answers. Pray for wisdom. Pray for discernment. Pray for knowledge. Pray that someone who does have answers will speak truth into your life.

Kids still act up and disobey. They will still be rowdy and have trouble listening and still want to do what they want to do, not what you want them to do. Noah still does. But it’s not a battle everyday. Its hardly a battle. If it feels like a battle for you, then start praying. Something might be going on that you can’t see.

I had a friend say to me once, “maybe noah has sensory issues.” I was hurt. I didn’t think anything was wrong with my kid. He was just our drama queen. But that seed stayed. And I was paying attention. And I started to talk about our struggles more with other people, and the struggles were getting worse. And then we found an answer.

I want to repeat, that I don’t think everything is fixed or perfect. Or that this is the only way to make things better, or that the fact that the sun is shinning and we get to ride bikes for hours every day doesn’t help. It does. A lot! But we have been GFCFSF for less than a week. We have quite a ways to go in our detox, but I see the light a couple times a day. That feels huge. It feels big enough to have hope that we could be on a path that helps our son physically. Helps me emotionally. Helps our family spiritually.

Emotionally Bipolar

My mind is a jumble of thoughts and emotions and opinions. It’s taking time to sift through them, and one of the greatest things I am learning is to be patient with myself. I wasn’t overwhelmed in the beginning of week, but I’m there now. This is how my brain looks right now.

Beware. Most of this is just to help me process my own thoughts.

- GFDFSF…How hard can this be? I know people who do it.
- Oh crap, I can’t have ice cream from Dairy queen.
- We’re gonna be super healthy now.
- Wow, I really have to make sure I always have a snack with me in case they can’t eat anything.
- I love to bake, what do I do now?
- Hopefully my kids won’t be so hungry now because they are eating more fulfilling foods.
- When will the cravings go away?
- I wonder if this will really work?
- What do we eat for lunch?
- I need different food in my house.
- Wow, there are a lot of resources out there.
- I really hopes this works.
- Man I want an ice cream

Because I said that Paul and I were doing this, yesterday was a completely GFDFSF day, and I was pretty cranky. All I wanted to do was eat carbs. My body is addicted to the sugar in carbs and I was amazed at really how much we eat this in our house. There may be healthily food here, but its right alongside crackers and cheese, cereal, sandwiches, pasta, you name it. Which is all fine if your body can process it, but also not in moderation, your body becomes addicted to it, and we are in withdrawal. I was hungry all day, but stuck to the diet. I also had to remind myself that my children were most likely feeling the same way.

Noah asked for milk at every meal the first day, but hasn’t since. It’s been pretty great.

You know how when you’re going to buy a new car and then all of a sudden it’s the only car you see around? Or you’re pregnant and all you see is mother’s expecting? I am currently only seeing and thinking about all the things we can’t eat. All the habits we have formed around food that we have to change. When I think about our life this way, I get a little sad and maybe a little frustrated. “I can’t have… I won’t ever have_____ again, we can’t eat here_______, we have to bring our own food everywhere, how does this work when we go to other’s homes? Etc.” It also feels very heavy on my shoulders as the primary cook in our house. The only who grocery shops and clips coupons. This mountain feels huge.

What I’ve really realized in it’s truest from these past couple days is your attitude towards whatever happens to you in life is key to happiness, joy, fulfillment, and passing on the goodness of God.

If I in my current mental and emotional state continue to do life this way, I will reap a harvest of bitterness and unfulfillment. However, if I change my attitude than my family can and will embark on a wonderful adventure that will reinstate joy and peace to our house. An adventure that teaches us how to respect and love and take care of the bodies that God has given us. An adventure that will show my son that we will go to any length to love and support him. That can’t be understated.

So in my mind it has been a raging between the two attitudes. Debating between positive and negative. I do still see all the food I can’t have, but it also reminds me that Noah can’t have it either, and that’s the point. This isn’t about me. This is about my son. To love him. To support him. To walk this journey with him. I am asking him to say to his friends who bring really fun and exciting treats. This won’t be easy for him, and so I can suck up my cravings that will go away, and understand he is going through the same thing.

