Food, Glorious Food

I am sitting here with tears in my eyes, because of more awful information I just found out about food. Food is EVERYWHERE it seems, yet more and more of the time, I find I cannot bring myself to eat it, buy it, feed it to myself or my family.

We pride ourselves on constantly trying to eat better and healthier, but we have found it so hard to do with a limited budget. We only buy our grocery meat from stores where we know the animals are fed vegetarian, non-hormonal diets. I recently realized that even though we get our meat from those places, only places that are "certified humane" are the ones that guarantee humane treatment of the animals. Dang it.

I try to buy organic fruits and vegetables if they fall under the Dirty Dozen list that reveals the ones with the most pesticides detected. I buy truly natural, plain yogurt and occasionally Fage with some fruit. I am learning to make breads at home. But I still do a lot of shopping at Aldi: nuts, chocolate, spices, milk, butter, pasta, rice, canned tomatoes, avocados, mushrooms, cheeses, frozen berries, and frozen veggie mixes. Shopping there saves us TONS of money, but after today, I just don't know what to do. I've known for a while that I want to eventually switch us over to more local dairy, but I also found out that the majority of cheeses are made with a GMO--rennet from cloned cows. I need to research this a little more, but let me say...our family LOVES cheese. It is also a great way to easily flavor up the meatless meals I try to make us more and more.

One of the handful of times I've fed my children something with food coloring in it.

I guess I just feel defeated. I know I can do so much more, but it is already so tiring, and so guilt-ridden. I keep trying to cut back on our grocery budget but keep finding it virtually impossible. The more I find out about the food I buy at the regular grocery store, the less I buy, and the more I spend. I hate that this is what it's come to. Plus, I feel doubly guilty because I know that we as Americans spend the least percentage of our income on food. We have so much more disposable income because of it--but it has come at a huge cost. I don't think it takes much thinking to see what that cost is (in the form of disease and death).

Sometimes, yeah...I hate having convictions.

Here I am, somewhere on the New England coast, when I was 2 or 3, I think. I have always loved this photograph, even when I was little. It seemed to encompass how I felt for most of my life, and to say, "Yes, I love cloudy and rainy and misty and stormy days." I'm pretty sure I wasn't thinking about that when this was taken, but, you know, it's fun to superimpose interesting, melancholy thoughts on a person you see in a photograph. Even a child. I also love how this reminds me of my own beautiful daughters: the curly, brown hair and the chubby cheeks, the diaper butt and the sweatpants. My dad took some beautiful photos.

Philanthropy, Aid, Etc.

I just purchased my first pair of pretty TOM's shoes yesterday. After I ordered them, I sarcastically said to my husband how "proud" I was, and how good I felt, for having bought them and thus "given" a pair of shoes to a person in need.

*Gasp!* How could I make fun of such a worthy cause, one might ask? Well, it certainly is complicated, but...my views of aid have changed drastically in the last two years or so. I have read a few books, listened to a few radio programs, and read several articles that have slowly begun changing my mind about what is and what isn't "good" aid. When it comes to TOM's shoes, essentially, the reason I'm not going to pat myself on the back for the BOGO is because shoes aren't the true need for most people living in poverty. If we really wanted to help change things for those who don't even have shoes to grace their feet, we need to give them the means to buy shoes, or even make them. The issue is much more complex than that, but here is a start-off point if anyone is interested in reading further.


I definitely have more reading to do on the subject, and I plan on it. As someone who is drawn very deeply to the African continent and its people, I question my own and others' intentions and effectiveness when it comes to helping. It seems as though all of our helping has not truly made a significant impact on the lives of those who, unfortunately, remain in dire need. I cannot, of course, place blame or point fingers, but I think, as the article (see link) discusses, we need to examine the ways in which we go about aiding poverty-stricken nations and our own intentions and desires. I tear up every time I read something or watch something that is a detailed view of life for most people in Africa. Why? I don't exactly know. I know part of it is that I am ashamed of myself, honestly. Ashamed of my discontent with all that I have, ashamed of my luxurious way of life and how I feel as though working with people in need might somehow make up for all the years of blissful ignorance I've spent complaining and wanting more.

Yet, it's not all of that, I know. I definitely have a deep desire to help. But I and my husband hesitate to just jump across the ocean and start doing something in Africa because we want to know what it is God would want us to do there, and to do that--not something we think will be helpful or good. And finding out what that is, exactly, if anything, is not an easy task. In the meantime, we need to step it up and live out our calling here, in Tennessee, because whoever is given much, from him much will be expected--and if he is faithful with what he is given, he will be given more to manage and steward.

