Undercover Mother

Everyday Life: On Grace through Green Macaroni

2012-01-30T06:00:00.000-06:00

All is quiet upstairs now.

He's gone to bed hungry after refusing to eat his dinner tonight. There was a storm of angry tears and frustration first, though, along with a sinking-stomach feeling settled deep in my body.

We're no longer caving to all his wants for food that isn't delivering him the nutrition he really needs.

Three long days of torture for the mother-heart, I tell you.

This trying to do what is right, what will nourish and heal his body instead of allowing his cravings and desires to infiltrate reality as needs.

It feels like a battle of epic proportions, taking on the 2 year old and his food preferences for only carbohydrates, meat and dairy. Nothing green goes in unless its been finely shredded and mixed in with another food. And that's only a recent development.

I cling to it, and I cling to His feet.

This is about so much more than whether our toddler eats green beans.

And yet, it is exactly about our toddler eating green beans, too.

Because like with anything else in life, the mind and the will directly relate to the health and the strength of the body and both the heart and metaphorical heart.

This battle is mind/will and strength/body combined in a doozie of a saga.

I know what his food preferences lead to -- they lead to catching every cold that comes his way as well as long-term illnesses parents pray their children will never face.

This sugar-loving, acidity-forming, antioxidant-lacking diet doesn't lead us down paths we want to tread.

Try explaining that to a two year old who knows the wonders of cheddar bunnies, though, on his tongue.

We must grow, though. Him in his tastes and me in me ability to determine how to best help him make healthy choices.

And all the while be sure that enough grace is laced into the hardballs life naturally throws in our faces; I must keep reminding myself that we parents don't really have to teach our kids the hardness of life. Life teaches that on its own.

But grace.

Grace must be lived out, shown with flesh on.

So while there will still be the movement toward healthier eating for sure; we'll probably never repeat him going to bed hungry again.

I know; one missed meal won't hurt his body. It's true. He will learn to eat his dinner if we continue to tow the hard line. But maybe the line can be towed without the fast-forward jerkiness that comes from my desire to teach him to eat well and eat what's served nownownow.

I don't know if I know what that looks like in real practice, in real life. Maybe love, maybe grace while still standing firm looks like the green macaroni we had for lunch today -- when I blended spinach into the cheese and milk and made a green cheese sauce for his quinoa/kamut/amaranth/durum noodles.

I really just don't know.

But I do know this -- neither his belly nor his heart are overflowing with anything but anger and emptiness tonight.

And, when thinking, that's not a place I'm willing to go again.

Living Healthfully: Best Chicken Soup Ever

2012-01-27T15:10:00.000-06:00

At first I wasn't sure whether or not to be highly offended or highly flattered when John heartily took a heaping bite of the chicken soup I'd slaved over {read: chopped veggies for} all day {read: the time it took me to chop the veggies} and exclaimed that it was surely the best soup I'd ever made.

I mean, I'm not some fabulous chef or anything close, but I've made some pretty darn good soups; they are kind of my thing.

After assuring me that most of my soups have been good and that all of his past compliments hadn't been pity remarks {kidding!}, he added that this one was exceptionally good.

So because it's super healthy{I mean, like, whoa healthy}, exceptionally tasty and it's pretty painless to make, here's the play by play on how to create my {creatively titled} Best Chicken Soup Ever in your own kitchen.

Ingredients:
One small whole chicken
Four stalks of celery
One pound bag of carrots
One bunch of parsley
One bunch of cilantro
One sweet onion
One bunch of leeks
Olive Oil
Five cloves of garlic
Sea Salt
Pepper
One cup of frozen Kale or about 5 large fresh leaves chopped well
Dried Italian Seasoning blend
One Lime
One bag of baked Blue Corn Tortilla Chips* {optional}

Directions:

Place entire chicken {remove organ pack if it's included first!} in a crock pot with enough time to cook for about 6-8 hours. Add 6-8 cups of water {basically you only want the top of the chicken to be above water} and drizzle olive oil atop of the chicken. Turn the heat on high.

While the crock pot is warming and the chicken is beginning to cook and make a simple broth in the pot, get busy chopping carrots, celery, parsley, leeks and onion. Crush the garlic. Add all ingredients to the crock pot after you're finished chopping and allow them to simmer on high with the chicken. Also add a generous sprinkle of the dried Italian Seasoning blend now.

About an hour and half before serving your soup, begin breaking pulling the chicken meat off the bones. After removing much of the meat, take the carcass {leave the leg bones in the crock pot to simmer}and place it in a big stock pot. Cover the carcass with water and simmer the carcass in the stock pot with the lid on. You'll want to cover the carcass with about an inch or so of water.

Next, chop the cilantro and add most of it along with the kale to the crockpot. Toss the rest of the cilantro into the stock pot. If you have another clove of garlic, add it to the stock pot, too. Let the carcass simmer for about an hour but check to make sure the carcass is still covered with water in the pot during the simmering period. Add more water if needed.

After an hour, pour the stockpot contents into the crock pot using a strainer to strain the bones and meat.

Then pick out the meat from the stock pot and add it to your soup.

Add sea salt and pepper before serving and serve with a side of fresh lime and blue corn tortilla chips.

{*If you are following the Body Ecology Diet like I am, this meal adheres to the guidelines for first and second phases minus the tortilla chips. Don't eat the tortilla chips alongside a protein or starchy veggies!}

Bigger Picture Moments: Sparkly

2012-01-26T06:00:00.000-06:00

He bounds, all feet beneath a four-year-old body, out of the classroom with a huge grin spread thick across his dusting of freckles like peanut butter smeared heavy across a satisfied mouth.

An invitation to mommy night at preschool in his hand and a new song about being a mom bursting from his lips means we are counting down the days to our date night like we do Advent before Christmas.

****

"You'll need to wear a really really reaaaaaly fancy dress, mom," he says the afternoon before our big date night. "This is a serious date."

We pick out one together; luckily, he selects the black wrap dress that still fits and is gracious to fall naturally around an ever-changing body.

He then scurries to his room to dress himself in his best: his tuxedo with a white tie {NOT the red one tonight, daddy} and his fire boots.

A picture or five and we're off.

We don't want to be late.

"And, mommy, I'll carry your sparkly shoes," he says as I slip on warm wool socks and boots over nylons. "Your hands are too full."

****

He shows me his world in live, bright colors -- a world I only see glimpses of through his crafts and papers, his selective conversation and peeks during school drop off and pick up.

I marvel at my handsome, animated date, who still longs to holds my hand and presses his small fingers in between my own.

He gifts me his full attention and drinks up my undivided gaze and nodding smiles.

My heart sparkle-shimmers in adoration for the boy who made me a mother and a star of royalty for an evening.

As he shows me his magic shrinker tool, I glimpse his fire boots and my mind flutters back to a different date, long ago, years removed where I felt much like I do here in this classroom -- then a princess holding a much-larger-than-my-own hand, standing in the safe shadows of a taller, stockier, older version of my son at the fireman's picnic.

There is a blinkflutterblinkblink of my eyes and I see him moving and leading me to another space to unravel and explore together.

The night is a mixture of giggles and soaking up moments that will soon enough pass.

We end with the little ones singing us The Mom Song, and he asks me to take a picture.

I flip on the record switch but can barely keep him in focus through the lens of my phone because I'm simply too focused on capturing through my own eyes this boy -- live, in vivid, animated color -- burn here and now into my forever-memory.

The song ends and he collapses into my arms. I breathe in his soft scent and roll around in the newness of memories made, him and I together.

I whisper gratitude to God for a lost memory recovered of my late father, the man my young eyes saw as king, simply just another gift from the boy who has deemed me queen for an hour {and maybe queen of his heart, if I can manage such fortune, for a few more years}.

As my son picks up my sparkly shoes at night's end, I, too, offer thanks for too-full hands and a filled-to-the-brim heart.

Each Thursday {Friday for me this week!}, we come together to share the harvest of intentional living by capturing a glimmer of the bigger picture through a simple moment.

Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with thanksgiving in your heart.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your gleaned moment this week at Sarah's. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Everyday Life: Patience {In January}

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-06:00

I'd envisioned rest and relaxation, time spent in the company of silence and of others to be the major components of healing.

There is some of that here.

But, too, and maybe more, there is sacrifice.

Sacrifice of time spent with my husband in favor of listening to a body that desperately aches for sleep.

Sacrifice of the places I want to go, time I want to spend, conversations I want to have, ideas I want to explore, people I want to help, words for the book I must write.

I keep wishing in some ways that this body of mine

this heart

this mind

would heal faster.

{Lord, don't you know I have boys who are growing -- growing so fast and so furious that they wake up needing the next size clothing some days? And a husband who needs an awake wife? And a business and a blog ... and and and ....}

But deep healing requires patience. And patience requires some amount of sacrifice.

Mostly, the sacrifice of expectations

enough to allow for permeable grace

to soak into the soil of busy

enough to allow for guilt-free days

as whole living slowly, steadily emerges like the sun rising in the horizon each morning.

A reminder

that it rises

one morning at a time.

{Even for a mom, a wife, a business owner, a blogger ...}

My word for 2012 is patience. Each month, I'm chronicling how patience is being woven into my life this year.

Living Healthfully: On talking about healing in detail

2012-01-23T06:00:00.000-06:00

A steady hesitation rises in my chest because this place where I living lately is sort of lonely and strange.

I've shared often that I'm still healing, still getting back to normal after the loss of two pregnancies this past fall and winter.

But I'm not just healing from the loss, the grief, the anxiety and overwhelmingness that followed.

Searching for careful words and taking a heaping spoonful of my own medicine-words to bring what's hidden in darkness into light, I'll detail without going into too much detail.

Two miscarriages, an improvement on a gluten-and-dairy-free diet, anxiety and some nutritional scans, a lingering sinus infection but continued to fatigue and GI upset all seemed to be pointing piecing the puzzle together into one big picture: a ystemic yeast overgrowth most commonly referred to as candidasis.

Yeah, ok, I'd never heard of this either. {That's partly why I'm sharing here because there doesn't seems to be a whole lot of support.}

My chiropractor/nutritional practitioner has suspected this since summer, when I shared with her my symptoms and how E and I struggled for months to rid ourselves of a thrush infection after E was born.

Fast forward to the end of December after experiencing some of the more odd symptoms -- the uprising of seeming food intolerances, the miscarriages, the sinus stuff, anxiety that skyrocketed out of nowhere -- and I was more ready to learn about the yeast overgrowth.

A friend, too, shared some of her story that similarly mirrored my onw, and she recommended I read The Body Ecology book, which is pretty much a manual for anyone who has food intolerances, GI issues, IBS and other strange-but-normalized-by-culture inner ecological system issues.

So I did, and I was only semi-shocked after scoring high on the self quiz assessing my likelihood of a candida infection.

Then I was pretty much blown away by how many of my symptoms were all linked back to a yeast dominance within the inner ecological systems of the body. {For the record, yeast and bacteria are supposed to live in a nice balance in your body. But yeast are opportunists and can over take the good bacteria leading to a lot of the symptoms I mentioned above as well as many I didn't mention.}

It took me a few weeks to wrap my head around this whole-foods-based cleanse and rebuild diet aimed at killing off the yeast and rebuilding good gut flora before I could even think about planning and getting on board.

But at the encouragement of my friend and support from my nutritionist, I started the diet January 8, and I immediately began experiencing classic yeast die-off symptoms.

I'll spare you the vivid details {think hives, rash, GI issues, chills, nightsweats}, but my husband, the knowledge-seeking, rationalist who was skeptical of all this -- said he never would have believed it had he not saw for himself the classic die-off symptoms my body showed. And yes -- all of that with only the whole-foods diet and a daily small does of oil of oregano.

I'm pretty shocked in the still-most skeptical of ways.

Basically, I thought I was going crazy -- feeling so off and feeling so weird but tons of traditional bloodwork and cultures all coming back normal.

My beloved family doctor even thought I was going overboard with even the mere questioning of a yeast overgrowth and brushed off my concerns, furthering leading me down the rabbit-hole of "oh, my gosh, what if I AM crazy?"

Though I've experienced one hard-core bout of yeast die off already {and I think I'm going through a second right now}, I'm still feeling hesitant on sharing this simply because of how much better I felt after coming off gluten and dairy and having thought that was the ultimate answer.

But, I have hope that this is the root cause of everything simply because with this it's normal to go through cycles of worse {cleansing} before finally getting better {rebuilding}.

It's like I've been the unhealthiest healthy person simply because the medical system here in the US doesn't really recognize yeast overgrowth as a condition. {But in Europe, they do! Go figure! Also, ironic, these yeast overgrowths are cause by things like antibiotic use, long-term birth control use, a diet rich in carbs and sugar ... all things very common here in the states.}

And that's where I've been living these past few weeks --

in this state of odd-feeling-worse-then-better healing combined with the loneliness that comes from being on a crazy specific whole foods diet that requires a crap-load of preparation and time and prayers that I'm finally, finally heading into the right direction to get well, get rid of the brain fog and the fatigue and the GI issues and ... etc.

in a state of hope that this is really healing.

Bigger Picture Moment/Five-Minute Friday: Vivid

2012-01-20T09:15:00.000-06:00

He remembers the me

-- the girl with the lip ring and fire-red streaky hair --

who ventured into roped-off catacombs while exploring the Egyptian landscape.

The me

-- 22 and the perfect cacophony of youth mixed with blind faith --

who unabashedly spoke up in foreign tongue to requests not quite understood.

The me

-- who came with forewarnings of adventure and messy --

who lived boldly, uninhibited

loved fiercely, heart outside chest

dreamed wildly, possibility endless.

He pauses.

The me he still sees burst forth though it comes through differently clothed in the skin of motherhood and marriage.

The me I was created to be

-- refurnished and brushed by the refining fires of living--

still vividly dancing amid the everydayness of life.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your gleaned moment this week at Melissa's. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Thinking, That's All: Presence

2012-01-18T06:00:00.000-06:00

I never liked the silence of me alone in a room without at least the presence of another to make it less still.

And then I discovered a Presence in which I wanted to bask, with whom I wanted to rest in the timelessness of quiet, in the quietness of slow-passing time.

I forget so easily, though, as easily as I forget the one thing for which I went to the store when I'm walking to the checkout, cart full of things we only half-need --

I forget amid the constant foghorn of busyness sounding through the thick air that my heart is filled not by the workings of my hands, but rather its filled by His handiwork within my heart during these times of stillness, during these times when my mind switches off the constant drumming of a make-it-or-break-it beat and instead beats in the rhythm of grace and rest.

I forget that His rhythm beats in my heart best.

We spend two days, John and I, in retreat of everyday life, filling small pockets of time with silence in His presence, keeping company with others who seeking to live in the intersection of where their deep joy meets the world's deep need.

We come around the table, seeking the very spoken Words Jesus shared in the upper room with his disciples.

We break bread together, trying to make sense of those Words, apply them to the here and now of our lives.

Together, we share life in solid community, bound by an appetite to know Him and make Him better known in our own hearts and in the hearts of those who crave more than what culture says life is in the here, in the now.

We share what has left us tired and aching -- the loneliness of being alone in a crowd and the noise of brains that won't enter into the rest to which He invites us.

It is an extreme paradox, this place and time in which we live, where we feel most alone when we are together and when we seek to come into His presence we feel alone because we are taken captive by the thoughts, the fears, the busyness of the day.

We break in retreat these two days to keep company with God.

Together.

Alone.

TogetherAlone.

And the quiet isn't so quiet.

Together

Or alone

when we keep company in His presence.

Disown It: Letting it Go

2012-01-17T06:00:00.000-06:00

Aside from really owning and going deep with my word for 2012, I did make one other resolution this year: to disown it!

And by it I mean at least 500 pounds of all the the stuff we

1. have had sitting in our basement with only intentions of using maybe {possibly} one day
2. consider overflow: simply, we had too many doubles of kitchen gadgets, decorations and toys
3. haven't worn in five years or should never ever {ever!} wear again
4. haven't been able to fit into and never plan to fit into again

When we cleaned out our master closet for the January Simple Swap we made great progress on disowning the too-big, too-worn and too-dated clothes that had grown into a mounding pile.

{Have you tackled your bed room closet and linked up with the January Simple Swap yet? You have until the last day of January. Best of all we teamed with Melissa at Peanut Butter in My Hair to kill two birds with one stone: disowning old clothes and Dressing Like a Girl.}

This past weekend, we moved to the kitchen and the pantry.

We said goodbye to cups we no longer use as well as ones that we rarely use.

We also bid adieu the overflow of foods we no longer eat often {or, if you're me, ever} like wheat flour and other gluten-filled items like dressings and marinades.

And we even said goodbye to the old blender/food processor after welcoming into our kitchen a new food processor, which I have used every day since opening the box to make foods that we've previously bought packaged from fresh ingredients instead, including coconut pudding/cheese.

Yes, making coconut kefir and cheese requires many power tools in my house!

We ended up disowing about 80 more pounds of stuff, which brings the running total up to about 180 pounds of things that are going to find homes where they will be used, loved, cherished. {Except for maybe the old food processor. It was pretty much on its last leg.}

Next up: the basement, baby items and {dun dun dun!} the play room.

Wish me lots of patience {my word!}, muscle and persuasion power with the four year old!

Disclosure: Trop50 asked me to participate in its Resolution campaign and share one of my resolutions on Facebook with its community as well as here on my blog. To participate and garner a free coupon for the Stevia-sweetened Trop50 fruit juice drink, you can hop over and share your resolution. I was compensated for my participation in the campaign; we also use Stevia in our house to add occasional sweetness to foods.

Everyday Life: On Again

2012-01-16T06:00:00.000-06:00

I'd thought we were done.

He hadn't asked me to nurse in three weeks.

About the time we found out we were pregnant again, he lost interest in nursing.

So I just let it go.

And then, suddenly, I wasn't pregnant anymore.

And he fell and hit his head, probably making more of a mess of my own brain than his.

He asked for milk at the emergency room; I obliged.

And then holy mother load.

His cup overflows.

And we are a nursing duo again.

I'm not sure who is reaping more of the benefits -- him and his immune system or me and my oxytocin-craving brain.

But either way, game on. {Again. Until the game is off. Again. Toddlers are fickle little people, so I'm just going along for the ride with the cutest little bundle of two years old, who I'm sure, again, is helping nurse me back to life.}

Bigger Picture Moment: What I Never Wanted

2012-01-12T13:44:00.000-06:00

I'd never choose this -

the cold.
the wind sweeping across the plains leaving the land swept and weary.
the wet flakes coating all of creation with the heaviness of winter,
the white snow slowly, steadily covering the tree branches until only a slight frame of what was can be seen through the thickness of snow.

But what then would I know of what it looks like

to be blanketed in fresh grace.
to be covered in new.
to be who I was but also who I've become.

And so there is gratitude for what I never wanted.

Each Thursday, we come together to share the harvest of intentional living by capturing a glimmer of the bigger picture through a simple moment.

Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with thanksgiving in your heart.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your gleaned moment this week at Lenae's. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

A Call to Know: What We don't Like to Know

2012-01-11T07:32:00.000-06:00

She doesn't even have a legal name.

Young, beautiful, with a perfect smile, she slipped right into a family dinner a few years ago without my deaf ears ever really hearing her story.

14. 15, maybe.

She was bought when she was 10 years old. Bought. Sold by her parents to a man and then sold a few more times, she finally ended up with a captor who had the means to bring her to this country.

An assault on my ears, on my mind, my heart, a child sold and owned, I didn't know her story until recently another family member explained she had essentially broken away from the man who had bought her only to be orphaned and alone in a foreign country.

