Just a thought on Girls…

So- I don’t often write about my experiences with a gorgeous, vivacious, possibly dramatic 9 year old girl that I call my precious daughter.

But today, I’ve been wondering…

Last night I drove home from church pretty late (as I was sorting clothes for our community clothing exchange- honestly, so fun!) and my mind turned to praying for my daughter.

9 has not been the easiest of times for her. She alternates from insane giddiness (with giggle fits late at night as she reads in her bed) to seriously feisty, “none-of-my-brothers-listen-to-me-and-do-exactly-as-I-say” outbursts.

Last night she collapsed after school in her bed, bawling because her brother and his friend wanted to play with her and her friend on the school bus– but the girls wanted “alone girl time” and the boys “just wouldn’t leave us alone.”  (Can we say Classic?)

(The funny thing was, just the week before, she had collapsed and cried because “my brother wouldn’t play with me, he only wants to play with his friends…why is he so cruel?”)

(Can we say Tension?)

Living with that angst isn’t new to me. I’m a first born girl, born of a first born girl… so I get it.  (Maybe I struggled with bossiness?)

I see her total desire to be right, to be responsible, to be grown-up and live her dreams running parallel with her need to be a child, to be cuddled, to be forgiven and carefree.

She hasn’t learned yet how to live with the tension in her heart of all the things she could be, wants to be, and will be living beside her limitations, immaturity and steep learning curve.
(Not to mention the “puberty” word that is just around the corner…)

It made me think of myself as a grown woman- and of tensions I feel as  a mom.

We have moments where we know that we were divinely given our children, because they are perfect for us. We feel inspired, loving, and like total goddesses of our homes. We teach them, nurture them and guide them with wisdom and feel like we can handle what we’ve been given.

But then there are moments (or seasons) when we struggle intensely- didn’t we know what to do before? Where did all our skills go? How was it that 5 seconds ago we were ROCKIN’ parenthood, and now we are blowing it? We must be completely under-qualified- who thought we would be good at this mothering thing anyway? Obviously we aren’t ready and will never be ready- O God! Please rescue us from ourselves!

Don’t we often hold this tension so tightly to our hearts and become discouraged?

Our limitations will collide with our expectations and it can cause a little 9 year old meltdown in our hearts.  (Maybe this only happens to other first-born moms…I bet you last-born moms are so much more chill than I am…:)

What are we supposed to do? How do we navigate these seasons, the growth curves? We can say all the right things, and remind ourselves to be patient, but let’s be honest- we live in a world of  tensions- “be free to be yourself, express who you are, pursue your dreams, but don’t put your kid in the backyard with out being an arm length away because some major disaster could occur…” These collisions seem to hit hard each day- making living life way trickier than it should be.

When Olivia doesn’t know what to do, she talks to her mom. (Or waits for me to come and talk with her- or I wait for her to talk with me because I know she needs me…)

Ephesians 4 in the NLV sounds a lot like the way I talk as a mother with Olivia…and makes me think that this is the way our Heavenly Father is speaking with us…

He holds us tightly and lightly because He is growing us up in the responsibility He has desire to release us to, but He knows that growing up is hard to do, so He lavished His love on us as we trip along.

He speaks the truth to us in scripture, and He comforts us when we have trouble digesting the truth. He know our lives are riddled with collisions of ideals vs. realities and He gives us the gift of faith to see us through.

He has been where we are, He is where we are going. Jesus grew up too. He knows how hard it is for us to journey to maturity as moms. He doesn’t take that journey from us and give us an easier one, rather- He comes with us. He helps us. And He cheers us on. (Just like we do with our little ones.)

Ephesians 4:23 Let your minds and hearts be made new. You must become a new person and be God-like. Then you will be made right with God and have a true holy life.

So my sweet daughter- I will grow up with you. I will not let you feel like you are alone in this maturing process, for as you grow and struggle, so do I.

Together we will find that we are being made new people– just as you will no longer be my sweet baby, but my lovely woman daughter, I will no longer be a baby in Christ- I will be a grown up woman who can navigate the tensions of life and seek help from the One who always has what I need.

Posture.

An amazing thing happened to me after my third child. I ended up with this incredibly sore shoulder (which I promptly ignored for over a year until I couldn’t bear the constant throbbing any longer) and had to start some physiotherapy.

Apparently (why don’t they tell you these things in the “What to Expect when you’re expecting more than one child in your life?” books)  sore shoulders are a hazard of the stay-at-home mother trade…
That being the case, I was promptly given exercises and therapy to correct the soreness.

But, the big winner was my correction in posture. Every time I sit or drive, I tend to use a terrible posture which affects not only my shoulder but my whole body.

