Surprised by Joy

Sassy Blueberry Spice Muffins

2011-09-12T14:54:00.000-07:00

My big brother texted yesterday, a rare event. "I'm so over this whole TX thing." By that he meant he misses us!
The momentousness of the occasion caused a familiar feeling of homesickness to well up and somehow I found myself googling homes for sale in St. Charles. I guess it wasn't serious, at least not for right now. God seems to have us where he wants us right now, and as many guesses as I may have to his reasons, I don't really know why or until when.
So, stuffing down my desire to plan and conspire, I embraced my feelings by making my favorite treat from home, that I used to beg my mom to make for me, with my own personal kick. And I had help from my favorite person ever!

These muffins are made with lots of whole grains and get a brown nutty flavor from the almond meal. Instead of white sugar I went with brown rice syrup, which provides the sweetness you need but its low glycemic value means you skip the sugar rush (a very important factor for a baker with a devoted sweet tooth and with a family history of diabetes!) My very special helper ate almost all the blueberries, but fortunately I had some fresh blackberries on hand, so I deviated from your traditional blueberry muffins by going for extra tangy. I then played around with lemon juice and sour cream. Ezra loved the topping made with dry milk powder (added calcium) and real maple sugar. Sweet enough to conquer your cravings but savory enough to enjoy as a warm breakfast with a nice slab of butter. Mmm. Oh, and for my gluten-intolerant friends, go ahead and substitute 1 cup of your favorite all-purpose flour mix for the whole wheat and all-purpose portions.

Sassy Blueberry Spice Muffins:
(adapted from Good to the Grain)

Nut Topping (opt):
1c walnuts
1/4 c unsulphured molasses
1 TBSP sugar
Pinch kosher salt

Sweet Topping (opt in place of nut topping):
1 c dry milk powder
1/4 c maple sugar

Dry Mix:
1 c Almond flour
1/2 c quinoa flour
1/2 c whole wheat flour
1/2 c all-purpose flour
1/8 c sugar
1 TBSP baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp kosher salt
1 TBSP cinnamon
2 tsp ginger
1 tsp allspice
1/8 tsp cloves
4 oz (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened

Wet Mix:
1/2 c whole milk
1/2 c unsweetened applesauce
1/2 c rice syrup
1/4 c sour cream
2 TBSP lemon juice
2 eggs
1/2 pint blueberries
1/2 pint blackberries

Preheat oven to 350 and toast walnuts 10-15 minutes until golden. Mix together dry ingredients and beat in butter until it has a cornmeal texture. In a separate bowl, combine wet ingredients, then beat in with the flour mixture until just mixed. Add berries and scoop into muffin tins until even with the top of the pan. If using nut topping, chop walnuts and combine with molasses, sugar, and salt. Top each muffin and press gently into the batter. If using the sweet topping, sprinkle each ingredient lightly over top of the batter. Place in oven and bake for 24-26 minutes, rotating half way. Allow to cool slightly before removing and enjoy!

No Friend to Fear

2011-08-31T06:12:00.000-07:00

Who is this person? I don't know, can't think, because I am paralyzed by my own fear. Fear--a relatively new and shockingly frequent emotion for me these days. What happened to the girl who valued boldness and excitement? The one who lived to be matched against a bigger, stronger forward in basketball, or for the soccer games that required constant dives and 1-on-1 confrontations and ended in shoot-outs? Who could not imagine a better life than one filled with globetrotting, bungee jumping, and sky diving. Broken bones, mono, lack of money, terrorist activities, and scary mysterious lung illnesses--none of this prevented me from continuing with life or caused me to worry at all.

But now, everything is different. One touch from the tiny, burning little fists, accompanied by the slightest exhausted and uncomfortable whimper, and I am totally gripped by this alien emotion, fear. Anxiety makes its complete hostile takeover. I am out of my depth, out of control, out of ideas.

I had noticed the night before that something was off. But there was no accompanying fever or other symptoms. In the morning there was a low-grade fever, but otherwise he was back to his normal self. Then that afternoon, after babysitting Rachel told me he'd fallen asleep on the couch while listening to music. What? It sounds like a whisper to me, because my thoughts are whirling furiously, anxiously seeking to bring order to what is happening, while concern bumps gently against the corners of my mind . For my son to fall asleep in the middle of the day, in the middle of a room, unaided...that is just completely unheard of. Something is going on here. When I pick him up his skin feels hot. He is clingy. I am grateful it was Rachel that was with him while I was gone.

I do my best to comfort him, nurse him for a few minutes, although he's recently been weaned from daytime feedings. He is straining towards me physically, mentally, emotionally, needing me to DO something. Our bodies are fused as one, and I move us to the living room. His fever feels out of control, so I give him ibuprofen. Before it hits the back of his throat, its up. And out, and all over me, the floor, the couch, the dog. He is vomiting up more than I thought possible for his small body to hold, and he's trying again to bury himself into me, protect himself from these violent convulsions. I have a moment's clarity to think I'm so glad we don't have carpets and then its coming again and I'm holding both of us over the sink, trying to comfort him as he heaves and whimpers.

It's the whimper that forces a crack in my reserves and allows the fear to come sweeping in. It is tiny and powerless and barely there. Since the moment my son burst onto the scene a year and nearly 2 months ago, his vocal prowess was there with him, round, full, and LOUD. Even as an infant he was short on cutesy gurgles and big on grunts, deep belly laughs, and all out cries that were powerful enough to shatter a few windows.

So, I find us sitting in the tub, fully clothed, my normally aqua-crazed son only mildly interested in the warm stream. The dog walks in casually, clearly having done her part to clear up the mess on the floor, and my own desire to heave has me wondering if whatever germ is attacking Ezra is in my system as well. This is the state my husband finds us in. My wonderful husband who lovingly shoulders the burden of care, sharing this moment with me, cleaning and dressing our slightly less feverish son while I wash the sickness from me.

The night does not include much sleep for any of us. Ezra finds the fever left his lungs unaffected, and having rediscovered his voice is determined that his father and uncle share in his wakefulness in spite of my best efforts. It is hours of battle, but at some point in the early morning hours, his fever finally breaks, and his sweat-drenched body instantly gives in to a restful sleep in my arms.

