"What makes a family great, isn't that everyone loves each other and gets along… what makes a family great is that they love each other even when they are not getting along."

Bethany December 2014

Freeing myself to be me

       I'm a verbal processer. I'm a mental processer… I'm an over processer. Yet I find that the way I process best is by writing. Oddly enough, that is the way I process the least. There is something about writing it out that forces me to truly work through things rather than vent. Somehow the act of writing pushes me through the tidal waves of emotions that I am riding on into the heart of why I am hurting. I believe it forces my brain to slow down as well, and in doing so, I begin to hear the still quiet voice guiding me through. I need to do it more.
      Along those lines, I've been struggling with the concept of blogging and posting lately. In fact I've pretty much stopped doing it because I've wondered what is at the core of why someone would have the need to post something for the world to see, though in reality few do. What is it with our society's need to put ourselves out there? But more importantly, what is my need? Why have I had such a strong desire to tell the world my thoughts?
     I've been mulling over and trying to process this for months. As I've processed, I've pulled away from social media almost completely. Yet, I've gotten no where. No answers. Then, I finally started writing and that is when I realized what my need is: VALUE.
    I don't know if it is true for everyone, but I put myself out into the internet void because I long to have a sense of value. Whether that value comes from knowing that someone else is reading my thoughts or that maybe my thoughts could help someone.
   I still have a mammoth amount of processing to do around my need for value, and that will come in time. But in writing this, I have realized that I am ready for a change. I need to write. I love to write. My reason for writing isn't for others… it shouldn't be for value… it should be for me. Because I am a better person when I write. God uses writing to do things in my heart, that he doesn't do in other ways. Writing is a part of me. Whether people read it or not, or if it helps people or not does not change my value. But I do have the opportunity to be me, and in writing, a better version of me.
    So I free myself to let go. To throw my thoughts into the void. To process away whether big or small. To be me. (Oh, and to save my family from having to be present for my over abundant verbal processing).

Taking My Nose off the Grindstone

You ever have one of those friends that without any hesitation can say the one thing that hits you right between the eyes and convicts you of something you didn't even see at all? I do. And I am so glad I do.

I've been struggling lately. I have been dealing with a full plate to Thanksgiving sized proportions. Well at least by my standards. I am currently trying to balance homeschooling a difficult learner, an eager to learn preschooler and a potty training toddler with a larger house, chickens, an active puppy, a garden, a strongly plant based diet and a husband that is working an erratic schedule including over time. You throw on top of that my desire to avoid processed foods and a back yard remodel among a bunch of other things that aren't even worth mentioning, and I am honestly just plain swamped.

But this post is not meant to be me just complaining about my woes. Instead this is about my struggles. You see I've been struggling with an important relationship lately. My love hasn't changed, they haven't changed, but by the time I get in bed at night, I suddenly remember they are there.  And it is in that moment, I realized what I've missed all day: intimacy. And so night after night, as I crawled into bed completely wiped from the day's adventures and drudgery I would remember what was missing the entire day, only to repeat it the next day.

You see my relationship with my LORD is similar to a marriage. I had been getting up with the full knowledge that he was there, the ring was on my finger, and I didn't forget to check in occasionally and make sure he was still there, but we had become roommates not lovers. The coals of love were growing cold, choked out by the day's gargantuan proportion of things that needed to be done. And so it has been for the last couple of months. Deep down, I knew I was supposed to spend time with God and invest in our relationship, but I was at a loss as to how I was supposed to find time. What was I supposed to cut out??? Wasn't I doing what I was supposed to?? Hadn't He been the one who led me to homeschool? Hadn't He led me into a lifestyle that was being a good steward of both my body, my children and my world??? Wasn't it a good thing to eat healthy??? Wasn't I supposed to care for the creatures he had given me? Then how am I supposed to do it all??? And so I kept on plugging along knowing that something wasn't right, but at a loss as to how to change. Finding myself feeling like I was spinning in a hamster wheel instead of growing and making progress. And it was here, that God met me.

And this is what He said:
You've got your nose on the grindstone... you think that is where it is supposed to be, but it isn't . When things are tough, keeping your nose there and plodding through isn't going to help. It isn't faith. It is avoidance. You are looking at the grindstone with your head down to avoid looking at all you have to do or the struggles thinking you are plodding along in faith but that is when you find yourself in the hamster wheel... you aren't keeping your eye's on the right thing. Faith isn't about not looking at your troubles: it is about looking at your creator. I'm up here. Keep looking up while you plod along and we can be together. You will progress and grow. Look down at the grindstone and you end up in the hamster wheel. Look at the troubles and you halt to a stop. Get your eye's off your feet, don't look ahead, but look up at me! 

And there it is. Clarity. I thought I was living in faith. I thought I was doing the right thing by plodding along with what I thought God wanted from me. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping on even when it felt impossible. I thought I was supposed to keep my nose to the grindstone. But I wasn't. Not because of my actions, but because of my focus.

It isn't easy. I still find myself going for long periods of the day just checking things off my to do list. But I have noticed that when I am giving God my attention, the mundane feels less mundane, the list feels more doable, and the struggles don't beat me down as much. The burden is lighter when I am looking to God, I no longer feel alone as I wade through the dirty drudgery of wiping bottoms, cleaning chicken poop off my floor or cleaning the dishes yet again. And in those moments, I find joy.

Raspberry Coconut Squares

I do my best creating on the fly. You know, when I have people coming over in an hour and I haven't planned anything let alone know if there is even anything in my cupboards. Oh, and the house needed tidying and dinner had to be made still. Or when my husband tells me at 10 o'clock at night that tomorrow is a potluck at work.  Or my favorite, when my husband calls and says that he is bringing over four coworkers, who will be hungry and to whip together some dessert or snacky stuff and I'm still in my pajamas and there is dirt three weeks thick everywhere. Yeah... that kind of fly.

Thankfully that is usually when I rise to the occasion. A skill I have gained from watching my sister in the kitchen. She can make something out of nothing taste like it's off a five star restaurant menu. That girl has mad skills.