So, we are choosing to be positive about this. We are excited to see what happens to our health, lives, emotions, physical well being. We can do this. As of right now, I can already see a small difference in Noah. He is calmer and can take direction better. On the other hand, Caleb seems to have fallen off the emotional deep end. We will continue to be patient in our progress and see what happens. We will continue to adjust what we are eating and reading up on research and talking to people who have walked this path before us. I have felt such an overwhelming sense of support from family and friends. There are many in our little world who have gone this direction before us. I have a great handful of friends who have called, given me websites, and offered encouragement. It has felt amazing to be so loved and encouraged.

Thank you to everyone for walking with us. Tonight my homework is to make up our food diaries and behavior charts. I am doing this for all of us. In about a week I will post that as well. It is the guide to help us observe food intake and behaviors. We are in the research stage, living life and praying continually for God’s guidance.

Results from Blood Test

And our journey continues.

Well, I haven't written in a few days because we went to Wyndgate Health on Monday and got our results from Noah's blood and urine testing. I have been very busy using all my free time to read up on our results. This is what was explained to me:

*DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional or even a medical novice. I am a mom who's child is bright, sensitive, kind and loving. He does however struggle with anger, rage on occasion, over dramatizing issues, anxiety, and extreme emotional swings. He is not Autistic or ADHD, however, a lot of the research connects sensatory issues with the previous. This blog is to recommunicate what I have learned and been told in the last couple days regarding our situation. This information is not to diagnose anyone else, or suggest you have these issues. This is our story, bathed in prayer, constant prayer and cries out to God to find the truth about what to do.

* Noah has a large Zinc, Iron, Vitamin D, and Vitamin B deficiency. We will be putting Noah on a compounded vitamin that will supply these and a few other vitamins that his body is lacking. Zinc and Iron are directly related to forming brain chemicals that helps in making choices, overreacting, and control. Vitamin D is often called the mood vitamin, much of what you get from the sun. Many people who live up north will understand this last one and most likely take it themselves.

* Noah's body also is struggling to process Casein and Gluten, the two main ingredients in Dairy and Wheat products. He has a leaky stomach. Basically what that means is that his intestines can't process these proteins into Amino Acids and then into Brain Chemicals.

* He is not allergic to Dairy and Gluten, but does have an intolerance. An intolerance reveals itself most often in behavioral problems, anxiety, lack of self control and physiological issues.

What this means for us is that our house will be going Gluten and Dairy and Soy Free. (It is recommended to also get rid of soy because of how it similar it is to gluten and dairy.) The results show that Noah's stomach is damaged and hurting him. He needs us to help him get better.

I have written in a couple days because I have been processing this information. When Laura explained all of this to me at Wyndate health, I didn't feel overwhelmed. I thought. "Oh. OK. Well, this means we'll essentially be healthier right?" How could I be overwhelmed when I didn't even fully realize what was expected of us? Exactly how life was going to change. So I was fine.

It was recommended to us to wean off dairy and gluten. The thing is, we were already low on milk, cheese, and had no yogurt in the house. We just ran out bread and were eating our last burgers and hot dogs with buns. I have a hard time going to the store and buying products that I now know are hurting my son, and possibly my husband and me. (Most of Noah's issues are passed on through one or both of us, so it was recommended that we all do the do the diet and see how we feel.) So why would I replace these items? I couldn't. So we have gone dairy and gluten free at a faster pace than expected. That's just fine, except I don't have a lot to replace these items, so we are just soaking up our fruits and veggies and chicken.

I cleaned out our pantry and extra food shelf and got rid of everything that wasn't GFDFSF (Gluten free, dairy free, soy free). Here is what we got rid off.


And this doesn’t' include our already opened boxes of cereal and refrigerated items.

So yesterday was the first day that we were really challenged in our new diet. I went to my mom's group and they had delicious chocolate doughnuts and pastries from Panera, my favorite. I didn't have any. Then when they came through to check to see if the kids could have fruit snacks, I had to check the ingredients. We had friends come over and want to bring pizza, and we had to say no. I made Oven roasted chicken in a red sauce, Trader Jo tator tots, and green beans.

Last night I went to a free workshop on the effects of Gluten and Casein and Soy in the diet. Last night is when I became the deer in the headlights lady. Wow, it was more medical information than I could process.

So that is our technical update of how our life is changing. All of my personal thoughts, feelings and responses will be posted in a blog right after this.

one of those days

Do you ever have one of those days where you had all sorts of plans. You have ideas of what you want to do with your day, what you are going accomplish, how everything is supposed to happen?