Somehow– to avoid pain (I’m unique like that…) I have started to become ultra sensitive about how I’m sitting and I know when I’m messing up things. Amazing!

Posture. Who knew it was so important?

 

I guess some groups do. There’s lots of talk in the biblical world about posture of prayer, worship and so on. There’s lots of talk in the physical world of body wellness, exercise and yoga type postures. There’s lots of talk even in the intimate world of posture- how we listen, emotional preparedness, sexuality and so on…

Really, there’s lots of ways to posture yourself and display the way you are thinking, feeling or want to think or feel.

Today as I listened to the story of Jonah (the guy that got swallowed by a whale in the bible) I got thinking about the posture of obedience.

Jonah was not terribly obedient. Actually, he was a classic human- he ran from what he was told to do. He ran hard and ended up in a slimy place of death. Perfect. Just where I’d like to be. (Sarcasm intended.)

Obviously his parents didn’t train him to obedience very well. (Gasp! Should I have put the onus of his disobedience on his parents? I’m not entirely sure but…)
It hit me that had Jonah’s mom and dad worked really, really, really hard at explaining, modeling, expecting, disciplining and rewarding obedience– maybe Jonah would have just done what God wanted in the first place. Perhaps he would have seen the futility of running from God (aka your supernatural hero parent- good luck running!) or he would have experienced the sweet peacefulness of a life lived in obedience.

Really- think about it. When my kids are disobedient, we rock their boats (or little worlds) with correction and sometimes punishment to really get into their heads the necessity of listening to authority and doing what they say. If everyone always just did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted- who would serve you your Tim Horton’s coffee or take care of you when you were sick?  (Coffee and doctors- both are my best friends…)

So, we work really hard to instill this essential principle into our children–obey your parents! And when you grow up, obey God!

It’s a lifelong posture of obedience. Nothing changes from childhood to adulthood, except that we should be seamlessly transferring our obedience from our earthly parents to our heavenly one.

Perhaps that’s why Jesus wanted the little children to come to Him. They assumed a posture of obedience and joyfulness right away. Perhaps that’s what child-like faith is–simple obedience. Not that we can’t question God, but that we are questioning as we act out what He’s asked of us.

As I sometimes question where I am in life or what it is that God is requiring of me, I wonder if my posture is one of alert obedience, or just distraction and apathy.

Things to think about on a lovely, lovely Sunday afternoon…

 

School.

This week my oldest child (Olivia) went off to school. It was a funny sort of day- we all started the morning feeling sick and then her bus was 2 hours late because of fog warnings. Later that day I had to pick her up from school early because she threw-up in the recess line.

But that’s the beauty of my Olivia. She didn’t even notice or care. She just loved school. She loved the new people, she loved the new activity, she embraced the bus and it didn’t even occur to her to be embarrassed about throwing up in line.

Sometimes she really inspires me. She can be so focused on the very best of things- like school or her baby brother, or trying to make money to give to the starving children. We rarely have to worry that peer pressure will get to her– things like bared midriffs, cleavage and rotten attitudes or words really don’t register with her. She just is who she is.

Which has partially brought me to an understanding this week of myself. I realized that sometimes I’m not true to the woman that God has made me to be. He has given me an understanding of my limitations, and I know that He guides me to the moments when He wants me to overcome those limits for HIS glory.

He has also opened my eyes to my failings and temptations- and sometimes I try to pretend that I don’t have those weaknesses or that I’m not that “kind” of person. This happened earlier this month, and I ended up hurting myself and those around me. It would have just been better if I had embraced who I am, and left those things alone. (p.s- if you are toying with a limit that you have installed as personal boundary in your life, just don’t. The line is there to keep you safe. Better a wise man/woman than a fool with nothing.)

And, I think that being focused on the very best of things is so redeeming. If you have been with Olivia when she’s gung-ho about giving all the money in her purse to the big plastic dog at the grocery store (which is a fundraiser for people who are blind), you catch the contagion in her to make a difference in this world- to be a part of something better.

This week, I want to live for something bigger. I want to live for God’s glory, not my own. I think that when I can be a part of the very best things (like raising my 3 awesome kids! and spoiling my amazing husband, and getting to love the neighbours) I can be contagious in a great way. It is all about Jesus and what He’s done for me and what He’s doing for everyone around me.

So. I’m going to take my aching heart (I really miss my school bound girl!) and I’m going to reapply it to learning about who I am in Christ. I think that knowing who He is and knowing where I stand will continually change me so that I am just as strong and contagious as my little girl.

Laughable. Vanity.