Last night was one of those times that I needed to fly... or at least create something on the fly. We had friends coming over in an hour and we had been out shopping all day - with THREE KIDS! Dessert was a must, and I had no idea what to make. That's when I stumbled on this recipe that I had printed off ages ago, and went to work. Of course it wasn't going to work for me the way it was. I didn't have the quick oats required, I'm allergic to dairy, I didn't have time to make the blueberries and well, I'm a sucker for coconut.

Thankfully I did have my trusty all time favorite substitute: coconut oil (yep, I love coconut), a jar of organic raspberry preserves and some regular oats, so I went to work. I had also remembered that last time I made a similar style bar, there was not enough topping, so I tweaked the ratios as well. Yea, I can't leave anything alone.

And yes, the pressure was on too. Right after I popped these in the oven, my husband took the chicken out of the fridge to prepare it for the grill, only to find that our entire package of organic chicken had gone bad. WAY BAD! Yeah for the sausages I happened to throw in the cart even though they weren't on my list. We still had dinner, but I really wanted these bars to turn out to resurrect the whole thing.

And oh did they. They are my new favorite!!! Chewy, soft, crumbly, sweet, slightly tart, coconut amazingness all wrapped up in a nice square. And did I mention that they are refined sugar free, dairy free, and made with whole grains?

Raspberry Coconut Squares
Makes as many as you want out of a 9x13 pan.

3 cups Oats
1 1/2 Whole Wheat Pastry Flour
3/4 cup plus 1/4 cup Unsweetened shredded coconut
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp Baking Soda
1 cup Sugar (I used 3/4 cup coconut sugar and 1/4 cup turbinado)
1/2 cup coconut oil
1/2 cup coconut cream
3/4 cup-1 cup Raspberry preserves

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease a 9x13 pan (I used coconut oil). Place oats in a blender or food processor and process till coarsely chopped but not fine as flour. Pour into large bowl and combine with flour, salt, baking soda, sugar and 3/4 cup coconut. Cut in coconut oil and cream until it resembles a fine crumb (feel free to add more coconut cream if needed or desired to get a nice crumb). Press 2/3 of crumb mixture into the pan and press down. Pour preserves over the top and spread evenly (use more preserves if you want a thicker raspberry layer and less if you want to keep it lighter). Then crumble remaining crumb mixture over the top and sprinkle with 1/4 cup of coconut. Bake for approximately 40 minutes and let cool before cutting and serving.

I hope you enjoy these as much as I did, am and will. Yes, I am eating one as I type this. I've earned it, I'm working hard.

The Loved Adulteress

I was asked to give my testimony this week, and after struggling to put into words my love story with my savior, this is what finally came out.

The Loved Adulteress

At the age of three I was marked

For His kingdom- the daughter of the king

In my heart, the Spirit sparked

And I responded to His call with bended knee

Within He placed a heart for song

And the desire to praise my King

Life was hard yet still I clung

To the One who had set me free

But one day the pain went deep

And fear through my heart did seep

And although His praises were on my tongue

In my heart to other’s I sung

I was looking for value and love

In those around – in man

You see I am the adulterous woman

When even though she had loves embrace

Chose to look into another’s face

Yet He stood by, faithful and true

Waiting for me to see His gentle clue

That my value is in Him alone

And no matter where I looked

I was left feeling empty and alone

Despite ever growing fear,

He gently whispered in my ear

“Come my daughter, I am right here”

So I responded again to His call

As deep calls to deep, my spirit lives

And in Him I know there is truth

That He is mine and I am His

The struggles have not left me yet

Still I get confused and my eyes fall

But when I quiet my soul

There is His gentle voice, calling me

Our story is of love so deep and true

That it has withstood the test

Of one who is unfaithful at best

But it is not over by far

Because it is by His grace I am here at all.

180 Degrees: New Perspective New Life

Since I can remember, I have been one of those people that likes to have my hardships acknowledged. I have the need for people to recognize my struggles. It isn't excuses; it is the need to have someone praise my effort more than the result. I know why, too. Praise was rarely given in my home. Instead of a sincere gratitude for the effort that was put in, my attempts at all life was rewarded with the same response: "Look at what you could have done if you had applied yourself better." I called it the white glove syndrome. I could spend hours cleaning something with a tooth brush, and the one small spot that was missed would be noticed. And yes, I have specific instances that are seared in my mind. The result: paralysis. The mode: fear. FEAR is what began to rule every area of my life.

The question is begging to be asked. How can something as simple as not receiving enough affirmation result in fear paralyzing your entire life? It is in the bleed. Like the corner of a napkin on a punch spill, a parched soul soaks up what ever it is watered by. My soul was watered by fear.

So much of life is about effort. We are fallen beings in a fallen world. We do not have hope of ever accomplishing anything of our own effort because our best is as "dirty rags" (Isaiah 64:6 and Romans 3:23). So our natural response, or at least mine, is to search for recognition for our effort. Since we can't accomplish perfection, at least we can be recognized for trying. And so my psyche was formed. As a young child my response to lack of praise was that I would try my hardest. But even that was not enough. I was parched; I was starving. And then the fear that was already prevalent in my life from other circumstances began to bleed in. Why try? It won't be enough anyway. I was afraid to fail. But worse than failing was my fear of succeeding. Because with success came a new standard I would be held to and even more would be expected from me; a much scarier possibility.

So how does one respond to such an overwhelming fear? Excuses, of course. My rationale goes like this: If they knew my hardships, my adversities, all that I've worked through to get this far then they can forgive my imperfections. If people only knew the effort I have put into this, then they would love me, accept me, praise me; then my thirsty soul would finally drink.

And so I have lived, balancing the need for acknowledgment with a fear of failing. Balancing between a fear that paralyzes and the need to accomplish perfection. The result: running in place - going nowhere. And so I thirst, grabbing onto every drop of praise or anything like it I can find. Clinging on for dear life. Praying for rain, but looking for it from the smog instead of the clouds.