I am not so lucky, as my mind is racing and spirit heavy. I alternately pray and soul-search, feeling guilty any time my focus slips to my own soul, rather than steadily interceding on behalf of the helpless one in my care. Finally, because my brain insists and will not receive sleep until I give it what it wants, I allow myself to dwell on what is in my mind. Who is this person? Fear is not a reaction I enjoy or condone. But while I have never feared for myself, I cannot seem to shake my terror for this little child that I love so much. That I love so much. The voice nudges me. I try to ignore it, but it persists, louder. That I love so much. That I love more than you. That I created. That I delight in. That I have a perfect plan for. Finally I let it wash over me. God, who loves Ezra more than even his own mother is able, has a perfect plan for him. But is it one that I trust? Intellectually, yes. But emotionally? Not because I don't believe God to be good, or that his plan for Ezra is good. I could never doubt that. But because I do not want to relinquish the semblance of control I have over this child's life. Because I fear that God's perfect plan could also include pain or separation for me. I choose safety and comfort over goodness over and over, every day. You forget, that steady voice interrupts my thoughts. I love you as much as I love him. I delight in you. I have a plan for you, and it too is good. Trust me.

I find myself relieved at the reminder of this very basic truth. And I realize that for God to have trusted me with the care of this tiny, finite being, Ezra must not be so fragile as I think. And at the very end of every day, God is always good. If I let myself be ruled by apprehension about fevers and falls and every possible evil in this world, I will miss out on all the bounteous goodness this life has to offer. And, as my mother loves to remind me, if there is any justice in the world one day my son will probably run off to Africa anyway.

The Weight of Glory

2011-06-11T17:26:00.000-07:00

Frustrated. Joel and I pick up our protesting almost-one-year-old and hop in the car out of parental desperation. I'm not frustrated at my son, necessarily. Frustrated that he woke up at 5 this morning, yes. Frustrated that he refused to nap anywhere near his normal schedule or close to the amount he needs, definitely. And frustrated that he can't communicate whatever it is that is bothering him, not hurting him but making his day ever-so-off until we are clamoring to find something within a 50-mile radius that will distract him for a few hours.
On my way out the door, on a whim, I grab my book, Sacred Parenting. Not sure if I want to hear what it has to say today, but pretty sure I need it!

The tagline: How Raising Children Shapes Our Souls. On many days, I feel like raising a child has made my soul worse. On other days, it tears it to shreds. And on still other days I see reflections of glory. In reality, raising a child shows my soul in its unaltered state, in all its ugliness and vulnerability, and of is greatest potential to love.

Chapter 12: Sacrifice. "In many ways, sacrifice defines love." Regularly parents and children have conflicting wants. Often, they have conflicting needs. In these situations, whose needs prevail? It is the right of the child to receive more than just the leftovers. To an extent, my life ended when my child was born. On these days, where Ezra is straining me to my core to care for him and love him fully, I have faith that God is buffing away the ugly parts of my soul, those tarnished bits and pieces that have never been touched by anyone else! And he does it all through the most precious of gifts, that I love more than I ever thought imaginable, while at the same time see my own extreme selfishness as I resent lack of time, sleep, energy, privacy, stimulation, socialization...my list could go on. Then God reminds me, he's entrusted this small soul to me. The eternal significance of my work now at times buries me under the weight of glory. But I persevere. I raise my child. I love my child. And trust that in my weakness He is strong!

Think you are Eating Smart? Maybe Not!

2011-06-07T20:27:00.000-07:00

For a long time I've been eating organically (when possible) and trying to limit processed foods. Ever since I found out there was possibilities of pus and blood to be found in mainstream milk, I was set on a path to really examine what is really in my food and where it comes from. Robyn O'Brien addresses another concern that I had never even thought about as she looks into why certain chronic illnesses wrack Americans at a higher rate than any other nation when we also have access to some of the best healthcare professionals in the world! Since my son and 2 of his cousins have been dealing with food allergies since infancy, none of whom have a family history of food allergies, I was really interested and concerned by her research into the food industries and some very dangerous trends that are affecting our families. Take a couple minutes and check it out! Also, her website is here, and it has a lot of very simple first steps, and takes a very overwhelming and complicated topic and breaks it down to a very managable lifestyle for the average consumer.

Clean Water for Elirose

2011-04-11T11:50:00.000-07:00

For 2 years Joel and I pumped our own water into old 20 liter oil containers that we had first scoured clean. After waiting most of the day, we lugged them 200 yards or so to our home. Fortunately for us, our village had a working (most of the time) foot pump that accessed water from deep within the water table, and went straight into our buckets without being contaminated. This pump was located fairly close to our house,and still by the time we made it home we were huffing and puffing and covered in sweat and grime.

Buuut....On the occasions where the pumps broke, this is what the alternative water source looked like:

Lets just say it was not the cleanest water. And at least a 20-30 minute walk from our house (with empty water containers!) Fortunately for the Americans, back home we had fancy shmancy water filters! Not so for everyone else in our village. Which is why a big part of my training included water purification and prevention/treatment of diarrheal disease.

This type of situation and worse goes on all over the world. Clean water is going to be THE defining humanitarian issue throughout this century. But its also a relatively simple problem to solve.

Which is why I'm backing this awesome initiative to train our children how to live right, and help others live well. Check it out at: Clean Water for Elirose. This is not your normal children's book, and it is guaranteed to not only raise awareness but also promote simple yet effective action.

Please take a few minutes and check it out! I happen to know the author and he is one of the most passionate and well-informed guys out there (You can check him out at Trying to Follow: Thoughts on the Journey). Just give the book a look, and if you don't feel like participating, at the very least you can read it for free online and share it with your own family!

Another Weird Thought

2011-04-03T19:31:00.000-07:00

Along the same lines, I was thinking today about formula. Giving Ezra formula was never an option, because he displayed allergies to cow's milk protein, and possibly soy, the 2 main options for formula (unless you want to spend thousands on chemically created hypoallergenic formula made of God-knows what--no thank you!). His tummy could only handle mommy's milk. So I was thinking, what if we had formula modified from actual humans' milk? I got an image of hard-working women at an assembly line donating their milk. And my thought was--gross!! Just like I know everyone else's would be. My mind went to their diet, health, medications, chemical exposure, vitamins, possible contamination, and so on.

I offer you this strange image because it sparked a thought--why don't we have the same concern for the actual formulas that we buy for our babies? What is the diet of those cows? How is their health? What kind of medications are they given? How sanitary are the facilities? And why would it be so gross to have formula processed from our intended source?