Reno’s expose your inner vanity. You can pretend you’re a very humble person, but when you have to start picking out light fixtures and designing kitchens, you come to realize that it’s hard work to expose your taste so vulnerably-for all the world to see!

(Imagine blogging about it for hundreds of people! Way to up the anti!)

I’ve also noticed that my personal dignity has been stripped to a new low. I thought that raising kids was hard, but raising kids and taking them to a Home Depot SEVERAL times a week WHILE you are in the middle of sawdust and drywall dirt- that’s a whole new level. 

One of my girlfriend’s has lived in a reno for the last 9 years. I always secretly thought she just didn’t care about what she looked like- and I alternately envied her the security and judged her for the simplicity of a t-shirt and jeans 24/7.

Now I know. It’s a “Time-less” situation- and even the simplest forms of self-indulgence require “Time-more.”

 Think about it. How can you paint your toe-nails if half your house is packed, you are feeding loads of working men, changing dirty diapers and giving puffers, watering your gardens for the new people moving in, and trying to follow the latest design trends, all the while negotiating with people on kijiji?

Tres, tres difficile! But–freeing.

I didn’t even notice that the kids hair was ragamuffin style today, and I found myself wondering if I was alright with expressing myself through my home- and I think I am. (I couldn’t figure out why I wanted a designer so badly- but now it makes sense that I don’t want to be accountable or worry about what people think of my style, since it will possibly reflect me. If a designer does it, and you don’t like it, I’ll just blame it on the designer’s terrible taste.)

So, this is me. Getting comfy with jeans and a t-shirt 24/7 and learning to love the fashionable side of dirt.

P.S. Here’s a funny Alex story for those of you who don’t follow me on facebook:

Today we dropped in at a Burger King to use their playground. While I was standing in line to order a drink, this man came and tapped me on the shoulder. (A million call-center workers had just shown up, so the place was buzzing…) He said “Excuse me, is your little boy in the playland?” I answered: “Yes?…”  He replied “Well, he’s in the playland with only his t-shirt on.” I grabbed the drink, and rushed over the playland, just in time to catch Alex coming down the slide in full view of the other parents with his pantless legs spread out all the way down….Seriously? Alex. What a kid! 

 

 

 

Whole.Healed.

When you run into walls in life that are unsurmountable (huge!) you sometimes sit down at them and wonder why you’ve ended up where you are.

You wonder if there’s anything you can do. You might try, but climbing huge walls is something that most of us can’t do on our own.

You might look around you and wonder why other peoples walls aren’t as big, smooth and scary as yours.

You might complain for awhile (or for years) that yours isn’t fair.

You might cry with despair and turn to the comfort of blackest depression, knowing that there was nothing you could do.

I’ve hit walls like that many times.

Reno’s can be a lot like that. They can drain you.

I think we’ve hit close to 1/3 of the way through our initial project ( just to get the basement liveable so we can move in and keep working) and we’ve almost exhausted (pun there!) every emotion possible.

(Insert quick update: we are framing right now, and I keep forgetting to take pictures! But, it’s slow work, because each board has to be specially measured to match the very uneven ‘ceiling’.)

When I was pregnant, I would get so sick that I could barely move. I spent most of my time sleeping or trying to get to sleep just to escape the extreme pain and nausea that would overwhelm me. It was desperate.

I used to cry out to God to heal me of the pain. I looked around me at the other women who were sailing through their pregnancies and thought my trial was unfair. I was filled with despair when the healing didn’t come, and I was sick until the last day of pregnancy.

I couldn’t find healing and thought it was for people with more faith.

Tonight at the dinner table I found it. I found the missing piece- and it only took me the stress of this reno to see what I missed through all 3 pregnancies.

My middle son Alex has a crazy personality. He’s a real “card” as the old timers would say. He can make me laugh for days or pull my hair out. (Literally.)

The last few days haven’t been so good. I’ve been angry with him (and thrown his foot-wounding-dinky-cars in the garbage) and I’ve disciplined him for not listening about a million times. I caught him today drinking from the spout at the water refilling station at the hardware store while on errand, and nailed him with markers and my house. He spills his water every time I give it to him, and consistently misses the toilet (usually right after I’ve cleaned the bathroom).  He negotiates with “but mom!” about every 5 seconds and doesn’t take no for a final answer.

Oh yes, he’s a handful. I was almost over the top with him today. I was trying to feed the baby dinner and Alex came to curl up on my lap at the dinner table. (Did I mention I’m a single mom these days? Andrew spends every waking moment working at the Red Brick Church to get it ready for us… what a saint!)

This great song came on and suddenly things clicked.