You see the reality looks very different on the outside. My thirst and longing for praise resulted in explanation and excuses - a soul begging for water from my perspective. But the actual observer interprets it as complaining and pride. The usual response to my thirst: criticism or disdain? No, worse: rejection - salt on a thirsty, dry, wounded soul. And so as the salt was poured on, the search for water grew more intense. The route for search did not change though and thus the cycle of my thirsty soul sits. Yes, the watering has been there. Otherwise, I would be dead. But the rainfall, the wellspring, life, I thirstily long for and wait for. Search for.

And then, after years of dehydration, I stumbled on the answer. In a book about gratitude. A book I have been trying to read through for the past year. On a night when I am supposed to be "working". I read it:

       A lifestyle of intentional gratitude became an unintentional test in the trustworthiness of God - and in counting blessings I stumbled upon the way out of fear.

                                                                              Anne Voskamp 

There it was on page 151 in One Thousand Gifts. By counting my struggles I was actually complaining and by complaining I was telling God he was untrustworthy. My fear had resulted in complaining, and the only way to overcome the fear, to free myself from the paralyzation and thirst was to do the opposite. To count my blessings. To say thanks. To acknowledge that it isn't me, that I can't do it myself and my effort isn't enough and that that is OK. When I take my eyes off of what I "have suffered", off my struggle and look at what He has done, what He has suffered and say THANK YOU, I am suddenly free.

I believe that when I get rid of fear and focus on the blessings that he gives I will be free to recieve the praise, love and acceptance that I have been offered. Since fear paralyzes trust, then I will be free to trust what He says when He says "I LOVE YOU".

And what does He say to me tonight:

Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears; For your work will be rewarded..." Jeremiah 31:16

The verse I just happened to open to tonight. And so 180 degrees later, I say thank you, for my blessings are many. My daily struggles are no longer laundry to be aired, they are the chance for me to look at my blessings and see the good He has done. And from there I will be free from the need for your or anyone else's praise or acceptance. Oh, may my soul quench its thirst in the only true water that is (John 4:14)

If you are interested in the book by Anne Voskamp please visit her website. Although I have only gotten to page 151, I have to say that her thoughts challenge at the core of who you are and your view of life and Christianity in all the right ways. http://www.aholyexperience.com

Same Story. Same Pain... Different Outcome. Stronger Repellant.

    Today I saw some pictures that reminded me of family favoritism. It amazes me that even today, I'm thirty and my husband is 33, I see the same dynamics in our families as we experienced growing up. The strange part is that now the favoritism is bleeding into our children. As much as it hurts to see, from years of pain, I have come to the point where I can say "C'est la vie... their loss."

    It is hard to explain favoritism to someone unless they have been on the unfavored side. I have found very few people who truly understand the dynamic.  I can't tell you how relieving it is when I am around someone who not only understands, but actually sees it without me having to explain (those friends are very close indeed). I have also found that the favored one's blame it all on perspective. Having not received the "unfavor," their eyes don't even pick up the subtleness of favoritism. I used to be angry at them for not seeing it. Now I count them blessed.

    Thankfully, I married someone who knows well the "joys" of the unfavored side and can support me. Sadly, it also means that I walked from one family of pain and rejection into another. The wounds, just healing from years of my own walk on the outside, have been violently gashed open, then subtly picked at and salted.

     But as the wounds scab over and the healing process continues I watch as the same people who have favored our siblings over us inadvertently favor their kids over ours. It is small things, ones I pray our children never pick up. I pray that their eyes are blind to these subtle behaviors because they have not been opened by my own favoritism. As I parent, I am ever aware of my heart, my frustrations and behaviors. I do not seek to be fair or even, but instead to love each one whole heartedly for who they are.     To take joy in their differences, embrace their unique gifts and gently mold their quirky weaknesses. Are there days where I am closer to one than the others? Yes, but I take it in stride knowing that by tomorrow, that same difficult child will be the one helping me as I grin and bear the quirks of another. My heart's desire is that they are oblivious to favoritism because they are so secure in my husband's and my love for them, that the nuances of the moment are just that... momentary - not something that affects their core. 

    So, as I see those subtle behaviors, I take a deep breath. I look at my children. And I remember, that I am here. I get to be with them. I get to watch their differences, I get to experience their unique gifts and I am bound to deal with their quirky weaknesses at all moments. In ending the cycle, I find healing from my wounds. In healing, I find strength. And in strength, I am less easily wounded. Ending the cycle gives hope, and hope is my repellant.

A Thousands Words - Otherwise Known as My Therapy Session

It started soon after the birth of my firstborn. After he fell asleep, I would steal into the office, slump into the uncomfortable chair a watch the screen saver - pictures of our little baby. My husband would walk in minutes later and find himself mesmerized as well. Sometimes we would sit there for 20 or more minutes. And as we sat there, the weight of the day would begin to melt away, our hearts would begin to mend, and we would remember what was important and actually kind of like our little boy.
See, in the craziness of they day, between the loads of laundry, dishes, feedings, changings, bills, yard work, projects, crying and whatever else went on, it was easy to loose sight of what mattered. It didn't help that I was averaging 4 hours of sleep total, usually in 30 minute intervals, a day, breastfeeding on average 9  hours a day and dealing with a kid that wouldn't sleep. Let's just say I wasn't to thrilled with my bundle of joy by the time I was ready for bed.
But some how, looking at the pictures was like salve on my wounds. And afterwords, I was ready to face another sleepless night. Five years, and two kids later, and it still works. The tasks have only increased, but somehow, the effect is the same. Seeing their smiles, their scrunchy noses or the playful poses reminds me of how unique, precious and amazing they are. And most important, that they are worth every bit of stress, exhaustion, and frustration.
So, I thought I would share some of my therapy with you... in a thousand words...