I know I don't know much about baby formula or how it is created, except that it has a base of cow's milk. And while I'm sure I would have looked for an organic option, it still doesn't answer any of those questions. Here are the ingredients on an organic label: Organic Reduced Minerals Whey, Organic Non-Fat Milk, Organic Lactose, Organic Glucose Syrup Solids, Organic Palm Oil Or Organic Palm Olein, Organic Coconut Oil, Organic High Oleic (Safflower Or Sunflower Oil), Organic Soy Oil, Organic Whey Protein Concentrate. Then of course they are fortified with vitamins.

I'm not really making a statement here. Just thinking publicly.

A Weird Thought

2011-04-03T19:20:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about boobs lately. Weird, I know. But our society has such a twisted focus on anatomy. While I lived in Mauritania I saw enough boobs to last a lifetime. They were functional, like an arm or a leg, and about as sexual as my big toe. They weren't a topic of conversation or of lust. They just were.

A couple nights ago on the news they were talking about this doll.
It is a doll that makes the motions of breastfeeding. It comes with an apron for the little girl to wear, so there is no physical contact and nothing indecent about it. However, Americans are in an uproar and have decided it is completely inappropriate! Apparently we are supposed to let little kids "remain children," and that it is gross and weird. But why are people really so disturbed by this? Surely my niece, who is 3, would enjoy this doll. She has a little brother and mimics all aspects of his care with her own baby doll, and I have witnessed part of that includes nursing! Isn't that part of being children? There is nothing sexual about this doll, but I get the feeling that our hyper-sexual culture is as uncomfortable as they would be if it was a little stripper doll--maybe even more so!

Does anyone have any thoughts about this?

Raspberry Avocado Truffle Pie

2011-03-23T20:25:00.000-07:00

My 5 1/2 year old niece may not have fully appreciated it, but this delicious treat is a delightful way to celebrate the return of spring--or the birth of amazing sister-in-laws! It is super easy to make, only 6 ingredients and its dairy-free and gluten-free! What more could you ask for? I made this for Elise's birthday, because here in Texas we ring in the spring as early as February (lest you think I'm gloating, our spring is also tragically short-lived; last year it shriveled up in the heat by April!).
Enjoy!

-2 large avocados, mashed
-3 T orange juice (more or less to taste)
-14 oz baking chocolate or chocolate chips (or Enjoy Life chocolate chips for dairy free!)
-1 T vanilla extract
-1/3 cup rice milk (or regular milk)
-16 oz fresh raspberries

Mix avocados with orange juice. Meanwhile slowly melt chocolate over double boiler and add vanilla extract and milk option. If using bittersweet chocolate, add maple syrup or sugar to lightly sweeten. Once the mixture is smooth and evenly dissolved, remove from heat and combine with avocado mixture. Pour over fresh raspberries and add a final layer of berries on top. Refridgerate until firm, and then enjoy in small, decadent slices!

Eva wishes she could have some!

Love Keeps No Record of Wrongs

2011-02-09T20:12:00.000-08:00

Wow. Read that title again. I mean, really, read it. Then let it sink it (and repeat if necessary).

That phrase comes from the classic description of true love found in 1 Corinthians 13. I have had this passage memorize for years. In two different languages.

And yet...

Lying in bed tonight I found myself doing it. As I have so often done it. Going through my list. That mental list of times I've been wronged. Of things that I am owed. Of what I should have said. Of what I would say now. The dishes--left undone--again. Broken headphones. Empty gas tank. Rude jokes. Experiences denied. Hurtful words. Times left out.

And I was interrupted by a whisper.

Love keeps no record of wrongs.

The wind went rushing out of my gut as that gentle whisper wrapped itself around my head like a fog. A simple phrase. A well-known verse. Pounded into my brain for years, but I never once had the thought that I thought tonight:

If that is love, who do I love? Do I really love anyone at all?

I don't want to be that person. I refuse to be that person. I refuse to live in bitterness or regret. I refuse to relish the mental replay of what I could have said to cut a person to size. I refuse to wallow in self-pity or martyrdom. I choose love. Forget the dishes. Lose the record.

Take a moment. Who do you love? And then answer this: how well do you love them? Are you willing to truly love and lose any record of wrongs?

Being an Environmentally Conscious Mama

2011-01-31T17:30:00.000-08:00

Is it possible to be an environmentally conscious global citizen as well as an overwhelmed mama? I think I've found the answer:

No.

I read somewhere that mothers are the champions at harboring guilt. House is never clean enough, child is never nurtured enough, husband is never cared for enough, etc, etc. So, as a result I've decided to simplify my life and take a 30 day paper challenge.

For the next 30 days, I am using all disposable dishes. I've hidden our dishes from the menfolk and bought paper products (except for silverware--I draw the line at forks that break off while trying to eat!). I am no longer adding to the mound of recycling that piles up so high we cannot open our back door (Houston is located in the heart of oil country and therefore does not encourage recycling...wannabe green consumers have to drive to the nearest center in order to recycle!). And guess what. I am refusing to feel guilty about it! And maybe, just maybe, during the next 30 days I'll get a handle on my inferiority complex about how I'll never be as good of a mom as my own mother. And maybe I'll quit feeling guilty about spending time with my son or checking my email without having to avoid the kitchen all day long because of my guilt about the dishes that have piled up.

The earth is important, but so is my family and my mental health. I've prided myself on being "green" since college when I first learned that non-organic milk can be full of pus. But now I've realized there is a balance to be maintained. And a family living within that balance is both a happy family and a responsible family. No, I don't think living on paper products is the answer. But I do think it is ok to allow this time to help my family find that answer. And in the meantime I'm going to play with my son and not tap my foot anxiously waiting for naptime so that I can do work, because that is no way to live!

Don't worry, once I find out how to live green AND sane, I will let you all know.

Are You as Money Savvy as You Think? (Public Service Announcement)

2011-01-28T18:00:00.000-08:00

I read somewhere sometime that people lose an average of $1,000 YEARLY in medical and insurance billing errors. The article said you should always be vigilant about checking over your bills and keeping records. Insurance companies can be lazy or downright corrupt in the amounts they bill. Doctors offices sort through lots of payments, confusing and elusive insurance agents. Often, bills come back with errors or incomplete payments. But since its usually been months since the actually visit, and the language itself can be so confusing, and service reps hours so inconvenient that even if you notice an inconsistency its easier to just pay the bill!