“You hold my EVERY moment. You heal all my disease. I believe You are all I need. You walk with me through fire. I trust in You. Nothing is impossible for You. You hold MY world in Your hands.”

Jesus holds MY world in His hands. It’s not anyone else’s. He holds my mental anguish in His hands. His hands that are never overwhelmed, never despairing, never chaotic, never out of control. Perfectly calm. Perfectly content. Perfect.

I can do this. I can do more than this. And I can have my mind healed- restored so that I see my son for what he is- a DELIGHT. A truly remarkable, sweet, entertaining, precious little guy that just wants to be with his mommy.
Reno- you got nothing on me! Stress, you might affect my body with acne and aches, but you have nothing on my mind and heart. I have the Healer. He’s in my mind, changing me, healing me of all the thoughts that would destroy me and my relationships. When I get done this reno, I’ll have healed part of my heart and mind that I didn’t know existed.

Sometimes walking through the physical fire is more healing than you know.

Birth Story.

*Warning: This story is aimed at anyone who enjoys the nitty-gritty of a good birth story.*

It occured to me that women are generally in love with a good birth story. My brother works with a group of ladies in an office, and they are constantly sharing their own ‘battle’ stories or craving the latest details of someone else’s story.

So, I thought I would take a moment and share the nitty gritty of how our newborn son, Hudson Taylor Andrew Epp made it into this world and will hopefully fulfill the destiny God has placed in front of him.

I was officially a week overdue on Friday morning, November 4, 2011. I had resigned to being patient and trying to work on my character, rather than hurry through the events of life. I was at peace. It was good.

Andrew was home from work because I was scheduled for a non-stress-test at the hospital, just to make sure our little man was doing fine in utero. I wasn’t worried about it because he was still plenty active and I’d been hooked up to the monitors before with the inductions of my other two children.

So, we went to the park. We walked and enjoyed a GORGEOUSLY mild, sunny November day and I even managed a small lunch. (There’s not much room left when you are only 5 feet tall and carrying a 21″ baby…)

Suprise! The midwife phoned just after lunch and let me know that the obstetrician on duty at the hospital had an opening and was willing to supervise my midwife when she broke my water… (technically it’s an induction if they break your water before you are having contractions, and as of yet, midwives in Ontario are not allowed to induce labour without the supervision of an OB.)

Eek. The fear of my upcoming delivery started to creep into my heart. I’ve always hated being induced because you KNOW when you are going to the hospital. Wouldn’t it just be easier if you were taken by surprise by your contractions? Then you wouldn’t have time to think about anything…

But I did have time. While were driving to the hospital I told Andrew that I needed him to help me find something to focus on. I was using Psalm 23 as my prop, but it was getting hard to swallow my fear of the pain. It’s so funny- the fear of pain is actually MORE painful than the pain itself.

I asked the Lord right then and there to give me something to focus on. His word promises that ‘perfect love casts out all fear’ and I know that He loves me perfectly–so I’ ve learned to rely on His love to drive away my fears. Sometimes I have to just keep focusing on Him even when the knee-knocking fear is banging on the doors of all my nerves.

(somehow though- the answer was slow in coming…)

We arrived at the gorgeously renovated Stratford hospital which is right on the Avon river- surrounded by parks, gardens, trees and wildlife. Perfect.

The OB was a little late, but when he came into the room (our midwife was with us the whole time) he was ultra-happy and so perfect! He confirmed that the head had descended enough (this was a concern earlier in the week because I was walking around 4-5cm dialated for almost 3 weeks and the head was still not down in the birth canal. I had almost too much amniotic fluid, so the midwife was concerned that if my water broke prior to the head engaging in the birth canal the umbilical cord would slip past the head and get pinched during labour. Aka- emergency c-section. Ewh.)

But, all was well. He broke my water and then handed the whole show back over to my midwife. (Another huge blessing, since normally the OB has to be involved in the birth…and I REALLY wanted to experience what it was like with a midwife.) Time: 3:30pm.

At this point I should spare some graphic details- but I felt that I was floating away on a sea of water! * grin* I was drenched and the midwife decided to continue draining the water, so we spent another 10 minutes getting Hudson ready to arrive….

And then, shock! I was told to get dressed in my street clothes and go for dinner and a walk! What? Are they crazy? I just had my water broken and was starting to seriously cramp… what if the baby was born at Tim Hortons? Eek!