Life hasn't been easy for the sweet-faced girl who doesn't even have a legal identity apart from the man who bought her and from whom she tore away to become a ward of the state and then finally placed under the care of my loving family members who fatefully befriend her.

We don't know it, but these stories permeate even our suburban landscapes, our grocery store aisles, the pews in our churches.

We don't know it, but people are being bought and sold and owned before our unsuspecting eyes.

And I just thought, hey, maybe we should know.

Maybe knowing it would ignite a passion in our hearts to become agents of change.

Maybe knowing it would inspire action to increase awareness and decrease the prevalence of human trafficking, an exploitation that generates around $32 billion dollars every year.

Maybe simply knowing it would encourage us to build bridges to rescue those who are enslaved and help eventually prevent another 27 million people from being bought.

There are some amazing organizations that tell the story much more profoundly than I can.

They are everyday, compassionate people who actually doing something about this epidemic.

{Everyday people like you and me.}

And I just thought we should all know.

{Today is Human Trafficking Awareness Day. And I didn't know until a friend e-mailed me. But now I do. And now I can't look away.}

For more information or to get involved visit:
Love146
Run for their Lives
The SOLD Project via Tasting Grace
Casa de Esperanza

If you suspect someone you know has been smuggled or trafficked, visit here for information on how to help.

Share the Love: Chicago Botanic Garden

2012-01-10T06:00:00.000-06:00

A normal winter in Chicago leaves me desperate for reprieve from the cold, snow and wicked winds that sweep across the plains.

This year, thus far, we've been blessed to have many mild days to get outside, run around and expend some energy.

Of course, this still is Chicago, so it's not been perfect, and I wouldn't be surprised if we have an entire month's worth of snowstorms before spring actually arrives. At any rate, normally, I am desperate to find fun indoor activities our entire family can enjoy {and we can only spend so many days watching the boys bouncing their crazies out at the local bounce house}.

During one of the colder stretches in December when we couldn't pay the boys to go outside and run around, we found a place that fit the bill: the Chicago Botanic Garden. Yes, we've frequented the garden as a couple, but we rarely gave thought to taking two rambunctious little hooligans to its indoor space where there are, um, things that can be broken or dug up.

But we were really glad we made the 30 minute trek to Chicago Botanic Garden and spent the entire morning enjoying the great indoors infused with the great outdoors.

The Botanic Garden welcomed us to begin our tour by participating in a hands-on project with the children who were attending the Camp Chicago Botanic Garden.

G was sold on the activity -- planting a bulb during the winter -- when they handed him a {plastic} knife and told him to cut apart the bulb to see what was inside. It was, like, his dream come true.

I was sold on it when Amy, our guide and one of Camp CBG's directors, actually began engaging the kiddos in a discussion about the parts of the bulb and then step by step led all of the little ones at our table {ages 2-6} in planting the bulbs in their very own jars.

After we planted our bulbs and learned how to care for them, we went off to one of the tropical indoor gardens. E enjoyed running around, while G actually liked looking at the plants and the lady bugs we found. {And no one dug up any rare plants, squashed any exotic bugs or ate any dirt! Success!}

{Also, success: tropical with greenery and blooming flowers in Chicago during the winter.}

We bookended our tour by exploring the Wonderland Express, the holiday themed train exibit, in the other indoor atriums.

E was absolutely enamored by the trains chugging around the tracks of the mini Windy City and spent most of our time there chasing the trains around.

John and I couldn't get over the absolute intricacy of the Chicago landmark replicas, and G thought it was really fun identify some of the major Chicago landmarks as we made our way through the display. {Because I'm a eco-dork, I marveled at how all of the buildings were constructed out of natural materials like bark, leaves and moss. Stunning, really.}

A morning at the indoor exhibits and gardens at the CBG was an absolutely fabulous way to spend time together as a family while enjoying the beauty of the flora as the kids took in the sights and sounds and ran excitedly around the exhibits {which no one even batted an eye about -- other guests and staff alike. It was totally kid-friendly}.

We'll definitely be heading back for another trip to enjoy the indoor gardens {and temperatures of those tropical gardens -- woo!} before winter's end; and G has been trying to talk us into enrolling him in an entire week of day camp {so long as he gets another {plastic!} knife!}, during one of the gardens other day camps. {They host camps during spring, summer and winter school breaks.}

Generously, the Chicago Botanic Garden offered my friends here a $10 off coupon for any of the day camps offered this year. Simply use MBF12 to redeem the coupon at registration. Summer camp registration is live now.

Disclosure: The Chicago Botanic Garden invited my family to experience the garden and Camp Chicago Botanic Garden. I was gifted with a gift certificate good toward Camp CBG and with lunch the day of our tour. All opinions expressed are my own. Simply, the garden is a Chicago area gem, and I wanted to share our awesome experience with my friends here. All pictures are compliments of the Chicago Botanic Garden.

Thinking, that's all: Strange isn't all that Strange

2012-01-09T06:00:00.000-06:00

It starts with my sister and I half joking about how other families seem so normal.

Until they don't.

Like mine, for instance.

At first glance, we're stereotypical suburbanites with our two parents, two kids, golden retriever, house with a fenced-in backyard.

But then upon closer inspection you find these oddities -- these unique-to-us traits

like how E wants, no, needs someone to rub his toes every night before he goes to sleep.

Or, G, how he still will reach up to touch our ears when he feels out of his element.

And John's sock length guidelines for jean-wearing versus shorts-wearing.

Oh, me, too. With my inner deep desire to be keeper of the chickens.

Maybe those oddities are laughable, all of them.

But there's the ones I don't normally wear on my sleeve, too. Like my brain-eating amoeba fears. The ones that are strange and deep-seeded and not readily understood or mentioned.

There's those pieces of strangeness, the ostracizing and lonely kind that leave us tight-lipped, letting the thoughts meander or stomp around the romping grounds of our minds in solitude. The kind you don't really want to share with your family or best friend or even your husband because it doesn't just dance in the room of unusual or quirky ... the isolating kind of strange that binds our tongues and keeps us standing in the quiet of our thoughts.

We walk into the church building, smiling and saying hello to families we've known for years and some for just minutes. I catch another mom's eye in the mirror in the bathroom; we exchange pleasantries. The conversation ends with wishes for a great weekend.

She seems to have it all together together -- hair brushed, clean clothes, smiles abounding and words shared easily. We both seem to have it all together.

We both seem so normal.

Until we're not.

We've all got those deep pockets of fear, these wells of uncertainty that keep us lingering in isolation, keep us captives in the darkness because we think we're too far gone.

But the lonely of strange or abnormal can only be isolating if we keep it to ourselves and everyone else does, too.

I wonder, as a community, as a church, as people who seek to walk in His footsteps, what it would take to go past the places of polite conversation and smiles and normal and venture into quirky so can begin to walk into the halls of the lonely, the strangeness together and get real about what normal really means.

Because normal redefined would make these places so many of us struggle to get a grip on far less lonely and far more easy to tackle.

January Simple Swap: Clean Closet, Clean Start

2012-01-07T21:12:00.000-06:00

We all want to live healthier, more intentional lives, but sometimes it seems overwhelming and daunting to take even small steps toward our ideals because there are so many steps before us.

Simple Swap was born out of a desire and passion to encourage other women on journeys toward living healthier, more inspired, intentional lifestyles through implementing one simple swap per month.

Each swap will:

1. Take 30 minutes or less to accomplish

2. Be inexpensive to implement or boast overall, long-haul {health} savings

3. Focus on improving health/eco-friendliness, being good stewards of our resources and/or fostering a creative and intentional life.

Some weeks, all three will be accomplished in 30 minutes or less!

My creative cohort Robin from Diet Coke on the Rocks already made her January Simple Swap! Check it out!

****

Hello, closet. Look at you. You've really let yourself go.

I think for your New Year's Resolution, you should really think about shaping up. And I'm going to help; I'm not leaving here without having unloaded a lot of dead weight.

Oh, my closet: a neglected space that has ended up as more of a junk room than a home for clothing, shoes and other essential gear.

Try as I may to keep things organized and neat, simply it's been impossible because we've just have too many things in there.

Too many clothes that are too big for me.

Too many clothes that are too worn for John.

Even too many shoes that I can no longer wear because apparently feet shrink after losing a bunch of weight.

Also, the random items -- a duck-down pillow topper for a bed, unmatched socks that haven't had a partner in years, junky plastic hangers from newborn clothes -- count among the too manys as well.

Part of the motivation behind Simple Swap was to encourage my heart as well as my friends to be good stewards of what we've been given.

In this house, we have been holding onto too-big clothes, unused shoes, unworn shirts and unappreciated household items for too long.

I long rationalized that hanging onto these items was a practical way to ensure we wouldn't have to buy more -- in the event that we needed them again in the future, thus making us good stewards because of all the money we'd save from rebuying the same things.

But a new definition of stewardship has been pressing into my thoughts -- one that says items are made to be used when they are needed, not saved for the possibility of future use.

There are bodies that need those clothes now, those shoes now.

Aside from that, I've been thinking a lot lately about how our stuff can start to own us instead of us owning our stuff.

I've been dodging two baskets of clean clothes settled in the upstairs hallway for days because I've been so busy picking up other things -- the toys, the books, the dishes, the Christmas decorations.

We have so many things that need to be picked up that I don't have time to get to it all, which is one way I've easily become encumbered by our things.

So, in an effort to be good stewards of our resources and in an effort to simply own our stuff, we are going through a long process of disowning about 500 pounds of our stuff.

We made a big dent tonight with the home base of the bedroom closet, as it's been one of our biggest strong holds, consistently overlooked because it's so out of sight.

We discarded all of the clothes that haven't fit for quite some time and are sending them packing to the Tri County Thrift Store, a local organization that uses the profits from donated items sold to help in our community's pregnancy and parenting help center.

I shall not miss you, cute but too-big shoes since I have not worn you in more than one year.

And we said goodbye to some other items by giving them away and posting freebies on good old Facebook. The result? Cleaner and lighter.

Are you ready to get lighter?

Give yourself 30 minutes and disown, disown, disown!

If you're anything like me, you might actually feel the dead weight coming off your shoulders as you free your stuff and free yourself from it.

If you have to think about an item for too long and begin rationalizing ways you'll be using it, simply send it packing.

Also, this month, Simple Swap and Dress Like a Girl are combining forces!

While clearing out your closet, kill THREE birds with one stone: Disown your stuff, be a good steward and Dress Like a Girl!

Don't miss Melissa's brilliant method for dwindling a closet full of clothing that doesn't quite do the body justice.

The first step to dressing like a girl, after all, is identifying what's flattering and makes us feel good!

After snapping a few photos of your swap, link up here in the January Simple Swap/Dress Like a Girl Challenge co-challenge! BE SURE to visit at least the person before you to encourage her on this journey!

{There will not be a giveaway for linking up this month because the point is to send things packing, not home new items!}

Bigger Picture Moments: Playing Favorites

2012-01-05T08:36:00.003-06:00

Each Thursday, we come together to share the harvest of intentional living by capturing a glimmer of the bigger picture through a simple moment. As a farewell to 2011, we're playing favorites and picking one Bigger Picture Moment from 2011 to share. Head over to BPB to share yours!

Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with thanksgiving in your heart.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your favorite moment of 2011 at BPB this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Here are a few of my favorites from 2011:
Broken from Diet Coke on the Rocks
God Gave Me You from Girl of Grace
On Not Living Numb from Tasting Grace
Faded Colors by Achieving Clarity
Inside Out by Michelle Pendergrass

There are a dozen others that I absolutely loved reading, too, but the boys are not readily cooperating with giving me a few minutes to compile any more, so I'm off to snuggle and build log cabins.

Head over to BPB, share yours, encourage others and enjoy! Happy New Year!

Everyday Life: The Things You Love

2012-01-04T06:00:00.000-06:00

I've been picking up the pieces of so much of what I really love, trying to put it all back into the spaces everything normally fits so easily.

But the thing is -- spaces in the heart sometimes move and morph when we've been growing and changing and transforming.

So sometimes things that fit before don't quite fit in the new stretched and altered skin of the same beating heart.

Because life is different now.

The pregnancy losses, the anxiety, the GI isssues, a forever-feeling sinus infection - each has taken a lot out of me.

Energy out.

That energy out had left little time for anything other than simply healing, simply existing, simply caring for the day-to-day needs of a family for most of December.

And yet a new day, a new year dawns and suddenly in that stretched out heart skin, those spaces beg to filled with beauty.

I pick up my camera for the first time in weeks, and I find in the swift finger click shuttercloseopen that the effort to capture is worthwhile because the warmth in the moments frozen in time reenergizes me.

I press-bleed bright colors onto creamy paper, giving story to the blankness freely with nothing and everything and I feel the pinks and purples and oranges flush through my veins in a burst of life.

I push my body into the setting sunlight and cold air of December and words begin writing themselves on my mind before they ever find pages while my feet pound the pavement; and the energy out actually replaces twofold with energy in.

I'm left in these moments of beauty with more that's come in than what's gone out.

Though none of the pieces fit quite like they once did, they come into the new-stretched spaces and begin to swell and fill the openness.

And I call this, too, healing.

Bigger Picture Blogs: In This Family

2012-01-03T16:36:00.004-06:00

I'm over at Bigger Picture Blogs today sharing how we roll in this family of mine.

Join me and maybe write your own?

In this house
we share germs
but also love.
We wrap arms tight around necks
and ...

click over to read the rest.

Beyond Resolutions: Patience {#OneWord365}

2012-01-02T06:00:00.000-06:00

About this time last year, I chose to focus for an entire year on being rather than doing.

Building character rather than building my resume.

Becoming more of the me God intended me to be rather than more of the me I intended me to be.

Had I known last year what being results in, I might have been too nervous to choose such a powerful word to commit to focusing on.

Because the word being is actually a more subdued version of the word grow.

And, boy, has it been a year of growth -- spiritual, emotional and mental growth.

While my body actually shrank -- which last year I wasn't sure I would be able to make and keep such a resolution -- the other parts of me have been stretched and opened and grown through thanksgiving, through grief and through choosing joy.

It's been a ride ... a ride I'm glad to have taken but am now ready to exit.

I readily admit that I'm ready to usher in a new year with its freshness and possibility and newness.

And in that newness stretched out like the deep dawning of a new day, I'm embracing a new word for 2012:

Patient -- embracing a wait, contentedness, willing to choose joy despite circumstances, tolerant

"God doesn't come and go. God lasts.
He's Creator of all you can see or imagine.
He doesn't get tired out, doesn't pause to catch his breath.
And he knows everything, inside and out.
He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts.
For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall.
But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.
They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don't get tired, they walk and don't lag behind." Isaiah 40: 28-31

So I will wait upon God.

I will be patient with myself -- with the healing of my scars, with the limits of being human, with what is out of my control, with the time structures in which I live, with the expectations I set for myself.

And I will pray for patience to run deep and wide enough to spill over my heart and flow from my tongue.

Patience enough to allow for the space it takes for passion to burn.

And burn well.

A group of writers have come together to take a step beyond standing in stalled resolutions instead vowing to pick one word that will help guide them through the year. I'm joining formally this year after having had such a wonderful experience of focusing on one word during 2011. #OneWord365

2011: Be

Before you Bid 2011 Goodbye ...

2011-12-31T14:48:00.000-06:00

take a half hour of your time and say farewell to the year we're leaving before you step foot into the year into which we're entering.

Sometimes we need to clear our heads and our hearts and our minds of the old so we can take what we've learned and walk steadily into the freshness of a new year.

Susannah Conway has an excellent free, printable guide to help say adieu to 2011 and hello 2012.

I worked through the guide.

It was wonderful.

Goodbye, 2011.

Welcome, 2012.

I wish you the happiest New Year, friends.

"May the Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;

The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.

Now and forever more, Amen. {Numbers 6:24-26}

Five-Minute Friday: Open

2011-12-30T10:03:00.001-06:00

You are stretched out and wide open,
sprawling with days yet untouched
by my own clumsy hands
and I want to fall
without abandon
into You.

You are time and no time
and newness and old
and fresh starts and rich history
and I want to live like
I've been invited into Your eternity

Where new years and old years and
no years
blend together
and my only resolution
is to love You
without abandon.

Starting here.

Bigger Picture Moment: On anxiety and amoebas

2011-12-29T08:25:00.000-06:00

Brain-eating amoebas and anxiety are like two peas in an uncomfy pod: they both attack at the control center and begin trying to take over while hidden in the darkest recesses.

Thankfully, these amoebas are relatively uncommon; but the same can't be said for anxiety.

At least not around my head these days.

Irritatingly enough, the very thing that set off a round of anxiety attacks {this anxiety stuff has surfaced after the miscarriages} was reading a {via Facebook} a news story about those amoebas attacking two netipot users in Lousiana; I'd just started using one.

A simple news story turned foothold for fear to step into my over-zealous brain, you know.

A tiny fear that planted itself inside my brain and began to grow as I watered it with thought and attention and time.

Then, suddenly, my body was all kinds of freaking out -- blurry vision, tight neck, fatigue -- all symptoms of anxiety but also other problems.

And you know what a brain high on anxiety does?

It explores those other problems, which only grows the anxiety and the physical manifestations.

But I'm learning that anxiety is a learned habit.

And in the same way I learned to become anxious, I can learn to replace the anxiety with peace.

Because I have peace.

I know Him.

He has a face, and He was born and He died so that we might fully live.

"We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." 2 Corinthians 10:5

And how do we make every thought obedient to Christ?

"... whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things." Philippians 4:8

Admittedly, I know, it's not always this simple.

For me, there's been a lot of honest-to-goodness actual deep breathing involved, a lot of sleep, unloading of stresses, some sessions with a counselor and quite a bit of crying out to God, crying out to my husband, mom and a friend coupled with the right nutritional supplements needed to help me heal.

And it's not just the way of thinking that must reformat and heal.

The brain must heal, too. Serotonin needs to be restored to it. The hypocampus must heal in order to accept it. Hormones must be balanced and that means cortisol {released when stressed} must be secreted less, too.

I'm still meandering my way through some of the fog, trying to follow the Light out.

But I guess I just thought maybe I'd just switch on my own little flashlight and share part of the path I'm walking, just in case someone else sees that little glow and meanders over to walk together.

Each Thursday, we come together to share the harvest of intentional living by capturing a glimmer of the bigger picture through a simple moment. Won't you join us? Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with thanksgiving in your heart.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your moment HERE this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Thinking {that's all}: The Space to Burn

2011-12-28T06:00:00.000-06:00

The more I feel the lure of busyness wooing my heart, the more I want to sharp turn left and veer into radical unbusyness.

Because since starting the journey toward uncluttering our calendars and seeking to live intentionally in the moment about a year and some months ago, I've found at times what it means to live in the wide open space of air and light.

Last summer, I read this for the first time. {TOTALLY worth your 60 seconds to read}

What makes a fire burnis space between the logs,a breathing space.
Too much of a good thing,
too many logspacked in too tightcan douse the flamesalmost as surleyas a pail of water.
So building firesrequires attention to the spaces in between, as much as to the wood.
When we are able to buildopen spacesin the same waywe have learnedto pile on logs,
then we come to see howit is fuel, and the absence of fueltogether, that make fire possible.
We only need to lay a loglightly from time to time.
A firegrowssimply because the space is there,
with openingsin which the flamethat knows
just how it wants to burncan find its way.

Fire, by Judy Brown

I've taken the deep breath of virgin air, held it in my lungs, cold and burning and let it clear out my mind, while soaking up the oxygen in the depths of my spirit.