Life is Real- Chocolate Chip Cookies Make it Better

My kitchen floor is covered in brown spots, I have a mat in the laundry because a child pooped on it, the kitchen sink has dishes from breakfast and last night, and I have a laundry list of things to do, so when I ask my daughter what she wants to do today and she says, "make cookies," of course that is exactly what we did. We baked cookies.
You see life never stops. I have spent too much time looking around the bend, saying next week will be easier, next month won't be so busy or next year I'll be able to do that, and well it hasn't happened. Life just seems to fill up quicker than I can... well fill up. Finding time to eat is almost impossible. Finding moment's of rest or time to recharge are few and far between. So, there are time's that I need that quick pick me up. Something that feels good, that cheers up my spirit and fuels me to go on. What could possibly be better than a chocolate chip cookie to do just that?
"Ooh,  ooh, pick me. Pick me! I know!" How about cookies that taste like heaven and are actually healthy. It is not possible they say. I say it is!

You see I am a snob... a food snob. When I make things, I usually have a long lists of must and must nots that every recipe is scrutinized by before I will even consider making it. For instance, with cookies, I want them to be low sugar, low fat, whole grain, soft and chewy and well... I still want them to taste good. As if the list wasn't hard enough to accomplish, now that we reduced our intake of eggs and dairy, I am even more limited. To my absolute surprise... and I really mean absolute surprise, because I usually end up giving up or just making it up as I go, I actually found a recipe that met most of those. Ok, so I'm not perfect. I still totally tweaked it to make it fit our needs. But the concept is still there. And in my opinion the result is even better.  Cookies that you can drop everything to bake, because when are doing all the stuff you should have been doing, grabbing one of these baby's to help you get through it all will be worth it. And yes, after trying to bake cookies with a one year old and a three year old, that is exactly what I needed. A little pick me up as I swept the floor for the third time and watched my daughter eat spoonfuls of baking soda. Good times - real life. 

But the smiles she gave while eating them... even better than the cookies.

Oh, and by the way. Family secret- double the batch and throw half in the freezer. Then you will have tasty pick me ups even when you can't drop it all and bake these cookies.

My Helper

Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies 

1/4 cup coconut oil, melted
1/4 + 3 Table spoons apple sauce
1/3 cup honey
1 Tbs Vanilla Extract
1 cup whole wheat flour ( I like white whole wheat)
2 Tbs ground flax seeds
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 cup rolled oats
1/3 cup chocolate chips





Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine wet ingredients in a bowl. Add flour, flax, cinnamon, salt, and soda and stir just until combined. Fold in oats and chocolate chips. Drop by rounded tablespoon onto a cookie sheet (I bake mine on a baking mat) and press down slightly. Bake for approximately 12 minutes or until they look firm and the edges begin to brown. Cool on a wire rack.

Comfort food without the guilt

Have you ever noticed that all comfort food is really... really... REALLY bad for you! Let's just name a few: macaroni and cheese, baked potato soup, fried chicken, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, apple pie and one of my favorites, broccoli soup. Every one of these is loaded with either sugar, fat or processed flours. Thus the reason we so often feel heavy with calories and guilt after eating them.
The funny thing, is that a lot of the comfort foods start out with healthy ingredients. So why is it that pasta with a sprinkle of cheese, grilled chicken, lean beef, baked potatoes, an apple, or steamed broccoli aren't comforting? Is is possible that at the true comfort foods are sugar, fat and processed food? I don't know many people that would feel comforted if I set a cube of fat and sugar on their plate when they were blue and would think "yeah for me".
So now the question that has to be asked, is how do we put the "food" back into comfort food. I've been struggling with this lately as I have been craving broccoli soup.
I used to not like broccoli, till I learned how good it was for you, and forced myself to like it. Now I have learned to actually enjoy it, in certain contexts. My favorite is broccoli soup. I used to think that I did a pretty good job of making it too... with lower fat milk and well ok... I put a cup of cheese in it. There isn't any way that it was good for me. But it was sooo good, and as I ate it, it made me happy. It truly was comforting.
But now, as we have tried to change our food choices to less animal proteins I look at my once favorite soup as a trap. How was I to fulfill my craving for creamy goodness  with something that actually had goodness in it?
My first attempt was so terrible that I actually sent it home with my in-laws (God bless them, they will eat anything). I had tried to recreate the soup's creaminess with pureed cashews and the result felt nutty, chalky and heavy. So it was back to the drawing board.
Actually, I had put the whole thing on the back burner, and stumbled across my broccoli soup fulfillment on complete accident. After buying a beautiful  cauliflower, some broccoli and leeks at my local farmer's market I realized that I had no idea how I was going to use them. At first I planned on a casserole, but when I realized that I would need the oven to bake my bread, a soup was the next best thing. So, with a fridge full of vegetables and a stiff upper lip (I haven't been the most successful lately so I had to put on my brave face), I began to create.
Oh, so glad I did. The soup was amazing. Comforting and creamy, full of broccoli flavor but without the weighed down feeling... Oh, maybe that's because there isn't a single thing in it that could remotely cause guilt. YES, I did it. I made comfort food that made me feel light as a feather, yet surprisingly grounded at the same time. Ha... sounds like I am talking about a recreational drug not soup. But then again. Comfort food is just that- recreational drugs we use to lift our spirits and ground us at the same time. And if by chance you become addicted to this soup, don't feel guilty. It's good for you.

Broccoli Leek Soup

1 Large Leek, thinly sliced (onions would work if you don't have any leeks)
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 small head broccoli, chopped
1/2 a small cauliflower, chopped
5 small potatoes, cut in bite size pieces
3 stalks celery, thinly sliced
2 tsp vegetable bullion
1 tsp oil
Water
Salt and pepper to taste

In a large pot, sauté leeks and celery until tender. Add garlic cook till fragrant. Toss in broccoli, cauliflower, and potatoes. Fill the pan with water until vegetables are just covered. Cook until the broccoli and cauliflower begin to fall apart when stirred.  Add vegetable bullion and stir. Place 1/3 of soup in a blender and blend till smooth, then return to pot. Stir together and add fresh ground black pepper and salt to taste.