I had a lot of plans for my day. None of them worked out.

Not one.

I'm pretty disappointed in myself today. Disappointed in how I spent my time, how I responded to the situations that happened, and even in how I ate. Ever notice that what you eat also directly effects how you feel and respond to life?

It was just one of those days. And the funny thing is, I spent more time in the word today than I have in a week.

I guess I can rest in the fact that God is faithful in his grace, and grants us new life and new days.

Here's to hoping tomorrow is a better day. Thank you Jesus for even our worst days, and that you are in those moments as well.

God as Mother

God is neither male nor female. Man nor woman. And yet, God is referred to in the English Christian faith as Father, He, Him, Male. There are three entities to YHWH, Father, son, and Holy Spirit. We know that Christ was a man, but YHWH in God’s completeness and in the singular role to Christ is Father – Male.

In the original Greek and Hebrew God’s name YHWH held both male and female understanding. It was read to incorporate all of God’s characteristics, both male and female. Humans are male and female, but YWHW is neither and at the same time both. But yet in our culture and translation, we have robbed our ability to understand YWHW entirely, completely, fully. Understanding YWHW as Father and Mother.

Yesterday I kept thinking about YHWH as Mother. So often we limit God to his male characteristics and then only refer to God as Him. Him as defender, protector, fighter, provider, and stronghold. When I read these words they automatically enlist an image of maleness. (Hint: all these words would also describe how I love my children as a mother. I would fight anyone who would dare try to hurt my children. But as Americans we don’t view these words as female, but male.)

I love that our YHWH is all of these things; however, God is so much more. YHWH is also tender in leading us back to him, patient to correct us, a teacher of his ways, full of compassion, love, and devotion. I believe some of YHWH’s greatest strength’s are ones that reflect a Mother.

When my children are sick, though their dad is very tender and full of compassion, they choose me. Let’s be honest, as a grown woman, I still want my mother when I’m sick. It’s a mother’s kiss that helps a child. A mother who faithfully lifts their child up in prayer. A mother that sacrifices so much of who she is for the betterment of her children.

Children and mother’s share a special bond. Though children carry part of their father with them, they are born from their mother. They are intimately connected and bonded for all of life. Isn’t that how it is our Lord? We breathe YHWH’s breath. We are a piece of YHWH here on earth because we were created by him/her. We are intimately connected to God and for all of our life here on in this place we are searching to be connected again. There is a space in our soul that can only be filled by God, much like our mother.

Yesterday when I was thinking about all that Mother’s are, it felt right to think about God that way. To reinstate that part of who God is back to my understanding of his/her character.

YHWH is my father and mother. I celebrated that yesterday and will continue to look to scripture to find my guidance on being a better mother from God herself.

Finding speaking opportunities

There are so many things about my life that I love. I feel like every aspect of who I am feeds the other pieces of myself. The opportunities when I get to go and speak allow me time away to refresh and renew and come home with a clearer mind to pour into my kids and husband. Being home with my kids allows me time (lets be real, they are more like fleeting moments, not long drawn out reflective times)to be shaped by God, learn from being a parent, and continually fall on his grace and mercy. Being home also allows me time to work on my speaking gigs.

At least that's the way it would work in an ideal world.

Having a third child has kind of been like drowning. I really don't mean that in a horrible way, and I wouldn't give up my daughter or the timing of having of her for anything. She is my little sunshine, and she absolutely has my heart. What I am speaking of is the work it takes to raise kids and the time and attention they need. Having a third put me over the edge. The edge for some people is the second child, for others its the third or fourth. Everyone has an edge. Mine was our third. I all of a sudden could recognize how long it took me to do simple chores that once before took maybe half the time it takes now. At the end of the day, I can look around at all of my half started projects and think, "why didn't I finish that?"

This past year, I had some amazing speaking opportunities. I got those opportunities because I had time the year before to pursue them, to find them, to pray over them, to send out my information to new contacts and events and conferences.

Now my bookings are done. I haven't had any time to pursue new speaking opportunities and that makes me sad. I love doing what I'm doing, but I won't get much of a chance to do it this next year, unless some opportunities come my way. So I am starting to feel unbalanced.