Ignition.

It's been good. So good that when I slip back into over committment and over booking, I sort of feel like I'm that over-logged fire -- suffocating, the passion burning inside me dwindling into just a flicker from a flame.

Says the girl who used to have something scheduled every morning and afternoon each day of the week.

And so I ponder, as we head into 2012, how to keep this sacred space for burning free of another log on the burn pile when so many logs seem like they'll be magnificent additions.

Celebrating Christmas: Peace on Earth

2011-12-25T06:00:00.000-06:00

Gently, the baby slumbering in her arms stirs in the sleepy shadows of 2 a.m.
She wonders if he's been stirring for longer than she realized; she'd been in a deep sleep, exhausted from the past few days filled with trudging through crowds, giving birth and meeting her new little one's needs.

Her son nuzzles her arm, his little mouth searching for milk a little more frantically than just a few seconds ago.

She turns his head toward her, sweeps his small body closer to her breast and deftly helps him secure a perfect latch, praying he falls back asleep quickly so she, too, can return to rest.

As he nuzzles his head into her chest, he nurses with intent.

The milk begins flowing, and his small hands relax against her stomach.

His breathing calms.
His legs rest against her body, while he quietly swallows, sucks and sighs in a sweet nursing song.

Her own heartbeat slows, muscles relax, comforted by his comfort.

She sweeps her hand through his thick, dark hair, exhales a soft breath of contentment onto his small head.

The thoughts filled with the past few day's events fade, and she revels in the peace that has swept over her body.

Unimaginable peace brought about by a baby, she muses in her mind, in the midst of a starry night.

Hope unexpected.

Peace on Earth.

Reposted from Dec. 14, 2010

Indulgences: White Chocolate Peanut Butter Puppy Chow

2011-12-23T06:00:00.000-06:00

Having gone dairy and gluten-free this fall, I started searching for recipes I could make and share at Christmas parties and holiday celebrations as well as, you know, eat with out doubling over in pain the next day.

But there are two rules of the kitchen by which I abide when making wheat-gluten and dairy-free treats:

First, it can't taste like a cop-out version of something like it; it must stand its own ground in taste and flavor.

And, second, it cannot contain a bunch of unpronounceable ingredients.

This White Chocolate Peanut Butter Puppy Chow -- both dairy and wheat-gluten free -- exceeds rule number one and pretty much meets rule number two with the exception of the slight amount of preservative in the Chex cereal. {I'm currently on the hunt for a Chex-like cereal that doesn't have anything gunky in it. Suggestion welcome!}

While it's not {I repeat, not} the healthiest recipe I've ever shared, it might be one of the most addictive; so you have been warned.

At any rate, it's a nice indulgence once or twice per year when you want to whip up something sweet and crunchy for a celebration.

White Chocolate Puppy Chow

Ingredients:

*1/2 Cup Coconut Oil
* 1/2 Cup of Peanut Butter Company White Chocolate Wonderful
* 1 Cup of creamy Peanut Butter
* 4 Bricks of {dairy-free!} Baker's Chocolate
* 1 Teaspoon of Vanilla Extract
* 8 Cups of crispy rice cereal like Chex
* 1/2 Cup of Powdered Sugar

Instructions:

A top of a low flame in a steel pan, slowly {sllloooooowly -- don't want it to burn!} melt the coconut oil. {We like both Nutiva and Spectrum, but having been using Spectrum more often because it's easily found on the baking aisle shelves of our local Super Target. Score!}

Next, add the baker's chocolate {dairy-free, of course, and also found on the shelves of the baking aisle at Super Target!}, slowly melting it while mixing it with the coconut oil.

After the chocolate and coconut oil are mixed thoroughly, add both peanut butter mixtures {One more huge score for Super Target, as the White Chocolate Wonderful is found there as well!} and stir like crazy, allowing it to slowly melt atop the low flame while blending with the chocolate and coconut oil.

After the mixture is thoroughly mixed, add the teaspoon of vanilla.

Turn off the flame, and begin mixing in the cereal one cup at a time, coating the cereal evenly with the wonderfully gooey mixture.

After the cereal is thoroughly coated, add the powdered sugar to a paper bag and then dump the cereal into the bag.

Fold the bag and make a tight seal before shaking to coat the cereal with powered sugar.

Let the puppy chow cool and enjoy.

Bigger Picture Moments: When It Doesn't Feel Like Christmas

2011-12-22T06:00:00.000-06:00

Our tree sparkles, glowing beautiful light from the corner of our living room.

Samely, the banister is wrapped in strands of soft shimmers.

We've hung the stockings, and we've been listening to carols as well as singing them from our own lips.

But, to me, it hasn't felt like Christmas.

I've blamed the weather, citing our rainy, dreary days as the culprit for my lack of holiday cheer.

I've, too, blamed the recent bouts of anxiety I've been prayerfully seeking to lay to rest along with the stress of busyness because that only adds fuel to the fire ... and, well, shopping and searching and wrapping the perfect presents all add stress in a season that's already brimming with it.

And I've also thought that our circumstances -- having said goodbye to two babies who stopped growing in the womb this fall -- could shoulder the blame for my lack of Christmas spirit.

But when I strip down those glittery facades and leave Christmas naked, removing all of its bright clothing, it's left much like how Christmas began -- humble and gentle, beautiful and beckoning, like the Baby born into the humblest of settings two thousand and some year ago.

The hollow shells -- the snow, the gifts, the circumstances and, well, just general feelings -- that counterfitly encase the truest essence of Christmas must be peeled away if we are to experience the deepest joy of season.

For it to really feel like Christmas, I must seek the awesome gift of God born into human flesh, making a way for us to know life beyond the now.

For me to feel the awesome gift of God in the flesh, I must be a shepherd, following a bright star, seeking, searching for that baby wrapped in strips of clothes, lying in a manger instead of seeking the perfect presents and scenes and circumstances.

I must come before the King humbly, heart falling to the ground in worship of Him, mind thankful that God gave such a perfect gift to an imperfect world.

To come into Christmas any other way is to enter into the most beautiful of temples and never realize that the true essence comes from the Spirit infiltrating the the inside of its magnificent walls rather than the silver and stained glass adorning it, for a temple void of the Spirit is yet another building.

To come into Christmas any other way than by peeling away the veneer is to feel like Christmas never actually came at all.

And, indeed, Love did come down; I just must open my eyes and seek Him to feel Christmas bleed into the very center of my heart.

My Advent reading has centered around Luke 1-3 and this month's walk through Today in the Word. And it has only been through letting go of searching for the perfect gifts and weather and scenes and circumstances and instead searching for our born King that I've been able to come to feel like it's Christmas.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your moment at Sarah's this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Celebrating Christmas: An Advent Prayer

2011-12-21T06:00:00.000-06:00

{Photo by Sarah Ackerman}

An Advent Prayer:

As the snow blankets muddy streets,

dresses naked tree branches,

and covers the blemishes my footprints make

with its glorious, fresh white,

I pray,

oh,

I pray

that I would remember

one little Snowflake

grew into a Blizzard,

covered all the blemishes

of a dreary, dirty, dingy world.

And I pray,

yes,

I pray

my heart would be entrenched,

smothered,

completely coated

in the bright white Gift of Grace

You so brilliantly offered us

that very first Christmas.

Reposted from Dec. 5, 2010.

Everyday Life: Arms tight

2011-12-19T06:00:00.000-06:00

E. has been doing this thing for about a year now where he throws his arms around my neck and just squuuueeeeezes and squeezes and squeeeeeeezes until his little arms give out from hugging me so tightly.

An E-squeeze, captured last Thankgiving

It wasn't something I taught him; rather, he just decided one day that he'd hold on so tight and for so long nearly every time I picked him up that I couldn't possibly even think about putting him down.

And when he's got his arms secured around my neck in a big hug, I can't put him down.

Nor do I even want to.

I just want to hold him and love on him the way he needs to be loved.

During those ultra-long embraces, it's like he simply cannot get enough mommy. And then I simply cannot get enough of him.

A few nights ago* as I lie in bed thinking about my sweet boy who was actually lying beside me in the fierce hug position, I thought to myself this is what God wants from me.

He wants me to hold on and squueeeeze and squueeeeeze and squuuuuueeeze when I need to be loved on -- like I simply cannot get enough of Him.

Sometimes I look other places for that love.

But right now, this week especially, as I prepare my heart and help my family get into the right spirit to celebrate our Savior's birth, I know I really just need to throw my arms around His neck and hang on so tight and just squeeze.

I hope you will have a chance to do the same.

I'll be scheduling some of my favorite Advent posts this week, but, my main focus this week will be spent on making room and space in my heart for the Baby King.

Happy Advent, friends.

*This is an edited repost from last year around this time. I'm feeling even more the need, in the midst of healing and grief and trusting, to hang on to my Heavenly Father's neck and really know that impossibly beautiful and glorious gift He gave us in sending a King in the flesh.

Bigger Picture Moments: Integrity Check

2011-12-15T06:00:00.000-06:00

A phone call from a colleague blasted apart a peaceful morning and sent me into an upset that left my four year old confessing how he didn't like it when mommy talked "to that friend on the phone."

In the midst of accusations, my temperature rose to a level of hot I haven't felt in quite a long time {hello unsettled hormones?}, and I actually found myself saying something like "How could you think I would ever do that to you or to anyone?"

Well, simple.

Because I could.

Would I? Probably not.

But we all have the capacity to do hurtful things and spew heated, fire-infused words.

"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Romans 3:23

I'm not exempt from having the ability to hurt people just because I don't intentionally set about to do the hurting.

And I'm not hovering angelically in a cloud of righteousness and holiness that would make it impossible for me to do something deceitful.

Of course, because I hadn't engaged in the deceitfulness I'd been accused of in this case, I became very defensive and, thus, we circle back to me asking the old "How could you ever think I would do such thing?"

Yes, there is character and track record to take into account, and, yes, when we feel like we've been wronged by someone we've trusted we should take those two things into consideration before making accusations in our minds or aloud.

But we all have the innate ability to blow it from time to time, to hurt someone, to make a poor decision.

Or as she says, "God appoints people who disappoint to point to a God who never disappoints."

That's to be remembered, too, when on the receiving end of our intentions, our actions, our integrity being questioned.

Most importantly, though, when my integrity is questioned or character comes under the spotlight, I've got to remember to look up instead of around.

"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7

Mirrors can't reflect more than the facade.

For real inspection of the heart, we have to go to the only eyes that can see through the flesh and glimpse at who we really are ... and that's really the questioning of self with which I should be more concerned.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your moment at Melissa's this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

'Twas the Write Before Christmas: Seek the Light

2011-12-14T06:00:00.000-06:00

In the dawning of 6:30 in the morning, one set of preschooler feet rumbles down the staircase and taptaptapptaptap runs across chilly wood floors all in the excitement of making the Christmas tree dance with lights.

We snuggle on the couch, wiping sleep from morning eyes before migrating to the floor to build towers and the kitchen to make breakfast.

It glows all morning, through the rough and tumble and the cleaning and the getting ready for school

Don't turn it off, he exclaims, when I head over to press the button before we leave the house.

Let it stay glowing!

My boy, he is only four, but he seeks the light and we enter into it from eyes open until eyes closed; we bask in its brilliant beauty, its soft glow all gray day, long after I've spent time thumbing through well-worn pages of His story written out and unfolded.

And I think I could learn a thing or two.

All through December, we're working on making the heart merry and bright through creating. Join us?

Just Write: Constant

2011-12-13T11:50:00.001-06:00

A constant state of healing.

That's what these past few weeks have been.

I used to think there was this spectrum, spanning from happiness to grief, and that I could settle somewhere along it each day or week or even month.

But the longer I live, the more I realize joy and pain are this interwoven web of threads that don't easily separate, and that my life is less about walking a spectrum line and more about navigating the weave.

So I heal, neck-deep in gratitude while I wipe both laughter-and-pain-provoked tears from my eyes, while I kiss little owies and the lips of the man I love, while my hands scrub bubbly dishes and soapy kids in the bath tub.

And I rest in the constantness of where living and grace merge.

December Simple Swap: Green Gift Wrapping

2011-12-11T19:32:00.001-06:00

Some weeks, all three will be accomplished in 30 minutes or less!

The beautiful and creative Robin from Diet Coke on the Rocks already made her December Simple Swap of Green Gift Wrapping! Check it out!

*****

We haven't bought wrapping paper for our Christmas gifts since G was born; that's right -- we are going on holiday season number four without buying pretty papers that make what's beneath the tree look so inviting.

But that doesn't mean we've sacrificed beautiful and creative wrapping; in fact, we've done just the opposite. We've revved up our creativity and in that found beauty in by not buying any new wrapping papers.

Here's how we've done it:

Green Gift Wrapping Idea 1

When we have forgotten our canvas bags while shopping, I almost always ask for paper bags in lieu of plastic. Aside from being great take 'em and leave 'em totes when bringing dinner to a friend or dropping off goods on a doorstep, paper bags make fabulous wrapping paper and give the givers of gifts a creative way to package their presents.

My boys, for example, love to decorate the insides of a paper bag I've cut at the seams and then wrap up presents in their home-made beautiful wrapping paper.

Aside from saving money, recycling and exercising their creative juices, it's a really personal way to decorate a gift for a loved one.

Green Gift Wrapping Idea 2

Maybe you're thinking something more sophisticated? Newspapers like the Wall Street Journal and any other text-heavy print are perfect for a simple seco-friendly black and white wrapping motiff.

Simply take the most text-heavy sections and wrap up the gifts. Cut thick strips of newspaper and fold over the strips to make a bow to adorn the top.

We're trying this gift wrapping for the first time this year, and I'm so psyched to recycle our reading as well as make it into something beautiful!

Green Gift Wrapping Idea 3

We've made it a point every holiday to save cheery bags, still-usable tissue paper and bows and ribbons that are in great shape after being disassembled. We keep everything in a Rubbermaid box in the basement and pull it out when we need to wrap.

I've also found that cut evergreen bushes, as well as fresh-cut holly berries and scavenged pine cones arranged together are great replacements for bows.

So how do YOU Green Gift Wrap? Take a picture or write about it and link up for a chance to win an entire recycled gift wrapping kit from Green Girl Gift Wrap. Included in the winning set that will be delivered in time wrapping before Christmas:

(1) pack of Snowman gift wrap

(1) pack of Red Curves Gift Wrap

(1) pack of Red Gift Wrap

(1) pack of Red/Gold Snowflakes

(1) pack of Blue Diamond gift wrap

(1) pack of purple Stripe gift wrap

(1) pack of Wedding gift wrap

(2) Large gift bags

(2) Medium gift bags

(2) Small gift bags

(2) Packs of tissue paper

But link soon!

We're closing the linky at midnight Thursday, Dec. 15 so the winner will get her kit in time for Christmas.

{No purchase necessary. Giveaway is open to all U.S. residents who are 18 years and older. The link will close on December 15th at 11:59pm and the winner will be selected randomly Dec. 16, 2011 from the link up pool. Green Girl Gift Wrap is only providing the giveaway items; I have not been compensated in any way or gifted with any product to talk about GGGW}.

Thinking, That's All: The kind of tired

2011-12-08T20:16:00.001-06:00

I am the kind of tired that can't sleep at 10 p.m. but craves the comforts of a warm bed come morning.

The kind that can't muster a lie of good when asked how I'm doing

but can't find the energy to explain that I'm wrapped in a constant state of healing.

The kind that can't hide what I'm really thinking about when asked about the recovery.

The kind that showers but doesn't bother with hair or make up.

I am kind of tired that falls open arms into the strong embrace of a husband

the honest inquiry of a beautiful friend during a morning play date

the warm, unexpected hug of a neighbor dropping by tick pick up tangerines,

the offer of help from caring hands I've barely before grasped

the comfort of honesty sprawled out in a email penned by a soul sister who shares her struggles.

I am the kind of tired that laughs at silly jokes of a giggly four year old that I might have missed were I not sunken into the couch

the kind that melts into the space between two little bodies in the early morning instead of hopping out of bed

the kind that falls to her knees and chokes out honest, raw, emotion-drenched prayer, lit by the glow of a Christmas tree, beneath shimmering ornaments.

Source: freshpoppydesign.blogspot.com via Lauren on Pinterest

The kind of tired that forces me to allow myself

to be carried

instead of moving myself forward

and finds

that, oh.

Oh my.

Your yoke really is light; it's mine that's been heavy all this way.

Thinking, that's all: Christmas is for the hurting, too

2011-12-07T14:20:00.000-06:00

"The real beauty of Christmas is to understand the ugliness it cures." John MacArthur

So we're in the thick of the Christmas season, a time of year that is laced with beauty and joy and celebration.

And I'm talking about how my heart hangs heavy after another loss.

I'm grappling, grapsing at how to remain authenticly true to sharing my story from where my feet are planted when there are so many deep emotions bound up in this loss during the celebration time of year.

Because I don't want to neglect the beauty, the good, the wonder.

I'm thankful.

I'm so thankful.

I'm thankful for Jesus' birth and what that means to my eternity, your eternity and my here in now, your here and now.

I stand in awe of the gift that came wrapped as a Baby King.

But I'm hurting, too. And it's real. And it's wounded-open. And it's burning. And it's sometimes out-of-my-mind sharp with pain.

She stops me dead in my thoughts to share that His birth wasn't wrapped up in shiny tinsel and big bows. That the birth that brought Him into this world was red-blood running and filled with the pangs of birthing a child. Samely, His death was that, too.

Lest I forget, as well, the wailing of mothers through the land after Herod claimed the lives of baby boys, attempting to steal the very breath out of the tiny king's lungs. And the betrayal Jospeh must have felt at Mary's pregnancy announcement. And the uncertainty Mary must have harbored about being pregnant, miraculously, with the world's Bright Hope.

"We are surrounded by uncertainty everyday, but there is a God that wants to go with us, who wants to lead us through the uncertainty of it, and that, too, is the message of Christmas." Joe Boerman

And so this Baby King, He offers this redemption for the suffering, this certainty in the face of uncertainty, this healing of hearts, this covering of blemishes, this promise of restoration, this hope of life forever within His perfect kingdom through both his birth and then with his death.

And Christmas is about that part, too, beyond the shine and tinsel-glow. It, too, is about the hurting and the hope gifted for hurting no more.

For the first time, through eyes that know tears as well as faint wrinkles from joy spread across my face, I recognize more than the wonder and the beauty and the awe of God breaking his 400-year silence with the cries of a Baby Savior echoing into the night from a stable, more than the majesty of a star shining so bright, foreshadowing the light that had been brought into the world through that birth.

Resoundingly, I see more and more why Christmas is for the hurting, too. And how the trials cannot be extracted from the joy and celebration, for they make Christmas all the more joyful.

And so I stand where my feet are planted knowing more than ever the joy.

'Twas the Write Before Christmas: Day One

2011-12-06T14:18:00.001-06:00

Source: imgfave.com via Ally on Pinterest

****
Let it fall,

heavy grace,

like snow coating my branches,

covering the bareness

heavy winds left behind.

Let it stick,

thick mercy,

like ice frozen solid

a layer beneath

to bear the weight.

{The first picture is Day One's prompt for 'Twas the Write Before Christmas at Bigger Picture Blogs.}

Thinking, that's all: Hold the Light

2011-12-05T10:48:00.000-06:00

There is great temptation in retreating into silence.

So many reasons - fear or shame or guilt or pride or minimizing - for concealing our wounds, quieting ourselves, never giving voice to the deep abrasions our hearts suffer.