I'm sure I've overpaid my fair share. But this past year with Ezra I knew money would be tight for us, and bills would be coming in from many different places so I decided to be vigilant. Despite the inconvenience of checking bills, calling offices, calling companies all the while dealing with a newborn, I persevered. The results are still pending for further savings (or I guess I should say overall less spendings), but so far I have avoided paying $702 in false charges!

Some things I caught:
-incorrect treatment date billed by doctors and subsequently denied by my insurance
-wrong member ID number (dr office duplicated a digit in the middle of while coding)
-incorrect coding of services by dr's office
-random duplicate bill indicating additional (accidental) charges

Basically, I had to wade through a lot of technical language and ended up frequently calling my insurance and doctors' and labs. Anytime a bill looked too high, or if it didn't have an insurance payment I called. It took an average of 3 calls to get each bill resolved. I received several "final notices" that threatened collection agencies while I was working to get the payments worked out. Currently, I am even appealing my bill from Ezra's delivery back in June, which I think was grossly underpaid! Hopefully I'll get another couple hundred dollars knocked off, which will bring us right up to that $1,000 marker for the year! Guess whoever wrote that estimate was right!

So, word to the wise--read your bills before you pay them! Call your insurance companies (the 800 number on the back of your card) and ask them about it. Often they will go through the bill with you and itemize how much they paid and why. Or, if it is a mistake on the end of your dr's office, your rep can call with you on the line to get it resolved. It may be a lot of time and effort, but definitely worth it for the money saved!

The Precious

2011-01-27T16:40:00.000-08:00

"My Precious..." The whisper echoes through the air as a hand gently strokes its most precious object of desire. The caress is loving, possessive. Another voice breaks into the stillness. It is commanding, authoritative, yet full of compassion. "It's been called that before..."

All of a sudden I am brought jarringly back to the present, and look down at those dumpling cheeks that I love so much to kiss with a new perspective. The journey that I am right now on is not so different than that our beloved little hobbit friends took many years ago through Middle Earth.

**Please don't picture me now as a withered drooling bug-eyed shell of a person, hunched over my baby (for those of you that aren't LotR fans, just ignore that image)**

Take a moment. Hear me out. For those of you that are mothers, or parents, this is not a difficult stretch of imagination. As I sat today, rocking my little munchkin to sleep I realized with startling clarity that no matter what I may think, the precious little bundle in my lap was not mine. In spite of the numerous pronouns and adjectives that I may use to describe him, my son, Ezra, has only been entrusted to me for a short while. On this journey, similar to the one embarked upon by 9 friends from a different world, I am responsible for the well-being of something small and infinitely valuable. He is mine to protect and carry along the same path until I return him to whence he came (which is where the analogy loses steam-the implications of the end of this journey is far less ominous as I have no intention of tossing him into a fire pit now or ever!).

However, I don't have the ultimate say on what he does, who he becomes, or what happens to him. I am ushering a fellow soul towards his destiny, but I am not in control, nor dare I attempt to possess him. Frodo was not to wear the ring, and could not wield its power. And while for now Ezra may need to be cared for physically as a child, he has a soul that will be eternal.

It is both reassuring and terrifying. Reassuring that my failings are not the end-all in his development. Reassuring that if I do not exact complete control over his surroundings (obsess over the car seat, stuffed animals in his crib, food allergies, germs, cold weather, hot weather, peers, role models, etc etc...) he is not automatically doomed. And yet it is terrifying. Terrifying to leave him in the hands of an almighty God. Terrifying to realize that I cannot exact complete control over his surroundings. Terrifying that in spite of desperate prayers for safety, health, wise decisions, and infinite happiness, he may end up with something completely different.

But I have faith. I choose reassurance over terror. I recognize that unlike Lord of the Rings, my Lord seeks set us free from the darkness rather than bind us. And as his mother, my duty is to usher Ezra into His presence and raise him into the man he is supposed to be. "The ring yearns to go home, to return to the hand of its Master." So my son, already since the day he was born has been yearning to return to his Master.

Merry Christmas to all!

2010-12-20T20:59:00.001-08:00

Picture Joy Christmas

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Christmas Spirit, Brought to you by the Ultimate Peppermint Ganache Brownies

2010-12-14T21:24:00.000-08:00

So, this weekend I finally obtained the Christmas spirit, ushered in by a piney fresh Christmas tree, excessive carols, time to gift-brainstorm, and some of the most delicious brownies I have ever eaten or made! It is only fair that I share the recipe with the world, especially since I managed to make them gluten, dairy, soy, egg, and nut free, as well as low sugar and low fat! Hooray! I'm really getting excited about Christmas this year, thinking about Ezra's first Christmas and how to start making things special for him, even though this year he won't remember anything, or enjoy these delicious brownies. But you will!!

Ultimate Peppermint Gnache Brownies (as adapted from Kiss My Spatula)
Ingredients

    * 8 tbsp butter (I use applesauce for a low-fat version)
    * 6 ounces good-quality bittersweet chocolate, broken into large chunks (I use Theo dark chocolate:
   organic, fair trade and does not contain soy or dairy)
    * 3 eggs (I find ENER G gluten-free egg replacer to be the best for baking)
    * 1 cup sugar (I use maple syrup for a reduced-sugar version)
    * 3/4 tbsp vanilla
    * 1/4 teaspoon salt
    * 3/4 cup all purpose flour (There are many gluten-free flour mixes there. Any all-purpose mix will
       do, or you can make your own. I've done both, currently I'm using Better Batter which has a very
   unobtrusive flavor, unlike many gf mixes)
    * 1/4 cup cocoa powder
    * 1/2 tsp baking powder
    * 40 or more Starlight mints (I have not tried this with candy canes, but I intend to after recently
       discovering Tru Sweets candy canes, which are seriously THE BEST candy canes I have ever
       tasted. This is saying something, since I consider myself somewhat of a candy cane connoisseur.
   Tru Sweets uses all natural ingredients, no artificial flavors or coloring, no corn syrup, is gluten
   free and kosher. Happy Hanukkah!)
    * 1/3 pound semisweet chocolate, chopped (I use Enjoy Life chocolate chips, free of all 8 major
   allergens and still taste good!)
    * 3/4 cup whipping cream (Try Native Forest Organic Coconut Milk, classic for a non-dairy version.
Changes the flavor slightly, but not in a bad way, and captures the right consistency in a way
many imitations do not.)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350°. Grease a 9×13 inch baking pan. In a medium saucepan, stir butter and bittersweet
chocolate over very low heat with a heatproof rubber spatula until just melted--do not let simmer or boil. Remove from heat and let cool slightly, about 5 minutes. In a large bowl, whisk eggs, sugar, vanilla, and salt. Slowly pour chocolate-butter mix into egg mix, whisking constantly. In separate bowl, sift flour, cocoa powder, and baking powder. With a clean rubber spatula, gently fold flour mixture into egg mixture until just combined. Spread batter evenly in baking pan. Bake 20 to 25 minutes, or until brownies are firm, beginning to pull away from sides of pan, and a toothpick inserted in center emerges with only a few crumbs clinging to it. Let brownies cool completely in the pan on a wire rack.