Crusty Artisan Style Whole Wheat Bread (That even a kid could make)

If I told you that you could make bread that tasted better than the store would you try it?  What if I told you that it would be easier to make than to go to the store and buy? Now are you interested? 
As a mother of three children, I have learned that somethings are worth the extra effort, other's not so much. For instance, homemade bread. Ton's of effort... not worth it, or so I thought. This recipe forever changed my view of bread. It's simplicity and ease makes it actually easier than going to the store to buy bread. I know what you are thinking. Wasn't this the same person who just a month ago was spouting off about how the extra money was worth just buying the bread rather than the sore aching arms she had to deal with after her first loaf?
Well, the sad news is, that it was me. The good news is that I didn't give up and stumbled across the most amazing, easy, tasty bread. After reading about Jim Lahey's technique in the New  from Sullivan Street Bakery I played around a bit and simplified it even more. Sorry Jim, I think this recipe may have just put a whole lot of baker's job's on the line. 


Just like the pizza dough, the key to this bread is the slow rise. With hardly any yeast, and my favorite no sugar, dairy or other strange ingredients that go into bread, you really get to enjoy the flavor of the wheat. Even better is the crispy crackly crust. Yes, all three C's are in this one. The first time I pulled it out of the oven, I squeezed it and listened to the "symphony of crackle".


Slow-Rise Whole Grain Bread
   (adapted from Jim Lahey's recipe)

3 cups Whole Wheat Flour ( I used TJ's White Whole Wheat)
1/4 tsp heaping regular yeast
1 1/4 tsp salt
1 3/4 cups ( I used more like 2 cups) luke warm water

Pour warm water in a bowl and sprinkle with yeast to proof. Then mix flour and salt in and stir. The dough should resemble a wet/drop biscuit dough so you may need to add more water (The whole wheat flour requires more water than regular flour). Cover bowl and let sit 12-18 hours. Pour into a greased baking dish (I used a round corningware casserole with olive oil but a heavy cast iron pan is preferred).  Let rise 1-2 hours. Bake 450 for 30 minutes covered and 15-30 minutes uncovered (takes longer depending on how moist the dough was). The bread is done when it sounds hollow when tapped. Cool on a wire rack. 


That's it! Give it a try. Last week I added some roasted garlic and rosemary right before putting int the baking dish. It was delicious. 

Whole Wheat Pizza Dough (Slow Rise)

Last summer, my brother introduced me to the wonders of grilled pizzas. It is sooo good, but as I made the pizzas more, I began to feel guilty for buying dough that "should be easy" to make. Ha... ha...hmm. But remember, I am the one with the yeast phobia. I even compared working with yeast to a game of Russian Roulette with all chambers but one loaded.
Well, I have since grown past my fear of yeast, and have in the process, learned to even respect it. It has not been without a fight, but, the results have been worth it, and I am glad I persevered.
This pizza dough has been a victory I have cherished. The two keys to this dough, are that it is a slow rise, which gives the yeast more time to do it's magic and I used a white whole wheat flour which is less dense and lighter in flavor. Just incase you didn't catch that, because it is a slow rise, it will taste better if it is given at least a day before using. It will still work the same day, but the taste is better when the yeast has time to break down the glutens.  So, without further rambling...

Whole Wheat Pizza Dough 
(adapted from the Fresh Loaf)

5 cups white whole wheat flour ( I get mine from Trader Joe's)
1 1/2 Tbs Honey
2 tsp Salt
1 3/4 yeast
2 1/2 Tbs  olive oil
2 to 2 1/4 cups warm water

Pour water and honey into large bowl. Stir till honey is devolved. Sprinkle yeast over water mixture and let stand for 3-5 minutes (if the yeast has not started to grow or get frothy, then it is no longer active, and you will need new yeast). Add remaining ingredients and stir vigorously until well combined. Let set for 5 minutes and then stir again for another 3-5 minutes (I just used my hand) . You may need to add more water or flour, the dough should be wet, but not stick to the sides of the bowl. The dough makes four 10 inch pizzas or two larger ones (not sure how big, because I haven't tried it yet).

There are three options here...

1. Let sit and rise for an hour and then use.
2. Divide and place in oiled ziplock bags in the fridge for 1-3 days before use. Just remove from fridge and allow to warm to room temperature for 1-2 hours before using.
3. Divide and place in oiled ziplock bags in the freezer. Just place in the fridge the night before and then remove from fridge to allow to warm to room temperature for 1-2 hours before baking.

Changing it up without feeling short changed.

My husband came home two weeks ago, and sometime in the six minutes between him walking through the door and falling asleep, he announced that he wanted us to eliminate meat and dairy from our diet.

Ok, let me give you a little background. My husband is English... and American. Born in Scotland and raised here in the US, his tastes have defiantly been influenced by one thing - MEAT. Our table revolves around it. When I choose a menu, it is entirely chosen based on what type of meat we will be having. On top of that, he drinks at least a gallon of milk a week. I never thought I would hear my husband say we should cut meat out of our diet.
Ok, I am making our diet sound terrible. All things considered, I thought we ate pretty well. I prepared at least 80 percent of our diet from non processed foods and was very carful to make sure we ate whole grains, low sugar, and fruits and vegetables. I've even had people look at me like I was extreme for serving low sugar, whole grain carrot cake cupcakes for my kid's birthdays.
Yet, in the time it took my husband to fall asleep, I was already on board. Truthfully I think I jumped on bored mostly because I was bored with my menus and looked forward to the challenge of something new. I also wasn't expecting it to last more than a week. I mean... give up dairy, eggs and meat? Really? My husband wouldn't last a week... so I thought.
It has been two weeks now, and we have had lots of time to talk it over, think about it and really decide what is best for our family. No, we are not vegan. We are not eliminating all animal products. I don't refuse to eat honey because some poor bee had to work up a sweat to make it. Instead we are choosing to embrace a whole food, plant based diet. That means that the majority of our nutrition comes from plant sources, and preferably in their whole form. Our goal is to drastically reduce the amount of animal products we consume, but not eliminate them entirely (we don't want to be the one's at the party where we can't eat anything, but rather were are choosing to just not consume it at home as often). To eat in a way that we love what we eat and don't feel like we are missing anything. Because we all know that if we feel like we are missing anything then that would be a diet... and we all know how long those last.
So what does this look like? I'll let you know when I figure it out. Ha! Let's be real. This is a huge process, that is going to take years for me to work through as I completely revamp my entire recipe repertoire (A very extensive one). To make the whole thing a bit more complicated, I have three children under the ages of 5 that I have to somehow feed. Oh, I can't wait for my one year old to get some molars... that will make everything a bit easier.
So, as I figure it out, practice and succeed (sometimes) my hope is to share what I have learned along the way.