I choked back the guilt swelling in my chest, asked my mom to take the day off Friday and come help while I rested and prayed and healed physically and John tried to order the house from an entire day of neglect and pay quality attention to our littles.

She reminds me that we have to accept help where help is freely given in love, embrace it with thanksgiving in our hearts.

We have to let the body function, be the body, if we are to really be a body united.

"From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work." Ephesians 4:16

Hurting in the silent recesses of the heart doesn't allow for love to come from the other parts of the body, doesn't let the body come in response to the pain and help aid in the healing with love.

Words.

Prayers.

Encouragement.

Flowers.

Tea.

Poetry.

Phone messages.

Arms to love on two boys.

Arms strung around my neck.

Each a different but beautiful gift from a different and beautiful part of the body.

Through this second miscarriage and then our ER trip with E after he fell and hit his head last night, you, our friends and family, have really shown me what it is to hold the light when exhaustion and doubt and hurt really set in.

So thank you. Thank you for holding the light for us.

"For where two or three come together in my name, there am I {Jesus} with them." Matthew 18:20

If I can take your burdens to His feet, please don't hesitate to share.

Pregnancy Loss: So we meet again

2011-12-02T09:08:00.000-06:00

And so we meet again, wet tears dripping over smiling cheeks.

I sit on the couch bathed in a cocktail of gratitude mixed with more spiked grief on an early Thursday morning the first of December, both loss and blessing vividly apparent while my oldest son wraps tightly his arms around his mother's shaking shoulders, my youngest snuggled securely in between my arm and body.

I woke up seven weeks pregnant this morning, a small babe nestled within the still-deep confines of a guarded womb.

And I'm going to sleep tonight having sent another baby into the arms of Jesus.

I thought, this time, I would still be growing the gift we'd been given; I had hopes we'd have an early Christmas present to share -- one wrapped tightly with in the safety of a growing abdomen, glowing mother set to be opened and exclaimed over and loved sometime in mid-July.

We don't always get to open our gifts in the ways we expect.

Our hearts are heavy.

But they are also free.

Because we're still celebrating the birth of a Baby King -- and because that Baby King grew into a man who lived and died to love and redeem, I know that on the other side of heaven I'll go to both of the souls we've bid farewell earlier than expected, arms opened for the holding.

And so we'll meet again.

{Please don't feel the need to say anything, but please do offer up prayers of healing on our family's behalf and prayers of thankfulness for the blessings we enjoy and the One that has given us the ultimate Joy. I'll be taking a break this weekend to catch my breath and heal.}

Bigger Picture Moments: Feet firmly planted

2011-12-01T06:00:00.000-06:00

I'm not ready to let November go just yet.

For me, that's like saying I'm not ready for snow to melt and summer to come; that's how much I love Christmas -- the season, the spirit, the celebration, the savior.

But mostly I'm not ready for the constant whirl of movement, for the focus that's normally thrust on the buying and shopping and the wrapping and the busyness that comes with the Christmas season in our culture.

So today my feet are firmly planted in slowness of counting blessings, the earnest gratitude of November. We've spent the past month as a family talking about having an attitude of thanksgiving rather than just celebrating thanksgiving as a day.

G lists what he's thankful for like water billowing over the edge of a fall; his gratitude seems always flowing for even the smallest blessings.

A boot knife {plastic! Don't worry.}

Our dog {even though he's now twice attempted to chew the eyes off of G's baby chameleon animal}

His mommy and daddy

and snuggles

And, yes, my brother {he says after a direct question}

"But, mommy, you know what I'm most thankful for?"

"What?"

"God," he says matter of factly.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because He gives me stuff."

And, ohmygosh, yes.

That exactly, little man.

We are most thankful for God, the giver of good gifts, the giver of the best Gift -- the one of a baby King born on Christmas Day.

I hold their little hands, both boys snuggling against my body as we wipe sleep from our morning eyes amid the soft glow of the tree.

We sink into the couch and my heart a little deeper into gratitude

and I decide right there

that we're taking thanksgiving with us as we move slowly, diligently, thoughtfully into December -- side stepping the fast roads of buying and wrapping and baking and goinggoinggoing -- to instead travel by starlight through the fields to meet face to face with the best Gift we've even been given.

We'll see the face of Baby Jesus by the time we arrive, the path of thanksgiving and gratitude having given themselves the truest of guides.

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Everyday Life: Fleeting

2011-11-30T08:32:00.001-06:00

There's early morning sun gently warming the front porch, making the bricks glow just outside of our foggy, front-hall windows.

I relish it because tomorrow it might fade again into the deep silvers and grays of December.

There are bathrooms calling, dishes waiting, floors beckoning, lists screaming for attention.

But my feet won't move, gaze won't stray from the softness of the light.

This time of year that glow is fast fleeting like the month of November

or the morphing of baby to toddler

or preschooler to boy.

So I watch it all carefully

in recognition of the sun's movement

the winds shifting

the bodies growing.

I watch it all happen before wide open eyes.

Only then does it seem to last a little longer.

And I'll take even just a little.

Share the Love: Blue Sky 2012 Planner Giveaway

2011-11-29T06:00:00.000-06:00

*GIVEAWAY CLOSED. Congratulations to Kristina, who Random.org deemed the winner.*

Last week, I sat down in the living room to begin penciling in commitments and deadlines for the month of December {because I don't care what anyone says: paper planners are the best organizing tool ever}, but then immediately was beckoned into the kitchen to aid in a water-pouring endeavor gone wrong.

While I was gone, little E Van Worth went all Starry Night on the month of November.

My "newly designed" current Blue Sky Planner

And that made me a little more eager to welcome in December with all of its events and lists and to-dos even if only simply to get a clean page on which to write. {Also, beauty. December is a beautiful month! Also, how is it already December?}

Sometimes it just feels good to make a clean start. Most of us welcome the freshness the New Year brings, but I feel that way about months and weeks and sometimes even days, too.

How about you? Want to turn the page and open to the blank slate of a brand-new year this January 1?

The generous people at Blue Sky have offered to give away an organization set, which includes a super-functional and easy-to-use day planner in the beautiful, sleek Egg Press design that I'm really digging.

Simply leave a comment with your email address included and share with me your favorite way to ring in the New Year. And, no, you are not required to say "with a new planner!"

The winner will be randomly chosen by random.org Tuesday, December 6, 2011.

Winner must be 18 years or older and live in the United States. I was not monetarily compensated to host this giveaway. Blue Sky sent me several day planners and calendars to check out and use in 2012. All opinions expressed are my own; as always I only share products I use in my own home from companies I respect. Plus, I thought one of my friends might like to receive a complimentary planner set for the new year!

Everyday Life: Sometimes birthdays don't need cake

2011-11-28T14:39:00.001-06:00

I thought about baking a cake this afternoon and singing happy birthday to him at dinner just to help keep a part of him alive

He, my dad, would have been 58 today.

But, I thought, that just might confuse the boys more than anything.

The cake, really, would have been only a sugary symbol of a man's life we celebrate almost daily here in our house when we talk about being brave {"like Papa Brian when he was a firefighter, mom"} or being responsible {like Papa Brian, right, mom?} or being a silly goose {like Papa Brian when he was little, E} or making the fotch {I make Papa Brian's face, don't I mom?!}.

Because really, truly

all it takes is one good look at G's smile

or watching G eat a popsicle when it's 45 degrees outside

or a glance in the mirror at my copper-penny hair

or watching E's absolute determination while playing

to realize my dad's spirit, in this house, at least,

remains alive and well.

But, still, we sure do miss you, dad.

{Comments are closed on this post. But, still, thanks for being here.}

Everyday Life: Belief

2011-11-28T06:00:00.000-06:00

While John romped around in muddy fields chasing birds Saturday afternoon, the boys and I began ushering in the Christmas season by decking the halls.

G is totally and utterly convinced that decorating for the holidays includes cleaning the house and rearranging furniture. And that belief? I hope it never dies. The boy at four can move the couch across the living room with little to no help. Think of the serious muscle power I'm going to have around here two years from now.

I vacummed, G moved furniture and E stacked Duplos to the tune of classic carols.

We mused about Santa Claus and he said he was concerned about the bearded one getting it since we have no chimney.

G announced the rounds we'd make during Christmas, and he wanted to count the days until Christmas on the Advent calendar but I broke it to him that the popup book he was looking at started with a 12-day countdown.

And I stopped and cried, like I always do, when God is With Us drifted beautifully into my ears with its resounding, echoing hope and reality revealed against the chords of a welling piano.

Of course, G noticed, well, everything, so we brewed hot tea and poured chai and talked about why we celebrate the birth of baby Jesus and why that little swaddled babe born in a manager changes everything.

I see the threads of understanding beginning to weave together in his heart, overlapping and underlying and embracing all of what he's so far encountered; goosebumps sweep over my skin when I think about how his little mind is forming the foundations of belief his heart will hold most dear, the faith his soul will cling to, the love and grace and beauty that will wind itself up tightly in his chest.

And I hope it never unwinds.

"Hold onto what you believe in the light when the darkness has robbed you of all the light." {Mumford and Sons}

Thinking, That's All: On Black Friday

2011-11-25T20:37:00.001-06:00

My sister and I drove narrow paved roads lining sun-soaked fields in the middle of nowhere Illinois, just about 25 miles south of where we grew up and a few miles of east of where our mom now calls home.

On our way to Indiana to meet a friend, she remarked about how our road was winding us toward Hopkins Park, IL, the most economically depressed community in the Midwest.

Really? I'd asked, squinting into the farm fields stretched out for miles before our eyes.

The lay of the land looked strikingly similar to the lush farm soil where we'd grown up.

Looks are deceiving.

She divulged that many of the people in these small communities of Pembroke and Hopkins Park walk dirt floors inside their homes. And a lot of that dirt is actually sand-saturated and not all that great for growing food.

The towns have no central line for gas, no sewers, no drainage systems, no schools, no police department, no stores. But they do have a lot of heart, hope and great need.

We traveled down a long stretch of asphalt and passed by weather-and-time beaten buildings, tarped-roofing covering wide spaces atop of homes, trailers sporting broken windows -- scattered toys in the driveway all signs of life living within these now-chilled spaces inundated with late November air.

My mind, spinning, my stomach still full from yesterday's turkey dinner, turning, I remembered the world we just lived in less than 30 minutes before.

A world where shoppers were lining up before midnight outside of buildings to score door-buster deals.

A city where the stores were packed before the dawn even broke this Friday morning.

Houses, ours included, where no one walked away from the dinner table hungry.

How could the faces of poverty live so close to the places I've called home and I've never known it, I asked my sister.

Surprised, she said, well, I'm glad I could teach you something today {because you know the baby of the family doesn't always get to do such teaching.}

I nodded my head, glad to know and samely dismayed to know that kind of poverty even exists in places where my feet have tread and my hands have done nothing to meet the great need ... in places just a short drive away from where door busters and day-only deals are the hallmark of the day after Thanksgiving ...

I caught her eyes, my own watering.

The need is just so great, I barely voiced.

{Black Friday, indeed.}

Bigger Picture Moments: Thanksgiving in Weakness

2011-11-23T17:30:00.001-06:00

I have danced in the darkness of my heart with worry and fear and selfishness.

And in the shadowy recesses of my heart those weaknesses have grown.

While thankfulness has doused the flames of fear and love has weakened my selfishness and joy has robbed worry of its power, there still comes a time, when in the solitude and silence of life, that we must look our weaknesses in the eye, call them by name ...

and hand them over to the perfecter

not simply to be perfected

but more, so that, through our weaknesses, we can see His perfection, know His strength.

And be glad in it.

In my fear of not being in control {and I never really am}

I find rest in Him piloting the course of my feet

and the course of the world

like He's always done and always will.

In my worry about the ifs and the possibility of pain

I see His providence He seeks to care for me

and show His glory.

In my selfishness,

I recognize His abundant love and sacrifice.

My weakness realized is abundant Strength revealed.

And I am so thankful to have even just a glimpse of it.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. May we count all our blessings, large and small, today and all year long.

During the month of November, we are gathering our harvest of blessings and naming them one by one, sharing the gratitude in our hearts. Won't you join us? Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with thanksgiving in your heart.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your moment here this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

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Living Healthfully: Eating a Gluten-and-Dairy-Free Diet

2011-11-23T06:00:00.000-06:00

I feel like a new person on the inside.

About a month ago, I severed my love affair with dairy, suspecting that it was adding to some GI issues I first started experiencing this summer after somehow contracting a parasite. (Don't ask; I don't honestly know how I got it, but I've been reassured that most of us live with many little buggers without really knowing it. My little buggers, well, they have been evicted.)

So anyway, out went the dairy and entered in its place almond milk, coconut and olive oils and some crazy, stretchy tapioca cheese-like substance that I'm not crazy about but like well enough when I want to make pizza. {Oh, pizza, why do you have to be so good and so evil?!}

While going dairy-free helped quite a bit, I still was experiencing GI issues, so a few weeks ago, at the suspicion of perhaps having developed a leaky gut during all the GI issues, I went to the next food culprit : gluten.

For my body, it was a pretty quick read: gluten is not my friend. Almost two weeks into my gluten and dairy free diet, I feel normal again. No more bloated, irritated GI tract and away with crabby wife and mommy as well.

Honestly, I feel so much better that I'm inclined to not even want to reintroduce dairy after the allotted time of gut healing has passed. Because who wants to go back to gross after feeling so good?

Been mulling a diet change of going cold turkey {mmm, you can still eat turkey!} with gluten and dairy?

Here are a few things that helped me through the first week:

* Find a friend or two who is willing to walk you through the emotional, chemical and physical changes that occur in your body and in your pantry. The support is key in knowing you can do this!

* Take a trip to Trader Joe's or Whole Foods Market and ask a crew member to brief you on dairy and gluten free options. Most staff members I've come across, especially at Whole Foods Market, have gone above and beyond to help guide me.

* Or browse Amazon for really wonderful gluten-free and dairy free foods like: Bob's Red Mill Almond Meal, apple pie Lara Bars, Bob's Red Mill gluten-free Oats, quinoa and a few other Bob's Red Mill staples that will provide whole grains in your diet without reeking havvoc on the gut.

* Find your happy place with fresh, whole foods like chicken, fish, fruits and veggies. This one is important. Whole, real foods are always better than anything processed, in my opinion!

We often snack on apples and cashews, enjoy slow-cooker chicken with Italian seasoning alongside green beans tossed with almonds and dried berries and sweet potatoes mashed with coconut oil for dinner; we feast on baked apple pie oatmeal for breakfast.

* Take a peak at some of the great foodie blogs for gluten and dairy free eating:

The Gluten-Free Goddess Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef {must exchange dairy for almond milk, soy milk or rice milk}

* Find good substitutes for dairy. My favorites so far:

-almond milk in place of dairy milk {goat milk is great for the kids}
-hummus in place of cheese
-coconut oil in place of butter {you will never believe how good it is until you try it. Just do it!}
-olive oil in place of non-stick butters
-Daiya Tapioca is a good cheese-esque replacement for pizza
- coconut or almond milk ice cream in place of regular dairy ice cream

*If it's a packaged food, always double check for gluten by calling and asking if gluten is in the ingredients. Anything with wheat, bran, semolina, bulgar, spelt, tabbouli, orzo, couscous, farina, kamut and barley contains gluten. Defatted wheat germ also contains gluten, for any Standard Process supplement users.

As always, I'm happy to help, too. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

{I was not compensated or asked to talk about any of the products I mentioned. I just like them a lot!}

Share the Love: The Perfect Christmas Card isn't About the Perfect Picture

2011-11-22T10:41:00.001-06:00

So we have this conundrum: I love Christmas cards and photos and believe the two should be all smoochysmoochy and coexist in lovely beauty gracing the refrigerators of loved ones everywhere.

And my boys, well, they don't {shocking, I know!}.

Last year's Christmas card photo shoot debacle ended in tears, mine and theirs, after both of my boys became personally acquainted with the wonders of goose poop as I flailed my arms and squawked like said geese while they became one with the nastiness.

So I decided we'd try to something a little more casual this year.

While this year's photo shoot, which actually ended up being G's idea, didn't end in complete poopy, tear-ridden disaster, it also didn't end with a happy mommy photographer. Rather, I was completely frazzled and grumpy from the complete lack of interest and cooperation.

And this has gotten me thinking -- Christmas is supposed to be a joyful celebration of Christ's birth. Christmas cards are supposed to be greetings of good cheer and wishes for a wondrous celebration. There shouldn't be tears {goose poop} and frustration wrapped up in it.

Though, yes, a good picture says a thousand words, a happy family speaks volumes more.

Thus, starting this year, I'm embracing the imperfect photos we have that feature genuine smiles, placing them on the absolutely gorgeous Tiny Prints Christmas card we found, and I'm resting in the intention of our hearts -- our Cause for celebrating -- being the main message on our beautifully designed cards:

Because it isn't all about us anyway -- Christmas time or other.

Tiny Prints offered me 50 Christmas cards in exchange for posting about its beautiful selection of Tiny Prints Christmas Cards. They are absolutely gorgeous. As always, opinions are mine alone, and I only spread the word about products I love and use from companies I'm proud to support.

Life Unmasked: It

2011-11-21T06:00:00.000-06:00

I'm standing in my bathroom, immersed in stillness, breathing in and out rhythmically, having a mental stand off with the second-floor bathroom sink.

Bathrooms in my house are regularly neglected because I find little motivation to keep cleaning them when these boys of mine just.keep.peeing all over them; but every week or so I get sick of them smelling like a urinal, arm myself with an entire bottle of vinegar, pull my gloves up to my elbows and I normally emerge victorious.

Except for the upstairs sink.

It remains only partially cleaned, haphazardly tidied.

Simply, I can't bear to be faced with the upstairs bathroom sink for too long or else I see them reflected in the mirror, half hidden, half exposed: three positive pregnancy tests tucked behind the white drawers atop the vanity that I'd taken before that red Friday in September when I miscarried.

And in really digging in, really cleaning the sink, I'd have to make a decision. A decision to allow them to remain stacked atop of each other behind the white drawers atop of the vanity next to the sink

or ....

Last week I saw a friend who felt the tense in my shoulders, the strain across my chest with her therapeutic hands.

And she wondered aloud as her hands felt the tightness "what are you holding onto in there?"

She'd breathed out a huge breath and she urged me to let.it.go.

I tried. I breathed and I relaxed and I prayed for the stress in my chest to lift, for my body, my mind to let go to whatever tightness both had been harboring.

While some of it melted away, she'd said, there was more that would eventually have to release, too, before the strain would relax into peace.

It's like peeling the layers of an onion, she'd said. There are more layers yet to go.

I'd left her house feeling better but still heavy.

And then, here, in the bathroom this morning*, it hits me amid my silent standoff in from of that sink.

I hear music humming softly through speakers, two little boys playing together on the wooden floor and I see reflected in the mirror the white bodies of the those tests.

Gloves pulled up to my elbows,eyes brimming with tears, I do it.

I clean the sink.

Not just haphazardly tidy -- but really, really deep clean the sink.

I make the decision, hold the pink lines in my steadied hands

and I let go, one more layer peeled back, away.

*a morning last week.

Five-Minute Friday: Grow

2011-11-18T09:24:00.001-06:00

For anything to ever
have the chance to grow,
first the hard soil of the Earth
must be split open,
hoe penetrating into the solid ground,
tiller ripping apart the dirt,
completely overturning
and mixing
and sifting.
Only then is the seed
dropped in
and covered
and watered
and sunned.

And my heart,
in a shared moment
of empathy with the soil,
knows well the upheaval
before any tiny green bud
pops through,
a promise that
the overhaul of the land
was worth the tumult
of restoration in the fertile
soil in my chest.