Reduce oven temp to 300°. Line a level, rimmed 11 1/2×16 inch baking sheet with parchment. With a pencil, draw a grid of 1 1/2 inch squares on parchment, leaving about a 1 inch border, and turn parchment over. Place a mint in the center of each square. Bake 15 to 25 minutes, or until completely melted into 1 large sheet, but remove before candy begins to turn yellow. Immediately score peppermint squares with a pizza cutter, using pencil lines as your guide. If scored lines don’t hold, rescore quickly. Let candy cool completely. Gently break into squares along score lines. (You may want to make a test batch with 12 mints to see if you need to adjust oven temperature or spacing of candies).

In the top of a double boiler, combine chopped semisweet chocolate and whipping cream. Cook, stirring often, until melted and blended (In the case of coconut milk, allow it to cook on low until slightly thickened). Remove from heat and let ganache cool until just warm. Pour ganache over cooled brownies in pan and allow to set until firm, about 1 hour in the refrigerator.

Place peppermint squares bottom side up on ganache, leaving enough room between squares to cut brownies. Cut brownies into squares along edges of peppermint tops, wiping knife clean between cuts. Remove brownies from pan, eats scraps, and return brownies to pan. Cover with plastic wrap, making sure wrap does not touch peppermint, and refrigerate 3 hours (candy will soften slightly). Share at any holiday gathering--these will go fast!!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Delicious Gluten-Free (Everything-Free) Bread!!

2010-11-21T18:35:00.000-08:00

I mentioned in my last post my frustrations with my new allergy-inflicted diet of nothingness. Although I have managed to lose those last 6 stubborn pounds of baby weight plus 7 more, the real challenge has been re-learning how to cook, and finding the time to do it in! But for those of you that know me know that I'm always up for a challenge and this one I've embraced wholeheartedly. Let's be honest, I love to eat, it is a physical, mental, social, and at times even spiritual experience that I'm not going to give up on just because everything that tastes good is off-limits! The holiday season is coming up and it is the food highlight of my year. I'm gonna be busy. Fortunately, God the Creator made us in his own image, so its time to kick those CREATIVE juices in high gear!!

My first step was to read labels. After reading labels I realized in frustration that almost nothing is safe. Even stuff that looks safe has hidden codes like: flavors, emulsifiers, and stabilizers, that automatically put me on the red alert. So I've gone back to the basics and had to break things down by ingredient. Fresh foods are my friends! Grilled chicken, rice, fresh veggies and olive oil were staples for a while. Homemade smoothies, hummus, and organic corn tortilla chips were my best friends. But the same fare day after day gets pretty old. And there's just one thing that was always missing...

Every culture has it. That one food staple that if you took away their entire nutritional pyramid would crumble. Their restaurants would close and ovens go cold. For the Irish its the potato. The Chinese have their rice. Mediterranean cuisine has the pita, and Mexico the tortilla. And we are no different. You already know where I'm going.

Bread.

We find a way to insert our favorite carbohydrate in almost any meal, sometimes in multiple forms. It doesn't feel like a meal without it. I can eat a steak and plate full of vegetables, and still wander around the kitchen looking for something to cram in my mouth because no matter how full I get I just don't feel satisfied. So, on this gluten-free diet I've gone weeks without feeling satisfied. That is until I found this post for delicious gluten free, dairy free, egg free, soy free bread!

I was skeptical at first. What exactly is in this bread anyway? How can it possibly taste good? But the comments at the bottom of the post shouted their approval. So, it seemed worth a try.

First step, gathering my ingredients. That part was relatively easy. Even my local grocery store has a small specialty section that holds a host of gluten free flours. And the one thing I've found is that in replacing flours in any recipe, you can't just take out wheat and replace it with something else. There is a delicate combination of flours that must be attempted and it is quite a balance! I'm thankful for everyone that has done the legwork for me to find the right combos so that I don't have to do it. I'd have given up long before discovering sorghum flour, that's for sure!!

Shopping bag in hand, I approached my kitchen with trepidation. I had never tried to make homemade bread before. I have had a breadmaker since my wedding 5 years ago, a cherished gift that I have been too intimidated to use. The blog promised it was easy. The directions are for oven-baked bread, not breadmaker. So, conscious that I was entering into some sacred rite of passage, I followed the recipe doing my best and....Ta-da! Bread--actual delicious bread that was good enough to cry over. And I had done it all by myself! With that triumph, I felt empowered to get creative. And the confidence to go after my cravings, the beautiful food that I forced out of my mind for the next 8 months as I continue to nurse my everything-intolerant son.

The recipe that I came up with is inspired by Macaroni Grill's deliciously addicting bread. A couple years ago, when Joel and I were first married our close friend and neighbor worked at the Macaroni Grill. He would come home with fresh loaves of bread, their aroma seeping through their paper bags just begging to be doused in olive oil and eaten that night! It got to the point when, like pavlov's dog we would begin drooling right around closing time. Mmmm.

It's been several years since I've been to a Macaroni Grill, but I found myself craving those flavors again. So, I made myself some bread, and even my gluten-eating husband was in for a happy surprise! I only made one loaf and it did not last the day.

We tried it warm dipped in olive oil and basalmic vinegar. Mmmm...

A sandwich!! How long has it been?? Delicious barbecue chicken with grilled onions, homemade mayonnaise, cucumbers, and lettuce. Yum!

like I said, did not last long...