Letting go, without throwing in the towel

Be still....
Let Go...
Relax...
Accept...


Everywhere I turn, I hear it this week. Yet, I'm still fighting. I don't remember the last time I let go. My mind has been on hyperdrive since October... then again, I've also had a sinus infection off and on ( more on than off) since then, had a one year birthday, 30th birthday, Thanksgiving, burned hands, Christmas (all 4 celebrations), a 3 year birthday and all that goes between since then.

My mind has been in two states during this season- racing or a deep fog. Neither is still, peaceful, relaxed or accepting. My body has followed my head. Even when lying slack on the floor, a part of me is still fighting. But what? What is it that I am holding onto, why can't I stop and enjoy the kisses of my child? Why do I turn from my husband's embrace? What is it that is more important than those things? What is it that pulls me from worshiping, the only thing I do that truly fills my soul? What are these tethers that have bound me to this frenzied state?

As I fight these tethers, the feeling of waves crashing over me is overwhelming. Each time I feel I'm on top of it, I still feel like I'm gasping for air. As the kids pelt me with questions, whining, begging, and attention grabbing behaviors, I feel myself gasping. Yet, it is not them that I'm fighting.


Deep Breath...

My life is manageable right now. We are blessed with a stability that not many have.  But the waves still crash. What are the waves?

They are not my life, they are my emotions. Depression. Sense of being overwhelmed. Lack of a sense of accomplishment. Feeling like there is no end to the monotony, that I'll never be on top of what needs to be done. Always feeling like there is more to do... to say. Knowing that no matter how hard I try... I will fail. My kids will still need therapy... that I won't be able to do it all... that inevitably I will still hurt those I love, say something I shouldn't, forget what I am supposed to remember... or that I will be so focused on surviving my own world, that I will miss what is happening around me... or worse, that I won't be able to be who I need to be for those who need me...... Sometimes the waves are so overwhelming, I want to just give in or up, as I slump to the floor in exhaustion gasping.

Emotions, feelings, fears. Things that come and go. Things that appear very real, yet... somehow I feel like they are more like vague shadows that I swat at, but like a shadow they follow me. In my hurried pace of chasing, driving, feeding, bathing, parenting, loving, living, I can navigate without seeing the shadows, yet they are still there. I can run from them, but they follow.
I am reminded of Peter Pan... when he lost his shadow... Why would he want it back. To live a life without shadows. But can one loose one's shadows... are they not something that follow you no matter what?


Be still...
I am the light of the world....
In me there is no darkness...
Bask in the light....

I hear it. In absolute light there are no shadows. Ignoring them, swatting at them, running from them does not illuminate them.


Be still...
Relax...
Let go...

In his presence, basking in his love, enjoying his peace... rejoicing in who he is, accepting who he is, and what he has for me. Knowing who I am, only by knowing who he is- Only here can I have no shadows.

Like a catch 22, it is those very shadows that keep me from doing what I need to do to live without those same shadows- they keep me from basking. My hurried life, my chaos of kids, house and responsibility are just things that I fill my time with so I can run and hide from the shadows. But it also gets in the way of what I need to do.

Be still... 
Relax...
Let Go....
Know that I am God...


Only in his presence can I find rest.

Penny Saved Penny Earned?

Today I learned an important lesson. Somethings are just worth the 70% markup.
Ok, so today I decided to dabble a bit in the cooking arts. Just a little harmless flirtation with some pretty heavy items.

First, I baked bread. Ok, so this doesn't sound like a big deal. But you have to understand. Yeast  FREAKS me out. Until two months ago, I wouldn't even have the stuff in my house. I view yeast as a bad game of Russian Roulette, where all the barrels but one are loaded. I mean, when bread goes wrong... well it can really go wrong. I have lived in fear of the odd smelling growing stuff since I can remember. But, Sticky gooey cinnamon rolls have been beckoning me for almost ten years now. So, I gave in. I bought yeast, and after staring at it for a month, I attempted to use it. And failed. I did not give up though, and conquered the wonderful sinful mass of goodness (Best Cinnamon Rolls EVER). My confidence soared... so I decided to tackle the next thing - 100% Whole Wheat Bread. I mean come on... easy right? No way.

My problem. I want a bread that is tasty, soft, low in sugar, does not use dried milk and doesn't require a lot of  work (kneading). Apparently no one else has my ideals; I couldn't find a single recipe that sounded right, so I was forced to improvise. I did compromise and spent 10 minutes kneading my dough... the result... to be honest, I'm not that impressed. I thought eating fresh baked bread is supposed to be a nirvana like experience. Didn't do anything for me. I'll give it another try someday, but till then, I would like to say thank you to all of those bakers out there that can pull off a tasty, soft, low sugar 100% whole wheat bread. And as I rub my aching arms and hands, those few extra dollars to have it all... so worth it.

Second, when you have a fresh loaf of bread rising, why not make something to go with it right? I mean the labor intensive loaf shouldn't sit on it's own... right? No, of course it need's a labor intensive meal to go with it. So, I made Tikka Masala.... (Don't ask, my husband said curry, and my mind did the rest.)