Bigger Picture Moments: Does God Really Care about Social Justice?

2011-11-17T06:00:00.000-06:00

I go for long stretches of days without remembering her until I slow down the pace of life enough that I actually take the time to see her beautiful face, framed with dimly blond hair against creamy-milk skin, staring at me as I wash dishes.

Last winter, she was out of school for a few weeks because of kidney problems likely due in part to lack of nutrition during cold and flu season.

When I read in her letter that she'd been so sick, my heart flipped and skipped beats, praying for her full recovery. I asked her, via return letter, if she'd visited a doctor; and as I recall, she's never answered that directly.

As I licked the envelope, sealing my words into it, my mind struggled to grasp, to understand the world in which our sponsored child lives.

A world where missing school for weeks is a normal occurrence; a world where doctors aren't just a phone call, a visit, a copay away.

When I think of her, when I pray for her, I pray for her protection. I pray that she would come to know His grace, His mercy, His forgiveness and redemption. I pray her needs would be met.

But sometimes I find myself, in the midst of those prayers, asking God why.

Why are children suffering? Why do parents have to struggle to provide for their families? Why, God, aren't you doing something about it? Don't you care about social justice?

This time of year especially -- in the days leading up to the abundance of Thanksgiving and Christmas -- the questions brew and stir and become louder, barking in my need-saturated mind. Why? Where are you, God, in the midst of injustice?

But also, where am I? Where is my mind and heart?

****

We sat together, John and I, within the four walls of a building constructed of love and provision.

We call it our church, but more it is more than a building. It's a place, for me, of deep-seeded community and growth and heart. It's a place I'm often challenged to be more the person I was created to be, a place where I'm challenged to decrease as He increases in me.

When Christy Davis, our World Outreach director, began sharing her heart during a co-led sermon with our lead pastor, she voiced her struggle with coming home to celebrate Thanksgiving with an enormous spread in a cozy, warm house after returning from a trip where memories of devastating poverty is reality for many of the faces she'd only previously saw on TV.

Her heart, too, cried out to God asking where on Earth He was? Why wasn't He there?

Why wasn't He providing for the third of the children who will die of malnutrition before their fifth birthdays?

Why wasn't He giving families to the 145 million children who have lost one or both parents?

She described how these numbers now had faces she'd seen, bodies she'd hugged and how the reality of such extreme injustice rocked her world and relationship with God.

So she went to the Word to find out if God actually cares about those souls who live on next to nothing.

And she saw God's heart:

"Blessed is he who has regard for the weak; the Lord delivers him in times of trouble. Psalm 41:1

If a man shuts his ears to the cry of the poor, he, too, will cry out and not be answered." Proverbs 21:13

"If anyone has material possessions and sees his neighbor in need and has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? ... Let us not love with our words or tongues but with actions and in truth." 1 John 3:17

As she read the verses aloud, I half recited them with her. My heart finds deep joy in giving, and my soul is stirred with empathy for anyone suffering. I've noted these verses before and found comfort in the tears I've shed for the suffering, the hungry, the needy, the desperate because God's heart really is for the least of these. And I finally found resolution to the question I, too, had been asking.

Is God really into social justice? Yes, of course!

The real question is:

Am I? Are you? Are we?

Do we really care about social justice?

The answers seems to be yes among the church. Dr. Scott Todd, a board director for Compassion International, shared that today the global poverty rate is HALF of what it was in 1981.

People are stepping up to the plate. They are sponsoring children, giving. But the need is great yet.

Christy shared that if Evangelicals alone simply gave 10 percent of what they earned, extreme poverty could be eradicated -- totally and completely.

Everything in my body wanted to shout yes! -- my family was doing its part.

But with knowing that the need is still so great, with knowing that there are still lives that are slipping away for lack of nutrition and health care and with knowing that I still have money left to take a trip to the coffee shop, I couldn't say yes emphatically, yes, totally. Especially after Christy shared one powerful truth:

"We must live simply so that others can simply live."

So do I? Do you? Do we?

Because I think that's actually what answers the real, burning question.

{This week I am thankful to find rest and growth among a body of believers who seek to carry out the mission of Jesus -- to give hope and redemption to a hurting world.}

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your moment at Alita's this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Try to visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Living Healthfully: An Arrival of Sorts

2011-11-16T10:07:00.000-06:00

Stunned doesn't begin to describe it.

But thankful does.

This past weekend, I met my final weight-loss goal when I weighed in at 136 and noticed a total body fat loss of more than 5 percent of my body weight since May.

When I met my last goal -- reaching 141 -- I shared that I couldn't even remember ever being at a healthy weight during my adult life; I'd always weighed into the category or overweight or obese. My lightest adult weight prior to Curves was 168 pounds during my college running stint.

Seven years and two babies birthed later, I'm within the parameters of a healthy weight for my frame and height.

It's been a really long haul, but it's been a worthy battle to wage.

It's been a lot of making the harder choice, but it's been rewarding at seeing how the harder choice, over time, actually becomes the easier one with which to live.

And it's been a total shift of attitude, habits and allegiances.

Changes, however, I'm so glad to have embraced by the grace and power of God.

Because inquiring minds wanted to know, here's my transformation in pictures.

That's me with the short dark hair in the middle at 200 pounds in 2004; I didn't readily pose for the camera then.

188 after college, pre-Curves, post running {June 2006}

Just a full-body shot at 188 {June 2006}

175 two months after G's birth, worked out at Curves during pregnancy {October 2007}

166 one year after G's birth, consistently working out at Curves {Sept. 2008}

156.8 1.5 years after E's birth, consistently working out at Curves {May 2011}

141.6 after Curves Complete {nutrition+exercise+motivation} {July 2011}

136 after Curves Complete {November 2011}

If you're thinking of changing your allegiances from satisfying food cravings to achieving health, can I just say one thing?

Don't wait. Do it now. Because a day from now, a week, a month, a year, you'll wish you had made the harder choice today. I know I sound like a motivational booklet ... but, you know, strength and encouragement is transferable and shareable.

Consider this an open invitation if you need to borrow some of mine right now; someone once did the same for me.

Pinnacle Moment: Forgiveness

2011-11-16T06:00:00.000-06:00

His two-year-old footprints shimmer in the sunlight dancing on the wooden floor as we both sit in a tangled heap crying, his small body draped over a rather pregnant stretch of baby beneath my skin.

In a moment of twoness that I just couldn't understand, he scampered across the freshly mopped floor for a fourth time in so many minutes.

In a moment of selfishness, irritation he just couldn't understand, I'd forcefully reached out, grabbed him by the arm and all but yanked him from the still-soaking floors while yelling loudly and denouncing his repeated attempts at puddle splashing.

Eyes wide, full of surprise, he looks at me stunned. He's never heard that mommy before, never felt an ungentle touch come from her hands.

But I keep ...

The rest of Forgiveness is being featured over at Jade's Pinnacle Moments today. Come visit?

Conversational: On Fear and Home

2011-11-15T06:00:00.000-06:00

While this is a sponsored conversation by American Home Shield, this topic of home has been heavy on my heart since returning from Relevant.

Catching only a glimpse of our two-story in the rear-view mirror sent wet tears spilling over my eyelashes and onto my cheeks as I drove away from our home.

I'd never had a problem with the leaving our house in the past; I've actually never really worried about things breaking or anything because I've always rationalized that things, houses can be replaced.

But leaving behind my home, the place that would house my boys while I was on a five-day trek out to the Relevant Conference -- well, that was inspiring some deeply rooted emotion at the mere sight of our humble abode in my mirrors even about things I normally don't worry.

That morning I smiled as I kissed John before he left for work and giggled along with boys as we embraced and my fingers danced over exposed bellies before I headed out the door; but I couldn't shake the dread that had settled into my stomach upon driving away from the house.

All of the what ifs began creeping into mind.

The fear, gripping and real, about not feeling in control over my life, the lives I love and the house I call home, clenched my heart.In reality, I know that every time I kiss those sweet boys of mine before we part, it could be our last farewell. I know that every day is a gift and that tomorrow isn't guaranteed.

But this trip -- this traveling far away from my physical space of comfort, my home and the fingers that grip so tightly around my heartstrings -- for some reason was fueling the fires of fear in my chest in very real ways; like gasoline atop already-simmering coals, my feeling of being out of control of my every-day life was now a raging firestorm searing my insides.

In those moments of swelling firefear in the heart, it's hard to find even a drop of water to douse even the tiniest flame let alone a fire hose to extinguish the blaze.So I retreated to the only way I know to combat fear:
suffocate it with gratitude.

She likes to remind me that it's physically impossible for gratitude and fear to simultaneously exist in the mind. The two emotions run the same pathwaysin the brain; it simply cannot be done.

So like an insomniac counts sheep or stars, I began counting my blessings -- one by one by one; I started with the gifts most on my mind.

Thank you, God, for my husband.
Thank you for my boys.
Thank you, God, that very thing -- my home -- that very blessing that sent me into this tailspin of fear ultimately brought me to this place of thanksgiving so that I could begin again to trust.

What has home meant to you lately? Has the thought of home sparked any thoughts in your mind?

This conversation was sponsored by American Home Shield, provider of Home Warranty Services to help with the inevitable breakdown of major home appliances and components. I was kindly compensated for the time it took to write these thoughts about home.

Everyday Life: And now

2011-11-14T06:00:00.000-06:00

They were being boys, and I was just not having it.

Because really it wasn't even my idea to get dressed up and go outside to capture some pictures.

Actually, it was G's; he thought pictures of himself and "maybe one of E" might be a great Christmas present for his Grandma Puppy {which he totally told her about today while we were in the car, so the cat's out of the bag in more places than here on my blog}.

I went with it, even though Saturday morning was stressful with news of water seeping into our Curves. Also, John and I were in the midst of trying to digest and acclimate to having a gluten-free and dairy-free friendly household {long story that shall be shortened and shared soon} after an end-of-the-week trip to my holistic practioner and a slew of test results came back, most likely pointing to a leaky gut.

So, I thought, maybe we could turn the day around by getting out into the hazy sunshine and gifted 60 degree breezes of an atypical Midwestern November.

Thing is, though, a day can't really be turned around.

Only attitudes can.

And mine, well, it didn't. Rather, I didn't turn it around.

Instead I found myself irritated with G for monkeying around while I was trying to capture his four year old self posed in perfect set ups. I all but stomped away from him and ventured off to find a more willing model only to find an even more reluctant child.

My reaction to E's uncooperative response to the camera also wouldn't have won me a nomination for mother of the year unless I were up against all dads and could only win by default of being a woman.

It snowballed from there until I found myself sitting alone in the dimly lit light of an end table lamp Sunday night wondering how I could let myself so carelessly let myself keep falling down the rabbit hole of irritation and cranky when I was so aware that I was, well, falling.

And now, I'm wishing I could take it all back and do it over again, make the harder choice because, you know, the thing about making the harder choice is that it's always harder in the moment, but actually it's the easier choice to live with in the long haul.

I note this lesson in my journal. {Again.}

Write it out in bold purple against cream paper.

Hope it somehow sponges into my ever-floundering brain off of the pages, an osmosis of sorts.

And I turn the page, to a new, blank one, ready to pen something new, something more than what I've been today.

Five-Minute Friday: Unexpected

2011-11-11T13:16:00.001-06:00

Knee-deep in fear and worry,

I'm trying to count blessings like stars in the sky

more appropriately

flakes of snow falling to the ground

because

you know

we simply cannot be fearful and thankful

simultaneously

she's reminded me time and again.

The two emotions run the same pathways

in the brain;

so it simply cannot be done.

I pray:

thank you, thank you, thank you

for

two bodies merging into one flesh

two small sets of arms that will be slung 'round my neck

beautiful souls with whom to spend a weekend

in an unexpected October snowstorm spreading up the East Coast.

And: make a way for me to return home.

The flakes dissipate by dinner,

and the forecasters promise clear skies in the dawn light,

our departure day,

and as an extra bit of grace,

an extra gift of mercy

He sends reassurance

in the form of a creative soul

comfortable behind the wheel

from days spent navigating a semi

to take the helm

And as she drives

we take the conversation to places

of not just when and what and where

but How and Why and Who.

We drive through snow-covered hills,

and Truth, expressed

Along the Pittsburg turnpike

and mercy, experienced

To South Bend, Indiana

and to grace, unexpected

Sound Bytes: Weenies, Christmas Trees and Overflowing Toilets

2011-11-11T08:14:00.001-06:00

Had to share a few gems from the week because a few of these were too good to not archive somewhere other than the hallways of my mind.

G {four years old}: "Mommmy! Mommy! Look! It's SNOWING! GO GET THE CHRISTMAS TREE!"

Dear, if we put up the Christmas tree every time it snowed in Chicagoland, we could likely have that big old pine glowing from October through May. And I'm not so sure the neighbors would enjoy that much festivity.
****
While on the phone, just as my friend Erinn's voicemail beeped and began recording G ran in to announce:

G: "Mommy. You KNOW you don't have a weenie, right? Because you don't. You just don't, OK?"

Um, yes, I did know. And if Auntie Erinn didn't know before, she sure does now!

****
Snuggling into bed a few nights ago, we asked G if he wanted to pray about anything, to which he replied:"Yes! Today at school my friend S started overflowing the toilet. And Ms. Denise had to run in there. But I just stayed away and kept doing my project. Because the toilet was overflowing ... I didn't SEE it but ... What makes toilets overflow anyway?"

Let's see, in my experience: Barbie and troll dolls and stuffed bears, oh my.

Happy Friday, friends!

Bigger Picture Moment: Eyes to See

2011-11-10T06:00:00.000-06:00

I am runningrunningrunning around the house fetching underwear that's been strewn across each stair step, unfortunate victims of a toddler who went on an anti-folded-laundry tirade -- this, of course, in between quick trips of picking up little messes scattered by small and big hands alike.

On my way down the stairs, as the pre-bedtime bath splashes and carry on upstairs with John as the lifeguard referee, I catch a glimpse of gold spilling in through the window in a brilliant stream of light.

I abandon the forsaken laundry, scurry down the remaining stairs, grab my camera, fumble for gloves, fling open the door and inhale the beauty like it's the first breathe of air I've breathed in weeks that isn't tinged with the smog of clutter and mess, exposed skin prickling from the touch cold November air, the touch of beauty from the divine.

I stand, staring, enjoying in abandon of who might be watching

without care to my mismatched, juxtaposed outfit

in thankfulness for the cold in my lungs, the vibrant purple bleeding into red and firestorms of orange

in gratitude that the Painter gifts snapshots of loveliness, gifts us eyes to see.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your moment at Sarah's this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Try to visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Everyday Life: Forge Ahead

2011-11-09T06:00:00.000-06:00

The wind moans, ushers in the whipping chill of November, and I suddenly become stricken by the cold pressing into my cheeks.

I step outside of my front door, feel the freeze soak into my skin and stiffen; slowly moving, barely breathing, I get stuck so easily in the grips of late fall, in the grasp of loss, knowing full well the depths of winter lie ahead. There is ache in my heart, fear of again being bone-cold beyond just the physical bone.

Mostly, I want to wrap up in a blanket, anchor myself to the couch and set up protest of the pending winter within the warmth of my own house, in the known comfort of sameness.

But little boys don't know the paralysis of cold, their hearts, their bodies don't stand in opposition of the change, in fear of the movement that walks us into the next moments.

They just know that every day we wake, we forge ahead, despite the elements.

We move.

We breathe.

We cry.

We laugh.

We shout.

We love.

We burn.

We feel.

And we move.

We move simply because life demands movement instead of still protest; they know all we can do is choose joy and dress* for the occasion.

*Ephesians 6:10-18Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of {evil}."

Scenes from Life: How I Met Your ...

2011-11-07T07:35:00.000-06:00

Thick ropes drape from one side of the descending, rocky staircase to the other, making a skimpy barrier across the private part of the history that's been unearthed.

And she, in a boldness that stretches beyond the sliver ring encasing her lip and fiery red streaks running through dark hair – she bounds toward the unbeaten path with spirit soaring, freedom brimming, adventure beckoning.

The girl with the lip ring, he thinks, had originally come across as kind of scatterbrained and flaky; after all, she'd ...

I'm guest posting over at Emily's today, writing one of my very own vivid Scenes from Life. Yes, this story is totally my very own God-ordained love story. Head over to share a moment of my life I'll always remember as one of God being the author of our stories -- even and especially the love ones.

Thinking, That's All: On Thunder and Rain

2011-11-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

About this time last year, if you would have asked me where I wanted be, I wouldn't have said here.

Well, actually, I would have said here -- in this skin of a wife, a stay at home mother, a business owner -- but I don't think I would have totally meant it.

Because in my hardest of hearts, I've ached to be a huge rolling roar of thunder, spreading out across the sky, echoing for miles across the flowing, rolling plains that is this online land.

And, maybe, too, I wanted to be rain, quenching thirsts and bringing relief to drought, though I know that's not my composition.

I wanted to grow from a small rumble in the distance to a huge booming storm sounding out for miles and miles.

As if that would make me significant, as if I could garner some identity outside of my world where scrubbing toilets and making meals from scratch and folding never-ending piles of laundry, all which never earns me a byline or recognition or camaraderie.

Slowly, this year, though, as I've begun declaring who I am and proclaiming what I am more than, as I've been seeking to live an intentional life, finding the bigger picture through small moments, I've come to really embrace a deeper, truer identity; I've come to appreciate being a rumble of thunder throughout my small acre of land both online and in person.

This weekend, at The Relevant Conference, I have never been so certain that where I am right now, is exactly where I need to be and where my heart deeply wants to be.

As Ann spoke about how all of our voices, each of us, in every part of our world, both online and in person, are sounds of thunder promising the coming of rain, the coming of Jesus' reign, I could hear truth resound in my mind, first a whisper, but growing, ever so loudly:

"Your small rumblings of thunder matter. Your story? It matters. Who I made you to be matters.
If not to anyone else, it matters to me.
Let go of trying to muster the loudness of her thunder, the boldness of hers, the booming of her and be the thunder I've created you to be."

From the moment our car hit the interstate just a few days prior the moment where Ann brought words to my ponderings, my heart longed, deep-soul-cry longed to be with John and my boys.

Though I was excited to travel with one of my closest, favorite friends and to be among other like-minded beauties and soak in new ideas and words and new whispers from the very Creator of my soul, I still couldn't shake the ache for my family. Though I was heading into my element -- surrounded by women who crave knowing God better and find deep joy in writing and creating and loving their families -- I yearned for John and the boys.

In that moment, as Ann let His words thunder through her small frame and echo throughout the ballroom, I finally realized why I was longing for them so deeply: I finally realized where He was trying to tell me I belonged, where my rumblings of thunder most loudly resounded.

And it's not here in this space.

Or at my Curves.

Nor at my volunteer meetings.

Or anywhere else.

Rather, it's within the four walls of this house.

It's within the ears and hearts and minds of my husband, my boys, in this family I've been given.

I think Sally said it best when she shared this weekend something she audibly speaks to her kids:

"The most important book I've been writing ... is you."

So it is for this small resounding echo of thunder, too. And so this small resounding rumble of thunder is exactly who I want to be.

Disclosure: Our trip to Relevant is being generously sponsored by Chevy’s Driving the Midwest who has given us a tank of gas and a Traverse to get there. Our ride is also being fueled by Kawa Japanese and Asian Cuisine, Dr. Reena Jacobs of The Healing Groves, Curves of Lake County, Bigger Picture Blogs and Little Lake County, each of whome have provided one tank of gas for the trip. All opinions expressed are our own.