At this point, I was at my weakest. The fear gripped me and I thought I wouldn’t be able to swallow any dinner, much less LEAVE the hospital. And just like that, God intervened.  Andrew’s brother phoned him to let him know that he and his wife were ALSO in labour at that moment. Seriously- that announcement gave me a tangible focus. I was able to knuckle down and think about my lovely sister-in-law also labouring with me, and it felt like I wasn’t alone. I had a flash of the verse where it says we are “co-labourers” with Christ and was reminded again that He is with us ALWAYS and that He sends Help in our time of need. For me, it was the knowledge that I was labouring along side of my sister-in-law and that we would soon have babies to share.

(and, God does use our weakness too. I have to admit that I am ‘mildly’ competitive, and find deep motivation within myself if I feel like I want to ‘win’ something…so I decided that I was going to pop Hudson out faster than my sister-in-law– -so LAME! But it helped me to fix my eyes on the moment and not on the fear.)

So, we parked our bags in the most gorgeous birthing suite I’ve ever seen, and took off for Tim Horton’s. I ordered a soup and Andrew started timing my contractions–within 1/2 hr of my water being broken I managed to progress to fairly intense contractions that were 3 minutes apart. It was time to get out of the restaurant before I disturbed the lovely older ladies that were enjoying their scones.

Off to the river we went. Andrew held my hand and we SLOWLY progressed through some of the most peaceful, gorgeous park I’ve ever seen. Every time my contractions were too strong to handle I could look up and see the squirrels busily eating maple keys in the trees and remember that normal life would return soon.

But then it was TOO much. I got to a section of the trail and didn’t know if I could make it back. (I had a funny thought of Andrew trying to carry me while I was in labour back to the car through the trail…that just seemed seriously awkward!)  Time: 6:30pm

We got back to the hospital and I knew I needed to get this show on the road. I needed a bathtub, toilet and laughing gas! Come on people! Let’s move!  Our midwife showed up just after I finished disposing of that soup, and Andrew got me set up into one of those astonishingly lovely hospital gowns (no sarcasm…)

At that point I decided it was easier to labour either standing or kneeling backwards with my body draped over the bed. Our midwife gave me the laughing gas and it was USELESS. (My sources told me that it would either really help, or would serve as a purposeful distraction from pain–I found neither to be true.)

So I begged. I forgot how incredibly painful labour is. I asked for the next step up from the gas, and there was morphine available. Why not? Again. It did nothing. Nothing except make my speech slur…. which was the perfect excuse for Andrew later.

I hopped into the jacuzzi tub (love the water when you are having contractions!) and  began to beg Andrew to ask the midwife if I could safely take the morphine with an epidural… and he lovingly pretended that he couldn’t hear me or that he couldn’t understand me…and managed to distract me until I was ready to push… too late for an epidural!  (They wouldn’t have given me one anyhow… I was progressing way too fast…) Time: 9:10pm

A quick transition to the bed, a second midwife later and lots of tears brought Hudson into the world. Time:9:26pm

Andrew really enjoyed this birth. There was no hustling of millions of nurses, no fetal heart rate monitors, no waiting for an OB, and he was able to pull Hudson out… wow. (It was a little trickier to deliver him with no fluid left- dry is not my favourite way to go…)

The midwives and Andrew took such amazing care of Hudson and I and even gave us his first little poster with his foot prints on it! They cooed and awed over him like it was their first baby delivery (which makes a mother feel even prouder) and left our little family shortly after.

I stayed the night (apparently you can’t leave until you pee- and I was totally dehydrated so one catheter later they figured out that I would need to drink more…)

And then moved us to a smaller room. Interestingly, two details had escaped us upon arrival at the hospital. One- no grandparents, siblings or visitors were allowed in the maternity ward EXCEPT at designated visiting hours- and they were SERIOUS. There was NO sneaking in. Poor nana, papa’s and grandma!

Second- infants have chip encoded leg bands that set off security alarms that are at the doors of the ward, so you can’t even put the baby up to the window for the poor grandparents.

Thus, I opted to come home at dinner time the next day…and share the wealth our little man with the people who love him.

So we arrived home. Olivia and Alex are in love. Andrew and I are in love. Our little family is in love. It’s been the best transition we could have ever imagined, and Andrew is already trying to talk me into another baby!  He even promised me a mini-van (Laugh!)…

Hudson Taylor Andrew Epp is named for the famous missionary James Hudson Taylor  who was one of the first English missionaries to China. He came from a humble background and saw amazing things happen during his very difficult life in China. He started the China Inland Mission (which is now OMF International) and even came to Niagara Falls on a evangelistic campaign in the 1800’s. Ruth Bell Graham (Billie Graham’s wife) grew up in China serving under his legacy and I read both of their stories a million times as child. We are praying that Hudson will have a legacy of faith like his namesake. We have dedicated his life to the Lord, no matter what may come, and desire that he would go where ever God would send him (even if it’s hard for us to let him go!) If you are praying for our family, know that each of our children have been birthed with joy in our hearts and a knowledge that God has entrusted us to teach them about who He is and help them to find their God-given purpose. We are praying Hudson would be strong, faithful and courageous.