Having conquered the challenge of homemade oven-cooked bread, I finally tried my breadmaker. Let's be honest, my inborn lack of patience plus the demands of an infant means that I will ALWAYS cheat my bread on the amount of kneading as well as time to rise that it requires. This bread doesn't require a lot, but still my breadmaker attempt was just a bit fluffier when it came out, and ever so much easier!

Here is my recipe, (which as I mentioned is adapted from Sally Parrot's blog):

Yields: 1 loaf of bread

Ingredients:

* 3/4 cup millet flour

* 1/4 cup teff flour

* 1/2 cup sorghum flour

* 1/2 cup cornstarch

* 1 cup potato starch

* 1/2 cup tapioca flour

* 2 tsp xantham gum

* 2 tsp salt

* 1 tsp fennel

* 1 Tbsp rosemary

* 1 Tbsp garlic powder

* 1/4 cup sugar

* 2 tsp yeast

* 2 tsp olive oil

* 1 1/2 cup + 2 Tbsp warm (105-110 degree) water

Combine all flours, starches, xantham gum, salt, and spices. (I have a canister of already prepared flour. I took the amounts listed above and multiplied by the greatest common denominator to make a mix that I keep on hand (and have used for other recipes) which makes it even easier to make! All-in-all this bread takes me about 12 minutes to get together and the rest is up to my Breadman Ultimate.) If you don't have a breadmaker, from here on out follow the instructions listed in Sally's blog. If you are using a breadmaker, you are basically there. Pour water and olive oil in bottom of breadmaker. Add the sugar (this recipe is yeast-based so it needs sugar; I'm not sure how substitutes would work), followed by flour mixture. Make a small well at the top and add yeast, making sure it is not touching water. Close breadmaker, set on whole wheat, medium crust, rapid rise, wait 2 hours and voila! Be ready with butter or oil or whatever you want, and make sure you came with an appetite!!

Enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving!!

**Edit: for a golden crispy crust, coat in butter or olive oil and toast for 10 minutes or until crispy**

Giving Up a la Mom

2010-11-21T17:33:00.000-08:00

I mentioned several posts ago that my body is a temple. One thing I've discovered since becoming a mom--its certainly not a temple to me!! A lot of things go missing from your temple when you have a child--some things obvious, others not so obvious!

You start losing things with the pea still in the pod: curves in the right places, sleep, bladder stamina, lung space, and comfortable positions to sleep in.
Later, once the baby is out, you find you've lost some more things: sleep entirely, bladder control, personal time, showers, abdominal muscles, and that thick, luscious hair you developed while pregnant.

The one thing I was excited to hang on to was that super-boosted metabolism I developed while cooking the little bun. At least for a few months anyway while breastfeeding. A ravenous appetite and finally no limitations to what I can have! Or so I thought....

Then Ezra decided to develop persistent stomach issues. How did we discover this? The way you discover a lot of problems with babies--poop. I won't go into details on what it has looked like, but basically I have spent the last 3 months with my nose buried in dirty diapers, gooey, smelly, sometimes fizzy diapers. Ugh. If that wasn't enough to kill an appetite, the diagnosis: food allergies. Most likely culprit? Milk proteins. So I had to eliminate dairy from my diet. Along with dairy went its likely partner in crime--soy. Giving up dairy and soy was pretty killer--they are in EVERYTHING. And I LOVE ice cream. And cheese. And chocolate (did you know there is soy in almost all chocolate? I almost wouldn't have survived if not for Seattle-made Theo Chocolate bars, which at $4 a pop are a rare but worth-while treat!)

Unfortunately, dairy and soy were an improvement but not quite enough. So that mean TOTAL ELIMINATION. No, I haven't quit eating entirely. But total elimination means giving up all 8 major food allergens, dairy, soy, wheat/gluten, eggs, peanuts, nuts, fish, shellfish. Once symptoms disappear I can slowly add them back in, one at a time, minor offenders first. So I've done it--for the past 2 months. Yes, this makes me an awesome mom and no, I won't let Ezra forget it. But it is so hard! I am hungry all the time! And I just want some cheese, please. I have no idea what an emulsifier is, all I know is that I can no longer eat it, and it is in a lot of yummy things! And eating out has become such a chore, where I have to talk with managers, scour menus, and even after all that work Ezra often still seems to react to something.. What does that leave me you ask? Rice. And meat. An hours to shop, prepare, and cook from scratch. I'm back in Mauritania and I can't even throw in a Maggi cube for flavor because many spices have soy as a stabilizer!!

I guess this is one way to lose the baby weight.

The True Grace of Southern Womanhood

2010-11-03T21:34:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been embracing the 1950's woman in me. It may be a phase, a way to process motherhood and this stage of life as a homemaker. It may be a way for the type A side of me to excel at something--even not working. It may be a result of living in a new house and the opportunity to fix it up more than any of the previous apartments we have lived in. I don't know how long it might take for me to get bored as a stay at home mom, or yearn for the more academic, social, or physical fulfillment that I have been accustomed to pre-Ezra. But for now, I am actually having fun!

I've never coveted the title "Stay-At-Home-Mom." In my mind, that phrase is synonomous with "Just a Mom." But in the past several months, I have begun to learn that there is a true art to homemaking, something that can be done creatively and is worth taking pride in. Like most things of late, this has been triggered by Ezra--my desire to have a spotless home (as he lays on the floor and chews on everything), the need for a specific healthy diet, his pleasure in observing his surroundings. Conveniently, over the past year, I have learned a lot about homemaking from my in-laws (My own mother is amazing, a fantastic mom, immaculate housekeeper, excellent cook, ran a tight ship growing up, and excels at building home and hearth. One of her gifts is definitely hospitality. But for some reason I would never have classified her as a "homemaker." She'd probably take that as a compliment. Somehow the things she'd accomplish always seem nothing short of magic, with a result that leaves me mystified on how to replicate it. This is probably why I am still okay even as a grown woman with letting her clean my kitchen whenever she visits). Joel's family members are solid Texans, culturally speaking, without any of the obnoxious over-the-top Texas-worship for Texas's sake. Blame my honest Yankee upbringing, but observing different aspects of their cultural gender roles have at times rankled. I mean, how hard is it for a man to fix his own supper, wash a dish, or throw a load of laundry in the washer (or at the very least PICK UP his own laundry off the floor)? While I do enjoy having doors held for me, I'm quite capable of getting them myself and really would rather skip folding the clothes every now and then. As I've gotten to know my in-laws better, however, I've realized its not so much negligence or male chauvenism on Joel's father and brothers parts as it is an art form practiced by his mother and sisters. I have myself reaped the benefits of coming to the Duncan household hungry, pregnant, tired, whatever the state, and been cared for with completely unassuming and unpretentious acts of service. I have learned bits about the grace of homemaking from each one of my female in-laws.