The result was amazing. I loved it. Not as hard as I thought, pretty simple actually and the flavor... oh the flavor (I really like Indian food and don't eat it near often enough). I mean, who needs an Indian restaurant? Oh wait... what is that smell... in the cupboard... the bathroom... my bedding. My entire house smells like a bowl of Tikka Masala. Can you have authentic tasting Indian cuisine at home? Yes... should you? I'll leave that up to you. In the mean time, I will be eating out when I crave Tikka Masala and doing lots of laundry.

Alone on Christmas

I am happily married, a mother of three wild children, sister, friend, and daughter.... never thought I would be alone on Christmas. But, after all the kids are in bed and my husband left for work, here I sit - ALONE...

Funny, how after a crazy day of cooking, cleaning, unwrapping, refereeing and playing, you would think that I would be thrilled to be alone. No.

So, here I sit. Avoiding the things I need to do. Wishing my husband was here. Hoping that I will gain the courage to face the empty living room that just moments ago was full of crazy, happy, energetic life... Then again, maybe this isn't so bad after all.

I can watch what I want.
Listen to the Christmas music I like.
Sit on my ass.
And Relax.

Yeah, it would be nice to do that with someone else, but then again, tonight I don't have to share the remote.

Merry Christmas! Pass the Eggnog!

Packages all tied up with paper and string

Ahh, the satisfaction of being done with the Christmas shopping and looking at all your packages wrapped and ready to go. I know, sounds shallow, huh?

But I can look back at my childhood and understand why those pretty packages mean so much to me. Growing up, we never had a lot at Christmas. I still remember the year we came home from church to a tree on our porch. A beautiful thing to a kid, whose parent's couldn't afford a tree. I cherish the memories of gifts that were given to us from anonymous people or friends when we weren't expecting any. Those gifts meant even more. I even liked the fact that we didn't get a lot of gifts at Christmas. I remember hearing kids at school talk about the 8 or more gifts they got and thinking how sad it was. At 10 years old I actually told myself that they couldn't enjoy all of their gifts if they got so many.

My other memories of gifts were the matching gifts. One year it was porcelain dolls, another year matching coats, and again matching bikes.... then yet again, at 14 it was matching outfits. Don't get me wrong, it isn't an attitude of ingratitude that I look back on those gifts. I was truly grateful, and still am. But somehow, they left me with a void. Or maybe it was a voice, crying "don't you know me?" "Do you take the time to listen?" Another time, a family member took me shopping for my gift, and  purchased a dress for me even when I told them I did not like it. The gifts were not about the recipient, they were about the giver. Not what I wanted, not what mattered to me, but what worked for them.

These experiences have influenced my gift giving. I want to give generously, to put my heart and soul into giving. To give in a way that shows that I care about the person who I am giving to. I also want to be mindful that it isn't about the money, but the heart.  The result has often been high levels of stress. Trying to balance generosity with prudence is like walking a tight rope over the Grand Canyon. Only, I'm the one that is not very forgiving.

Yet here I am, truly excited about the gifts I am giving. Why? 

Because I have put my heart into them. I am absolutely thrilled to give. And because I've seen little miracles come together to make it happen.

So, here it is... this year started with a problem... my usual dilemma was put to it's ultimate test. This is the year I was supposed to trim down my budget. Due to some financial decisions, which will work for our good in the long run, we are trying to keep our spending closely reigned in. How does one give generously without spending a lot of money? The pressure was on.

To my amazement, when I looked in my gift closet ( I have 5 nieces and nephews... I'm always getting things when I see them) I had almost all the gifts I needed for my nieces and nephews already purchased. 

Next step, poor my heart and soul into gifts from the heart. So over 10 hours later, the homemade gifts are ready (Ok, that is probably an under estimate, but I don't really want to think about how much time I really spent on them, or I will probably just buy them next year).

Without breaking budget, Christmas was well on it's way...  Ok, so I've probably spent well over 20 hours poring over every gift and detail, writing out lists, making sure I haven't forgot anyone. It hasn't been a cake walk. But it is worth it.

On to the next step. *Sigh* My family... I will admit, I have struggled this year. I've even shed tears and lost sleep on more nights than I am willing to admit ( I know I usually admit everything). So, as a desperate mama who want's nothing more than to give to her kids, I begged my Father for help. See, I don't want to just get my kids toys... I don't want them to have an even number of gifts, or even and even amount of money spent. It isn't about being fair or even about providing what I didn't have growing up. 

I want to show my kids that I know who they are, care about what is important to them, and here what they say. I want my gifts to reflect what they love, want and desire, but even more, something that speaks to them that I know what that is.

So how does one do that on a budget? By begging the greatest Giver for a gift. Yes, I have been praying for what to give my kids for Christmas since October... maybe even September. And not just a quick little prayer either.

And the best gift I got this year... My Father heard my heart. He not only answered my prayers, but he did it beyond what I had asked.

Wood that is in the clearance bin, a stranger offering me her coupon, a four week long fight with my husband that resulted in something beautiful, and a buy one get one free of already marked down to 50% off sale, all culminated into gifts I can't wait to give. 

So as I look at my packages all tied up with paper and string, I am truly thankful for the gift of giving. 

Embracing Denial

So I know that denial is actually a bad thing... But today, I don't care. If denial is what gets me through the day, then SO BE IT... I must Deny.

So what am I in denial about?

1. My son starts kindergarten next year
2. My kitchen floor, or more appropriately the gunk that is hiding my kitchen floor
3. My load of laundry in the drier that is covered with a bucket of lint
4. My stack of presents that need wrapping, but I don't want to waste paper
5. My moldy vegetables and jars of who knows what in the deep recesses of my fridge
6. My friendly black widow spider that greats me each time I enter the garage
7. My garden that apparently has attracted vermin of unknown kind and refuses to sprout
8. My beautiful bright orange sugar pie pumpkins that have been on my counter since October


So, is there anything terribly wrong about pretending that these things are not important? That I don't need to worry about them? Is is possible that they will go away?