In concluding- I feel such thankfulness. God has been so good to me. His love endures forever. He doesn’t give me perfect pregnancies, He teaches me difficult life lessons, and yet, His goodness shines through when I hold Hudson in my arms. I remember that no matter what I must bear in life, when I get to heaven, being in Christ’s presence will be so much better than even being in the presence of my newborn. Endure and persevere. Hold close to Christ in faith and our reward WILL be made full when we leave this earth.

Amazing kids.

Today we had an accident. Well, Andrew had an accident that involved our whole family.

He has been busily building me the cutest little chicken coop for my backyard, and was out this morning to finish it up with the kids as his helpers. What a welcome relief for me, since I was able to sleep in and catch up on giving my beaten body some rest.

Sometime later, my little girl arrived at my bed and told me that “Mom, Daddy is laying on the floor and his fingers are bleeding.” Simple. Matter of fact. No drama.
I burst out of the room and ran downstairs to find my husband, grey on the floor of the kitchen, moaning with his hand swaddled in paper towels. My delightful, imaginative son was there  with him – completely oblivious to what was going on. Apparently my love had his hand caught in the table saw, and managed to cut his fingers quite badly.

While I busied myself doctoring my husband (juice, popsicles, kid-management) my AMAZING kids took over. Olivia is aged 4. She wants to be a doctor, since she has had to come with us on countless visits to the hospital and doctors as we had her brother’s asthma and ears cared for. She joyfully submitted to having her tooth pulled this week, and enjoys going to the dentists! Sometimes, I admit, I find that a little strange. I was the sort of child that passed out whenever blood crossed my path, and dentist appointments were terrifying!

She took over. It was unreal to see my child transformed and see the gifts that God has given her put into action. She took my husbands head, placed it in her lap, stroked his hair, and fed him his popsicle as I got our son ready to get in the car for our hospital trip. She asked Daddy if he needed a bandaid, and gently took care of him when we got to the car. Her sensitive, sweet heart really shone through in the car ride to the hospital. She told me that “when Daddy gets to heaven, he’ll have all new fingers that are nice and better.”

Sometimes it’s nice to see how God provides for us. Today was a mass of miracles. Late last night my mother-in-law was woken by the Holy Spirit to pray for her four son’s hands. This morning, I felt horrible and couldn’t get motivated to do anything with my day. As I tried to get my heart in the right place, my daughter faithfully delivered the message of my husbands injury. I had been given a focus for the day! Then, the pharmacist told me that my husband was just one of many people this weekend that had hurt their hands, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how thankful and grateful I was that he only cut his hands and still has his fingers. To top off the day, friends of ours (who have their own very big home reno happening) dropped everything to bring dinner and finish the chicken coop. Seriously? What love is this? Amazing!

So tonight, we are sitting, thankful. Enjoying our kids. Praying for their development to continue, and watching the goodness of God unfold each day.

 

Next Steps.

I’m watching Olivia “sleep” on the couch for her rest, while I “watch” my guinness stew cook on the stove.

I haven’t written much lately-that’s what happens when life speeds away on you!

In the last little while, Alex (my son) decided to super-man leap off a 5 ft. tall slide and subsequently broke his leg. Of course, it stalled him for about 4 days and then he was off to three-legged crawling, terrorizing his sister. Perfect.

Two days ago, Alex discovered that there is a gap between his cast  (he calls it his ‘boot’) and his leg. Apparently while I wasn’t watching, he shoved most of his pork chop, his carrots and some of his rice down into his cast. I’m sure it’s all sitting around his heel now, but I can’t get it. It should be pretty funny tomorrow when they cut the cast off him, and out pours all this rotten dinner….

Olivia keeps getting cuter everyday. She’s really working on being a good sister. She sings songs, tells stories and helps Alex build things. There are small mercies in child-rearing!

Now–I feel that I haven’t had the chance to give you all a good food rant in a while!  So, I will take the next few paragraphs to indulge myself, and hopefully, entertain you!

We’ve started cooking on Thursday nights for our neighbour-hood and anyone that we think would benefit from our company and food. (Oh wait, did I say we? I’m cooking, Andrew is entertaining!) And actually, it’s we who have been benefiting from others company! Funny thing is, some people just don’t get the idea of a free dinner. They have to bring something, or they have to wonder about the motives of you inviting them, or they just can’t handle being away from Grey’s Anatomy for an evening.
It really goes to show you how far we’ve retreated into our individualism.