-Mom Duncan prepares food in epic proportions, specializing in healthy, organic, and hearty ingredients that can nourish and sustain her army of a family. I will never be able to match the amount of precision that goes into her preparation and would never be able to manage even the grocery shopping! I have no idea how her house has survived 9 children, let alone seem clean and open, channeling light and warmth no matter the amount of foot traffic.

-Elise can throw together a plate of food (something I have always inwardly protested as something I can/should do for myself) that is not only painfully delicious but exquisite enough to be magazine-worthy in the ways that she drizzles sauce, spices, and garnishes to perfection. She has managed to learn the individual preferences of each family member enough to know that I will always perk up at the mention of avocado and lime, whereas Joel 10 times out of 10 will go for bbq or hot sauce. This is no easy feat when you realize that there are 18 immediate family members to keep track of, and any number of surrogate family members as well.

-Michelle quietly picks up the slack in any area that needs it and intuitively fills in the gaps without complaining or even needing to be asked. She has the gift of making you feel instantly at ease, of being welcoming and hospitable without ever feeling forced or like the hostess. From the sacred to the secular, the spectacular to the mundane, she always seems interested in what you have to say.

-Rachel has this elusive middle-child quality that I can't quite put my finger on to explain, but for lack of better words she is such a presence. I don't know how to describe it best except maybe through its absence. When she is gone, there are huge empty gaps in the house. She is not a noisy person, yet there is an eerie quiet. She is not an overly-energetic person (the kind that energizes you when they are there but leaves you exhausted when they are gone), but there is a distinctly subdued atmosphere when she goes back to school. And, she can bounce a baby for hours. LITERALLY. I get tired and am desperately looking for a pair of arms to pawn Ezra off on long before she does.

-Aleya has embraced her artsy side, but instead of being emo and completely closed off into that (most of the time :o) she is always catching beauty and sharing it with others. She has a way with words, with pictures, and an ability to reach out to anyone on any level without seeming judgmental or "better than." People who feel alone or misunderstood are very drawn to her compassion.

-Shannon is a woman of so many talents and gifts it is hard to name just one, but she has a depth of emotion and is full of "big thoughts." Although I've been on this earth for more than a decade longer than she has, she constantly challenges me to engage with ideas that I prefer to ignore. Plus, she is really fun to spike a volleyball at (or just hang out with :o).

-Youngest of all there is Claire. Spunky, sassy, sensitive Claire. She is quick to give her opinion, quick to tell a joke or a story, and quick to apologize. She's held Ezra for me until her arms were breaking. I've seen her play with other kids that I know are absolutely driving her nuts, but she doesn't let on at all.

-Before I finish, I would be remiss if I excluded Amanda, the newest Duncan sister. She has taught me so much about the power of surrender! She is the intellectual equal of anyone I know but is a master at defusing tensions through humility. Sometimes it is her silence, or the way she gracefully allows others to share their opinions without backing down that ultimately wins the battle.

I started this post intending to share some of the awesome ways I have recently learned to embrace my inner-homemaker. But somehow this has turned into an ode to the in-laws. In college I had an experience that soured me on GRITS (Girls Raised in the South), but I've learned a lot about being a southern woman and I am grateful that my husband has such an awesome family that I can get along with and learn from, even if we have different backgrounds and at times very different opinions on things! I miss my family every day, but it is such a blessing to have people that love me and Joel and Ezra, that welcome me home, even if it isn't Orth Drive.

UPCOMING: My ventures into the intimidating world of homemaking, a mother's love and my diet of nothingness, amazing homemade gluten-free soy-free dairy-free egg-free nut-free allergen-free bread and the best sandwich in the world!!

Beloved Son

2010-09-28T12:01:00.000-07:00

"For God SO loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life."

All my life, I thought I knew what those words meant. I thought I could understand that kind of love. I thought I knew why Jesus would die for me. I mean, I'm pretty special!

Not so now.

I have a son. His name is Ezra. My only son. My only begotten, beloved son. Would I give him up in a sacrifice for someone? Heck no. Without even blinking an eye, no matter the situation, I would walk--no run--away from that situation. Not for my brother or sister, father, best friend, or even my mother and my husband (sorry guys)! Even for all of them combined!! Would I consider it for the sake of the world? For a mess we'd gotten ourselves into and consequences we deserve? Would I even consider sacrificing myself, sweet, beautiful, innocent, beloved Ezra? Let somebody else do it. Even should he want to make that decision for himself, I would want to take him and hide.

So how in the world did God Himself give up His son, God in the flesh, to die for us? Someone so much more loveworthy than my own son (it hurts just to type that). Some might discount the tough love of the father (ahem, mother). However, I think it is instead His absolutely overwhelming love for us, a people so fallen, so uncreative and crude I don't even understand it. And yet, it happened.

All of a sudden this begins to have more meaning too: "Greater love hath no one than this: that he lay down his life for his friends." John 5:13

And this: "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die." Romans 5:7

Ezra cannot help but love me. Yes, he already gets mad at me sometimes, and I'm sure we will have our share of tough times when he hits those teenage years. But I have poured (and continue to pour) all of my love into him, and I can see it when his face lights up in those gummy smiles, or when he looks all around the room with his wobbly neck to find me, only me, his mother.

That's the kind of relationship that is described in 1 John 4:19: "We love because He first loved us." My capacity to love has increased so much over the last 3 months, more than I thought possible (like the Grinch). I am being taught to love by the Creator of love. And for the first time I am amazed the way I truly should be at His incomprehensible love for us. And ashamed at my lack of response to it.

My Body, the Temple

2010-06-10T10:36:00.000-07:00

Over the past few months I've been dwelling a lot on the passage in Corinthians that says: "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body."
As a child, I took that in a purely decorative sense: dress modestly, avoid tattoos, piercings, or other outrageous displays that might not represent Jesus.