Bigger Picture Moment: Right Where I Belong {Gratitude}

2011-11-03T06:00:00.000-05:00

The afternoon before we're to make the trek home to Illinois from Harrisburg, fat snow flakes are falling from a ceiling of haloed thickness, from puffy grey-white clouds.

And I am wondering if we'll make it home as planned.

Forecasters sling signs of warning across the television screen and lights flicker through out the hotel hallways as I walk in the company of flesh embodying the hearts I've come to consider soul sisters.

I pray -- Oh, God, I know this is where I'm meant to be in this time and space.

And I am thankful.

I am eye-deep in gratitude to be pressed shoulder to shoulder with kindred spirits, the women I love who are journeying this motherhood road alongside me, His very presence swelling in our hearts.

But, still, tomorrow, please take me to the arms, take me to the flesh in which I share oneness; take me to the man with whom you've interwoven my heart strings.

And in the meantime, let there peace that I am right where I belong.

****

Headlights flicker, dance through the fog while sprinkles of rain tap against the windshield.

I could drive this stretch of road with my eye closed, I think, not because I know the curves as well as the ones on my own body nor because I follow them, the tires of my car pressed against this very pavement almost daily

but rather because I can feel the force of my husband's body, only less than a mile away, pulling my heart toward home.

Yes, my body is the magnetic ball being woven through the maze of streets by the force of soul attraction anchored in a well of love within the four walls I call home.

The car nearly parks itself, and I jump-fly out of the driver's seat, headlights fading across the garage door, the backs of my legs and I fall into strong arms that are open and waiting for me, pulling me in before my feet can carry me out of the hallway.

And, again, in a different time and space, I am right where He wants me; I am right where I belong.

****

I wake to two small bodies pressed on each side of my own. I am the newly restored ingredient of the mommy sandwich. We lounge in bed, two boys snuggled against my skin.

There are dishes to wash, laundry piles to fold, sheets to change, breakfasts to make, lists to tackle, but for the moment, again, a different time and space, I know, I'm exactly where I should be.

So with palms turned up and wells overflowing, I give thanks for knowing that in these moments, I'm certain I'm right where I belong.

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your moment at Lenae's this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Try to visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Disclosure: Our trip to Relevant was generously sponsored by Chevy’s Driving the Midwest who has given us a tank of gas and a Traverse to get there. Our ride was also fueled by Kawa Japanese and Asian Cuisine, Dr. Reena Jacobs of The Healing Groves, Curves of Lake County, Bigger Picture Blogs and Little Lake County, each of whom have provided one tank of gas for the trip. All opinions expressed are our own.

November Simple Swap: The Skinny on Fats and Body Fat

2011-11-01T21:08:00.000-05:00

**This month's winner is Stephanie!**We all want to live healthier, more intentional lives, but sometimes it seems overwhelming and daunting to take even small steps toward our ideals because there are so many steps before us.

Simple Swap was born out of a desire and passion to encourage other women on journeys toward living healthier, more inspired, intentional lifestyles through implementing one simple swap per month.

Each swap will:
1. Take 30 minutes or less to accomplish
2. Be inexpensive to implement or boast overall, long-haul {health} savings
3. Focus on improving health/eco-friendliness, being good stewards of our resources and/or fostering a creative and intentional life.

Some weeks, all three will be accomplished in 30 minutes or less!

The beautiful and creative Robin from Diet Coke on the Rocks will make the Simple Swap first each month so as to show ease and perhaps sometimes another way to implement a Simple Swap. Check out Robin's November Simple Swap for more ideas!

*****

Be it fat in food or fat on our bodies, we often feel like we must flee from fat as fast as our legs can carry us.

But what if by eating fat we could actually reduce our body fat and maintain a healthy composition while improving our health?

Largely, we've been conditioned and educated to view fat as the enemy, particularly when it's nestled inside our food or beneath our skin.

And while I agree wholeheartedly that we must be vigilant about maintaining a healthy amount of body fat, I think we've been sorely miseducated on how to go about doing so.

In the past, if a label held promises of being low fat, I assumed naively so, that it was healthier than the other options that contained the full amount of fat. I'm pretty sure I thought that all fat was bad and was probably the culprit for making me fat.

In reality, that's no more true than any other outrageous generalization.

Eating the right fat can actually help our bodies shed unwanted fat cells.

Instead of slicing fats from our diet we should be consciously working on making healthy fats part of our meals.But how do we know the difference between the two?

Trans fats {hydrogenated oils or partially hydrogenated} = never!

Saturated fats {coconut oil and animal products like cheese, yogurt, butter) = diligent moderation

Mono and poly unsaturated fats {nuts, fish, avocado and olive oil; I don't recommend using any other oils} = healthy servings a few times per day

{Read more about dissecting fats at the Mayo Clinic}

Aside from helping promote healthy Body Mass Index levels and weight loss, the consumption of good fats like those found in avocado, olive oil, fish and coconut oil also aid in health by decreasing inflammation {like allergies, arthritis, heart disease} in the body while helping maintain insulin levels, regulate blood sugar and decrease the risk of coronary heart disease.

The list goes on and on, but I think you get the point I'm trying to make:

Switching out our unhealthy fats to healthier ones promote wellness, weight loss and prevent disease {and preserves the money you'd use caring for such disease}.

Here are a few ways you can Simple Swap the unhealthy fats for healthier ones:

Mango Chicken Chili
* Replace a few red-meat centered meals every week with a fish or bean entrees like black-bean tacos, mango chicken chili or hummus veggie wraps.

*Use ground turkey for burgers or spaghetti instead of ground beef.

* Use hummus or avocado on sandwiches instead of using cheese

* Replace butter with coconut oil in all baking recipes like muffins, cakes, slow-cooker baked apple pie oatmeal, pizza crust, bread, flat bread and toast

Baked Apple Pie Oatmeal

Briefly, I want to land on the last point: Coconut oil is our all-purpose fat of choice because not only because it tastes good but also because actually has been shown to improve immune system function.

We use it in all of the aforementioned baked goods and recipes and we've found it actually enhances the flakiness of pizza crust, the fluffiness of muffins and the consistency of the oatmeal and because coconut oil is one of the only oils that can withstand such high temperatures without losing its antiodidants.

Carrot Cupcakes with Coconut Oil

I was skeptical at first because I didn't really want all of my recipes to have a hint of coconut, but to my surprise nothing has had that coco-nutty flavor. And for someone who just cannot stomach dairy, coconut oil is a recipe saver!

With Thanksgiving and Christmas quickly approaching, I would love if you would share a recipe you've Simply Swapped out the unhealthy fats for the healthier ones using coconut oil.

Of course, you can swap out any unhealthy fat for a healthier one and share your findings to be eligible to win a really wonderful addition to your kitchen.

As an incentive to make the Simple Swap, I asked my absolute favorite coconut oil maker, Nutiva, to sponsor November's Simple Swap and giveaway one jar of high-quality, super healthy and really yummy coconut oil.

And Nutiva happily obliged!

So let's do this! Let's make this holiday season {and our bodies} much healthier by Simple Swapping out the unhealthy fats for healthier ones.

{No purchase necessary. Giveaway is open to all U.S. residents who are 18 years and older. The winner will be selected randomly Dec. 1, 2011 from the link up pool.Nutiva is only providing the giveaway item; I have not been compensated in any way or gifted with any product to talk about Nutiva}

This post is linked with The Green Resource at A Delightful Home, Sorta Crunchy, The Greenbacks Gal and Live Renewed.

Creativity: On Writing and Relevant 11

2011-10-31T15:56:00.000-05:00

"We give inspiration too much weight. If you're a writer, you have to write even when you don't feel like it."
-Lisa Jo of The Gypsy Mama

It was the first session of the morning. I'd not procured caffeine, breakfast offered only the hope of a carb-coma and I was pretty tired from engaging in late-night conversation. Hungry, under caffeinated, over-tired and generally grumpy, Saturday morning at the Relevant Conference was, erm, a stretching experience for me.

Also, there was a nor'easter bearing down on Harrisburg, and fat snowflakes were coating the ground, making the lights flicker. If you've been around for awhile, you know I'm not a snow person. {Read: I cannot believe I don't live in Hawaii I loathe snow so intensely.}

So there was that, too.

I wasn't in the mood to write. I was feeling at a loss for the words that normally so easily come to my mind and spill from my fingers and lips.

So when Lisa Jo dropped that little gem of truth --

"We give inspiration too much weight. If you're a writer, you have to write even when you don't feel like it."

-- I was particularly challenged in that moment. And then she asked us to write for five minutes straight without worrying that it's just right.

With the prompt "becoming" I just wrote, and this is what came out.

Outside, white fat flakes blanket the ground,
covering it with the heaviness of the
first footprints of winter.

Yesterday, sun, streaming through the
thickness of gray-drenched skies,
reminding that there is warmth
beyond what meets my eye.

And, I am,
too,
being coated
in the heaviness of grace,
of hands, fingers stretched
across the blades of my shaking
shoulders
of whispered words being
gifted to my ears.

The snow coats the streets,
and morphs from flake to slush,
making a mess of the roads.
There is mess in the becoming.

The other outcome born from this session was a burst of creativity, a fierce rush of ideas coursing through my veins and running through my mind.

I simply cannot wait to share the creativity-sharpening idea Melissa, Lenae and I brainstormed while munching on lunch together. We'll hopefully be sharing soon after talking with Sarah and Alita.

I also cannot wait to share other truths I gleaned from the whispers of wise women while at the conference

In the meantime, if you need to just write without worrying if it's just write, check out The Gypsy Mama's Five-Minute Friday prompt this week and link up.

Disclosure: Our trip to Relevant is being generously sponsored by Chevy’s Driving the Midwest who has given us a tank of gas and a Traverse to get there. Our ride is also being fueled by Kawa Japanese and Asian Cuisine, Dr. Reena Jacobs of The Healing Groves, Curves of Lake County, Bigger Picture Blogs and Little Lake County, each of whome have provided one tank of gas for the trip. All opinions expressed are our own.

Five-Minute Friday: A few days late on Becoming

2011-10-31T15:24:00.001-05:00

Outside, white fat flakes blanket the ground,
covering it with the heaviness of the
first footprints of winter.

Yesterday, sun, streaming through the
thickness of gray-drenched skies,
reminding that there is warmth
beyond what meets my eye.

And, I am,
too,
being coated
in the heaviness of grace,
of hands, fingers stretched
across the blades of my shaking
shoulders
of whispered words being
gifted to my ears.

The snow coats the streets,
and morphs from flake to slush,
making a mess of the roads.
There is mess in the becoming.

Written 10/28/11 during a five-minute prompt in the hands-on writing session at Relevant 11 while in an early-morning funk, which you can read about here.

Disclosure: Our trip to Relevant is being generously sponsored by Chevy’s Driving the Midwest who has given us a tank of gas and a Traverse to get there. Our ride is also being fueled by Kawa Japanese and Asian Cuisine, Dr. Reena Jacobs of The Healing Groves, Curves of Lake County, Bigger Picture Blogs and Little Lake County, each of whome have provided one tank of gas for the trip. All opinions expressed are our own.

Five-Minute Friday: Relevant

2011-10-28T15:09:00.001-05:00

Warmth seeps out in streaks

through grey-drenched and stretched out Pennsylvania skies

reminding that though I can’t seecompletely

through the thicknessthe sun is still there.

There are no tugs on my legs from little arms and legs,

no voices screeching for mommy, ricocheting through the hallways

I walk

but the swelling of my heart pumping in my chest

reminds me that those little fingers

yet grip-hold me from three states away.

Though I am among

wisdom and grace

personified

surrounded by talent and well-deep love

embodied

I am reminded

through the locking of eyes

with tears slightly brimming

and softly spoken heart cries

uttered in quiet moments

and the slow nodding of heads

when words have failed to adequately expressthat

yes,

oh, yes,

there is more than what meets the eye

and comes spilling out in streaks

beneath grey-drenched and stretched Pennsylvania skies.

Disclosure: Our trip to Relevant is being generously sponsored by Chevy’s Driving the Midwest who has given us a tank of gas and a Traverse to get there. Our ride is also being fueled by Kawa Japanese and Asian Cuisine, Dr. Reena Jacobs of The Healing Groves, Curves of Lake County, Bigger Picture Blogs and Little Lake County, each of whom have provided one tank of gas for the trip. All opinions expressed are our own.

P.S.:Would you mind voting for Marissa of The Mothers Milk Bank? I will be telling you all about why milk banks are so important for community health later today, but in the meantime, would you give her and the milk bank your {quick and easy} vote? Please and thank you!

Road Trip: And we're off!

2011-10-26T08:30:00.000-05:00

Today, Melissa and I leave for Relevant 11 with baby G in tow {deep, huge breathe in and exhale}.

We'll be traveling in the style and comfort of our Chevy Traverse all the way to Harrisburg, PA for four days of good conversation, good friends and good moments of growth through listening to God speak to our hearts through speakers.

I was wondering, though, as we journey out today, would you pray for us?

Would you pray for travel mercies, safety for our families, open hearts and open ears?We would so appreciate it!

In fact, Lenae would appreciate your prayers, too! That's right; three of us from Bigger Picture Blogs are going to The Relevant Conference! And we'd love to take you with us!

But since we can't fit you in our suitcases, we'll have to take you with in a virtual capacity!

Be sure you are following us as we tweet out gems from our trip and truths gleaned:
@HyacynthW
@PBinmyHair
@JustLenae

Hope you enjoy Relevant through our eyes, friends!

Oh, and this, too!: Melissa and I had a great kick off last night with a live tweet-up for those of you in the Chicagoland area so as to rally votes for Marissa of The Mothers Milk Bank of the Western Great Lakes . It was wonderful to relax with free mini massages, a complimentary cocktail and good conversation before a 12 hour car ride across the country with a {very cute} baby.

Would you mind voting for Marissa of The Mothers Milk Bank? I will be telling you all about why milk banks are so important for community health later today, but in the meantime, would you give her and the milk bank your {quick and easy} vote? Please and thank you!

Disclosure: Our trip to Relevant is being generously sponsored by Chevy’s Driving the Midwest who has given us a tank of gas and a Traverse to get there. Our ride is also being fueled by Kawa Japanese and Asian Cuisine, Dr. Reena Jacobs of The Healing Groves, Curves of Lake County, Bigger Picture Blogs and Little Lake County, each of whome have provided one tank of gas for the trip. All opinions expressed are our own.

Road Trip: It's a party up in here!

2011-10-24T21:18:00.001-05:00

Bigger Picture Blogs is going to The Relevant Conference and we want to take you with us!

We mentioned that Melissa and I are kicking things off with a live tweet-up for those of you in the Chicagoland area so as to rally votes for Marissa of The Mothers Milk Bank of the Western Great Lakes and, you know, relax with free mini massages, a complimentary cocktail and good conversation before a 12 hour car ride across the country with a {very cute} baby: (You can get more details and RSVP here.)

We didn’t want to leave anyone out, though. If we could fit you in our suitcases you would all be coming with us! So we are hosting a Twitter party Tuesday the 25th of October while we’re at our event!

B sure you are following us:
@HyacynthW
@PBinmyHair
@JustLenae

We'll start the party at 8:30 CST Tuesday, Oct. 25 using the hashtag #ChevydrivesBPB.

Our theme is "Roadtrip Survival."
{Because don't you think we might need some of your tips?!}

We will be giving away a $25 gas card, a $50 gas card and a week in a Chevy Traverse!*

{You can read more about the Traverse here: http://www.chevrolet.com/traverse-crossover-suv/}

If you plan on popping into the party and want a chance to win, please link your Twitter handle in the linky below.

See you tomorrow!

Disclosure: Our trip to Relevant is being generously sponsored by Chevy’s Driving the Midwest who has given us a tank of gas and a Traverse to get there. Our ride is also being fueled by Kawa Japanese and Asian Cuisine, Dr. Reena Jacobs of The Healing Groves, Curves of Lake County, Bigger Picture Blogs and Little Lake County, each of whome have provided one tank of gas for the trip. All opinions expressed are our own.

* Open to US residents, no purchase necessary. Winner must be 21 years or older, and for the Traverse must live in the state of IL and be a licensed driver.

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Dress Like a Girl: In the Cold!

2011-10-24T08:37:00.000-05:00

There's not much I enjoy about the temperatures dipping below freezing ... or, say, 55 degrees.

Mostly I just like snow in December {and December only} and drinking steaming mugs of hot tea while snuggling next to my husband or boys, basking in the glow of a warm fireplace.

Not that we have a fireplace, but if we did, it would make me a little warmer toward the cold.

Even my relationship with winter gear has been that of a love-hate one.

Mostly I've loved it because it keeps me warm. And that was about all I loved it for during these past few years because it certainly hasn't been, hmm, the most stylish.

The first winter I spent married to my husband I fell cold-feet first into the trap of wearing his outdoor gear because, really, hunters do know how to stay warm.

Warm, yes! But cute? If you're a boy, totally!

John will insist I'd already gone down that rabbit hole of function over fashion, though, because when we met I sported my dad's size 2X down goose parka until probably sometime in April when I deemed it safe to emerge outside in less than four layers {for reals, I get bone cold in the winter}.

Until just last winter, I'd come to embrace the manly winter look, almost enjoying the shock on the stockboys' faces as I disrobed my outer garments upon entering the store, suddenly morphing into a women.

Then I found this knit ear band. It was pretty. It had sparklies. But I had little hope it would actually be thick enough to keep me warm. I tried it on anyway, because did I mention it was really cute? And it had sparklies?

I know; it's hard to see the sparklies. But they are there!

Miraculously, so I felt at the time, it was actually warm -- something I've rarely come across with winter women's fashion. {Perhaps all of these years I'd never been looking in the right places?} Of course, I shelled out the $20 it cost and wore it proudly -- clothed in its beauty and warmth -- amid the chill of late autumn.

I began avidly searching for more cold-winter gear last year, and I was re-inspired to continue my search after Melissa issued the Rock Fall October challenge, that didn't make me feel like a lumber jack or a big burly hunter foraging acres of open field in search for anything that moves{sorry, honey, your camo is warm, but it's not exactly stylish}.

And I found a warm, long scarf with the slightest of shimmers interwoven into the black wool

as well as purple gloves with finger holes and mitten covers, perfect for keeping warm while still being able to grip important things like the steering wheel, little hands and my phone

and the softest knit scarf from A Soft Landing and Quince and Co. that my husband immediately took a liking to and has been eyeing ever since I opened the package and let him touch it.

lovely knit from A Soft Landing

So while I haven't traded function for fashion, I've found fashionably functional gear that makes me feel a lot prettier while simultaneously providing the warmth I so desire when it's absolutely frigid {below 55 degrees} outside.
What are you sporting this fall to stay warm while still feeling lovely? Have you fallen into the lumberjack trap?

Take the Dress Like a Girl challenge to Rock Fall and share your transformation at Melissa's! Did I mention that Melissa is giving away a $30 shop credit to A Soft Landing for those who link up?

Five-Minute Friday: Beyond

2011-10-21T13:36:00.002-05:00

What happens, then, if we are upstairs and a tornado rips through the walls of our house, he asks, four years old and curious with mountains of questions.

We trust that God will protect us or take us to be with him forever, I say, resigning in my own mind that that's what we do while planning for a proverbial tragedy, while standing face to face with a giant.

We are talking disaster on a sun-drenched, October-blue sky day for reasons about which I'm unsure.

He sniffles from the backseat, light streaming in through the windshield, and I think he's going to cry about the prospect of dying.