Individualism and Industrialization. Hand in hand. The more industrialized we get, the less we ‘need’ face to face or food to food contact with others. I just finished watching this incredible movie (available at most of your local libraries I’m sure…) called the “Future of Food”.  I’ve read ridiculous numbers of books on food issues, but this film put it so succinctly.

The bottom line? If you can, eat fresh, organic, local foods. This isn’t 1980 anymore. We are well beyond the years of being skeptics. I was a kid on the farm in the 80’s when they really started to ‘spray’ crops intensively. Before then, it wasn’t done on a large scale. I used to watch the planes fly over the fields and spray the soy beans or the corn, and I thought it was amazing. Mom would make us stand on the porch so we wouldn’t get drenched in the stuff…but imagine how much we were breathing in?

Imagine now, that in the early 80’s a crop was sprayed on average between 1-2 times a growing season. Today? Most crops (and some, like strawberries are worse) are sprayed on average about 4- 6 times a season.  That doesn’t include the extreme fertilizing volume that we are forced to use because we’ve not adequately rotated our crops or are growing higher, more intense yields.

So. If you thought that food was fine in the 80’s, it probably was ok. If you are still back there, welcome to 2010. It’s not the same anymore. Agriculture has changed, and it’s still changing. Food is just not ok anymore. There’s genetically modified corn and soy (which is in the bulk of processed foods that we buy at the grocery store). I haven’t gotten my mind around how it’s acceptable for a scientist to take a bacteria, and insert some antibiotics, viruses and other pieces into it, so that it can penetrate the hard exterior of the seed to modify it’s genes forever. I don’t feel like eating that it a good idea.

There’s all kinds of secret hidden corn-sugar in foods. Dextrose, malodextrin, corn syrup solids, glucose, fructose, citric acid…the list goes on. They are all corn. There’s lots of secret soy fat in food. Soy isoflavones, soy lethicin, soy oil…. the list goes on. And, there’s more and more produce being used in our foods, or sold on the shelves that’s coated (inside or outside) in dangerous chemicals.

Did you know that the companies that produce fertilizer are the very same companies that produce chemical weaponry in WWII? There’s a real brain wave. Let’s use the leftover lethal stuff and put it in the soil to grow our food. Perfect!

Food is just not ok. Add to that–it’s EVERYWHERE. Every time you go out for a drive there’s a million supermarkets, convenience stores, fast food places, restaurants and Tim Horton’s to pass by. In your cupboards are easy to open, no preparation required foods that can be eaten without a second thought. No wonder we are all getting a little larger. We can eat mindlessly. You can pop an extra 100 calories a day (3 jelly beans anyone?) without thinking. And then you end up 5 lbs heavier at the end of the year. Who needs to think about their food anymore?

I do. I for one, want to be a good ‘nutritional gatekeeper’ for my family. I am the primary cook and grocery shopper, that makes me responsible for what they eat and how much they generally consume. I want to make sure that we are fighting to support our farmers and encourage them to grow food responsibly. I want to make sure my children can chose foods from around their homes, rather than from China and Peru. I want to make sure that my kids don’t struggle to have children of their own, or end up mindlessly obese.

Whew. There. I’m finished my little rant.

If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, it’s been busy. When January steals up on me, I really intend on cooking through a new cookbook. I’m hoping someone will get me ” The Grass Fed Cookbook” since I ordered a 1/4 of a grass fed cow, and that’s some delicious, lean meat.

Kids. Crazy.

I’m nuts. Officially nuts. I’m planning how to put boat loads of food into my pantry and freezer for the winter. It’s all I think about. I’ve been so consumed that I don’t even think about putting make-up on or changing my clothes when I go out for something. I’m completely ridiculous. I worry that I won’t have enough canning jars! Crazy stuff!

Anyhow, the other day I was out harvesting in the garden with the kids. We were cutting kale (which is a big, curly leafed cabbage type plant that you can eat—very nutty tasting when cooked) pulling up kohlrabi  (I hadn’t experince this til I moved here–apparently all the farm types eat it and grown it—it’s like an above ground turnip that has the softest, most delicious flavour-raw or cooked.) and picking tomatoes (I have some of the nicest orange, yellow and pink heirloom varieties.)

Olivia was helping me put everything into a big bucket while she was looking for beans and little white patty pan squash when Alex decided to run away. (Again.)