31..and My Dad is Gone

I have not blogged for several months. I think I can be forgiven, or at least forgive myself, for this. My father went to the hospital in late November for "ulcer pain," which was found to be pancreatic cancer. A short two-month fight later, he passed away on February 6. He was only 58 years old. I am basically shell-shocked. I have so many different feelings inside of me about it, but probably the main things I want to express on my blog are 1) how much his remorse and repentance and my forgiveness of him affected our relationship and 2) how much I relied on Jesus to get me through those two months. I almost feel kind of bad saying that, because, um, HELLO. I was not the one suffering pancreatic cancer. He basically couldn't eat a meal for that entire time. But let me just say how much it eased my fears, my worries--how it gave me hope in the face of his dire circumstances, the ability to be honest with my father about his own relationship with God, about how I felt about him and our relationship, and how Jesus helped me just relate to a dying man. I read several times about Jesus' reaction to Lazarus's and John the Baptist's deaths. I went through a ton of photos yesterday, thinking about how He worked so many things out--the biggest one, being led by Him to move to Tennessee, which was an hour's drive away from where my dad had moved 8 months prior, and how my dad ended up in our city's hospital that entire time. I was literally just a 20-minute drive away from him that entire time, and his last week of life, just a 5-minute drive, since they had transferred him to a hospice just down the road. O_o I mean, for real. And mainly, how God mended our relationship and enabled us to have a real FRIENDSHIP as I grew up. I haven't had time to fully process or grieve, but I think this will take a long, long time. I miss you, Daddy.

31 now...and still a child.

Yesterday I pretty much had a nuclear explosion in front of my kids after the millionth time of telling my oldest to stop what she was doing. I am amazed at how I choose to express my anger by having temper tantrums. I cried and apologized and let her know how wrong I was to do that. The other day I was thinking about how awful it is that I am so bad at dealing with anger, and how quick I am to anger. Then I thought about all of the other sins and issues God has brought me through in the last 12 years since I came to know Him, and how this has been a pretty hidden sin for most of my life, and how I haven't ever really confessed these fits of rage to anyone on a regular basis. I have been asking my small group for prayer about this for a few months now and am confessing to not just my husband but close friends as well. I am simply ashamed of it, but I know I must bring it into the light. And I felt the grace of God as I was contemplating this--that He knows through and through that this is a problem for me and He has brought me here, to this place and this time in my life, to show me His goodness in that, working together with Him, this is the next thing He wants to purge from me. This is what He wants me to put on the table right now for him to destroy, to put to death. This is the flesh that He wants to crucify now. He probably has wanted to for a long time but I haven't let Him. Now is the time. I am ready.

I haven't blogged for a couple of months because, quite happily, I have been busy in some FUN ways. I have been making more time to be creative. I have had a couple of my best friends come to see me and bless me in huge ways just by their grounding presence. I have been growing closer to my best friend here in town as she goes through a difficult physical trial. We even had a fun semi-family-reunion at some motorcycle races at the beginning of October. My birthday was not monumental, but I felt loved and received gifts or cards from ALL of my immediate family--a first in a long time! My favorite gift was from my brother and his wife, an espresso machine--heck ya! And my favorite card was from my father. He didn't write the words in it, but it was like he did--every single line of the poem in it was part of our relationship. It means so much to me that he is proud of me. I felt more blessed and loved this birthday than I have in a long time. My hubs and I even had a dinner date, and even though our dinner was way too expensive and not very good, we found a cute little chocolate shop just down the street and ate too many chocolates together. I even tried a French macaron for the first time, and it really wasn't that good. :/

Things are tough in some ways around me, but I am finding this November to be one that I am feeling very thankful and grateful most days. I have discovered over and over in my short life that being thankful helps take the focus off of myself and thus brings more joy and expectation and hope into my life. I will never be more grateful for anything than I am for my relationship with Jesus and His Church, and my family. As I strive to be that Proverbs 31 woman I find that this is a character trait God cherishes in his daughters. Help me be more and more content and grateful, Father.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Find out what it means to me! I mean, find out what it means to my husband. Is it shocking that that famous song, belted out so boldly by Aretha Franklin, was written by a man?

Ephesians 5:33 says "and let the wife see that she respects her husband" (ESV) at the conclusion of that very controversial and very demanding section of Paul's letter. Proverbs 31:12 says, "She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life." Am I living in such a way toward my husband?

In a word...no. I'm not. I know it deep down every day. I know that the Bible calls me to respect him unconditionally, since it is clearly stated as a command. Something has changed in my heart since we were married. I can remember what I used to feel like toward him in the beginning, during the two years we dated and during the first year or two of our marriage. As we approach our fourth anniversary, I look back and see that it is now a couple of years that in my eyes, I have not only seen him differently but treated him differently.

I am a natural leader and goal-setter (not that I always follow through with those goals...ah, one of many faults. Many, many faults...) and my husband tends to pull back and not necessarily step right up to take charge of a situation or set a goal. There have been certain situations during our marriage when it was time for him to do so, and I tried to do it myself instead. Initially, he helped me see what was his job and asked me to trust him. I did, but after a long period of waiting, was disappointed.

Now let me stop here before I get into any further details. What I'm trying to explain is that there was a significant occurrence in our marriage where I needed his follow through and he didn't deliver. Is he the only person who has ever done this? No. How often have I set goals and declared my desire to change only to be found guilty of laziness and forgetfulness and apathy months and years later? The point is that there was a turning point in our marriage for me after that incident (well, not exactly an "incident," but a season of disappointment after months of waiting for something that truly needed to be taken care of). I allowed myself to lose respect for him. Because I have always lived my life towards men with the worldly idea that in order for me to respect them, they've gotta earn it.