Here is my dilemma. It's spring right now and I'm busy preparing my yard and garden for vegetables and berries. We are big into eating our own food and harvesting our garden. I am also still, yes still, vacuuming my yard, but that completely crazy, obnoxious task will be done today! Then I have to repaint. Replant flowers, etc. I love doing yard work, expect it's like adding three rooms of chores to the chore list.

I've been busy the last week working in my yard instead of looking for opportunities to speak and share the good news of Christ with youth and young adults. And now instead of finding bookings or gardening, I'm just complaining about my problem on my blog.

Sometimes I find the perfect solution. (rolling of eyes)

So, if you or your church, or school, or business, or retreat that you love to attend is looking for a speaker that presents the gospel of Jesus Christ through real life experience and Biblical truth, let me know.

Or just send them to my website www.danitietjen.com for my press kit and information. I would love to expand my ministry and meet some new people and see what God will do.

The pocket

Last year we didn't get to do any family bike rides because we had a newborn and three kids now with a buggy that fits two. Noah didn't know how to ride his two wheeler yet, so we were stuck, and sad, and missing our family adventures on our bikes.

Two weeks ago my dad taught Noah how to ride his two wheeler and he is a stunt man on that thing already. I secretly got really excited knowing that adventures were coming our way this summer. I couldn't wait to get on my bike, put Noah on his and the other two in the buggy.

Yesterday the kids and I took a 5 mile bike ride together in the morning and after dinner after the kids were bathed and in their Jammie's, we broke the rules, because it was just so nice outside, and went for our first family bike ride in two years. You have to break the rules sometimes, and Noah has proved to be an AMAZING bike rider. It is so much fun! My heart was soaring as my dream of family bike rides were coming true. Caleb and Lu had a blast together in the buggy. It was fun to hear her instigate playfulness with Caleb. Music to my ears.

Minneapolis is known for its bike paths. It was actually claimed as the number one biking city last year. There are miles after miles after miles of bike paths. Even living in the city, within minutes, you are biking next to the Mississippi away from city noise. Its breathtaking riding bikes here, and we love it.

With this being our first time out on bikes with a child rider, we had to discuss some rules. We were riding in the street so I needed to be in between Noah and the cars driving. His safe zone was between the curb and me.

We called it the pocket.

I would call out, "Noah I need you in the pocket", and he would instantly slow down to ride next to me.

It was incredible to watch his awareness and comfortablity rise as he grew safer inside the pocket. He knew he was OK and that my job as his mother was to keep him safe. As the parent I was looking out for cars, other people, and I knew the way to go. At one point he even said, "Mom I like it in the pocket because you are here."

The pocket. The place where we are protected. Where we are safe. Where we are in the confines of a parent who loves us and is taking care of us. See Noah still had potholes and bumps in his path and there were still cars coming at him that he needed to look out for, but he felt different because he was in the pocket.

When Noah looks ahead of him, he only sees right in front of him. The stop sign, the turn, the tree, he only sees a couple feet around him. All of those things are very distracting and that is where his focus is.

Like Noah when I am looking in my life, I often only see my day or week ahead of me. I see the laundry, the dishes, the discipline, the teaching moments to my kids, the contracts to send out for speaking gigs, the gardening, the cooking, the bills, the etc, fill in the blank. I often times have blocked vision because I am human. I can only see what is right in front of me.

Like God, when I am the parent, I see the whole path. (only biking, not making any assumption that I have any clue about life or am powerful in any sort of way.) I can see over Noah's head to see if cars are coming. I know exactly where we are going and can direct him and help him along. I know when to help him slow down, when to stop, and when to go faster. I know when to move over and allow him more room, and I know when to snuggle up closer to him to offer my protection.

As the parent I am not taking the potholes and bumps out of his road. I am not controlling all the cars to keep them away from my kid. I am simply going along with him, loving him, talking with him, guiding him.

Living in the pocket. I started to really like that idea.

What would it look like to live in the pocket of faith with my life. Real life problems and issues would still exists, but that wouldn't be the focus. There would be peace knowing that I rested everyday in the goodness of God. There would be joy trusting God's presence in my life. Bad things would still happen, but sitting in the pocket would provide the right perspective.

It wouldn't be about the problem, because I would still have the Lord there to help me through. That's the perspective I want.

I want to live in the pocket.