I had to go chase him and he was being very ‘cheeky’ with me. So, I decided to put him in his crib until he settled down. I carried him up the porch,  through the screen door, up the stairs to his crib and plunked him in there, telling him that I would come back when he stopped crying.

I went back down to the porch garden to sort out the veggies with Olivia while listening to Alex through the screen door. Suddenly, it became strangely quiet. 2 seconds later I was so startled that I screamed. (I can be a LITTLE dramatic…) He was standing at the front door! How in the world?

I took him upstairs that night to put him to bed and asked him to show me how he got out. That’s when I witnessed that I had given birth to a tank, not a human. He put his hands on the railing and pulled himself up in a chin up (no leg muscles used at all!) and then heaved himself over the bar and falls to the ground. (It’s not particularly graceful, and definitely painful when he hit the ground.) But he stood up once he was out and was SO proud of himself.

I laughed and put him back in his bed and told him not to do it again. I left the room and was wondering how I was going to “convince” him not to do it again….Alex has joined the ranks of ‘obstinate-stubborn-I-can-do-it-I-don’t-need-you-two-year-old-club’ and I KNEW he would climb out again. I stood at the door listening, and sure enough “THUD!”. I didn’t know what to do. So, I threw the door open and growled “GET IN YOUR BED!”. He stood there shocked and then terrified…. He tried so hard to climb back in! I picked him up, kissed him, told him I loved him and reminded him NOT TO GET OUT OF BED!

He slept soundly all night.

Yesterday we took the side off the crib and put on the toddler guard rail, turning it into a toddler bed. We had no idea how he would respond. What do you know? He never once tried to get out, and this morning he just sat in the bed and called for us until we came to get him up. Whew. Maybe this will be ok after all?? I mean, I did tell myself that Alex would be in a crib until he was 7 just to give us some measure of control….

Food. The way the French eat it.

I’m in love. I borrowed the book “Why French women don’t get fat” and have learned so much already. Initially I started reading it because the other cooking books that I was devouring recommended the recipes and philosophy of this book. So, I read it. (Or am almost done reading it.)

Wow. I never knew that French women could have so much pleasure in food! I am officially going to adopt that culture! So, they eat always sitting down, enjoy wine, cheese and dessert, eat seasonally and only fresh foods, and always stay thin. Whew. Sounds like the life for me!

We’ll see if I can embrace some of this as I go along. I can definitely appreciate the cheese part, and I will love eating fresh foods too!  (Andrew made me the most amazing omelet today with fresh herbs, sorrel, chard, tomatoes, garlic, mushrooms and triple cream cheese… I thought I was in heaven!)

A new twist on the fresh foods though. I don’t know how anyone gardens sucessfully organically without using pesticides or fungicides. My garden is being eaten from within, under and above. Sigh. I need a specialist to tell me what to do! It’s definitely a lesson on why we say “grace” at the table. We ought to be SO thankful for every bite that we eat, because I am fighting for my food pretty hard, and I’m losing the battle to the bugs. I will be thanking Jesus immensely if I ever get to eat some of the tomatoes I dream of. Gone is the idea of having a roadside stand for my excess produce.

Wish I had some cute kid stories for you… but I don’t really. They have been cute! We took them to our church for the free fun fair yesterday, and they enjoyed bouncing in the bouncy house, sliding, eating cotton candy and running around. It was fun, but there wasn’t anything terribly remarkable. They were awesome swimming tonight–getting braver each time.

Oh, I forgot. We took them last night to our neighbours house for a “sleep-over” while the adults played a game. We set Alex and Liv up in a bedroom, and enjoyed our evening. The thing that stood out was that Olivia had to pack her barbie suitcase for the trip across the road. She packed four changes of clothes, 2 dolls, several books, and some toys. Then she walked her suitcase over, jumped in their bed, and made herself at home. We laughed so hard. You’ve never seen a kid so excited for a ‘sleep-over.’ Our neighbours are the best, and we really enjoyed their hospitality (especially the kids!)

And, to further the conversation on PCOS (which I’ve had so many helpful responses from everyone!) we’ve sorta figured out what we are going to do. We are going to pray. We are going to lift up my body, lift up our dreams, lift up adoption, and all the concerns to Jesus and let Him carry the weight of that load. I have finished with worrying. I am so at peace. I know that He has already being gracious to me, and today I was reminded that grace isn’t always painless. Sometimes it hurts to experience God’s grace, as Jonah did, when he ran from God. (Seriously, it would have stunk in the belly of the whale…soo gross. He should’ve just gone to Ninevah in the first place.) And that’s where I am going. To the place God wants me. Pain or no pain. It’s the place I want to be. Ultimately, closer to Him.