I could get into all the reasons why stemming from my childhood, but I won't. There's a huge list of things I am still healing from, as are many people--ahem, most people. It's good for me to just know that there are reasons and that there remains in my heart much in need of recovery. The big issue, really? Submission. And not only to my husband, or even ultimately to him, but to Christ. Because He is the one commanding me to respect my husband, not my husband himself. I don't think he would tell me to respect him if he felt like it. Yes, that is how dominant in some ways I have become--I shoot down wayyyyy too many things he says to me in the dimension of "this should change."

Now that that's out, let me just say that I'm realizing lately how, um, difficult it is for me to do this. Ugh! Why do I have to respect anyone who hasn't earned it? Excuse me? I can take care of myself, thank you. I will take care of everything myself. I will lower my expectations and you can just forget about me treating you with kindness and respect, you forgetful....  Yeah, ashamedly, that is too often my attitude. Whoa! Talk about some anger and contempt towards the opposite sex! God is showing me just how deeply rooted in my heart contempt runs, not necessarily (though yes sometimes) towards my husband, but just men in general. Why?! Why?! I think and cry out, but I know the reasons are not what God really wants to get into right now. I feel in my spirit His tugging at me to just trust Him that yes, I do have some issues, and that if I listen to and submit to Him, remembering that what I do to my husband I am doing unto the Lord, things can change. They need to change, badly. Ooh, boy, He has given me a picture of what our marriage could become and it is not pretty, folks. I hate this feeling that so much seems dependent on ME and my attitude and my follow-through...but even that is not the whole truth. Honestly, it's actually really selfish of me to think it's all up to me. What I need to do is die every day...but, die to what? What does that mean exactly?

"I think we need to talk. Yes, we need to talk about our finances. Again. Perhaps I should ask him if he's been thinking about them at all lately. Pssh. Of course he hasn't. But I will remind him that he should be. And has he looked around at the house lately? Of course not. But I will let him know how difficult it is for me to live in this chaos, and if I could just get a little more help around here, a little more attentiveness to what needs to be done..." Okay. It means telling that voice to SHUT UP. No, to shut the hell up, because talking like that is bringing hell into our home! It brings hell into my heart. In all honesty, for me, dying to self most of the time just means shutting up. Sad, but true.

*cough* So...now I will practice what I preach and go shut up and do something that needs to be done, without complaint, as unto the Lord.

After Dark, Before Dawn

I will be reading Proverbs 31 over and over again this year, and as I do this blog, in particular. One of the verses I've been thinking about a lot lately has been verse 15, which in the NIV is "She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her family and portions for her servant girls," and verse 18, "She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night."

Having struggled with insomnia for many years (not much anymore) and with sleep as probably my number one unattainable need, these verses are sobering. But as I thought about them, I realized it's not that bad. After all, I go to bed after dark all the time. Often too late. So this doesn't mean I need to stay up late and wake up early, thus getting hardly any sleep at all. It just means I should finish the day's work, even if that means being up after dark. I also get the feeling, from the nature of the language, that it means I should be available for my family and those in need, even if it is late.

Even if my kids are in bed on time, and all is quiet in the house, it takes me at least an hour to get comfortable enough and turn off my mind enough to fall asleep. Sometimes it takes even 2 hours or more. This is extremely frustrating for me because it is such a blessing to have my youngest sleeping so well--yet it escapes me? Before I had children I had the same problem. I had such a difficult time getting enough sleep, getting up to get ready for work. As I considered these verses I realized that sleep has been elusive for me regardless of my circumstances. This makes it hard for me to heed the second verse--I am always tired.

If going to bed after dark isn't a problem for me (is it for any of us nowadays?), getting up while it is still dark definitely is. I am not grumpy in the morning, but I am tired. I have not been getting up, most days, before 8:30 a.m. for several months. I'm not sleeping most of that time, but I'm trying in vain to get a few last winks before I have to get up to face the day. But all this does is end up setting back the rest of my tasks for the day. Thankfully my girls sleep in too, but it is my hope and my goal to start getting out of bed and getting my day started at a decent hour. I feel like I just went to confession, admitting that I get out of bed so late. I just desperately want and need more sleep, and if I do get up, I can't get anything done for myself without waking up the girls. I hope this will change, because I need just 15 minutes to myself to get READY. Otherwise, all of my needs fall by the wayside as I get up and begin getting the little ones dressed and diapered and fed. Hence, why I am typing this in my pajamas. I've started doing my best to turn out the lights at 10 p.m., regardless of what Ross is doing. It worked pretty well for a week, but the last two nights I stayed up, enjoying the quiet while I spend 15 to 30 minutes getting something done I don't have time for when the babes are awake. It's not a good idea for me to do that, however; I realize that what I really need is more sleep and to get up much sooner--perhaps someday before the sun is up--to prepare to serve my family. This is not who I am today, but it is who I yearn to be. Meanwhile I remain, in this regard, decisively un-31.

Maybe today will be a better day after we all take a good nap.