But instead:

"I want to be with God now! I want to be in Heaven with Jesus now!"

My spirit soars at his devotion, his huge faith as my heart thumps and leaps into my throat at the thought of G going to his forever home, away from the space between my chest and my arm to space in between His at the age of four.

You will get to spend forever with Jesus after you finish living your life here, I reassure him,

as my thoughts wildly bounce from flesh to faith and faith to flesh

-- hoping selfishly that I won't see the day

where he goes ahead of me into the author's arms

and out of mine

--- hoping that I, too, would one day have faith

the size of a mustard seed

the faith of my child

who is so very four

and

so very beyond the very few years he's lived.

Bigger Picture Moments: I {we} am More

2011-10-20T06:00:00.000-05:00

Each Thursday, we share the harvest of intentional living by capturing a glimpse of the bigger picture through a simple moment. Won't you join us on the journey to not just live but to live well?

****

I am more than

the name my children call me

the ring that's on my finger

the music that fills my lungs and spills into the open spaces of my life

the books I cannot put down

the boxes I've been placed in

the sexuality I embrace

the ballot I cast

the number on the tag of my heans

the language I speak

the roots by which I've been bound

the degree bearing my name.

I am a sojourner of truth and beauty, traveling my way through this hill country, trying to see the distant land in which I will dwell forever with the author of this bigger story.

I am redeemed from the ugliness of choosing to serve my self, my own agenda, my own desires.

I am restored from the brokenness suffered, the shattered jar on the barren ground after I'd given myself away to those who could never really fill me.

I am unveiled of the dulled identities I chose to embrace and deem as truths.

I am beloved

by a redeemer, a restorer who so loved the broken, the selfish enough to trade his life, strung up on wood, so that those who dwell in the tents of this foreign land as pilgrims

could dwell, unlimited, in a glimmering city with rock-solid foundations created by a most precise architect and builder of beauty and life beyond what we imagine and know from our hill-country view.

And could I just say, beloved, the same is true of you. You are more than all of this.

Everyday Life: This is why

2011-10-19T06:00:00.000-05:00

the upstairs is a disaster, I haven't showered, the garden is again vying for attention, the boys are still trying to wear shorts in 50-degree weather and my reader is overflowing

{but, oh, the cuteness of the ever-exploring and always-moving toddler.}

Everyday Life: What My Relevant Roomies Should Know

2011-10-17T08:42:00.001-05:00

In preparation for Relevant, dearest roomies Suzannah and Stacy {and anyone else I might ever spend considerable time with in person}, I thought now would be a good time for you to know that ...

1. I am a seeker of beauty in the everyday, and it seemingly directs my decisions and guides me ...

2. to randomly take pictures of sometimes the oddest things with my phone or camera or sneak away briefly to write it all out. Taking a picture of the hair dryer/toaster/your painted toe nails = normal and no cause for concern.

3. Both talking and listening are components to a great conversation, but I almost always fall into listening if there is no opportunity to speak ...

4. unless there is lack of sleep and caffeine in power combination, then the giggling/silliness emerges and the words flow until heads hit the pillow.

Sometimes life demands mustaches on a stick, you know?

5. The morning after, however, pretty much will consist of me sleeping with my eyes open and feet moving until breakfast and tea have been safely procured and consumed. I rarely speak before refueling.

No make, no hair style -- what I shall look like in the morning.

6. And by breakfast, I mean real nutritious food - not, like, a donut or pastry. Which also begs me to remind you: don't get me started on food integrity or whole food conversations unless you really, really, really want to go there.

7. While I'm mostly an enigma of shy clothed in abundant conversation and outspoken wrapped in carefully thought words, when provoked with subjects about which I am passionate, something compels me to speak the truth but to speak it in love

8. Because I care deeply {too deeply?} about the way other people feel and about the way I think I make them feel which is why

9. I almost always opt for a hug rather than a handshake {unless I know you are anti-hug, so please! Warn a sistah!} However, I am not a night-time snuggler, so no worries for my bed mate; there will not be awkwardness in the morning after a subconscious, unprovoked cuddle session.

10. Going to the deep places of conversation, the hard places doesn't frighten me or make me shy away, rather it draws me out and draws me in, so if you want to go there, prepare adequately for little sleep but let's plan to ensure a permanent pot of coffee or cup of tea brews into the evening hours.

And one bonus tidbit: There is a soundtrack constantly playing in my mind; I randomly insert song lyrics into conversation and prefer music to permeate the space outside of my head as well.

Normal, every day me for easy recognition.

Linking up at Brooke's with everyone else who sharing about themselves in preparation for Relevant 11.

Twitter: @HyacynthW
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/hyacynth

Chevy, Dr. Reena Jacobs and Kawa are all generously partnering with Bigger Picture Blogs to help sponsor our roadtrip to Relevant. You can follow our trip -- traveling 12 hours with a baby in the Comfort and Style of a Traverse -- on Twitter or Facebook. #ChevyDrivesBPB.

October Simple Swap: Inspiration to sack the plastic bags

2011-10-15T09:08:00.000-05:00

This month's Simple Swap is to exchange the plastic bags for quality reusable canvas bags while grocery shopping. {Need details? Check out the step-by-step guide to making the swap.}

Reducing our plastic exposure seems daunting, but it's so worthwhile for our health, our environment and even the neatness of our homes.

Swapping out plastic bags for canvas is really one of the gentlest baby steps in cutting down on plastic consumption -- it's something very easily implemented, as my Simple Swap co-host, Robin, demonstrated during her swap.

Here's some extra inspiration from women who juggle multiple kids and manage to bring the canvas with during grocery shopping adventures:

Ginny Marie shares how she used to cringe when her mother brought reusable canvas bags to the grocery before it was more of a social norm.

Lenae discusses how she rescued her canvas bags from the depths of the closet and found sanity in decluttering.

A new friend at Lecsmiscellany divulges how she's actually found canvas bags easier while toting groceries and kiddos.

Feeling inspired now but need a little extra incentive? Craft Culture Boutique has graciously offered to give one person who makes the October Simple Swap this 100 percent recycled cotton extra large tote in the Love Birds print and another bag in the print of her choice!

So capture a picture of your swap, share your story of the swap {or the story behind the swap or why you wanted to attempt the swap}, link back to this post and then link your October Simple Swap post up here! {And maybe go and give a virtual high five to others who have linked.}

Lastly, as an added bonus, Craft Culture has graciously extended an offer -- when you purchase three bags, you'll receive a fourth bag of your choice for free! Simply contact the ladies via their Etsy shop, mention the code CCOCT2011 and they will set up a custom order for you so that you get four bags for the price of three.

{No purchase necessary. Giveaway is open to all U.S. residents who are 18 years and older. The winner will be selected randomly Nov. 1, 2011 from the link up pool.}

Five-Minute Friday: Catch

2011-10-14T16:00:00.000-05:00

It takes me by surprise, catches my breath, steals it from my lungs in the midst of one of the most routine pit stops of the day.

Unexpected, uninvited, the first bright scarlet wave since the unexpected tsunami of red.unleashes the sinking-gut feeling of loss remembered, fear realized in the middle of my beige bathroom.

It's a reminder --

that bodies heal, resume normal often faster than the heart

that new beach stretched out before us doesn't erase the footprints where our feet have tread

that there is freshness in this stretch of sand

and hope of healing in calmed tides.

It takes me by surprise, catches my breath, steals it from my lungs in the midst of one of the most routine pit stops of the day.

And instead of holding it - my breath, the fear, the sadness, I breathe in, exhale, release.

Bigger Picture Moments: The Busy Garden Hand

2011-10-13T09:26:00.001-05:00

The tomatoes have been dropping to the ground like little red bombs before they are even ripe enough to pick, splatting the soil with seeds and skins and simultaneously squashing my dreams for garden-drenched chilli year round.

Yesterday, finally, during the last day of 70 degrees and sunshine forecasted until um, probably April or so, I trudged out to my over-grown garden armed with a pair of pruning scissors, leather-palmed gloves, twisty ties and a rather large bucket for filling with weeds.

We've had a rather wonderful growing season these past few months, and I expected to garner quite a few tomatoes and peppers and strawberries in the midst of discarding the weeds.

I didn't expect, though, to be filling the bucket with bunches of tomatoes, still green or just ripening or overly ripened.

Once I actually got into the thick of the garden, though, and began untwisting and untangling the tomato vines from each other, as they'd grown way taller than the stakes supporting them, I found the reason for the tomato-bombing epidemic: some of the vines had split under the stress of too-heavy bunches that had grown too tall to be adequately supported. Thus, some fruits were dropping because they weren't getting the water and nutrients needed.

Others, mostly the cherry tomatoes that were perfectly sunned and watered and grown, were dropping because we'd failed to harvest them quickly enough.

My heart groaned most deeply for the perfectly ripened tomatoes that fell to the ground at the peak of ripeness.

Aside from being sort of embarrassed at how I'd let the garden go during these past few weeks, I also found myself feeling like I'd sort of failed to do the job I signed up for, the task I'd undertaken.

I guess I've been too ... busy? preoccupied? disenchanted? tired? to maintain all of the seeds we'd sown into the soil at the beginning of the season, to keep the ground free from weeds and flowers that had spread into our garden.

And yesterday afternoon, I paid for my neglect, as I cleared the brush, pruned half-dead branches from the main vines, discarding more ripened fruits than I cared to count.

There's this verse in Luke 10 I couldn't quite shake as I pruned and cut and discarded tomatoes that had fallen to the ground, ripe, but had since been squashed and splattered against the ground.

He told them, 'The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.'"

I have the hardest time keeping myself from becoming too busy, too committed, too preoccupied and thus, too exhausted so that I can harvest the fruits that have been set out before me.

In the midst of lost tomatoes, lost harvest, I find myself today, again, recommitting to the seeds He's sown in the soil He's entrusted me -- my boys, my husband, the other souls he's graciously brought into my space -- and setting aside the busyness, the things, the noise that beckon my heart, my mind to stray from the garden that deserves the majority of my attention in this season of life.

And I pray that I stray from becoming the busy garden hand to instead becoming the faithful one -- that I learn to stand well by the Gardeners side as He tends and waters and suns and prunes and grows the fruits in the soil, teaching me my parts, too, so that the greater harvest, unlike my tomatoes, is abundant and gathered in the peak of its ripeness instead of falling to the waste side on the garden ground.

Come share the harvest of intentional living! Link up at Alita's today!

Babywearing: At Home

2011-10-12T08:25:00.001-05:00

He's so at home in his skin, his body now.

At two years old, he loves to jumpjumpjumpity jump jump, feet self-bound together, blast off down the sidewalk in hot pursuit of his brother, crashing through walls of leaves and stomping his footprints into sun-dried grass.

The toddle is giving way to a steady-on-his-feet gait, only slipping out in moments of shear exhaustion; most times, he much prefers to carry himself over the hills and up flights of mountainous stairs atop of legs that yearn to stretch and push and break free.

But I think something sparks a memory, every so often, in between conquering stretches of neighborhood and fortresses disguised as two-story staircases, that there's this soft space waiting atop of my hip just next to my chest and another in the slightest curve of my back.

E at 10 months in a Didymos Hemp Indio

And in that memory, he'll run smash crash into the bottom of my legs, waving arms up high while declaring intentions for being lifted up into the fullness of my arms, into the encasing of a sling.

He snuggles in, relaxes tired muscles, lets his weight sink into my own, thinking inside his quieting mind, {I'm pretty sure}

E at 2 years old in a Kinderpack

Oh, yes, I'm at home here, too.

In celebration of International Babywearing Week, I'm celebrating locally with Babywearing International Chicagoland. If you are local, come celebrate with us!

Do you have a favorite babywearing post? I'd love to read it!

Raising Boys: All Wrong

2011-10-10T15:55:00.001-05:00

So I've been going about parenting the fours of boyhood all wrong for the past few months now.

With G's assertion {as of his fourth birthday} of his independence and wanting to do everything by himself, his {right} way {as opposed to my oh-so-terribly wrong way}, I'd been allowing less grace when he'd ignore me so he could instead do things on his own terms and shortened my tolerance for the bad attitude that ensued after we began warring over him doing things on his own {unproductive, time-consuming} terms.

Such arguments with a preschooler, I've come to learn, are futile and normally result in a lose-lose situation:
I'm left out of sorts, even more behind schedule, lacking any kind of progress while an irritated little-big guy stomps reluctantly behind me, half-deflated, half-angry, unwilling following my weary lead.

And so I came to one conclusion: something needed to change.

But what?

After praying about it, remembering that God made boy to grow into men who lead and reading a really eye-opening post at MOB Society about how parents must embrace their boys' wildness if they want them to grow into the men God created them to be, I decided to start with adjusting my own attitude -- mostly because it was easier to change mine than it would have been to change his.

Plus, I didn't want to enforce a change on the outside; I really wanted to help him change his heart toward embracing our guidance without squashing the essence of his person.

I've been asking God to reveal to me how he created men and the boys that grow into them:

*He created them to lead with integrity and love {Ephesians 5:23}.
*To provide {I Tim. 5:8; Eph.5:26-27; Eph.6:4}
*To be responsible. {I Cor.4:1-2}
*And to submit to His rule over their lives. {Deuteronomy 6}

But boys don't just slide into manhood, understanding how to do these duties anymore than we women learn how to be wives or mothers or journalists for that matter without training or fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants experience.

John and I take seriously our mission to guide our boys, and in that, I think we parents must embrace the very qualities our boys have been given, working with them and their personalities rather than against them.

My attitude before -- the whole train of thought that G has been doing things "on his own {unproductive, time-consuming} terms" -- was short-sighted, to say the least.

While it may have seemed that he was going nowhere fast while trying to buckle his belt tightly around his waist his own way for the fifth time in so many minutes, he was actually accomplishing so much while experiencing natural consequences: if he buckles it too tightly, his stomach hurts; if he accepted guidance, his pants stayed on without hurting his stomach.

It was a powerful lesson -- for us both -- when I stopped arguing and demanding and instead just let him walk his own path while standing aside and offering guidance when he needed it.

If we want our boys to grow into men who take the reigns, who can flourish as the men they were created to be, we've come to realize in our house that we cannot constantly be quashing their attempts to figure out the problem or complete tasks alone or explore how life works without a guide walking along side them instead of a ruler lording over them: an up close and personal lesson in servant leadership.

October Rewind: Because these Stories Need Space, too

2011-10-08T09:49:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I like to look back at what was happening around this time the year before ... just out of curiosity and a little because I like to take in the growth of the past year.

Also, I wonder --what were you doing around this time last year? Perhaps repost it today, and link below if you'd like to share!

My 13-month-old baby boy's chest rises and falls, rhythmically against my back as he slumbers while his brother and I collect leaves under a gentle autumn afternoon sun.

It's been a long day, and Baby E., who is teething has needed extra mommy-care since he woke in a grumpy mood. I've been holding him nearly all day, and he's refused his normal naps and sleeping, leading us further down a path of grumpiness and crying jags.

His big brother, G., has waited as patiently as a 3 year old can wait for attention of his own.

"Look at this biiiiig red one, mommy!" he exclaims. "It's perfect."

I squat down next to G. and examine a large Maple leaf that had freshly tumbled from the branches.

"You're right!" I proclaim. "It IS perfect."

He plucks the leaf from the cement, puts it in his bag and off we continue down the sidewalk in search of more leaves for our tree project.

As Baby E. quietly snores on my back, G. and I converse about autumn and why we have seasons and how Illinois is so verrry, verrrry far from the equator, which tends to make Illinois verrry, verrry cold in the winter.

A lull in conversation allows my mind to wander as G. bounds down the sidewalk seeking more leaves.

I feel Baby E.'s soft breath and teething-induced drool making a little patch on back damp.

And I feel grateful -- grateful that he's so snug and relaxed pressed against my body even as we merge recklessly into toddlerhood.

I'm comforted by his comfort.

But the reality that grips my heart, sends it soaring into the soft blue sky comes when G. retreats from a pile of leaves, grasps three fingers on my right hand and says, "Mom, I love having leaf walks with you."

His face is brimming with love.
nd I think to myself, so often we talk about the benefits of babywearing for the child being worn and the person wearing him or her.

But how often do we talk about the many moments babywearing affords the little bigger one who walks alongside of mom, who can easily slip his little hand into one of her free ones so they can walk together?

I love {big fat mushy, overflowing love} the compelling stories my friends shared with the Chicago Tribune reporter who came to interview our Lake County Babywearers members at our International Babywearing Week event -- stories of how babywearing eased post-partum depression, helped dad reconnect with his daughter and allowed a working mom the ability to bond with her little man after a long day's work.

Babywearing boasts such powerful benefits; the Tribune story powerfully highlighted those extraordinary stories.

And parents need to read those stories because they showcase how to be attached caregivers.

But I think the every day, seemingly simple stories of babywearing benefits need a space, too.

So though I know it's not newsworthy that G. and I went for a walk and connected on a gorgeous fall day, I just wanted share it anyway.

Because sometimes it's those simple moments that end up changing a really small but important part of the world. And a small but really important heart.

This is a repost from 10/19/10.

Five-Minute Friday: Ordinary

2011-10-07T09:39:00.000-05:00

The tightness that wound itself grippingly around my chest, like yarn being bound snuggly into a ball, has finally loosened.

I can breathe again, deeply, without labor or gasping; I can exhale.

There is a calm emerging in my heart, slowly stretching across my tensed body. In my unraveling and then raveling and then the even-and-perfect-tension hold of my heart strings and my body being knit back together by prayer and Promise, words and the Word, sister sojourners and rest and tears and laughter, I've a renewed appreciation of the ordinary, the everydayness of life has emerged.

the simplicity of two boys scooping soil with fingers, hands acting as shovels, beneath the brilliant sun of lingering Indian Summer

the thumpthumpthumpthump of a heart rapidly beating as my feet pound the pavement in pursuit of a bicycling preschooler and running toddler

the pre-dinner dance spent wrapped in my husband's arms beside simmering primavera sauce hovering over stove-top flames

the glow of yellow and orange leaves rustling in the soft October breeze and the rebirth of daisies springing to life in the over-grown flower gardens outside our patio door

All the beauty that is overlooked when simply breathing and moving and healing takes precedence ... all the ordinary that is that I simply forget while simply trying to function is being gently weaved back into the well-tread spaces I walk my mind, my feet, my heart in the everyday.

{All of this --this is what being lovingly knit back together by ordinary moments and Extraordinary Love looks like.}

Bigger Picture Moment: Lingering

2011-10-06T06:00:00.000-05:00

Every Thursday we come together to share the harvest of intentional living by capturing a glimpse of the bigger picture through a simple moment. Won't you join us?

Sometimes I wonder if God lets seasons linger just a bit longer than we expected not just so we can soak these fleeting moments of Indian Summer into our skins, tattoo them onto our hearts and burn them into our memories but, more, so that we really revel in, give thanks for the days we're given just before the leaves begin falling from the trees in masses, just before the summer sun sets and gives way to autumn light.

I wonder, sometimes,

if He gives us these unexpectedly warm and brilliantly sunny days in the midst of fall so we pause --

if He writes the warning across burning red leaves on fire from faded summer green, in the warm sunlight that yet stretches across blue October skies so we can really enter into them, like we're living fully, as if to say, come on -- you don't want to miss this.

I wonder if He wishes us to wrap fingers around the moments that were so generously gifted into open palms so that we could say, I don't just remember it well; I lived it.

And I lived it well.

{Today, we're living it well. Enjoy your Indian Summer.}

Bigger Picture Blogs.

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Live. Capture. Share. Encourage.