Truthfully, only one of those things is truly important. So what if my floor is dirty, that my presents will be haphazardly wrapped at the last minute, that my clothes are covered in lint and wrinkled, that I have a science experiment in my fridge or an odd fly trap. Does it really matter that my garden isn't producing or that I will be eating pumpkins in February? No.

What is important, is the one that scares me the most... my number one. What haunts me throughout the night, yet paralyzes me during the day. My son, my first born starts SCHOOL next year... and I haven't figured out where yet. OUCH! Ok, I've admitted it. Guess I can't embrace denial if I am admitting. Oh, but I long for denial. A place where I can pretend an important decision like that doesn't exist, or were I don't have to constantly feel guilty for not calling and visiting every school in the area.

In honor of truth, I must admit, I am terrified. Not of him, not of school, but of making the wrong decision. How do you know what the right school is? What makes a good school? What does my child need to succeed? How much is too much? Or how little is too little?

I ask the questions, and still feel lost. And so, until Christmas is over, I choose to embrace denial, so I can sleep at night, tackle my laundry, scrub a floor and wrap gifts. I might even bake a pumpkin as well.

Trusting the Griller

The other day, I coerced my husband into enter a grilling contest. He had received 2nd place the previous year and I was determined to show his (my) skills off again this year. I spent hours going over marinade options, took all three kids to the store to purchase the meat (not an easy task) and carefully created the perfect "brew" for my tri-tip. I also  turned the meat every two hours to ensure thorough marination and on the day of the bbq, I was the one that put everything together so we were ready. Then I looked at my husband and said, " don't screw it up". Ok, I didn't really say that, but I thought it.
The contest, held at our church's annual memorial day picnic, wasn't complicated, and only a few people entered. We got to the park early, I was hungry to compete. My husband was not. Over the course of the next two hours, I spent more time moaning, groaning, humming and ha-ing over how my husband was cooking the meat. "Babe, don't you think you should start the meat?" "Is the grill hot enough?" "Did you turn it to soon?" "Let it rest longer." "You're cutting it to thick." "Those pieces are to big." "Why haven't you covered it?"
My poor husband, he didn't even want to participate in the contest in the first place, and here he was, being micro managed, nit-picked and criticized instead of hanging with the guys or playing with the kids. After the picnic was over, I began to ponder what happened. Had I ever really given him control? Was it really about him? Why had I even asked him to grill the meat? Then, the thoughts went deeper. Is this how I am with God? Have I ever really given him control? Do I sit there and nit-pick how he does things? Do I try to micro-manage my own life? How many times have I told God that I want to do something, ask Him to accomplish it for me and then sit there and complain about how it isn't going the way I want it to. Do I tell Him that He is doing it wrong? Do I even give control over to Him so that He can do it?

Proverbs 3:5-6 says "Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. ⁶ Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take (NLT)."  The Message put it this way, " Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he's the one who will keep you on track. Don't assume that you know it all. Run to God! Run from evil! (vs. 5-7)" 


Why do I fear letting go so deeply. I have this reoccurring nightmare that haunts me. I find myself thrown into a moving van, and I am expected to drive the van from the back seat. We are talking about a fifteen passenger van and I'm steering from the fourth or fifth row. As I careen through traffic I desperately try to make it to the front of the car so I can see what I am doing and not get myself killed. I usually wake up in a panic right before I crash into something. When I don't trust God and follow Him, am I trying to steer my life from the back seat?  Or worse, am I telling God that I trust his driving and then tell him that he is going to fast, or that he is going the wrong way? Is it even possible to navigate through life with such a limited view? What does it mean to actually trust someone enough to let go and not be a back seat driver?
In order to put my trust in someone, I have to decide who I want to be in control.  I have to decide if I want my husband to be in control of the meat or myself. If I am the one doing all the prep for the meat, I should just be the one to grill it, I shouldn't ask someone else to do what I want to do. If I do decide that I want my husband to do it, that means handing over the whole task, and only doing what I've been asked. I must follow his leadership even if I disagree because he is the one in control.
With God, I have to decide who I want to be in control of my life. The one who knows everything, understands everything and loves me, or myself, the one with in the back seat who can't see much through all the seats, head rests and pillows (because there are always pillows in my way, don't ask). I must stop assuming I know all, stop trying to figure things out on my own, and let Him be the one who keeps me on track. All with my mouth closed, after all if I truly trusted, would I have anything to say?

Chocolate Frozen Yogurt

My heater is on, I'm in long sleeves, pants and sox, and the sky is cloudy, but dog on it, it is June and I wanted to make frozen yogurt. Ever since I started buying whole milk plain yogurt, the frozen treat has been beckoning me. Today, I gave in and decided to go for it, winter weather and all.
I was not planning on making chocolate, but in a moment of brief insanity, I asked my son what he wanted. And just like his mama would have said at his age, chocolate was the flavor of choice. I actually wanted strawberry, which I will have to make another day. I started by looking at two recipes on line, but didn't like the sound of either. They used either to much milk, heavy cream or to many eggs. What's a girl to do? Throw out the recipe's and play of course. The result is a tart, creamy and very chocolaty frozen yogurt that is begging for fresh raspberries and whipped cream.

Chocolate Frozen Yogurt
1/2 cup milk
2 Tbs cocoa (heaping)
2/3 cup sugar (I used sugar in the raw)
1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips ( preferably a higher quality like Trader Joe's)
1 egg yolk, whisked
2 1/2 cups whole plain yogurt
1 tsp vanilla

Heat milk in heavy saucepan over medium heat, whisk in cocoa and sugar until smooth. Add chocolate and whisk till smooth. Add two to three table spoons of hot chocolate mixture to egg and whisk to temper. Add egg to chocolate and whisk. Remove from heat. Fold chocolate mixture and vanilla into yogurt. Refrigerate till cool, approximately 1 hour. Pour chocolate yogurt into ice cream maker and follow manufacturer's instructions. Store in freezer in an air tight container.