Share the Love: The Unhealthy Truth

2011-10-04T09:23:00.000-05:00

**THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED. The winner chosen by random.org is Michelle.**

We're not eating the same food that graced our grandparents' plates.

Heck, we Americans aren't even eating the same food as our European and Asian counterparts.

Surprised?

Take macaroni and cheese for example. Kraft actually sells a cleaner, healthier {if mac and cheese could be considered healthy} version of macaroni and cheese without the added food dyes and made with whole food ingredients other countries that have deemed dyes and artificial growth hormones and genetically engineered crops too risky for human consumption; after all, no human studies have been conducted on the safety of such practices or consumption.

Just compare the list of ingredients*:
U.S. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese

Enriched Macaroni Product (Wheat Flour, Niacin, Ferrous Sulfate [Iron], Thiamin Mononitrate [Vitamin B1], Riboflavin [Vitamin B2], Folic Acid), Cheese Sauce Mix (Whey, Modified Food Starch, Whey Protein Concentrate, Cheddar Cheese [Milk, Cheese Culture, Salt, Enzymes], Salt, Calcium Carbonate, Potassium Chloride, Contains Less Than 2% of Parmesan Cheese [Part-Skim Milk, Cheese Culture, Salt, Enzymes, Dried Buttermilk, Sodium Tripolyphosphate, Blue Cheese [Milk, Cheese Culture, Salt, Enzymes], Sodium Phosphate, Medium Chain Triglycerides, Cream, Citric Acid, Lactic Acid, Enzymes, Yellow 5, Yellow 6)

U.K. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese

Macaroni (Durum Wheat Semolina), Cheese (10%), Whey Powder (from milk), Lactose, Salt, Emulsifying Salts (E339, E341), Colours (Paprika Extract, Beta-Carotene)

I was first introduced to this little tidbit of information during a luncheon with Robyn O'Brien, sponsored by Stonyfield.

While I wasn't shocked, the facts fueled the fires in my heart to continue to talk about what we are feeding our bodies, working together with people like Robyn to educate and motivate. Robyn herself is an advocate for food safety having penned the book The Unhealthy Truth, which details her experiences and findings about the relationships between food allergies and illness in relationship to the way the U.S. allows its food to be grown, raised, handled, enriched and genetically modified.

Robyn shared with a group of Chicago bloggers how she was initiated into her food advocacy role by fire when her youngest suffered a violent allergic reaction to eggs, spurring her to create the Allergy Kids Foundation as a resource and education group to increase awareness about what we are consuming.

The whole foods advocate in me mostly believes that if we simply moved away from consuming processed foods like macaroni and cheese, we would have much less with which to be concerned.

But that's not entirely true anymore -- because we're not eating the tomatoes or beef or yogurt that our grandparents ate when we purchase many of these conventionally grown, raised and formulated foods.

Take for example the little cups of yogurt we buy in the store and deem healthy because, gosh, it IS yogurt after all. Once I discovered all of the artificial ingredients in the low-calorie-but-yummy yogurts I'd been consuming and taking note of the brands whose farmers have not pledged to treat their dairy cows with growth hormones or been certified organic by the USDA, I realized that I needed to look more closely at ingredient lists used to produce the foods my family was consuming.

We've now switched to brands like Stonyfield and Nature's Path, two companies that are committed to partnering with farmers who farm the way our great-great grandparents and all of the generations before farmed -- and who are committed to using only real food ingredients that have not been genetically modified or chemically altered in their foods.

I know what some are thinking. There's too much ground to cover, too many battles to be fought considering how far many of our farmers have ventured into conventional practices like using pesticides and GMO seeds and companies that have taken to using artificial ingredients.

But we all have a voice.

As Robyn said at the lunch -- she was just a mom of four who was serving her kids frozen waffles for breakfast before she started digging into the facts. She didn't want to know about our food supply and she was totally happy with what her family consumed. But when health was compromised for one of the little people she loved most, she was spurred to action, to knowledge, to advocacy.

Many of us don't have a health crisis to spur us to action. There is power, though, in being proactive with our health!

And can I just say -- our votes count.

We women have the power to band together and change what companies put on the grocery store shelves.

Every time we spend a dollar on food, we vote.

Every time we make one small change toward the better in our grocery purchases, we vote.

Companies are getting the message. Let's keep soaking up information, making better decisions in doing so, continue sending the message loud and clear.

After all, we have little lives that are counting on us to send it.

***Giveaway***

Stonyfield has generously offered to give away a copy of Robyn O'Brien's book The Unhealthy Truth. Also included: a Stonyfield canvas bag, the Stonyfield Yogurt Cookbook, Stonyfield coupons and a few other goodies.
Simply leave a comment sharing what small change her family could make in grocery purchases so as to promote overall wellness. {Or you can say a change you've already made toward healthier eating!}
For an extra entry {and to help spread the word about food integrity in our country while motivating other parents to get involved}, tweet:
"The food we eat should be REAL food! I'm taking a stand for food integrity w/ @Stonyfield @TheUnhealthyTruth @HyacynthW http://bit.ly/opaCPM"

*special thanks to Robyn O'Brien for listing out these ingredients as published on Healthy Child.
Full disclosure: I was not compensated for this post or asked by Stonyfield to write about my lunch experience. Simply, I am passionate about helping further education about our food while advocating for how we can all live the healthiest lives possible. No purchase necessary to win. Winner must be 18 years or older and live within the United States. A winner will be randomly selected October 10, 2011.

This post is linked with The Green Resource at Sorta Crunchy, A Delightful Home, The Greenbacks Gal and Live Renewed.

Everyday Life: Breathe

2011-10-03T15:07:00.000-05:00

For days and days, almost seven straight, the clouds and sun kept warring, battle after battle of the sun standing its ground only for the clouds to storm in, break open and drench the sidewalks and streets and soil with heavy, fat raindrops.

From behind the single-pane window of my living room all week, I'd been peering out the glass, waiting and waiting for the skies to clear out so I could take to the streets, letting stress and thoughts pound themselves into the pavement ...until I couldn't wait any longer for the rain to pass because was it really ever going to pass? I mean being October and all in Chicago --so I grabbed my umbrella and bundled myself up, warm and ready for cool October air against my skin.

Through the rays of lingering afternoon sun a last effort of rain burst through the clouds, a huge exhale of wind rushing the drops from overflowing lungs opening and letting out all of what was so heavy in the chest.

And so I took the hint .... big breath in ... exhaled it all out, too.

October Simple Swap: Bagging Plastic Sacks

2011-10-01T06:00:00.000-05:00

** October winner is Lecs'Miscellany! **

We all want to live healthier, more intentional lives, but sometimes it seems overwhelming and daunting to take even small steps toward our ideals because there are so many steps before us.

Simple Swap was born out of a desire and passion to encourage other women on journeys toward living healthier, more inspired, intentional lifestyles through implementing one simple swap per month.

Each swap will:
1. Take 30 minutes or less to accomplish
2. Be inexpensive to implement or boast overall, long-haul {health} savings3. Focus on improving health/eco-friendliness, being good stewards of our resources and/or fostering a creative and intentional life.

Some weeks, all three will be accomplished in 30 minutes or less!

The beautiful and creative Robin from Diet Coke on the Rocks will make the Simple Swap first each month so as to show ease and perhaps sometimes another way to implement a Simple Swap. Check out Robin's October Simple Swap for more ideas!

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October Simple Swap: Bag Plastic Sacks

In our house, we try to limit our plastic consumption, use and exposure in an effort to

1. improve health
2. decrease clutter within our house
3. support environmental wellness

I know that reducing plastic exposure sounds overwhelming -- after all, so many of our household items are plastic!

But, by taking baby steps, making one Simple Swap per month, the journey to eliminating plastics or simply decreasing the amount in your house, is so doable and so worth it.

Remember, plastics often contain some pretty gunky things -- like BPA, a chemical that is known to cause health issues. Plus, plastic that ends up in the landfill will definitely outlive all of us -- and that's a lot of space taken. So ANY effort we make to reduce our plastic consumption is beneficial in so many ways.

One of the very first steps we took in decreasing our plastic use centered around ditching plastic bags at the grocery store or any other retail shop, swapping them out for canvas totes.

We decided to make this our first step for a few reasons, number one being this:

Gah! So ugly! So unhealthy! Nothing to love there!

*Shudder* I couldn't take much more of having our front hall closet overrun with bags. Couple that with the health and environmental reasons, and we couldn't think of a reason why we wouldn't make the attempt.

We gathered out plastic bags and hauled them off to the recycling bin at Target, and we bought some canvas bags ...

and we pretty much forgot about said canvas bags the first few shopping trips out simply because we were not in the habit of remembering to remove them from their spot in the closet and bring them along.

So we bought a few more high-quality ones and strategically placed them in vehicles, the front hall closet, the hooks by the back door, the stroller compartments -- anywhere we thought might give us easy access to reusable bags when we needed them. {And with pretty canvas, high-quality bags, you can actually put them on hooks in the hallway because they are quite visually appealing, unlike ugly plastic bags that would stick out like a sore thumb.}

So simple, clean and so much healthier!

And we found success mostly.

Once I discovered canvas bags that were pretty and durable -- bags that are accessory worthy like the ones Craft Culture Boutique is giving away to one person who makes the October Simple Swap -- I had a much easier time remembering to use them, too.

I sport this bag around almost everywhere. Love it!

Yes, plastic bags have a way of sneaking into our home and overtaking spaces, but they do so much less quickly now.

And now that it's habit to grab reusable bags, we rarely even think about it.

So are you ready to cut your plastic exposure in a really painless, simple way?

Grab your camera, take some pictures of your swap, write about your experience and then link up.

As mentioned, someone who links will win two reusable canvas bags from Craft Culture Boutique -- this 100 percent recycled cotton extra large tote in the Love Birds print and another bag in the print of her choice!

If you're drooling over the designs at Craft Culture {like I am}, Victoria and Kimberly have graciously extended an offer -- when you purchase three bags, you'll receive a fourth bag of your choice for free! Simply contact the ladies via their Etsy shop, mention the code CCOCT2011 and they will set up a custom order for you so that you get four bags for the price of three.

{No purchase necessary. Giveaway is open to all U.S. residents who are 18 years and older. The winner will be selected randomly Nov. 1, 2011 from the link up pool.}

*This post is linked with The Green Resource over at Sorta Crunchy.*

Living Healthfully: Baked Apple Pie Oatmeal

2011-09-30T08:20:00.000-05:00

With the days becoming shorter, nights chillier, I find it hard to pull myself from the warm, flannel sheets of our cushy bed.

Especially when I wake up to two cute little boys in my bed, I'd like to linger in the warmth, in between two small bodies of heat, enjoying the early-morning smiles brought about by rest and a new day, but little tummies growl and want food before too many minutes pass.

On these chilly-air mornings, in the newness of autumn and the heart of harvest, I love waking up to Baked Apple Pie Oatmeal smells wafting up the staircase from the slow cooker. And I love that we can all roll out of bed, slip into wool socks and sweatshirts and head down to enjoy a warm breakfast without cooking; it makes getting out of bed so much more inviting.

With its easy preparation, in-season ingredients {we picked our apples at All Seasons Orchard}, flavorful taste and high nutrition, I bet Baked Apple Pie Oatmeal will become a favorite around your house, too.

Baked Apple Pie Oatmeal

* 4-5 small apples, peeled and chopped into bite sizes {Galas are perfect, but any crisp, sweet apple will work}
* 1 and 1/4 cups of whole-rolled oats or steel-cut oats
* 1 Tablespoon of cinnamon
* 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract
* 1.5 Tablespoons of coconut oil {butter will work, too, but coconut oil is so much tastier and healthier!]
* 2 Tablespoons of Almond Meal {trust me, you want to invest in this ingredient. Bob's Red Mill has a great almond meal blend.}
* 2 Tablespoons of Ground Flax Seed
* 1.75 Cups of original Almond Milk {whatever milk you have is fine, too}
* 1.75 Cups of waterSprinkle of sea salt
* Generous sprinkle of pumpkin pie spice

Be sure to grease the inside of the slower cooker and then simply toss everything into the pot, letting it simmer overnight {about six hours} on low.

Note: Depending on the heat levels of your slow cooker, you may need to play with this recipe and adjust the liquid ingredients accordingly because if it cooks at a higher heat on low than mine, you may need more liquid.

In the morning, after the oatmeal is dished into separate bowls, you may want to add honey or brown sugar on the top for added sweetness. The boys and I, however, think it's plenty sweet without adding a drop because of the sweetness of the apples. {If you want, you can add 1 cup of brown sugar to the pot, though.}

We do play with garnishes, though; G likes his with raisins, and I like mine topped with a few almonds and some extra cinnamon.

Also to love, even E., my picky eater,devours this breakfast, shoveling it into his mouth with both a spoon and his free hand.

It's that good.

If you try it, let me know what you think!

Happy Autumn!

{My recipe was originally inspired by one at The Yummy Life.}

This post is also linked with The Green Resource at A Delightful Home.

Bigger Picture Moment: On Being Kind to Ourselves

2011-09-29T06:00:00.000-05:00

Just days after I felt like my body had gone haywire, miscarrying the baby we'd hoped would be snuggled in our arms come May, I felt the need to snatch up some sort of control and make the best of things.

So I jumped right back into active dieting on the Curves Complete program, vowing to lose the last of my 10 pounds ... while I was still in the middle of miscarrying.

In retrospect, it was a poor attempt at trying to grasp onto some control over my body and its functioning.

Also it was a poor attempt at listening to what my body really needed: healing.

The last thing my body needed was to be thrust into living off of restricted calories and engulfed in so many added self-imposed "rules" while I was in the process of recovering from such an emotional and physical trauma.

It only {ha} took the stress of E shoving playdough up his nose followed by a super-sized panic attack complete with an entire weekend's worth of tightness running through my chest while my heart beat erratically, breaths short, mind and body exhausted to give me the hint that maybe I should just.let.go and rest.

I tweeted my intentions to allow my body rest, complete with the #EatPrayLose hashtag on Twitter.

Kamille, a soul-sister of sorts, a fellow sojourner on the very same unfortunate journey of loss, messaged me saying that she could sense a peace in that decision.

And that these next few weeks?

These next few weeks were about extending kindness to ourselves, bathing in grace and rest, not throwing all of the hard work of getting healthy by the waste side, but freeing ourselves from living under the stressors of more rules and expectations than what are actually necessary in our jobs as wives and mothers of small children.

And then, in an almost eerie but soul-refreshing fashion, another friend and then another and then another {!} reminded me -- all in separate communications -- that I needed to be kind to myself, patient, gentle ... none of which I'm really all that great at acting out, especially toward my own body.

I demand a lot from these muscles, this mind, this heart, and demand must give way to rest, prolonged rest, especially after great strain and stress.

Probably, I won't be eating chocolate cake every night after dinner, but this past weekend when John and I were celebrating our anniversary, which actually turned out to be a restoration getaway, I said yes to tea and dessert together.

Sure, it was still relatively healthy-- greek yogurt ice cream and fresh blueberry sauce -- but what I really said yes to had nothing to do with food and everything to do with kindness toward myself; what I really said yes to was relaxing while sipping tea with my husband, enjoying his conversation amid candlelight and freshly-pressed white linen table cloths while letting go of the expectations I'd barraged against an ailing heart and body.

Just as we must know when to be self-disciplined for the good of giving ourselves health, we, too, must also know when to show our selves kindness to help our bodies heal.

And, actually, I don't know of anything that ever healed without it.

Have you seen a glimpse of the bigger picture through a simple moment this week? Share with a community of other women on the journey of intentional living by linking your moment at Lenae's!

Dress Like a Girl: In the Bedroom

2011-09-28T06:00:00.000-05:00

There's no place I need more encouragement to dress like a girl than when it comes to the bedroom.

If John were to weigh in, he'd probably agree. I mean, one of my most frequented pajama shirts is from 1991. I know because the faded date of the festival from which the shirt hails is still miraculously readable. Relatedly, last year, I had to thrust a pair of frayed and tattered pajama pants in John's unsuspecting face, turn my head {dramatically} and exclaim for him to take them away to the donation bag before I changed my mind.

To which he replied, "Honey, you cannot donate those. They will probably disintegrate on the drive to the thirft store."

So, um, yeah; I needed help.

In my defense, it makes sense -- I mean, these worn clothes are the most comfortable threads I own; totally soft to the touch and thin, they are perfect sleeping wear.

While favorites are comfy and cozy, that's most certainly where the appeal ends. Honestly, come night time, my wears are anything but pretty, and that kind of rubs off on the way a girl feels, you know? {And the way we feel when we enter the bedroom shouldn't always just be pooped and ready to sack out, you know?}

So I resigned to retire some of my rattiest pajamas and trade them in for some new threads that are as cozy and comfortable as they are lovely.

And, thus far, I'm feeling pretty good about this decision and just plain pretty, too.

Why yes there are wildly half-dressed littles jumping on my bed behind me!

Cute, comfy Hotter slippers coupled with flannel pants.

You're seeing that right; there IS lace on my tank! :)

What about you? How's your bedtime dress? If you need some motivation, you still have time to Dress Like a Girl in the bedroom and link up! Pop over to Melissa's for some inspiration and a the linky.

Thinking, That's All: What we Had Hoped

2011-09-27T06:00:00.000-05:00

I almost called it all off.

John and I had plans to venture into Chicago this weekend for our six-year anniversary celebration while grandma and Buba cared for the boys, feeding their little hearts attention and their little bellies blueberry pancakes and bacon and, I'm sure, root beer, too.

But life happened.

And I didn't know if I wanted to still go, tinge our anniversary celebration with the tears I knew would inevitably spill over lashes -- unexpectedly and expectantly -- during the course of the weekend, having been so raw, so fresh from the loss of our third pregnancy. And to add insult to injury, it was slated to rain, cool autumn air spreading across the city. An entire weekend with childcare is so hard to come by, and did I really want to enter into it with heaviness, sans a drop of romance in my entire body?

Maybe it was the tightness that has been gripping my chest this week from the hormones plummeting like anchors to seabottom or the stress brought on by the unknown and then eventual loss or maybe it was the panic attack induced suddenly and unexpectedly after E shoved play dough up his nose and I had to wrestle it out that pushed my mind into the promiscuous promise of rest and re-cooperation tucked into the weekend -- I don't know what it was that tipped me into yes, we would go.

But we went.

Tightness spread across my chest, mind exhausted, soul tired and wary, body aching, heart fluttering acraze and all -- we went.

As we drove to the city, rain sputtering out of the gray-clouded sky, drops pinprickling the windows of our speeding car, I saw it -- the tiny streams of light that seemed to lie behind the rain clouds, hidden rays beyond the storm.

And that's what our weekend was -- our sixth anniversary, marking our wedding vows.

It was rain.

But there was sun, peaking behind clouds and emerging victorious only to play hide and seek again amid the towering buildings.

It was chilly.

But there was warmth found beneath jackets and blankets, in the creases of fingers strapped together in a clasp of unity and in arms wrapped around shoulders, face buried into chest, soaking tears into cotton and skin.

It was our life, together, -- the Chicago autumn, in all of it's unpredictableness and uncertainty, like romance in the middle of busy lives with kids. And the beauty beat into the grayness, colors married into the lingering of summer sun, a mixed bag of rain and shine like the vows we'd exchanged six Septembers ago promising tightened grips through sickness and shared laughter through goodness.

It wasn't what we expected or wanted --

it was perfectly and imperfectly timed and walked and lived out just like our promises, our vows, which also were what we never expected or initially wanted

But it was {all} better than what we had ever hoped.