I was reminded of this verse again today in the checkout line of the grocery store. I had bought a loaf of bread, and as it went down the conveyor belt I thought--mmm...sandwiches!! In one short week I can eat all of the deli meat and soft cheeses that I want!!

That may seem like a weird thought, but when you are pregnant there are a lot of seemingly benign foods on the no-no list: soft cheeses, deli meat (including my favorite--chicken salad!!), hot dogs, alcohol, caffeine, and certain kinds of fish. And those are just the big ones! As I've been caring for this new life inside of me, I have been SO much more aware of the things I've been putting in my body. Processed foods, fatty foods, high fructose corn syrup--any ingredient that I can't pronounce! The things I choose to consume go directly to my child, and the toxins that I encounter on a daily basis hit him at a much higher level in proportion to his tiny growing body.

It's not just foods, either. I look at stretch mark cream that is intended to be rubbed onto my belly and absorbed into my skin, and it has paraffin and other chemicals that are not always good for you--sometimes even carcinogenic! Do I want to have that absorbed directly into the area that my child is resting? The same goes with the chemicals in cleaning agents and even perfumes--things that my highly sensitive nose is very attuned to lately. I rush past my neighbors who sit smoking every night, practically on my front porch.

The list of things I've gotten into the habit of avoiding over the past 9 months is large, but what about things that I've been practicing? Exercise, good sleep habits, eating frequent meals, drinking a LOT of water, and trying to reduce stress. All of these are things I've been consciously trying to implement as my body has been housing this little one that I love so much.

Now that I know what it is like to physically have another being living inside of me, it makes me wonder--have I really put into practice that verse from above? My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit--who lives inside of me! My body is his dwelling place. That should go far beyond not wearing tight or revealing clothing. The Hebrews decorated their temple inside and out. It was a HOLY and PURE place of reverence. Do I maintain my body in that same way? Do I keep my body healthy in order to glorify God in His temple? Do I consider what I eat and drink, what I say, the music I sing, and the things that I do all in perspective of my precious Lord? Right now every thought is on protecting and honoring my child in every way that I can. But even after he is born (which should be any day, praise God!) I want to continue these practices of setting aside my body as a temple. No, I am not going to give up deli meat permanently (I'm pretty sure the Holy Spirit is ok with a sub every now and then). But I do want to maintain the same reverence that I have had for my body as a vessel of something that is greater than myself, that is meant to be holy and pure, and that I have been entrusted to maintain to the best of my capabilities while here on this earth.

My Valentine

2010-02-14T19:38:00.000-08:00

So my sister-in-law actually posted this on her blog, a picture of true Love. If you have time to watch, bear with the first minute and a half, it seems a little bit cheesy I know, but the overall performance is well-worth watching:

I know this is not a perfect representation (and I'm sure I will get comments about it). But it's the type of love I think everyone's looking for. Here are the lyrics in case you missed them:

Find me here, speak to me
I want to feel you, I need to hear you
You are the light that's leading me to the place
Where I find peace again
You are the strength that keeps me walking
You are the hope that keeps me trusting
You are the light to my soul
You are my purpose
You're everything
And how can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
You calm the storms and you give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won't let me fall
You still my heart, and you take my breath away
Would you take me in take me deeper now
And how can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
And how can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
Cause you're all I want,
You're all I need
You're everything... everything
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything... everything
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything... everything
You're all I want
You're all I need
Everything... everything
And how can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
And how can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better
any better than this
And how can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this

Is That All You've Got?

2010-01-02T08:32:00.000-08:00

I mentioned in my New Year's post that work has been getting me down. If I'd been writing this a month ago I would have said that I despised my job. I would have mentioned that the only thing keeping me at my job is that every Sunday when I begged Joel to let me put in my 2 weeks notice the next Monday morning he asked me just to stick it out until he had a stable job teaching. And for a while I really thought I hated it! Lately things have been better, but I think it's been more a result of my change in perspective rather than anything different at work.

It's not that I don't care about my job. Far from it! I am very happy to be back working with a resettlement agency, because it is such important work, and being active in the global community is really important to me. But as a job developer, sometimes I feel like I am being asked to do the impossible, as though I am the very last chance for our refugees to make it in this world. They have come here from circumstances that most Americans can't even begin to wrap our brains around, and their resettlement here is supposedly a compassionate response--Welcome to America, the Land of Opportunity! Yet instead they find themselves here in Houston, living in apartments infested with bed bugs and vagrants, trapped in government assistance programs that at times hardly pay enough to cover their rent and tick like a time bomb while they race to learn English and fight the ever-widening job pool of qualified Americans for a job that pays minimum wage!

Every day I have a case manager come to me with their sad story, about a single mom or family with 7 kids or a disabled patriarch. They advocate for their clients, fight to keep them in the forefront of my mind as I petition employers and sweet-talk HR directors. Daily I am asked if I have anything for someone who doesn't speak any English and I find myself laughing in their faces (unprofessional, I know, but what else do I do to keep from crying?). And every person that we fail to aid in the integration process, every person that fails to find a job and every family that ends up on the street is my own personal nightmare--someone that came here promised the world and that I let down. And then I have dreams at night, dreams that master those moments where I could have done more. After one such dream I even offered our spare bedroom to my resettlement director (another of my wild schemes that my crazy and adoring husband accepted without question) but he refused.

Sure, I know there are a lot of aspects that go into a person's transition here to the United States. I know there are a million different factors that can make them fail or succeed. I know every interaction from volunteers, caseworkers, neighbors, and friends helps along the way. I know their ability to grasp English, prior education, and the effort they put into going to class make a huge difference. I know their character, personality, presentation, determination, and sheer good luck each contribute to their process of starting over here. But somehow, it all seems to culminate in finding that job, and that is where I come in. The measure of their success starts and ends with me!

Maybe I feel it strongly because I've been a stranger in a new country where people wondered what the heck I was doing there (even though technically, they were the ones that brought me there). At times they could even be hostile! But at the same time, I never worried that we wouldn't make it. There no one registers for food stamps or medicaid and then has to wait months to receive said "benefits" (and here we stumble across yet another example of my favorite pet peeve, that is, the way our language is used to isolate and alienate at-risk populations so that the "average American" just can't relate, widening the gaps in our society that much further...who does it really "benefit" to receive a measly TANF payment that only helps your family sink further into poverty? just like identifying undocumented workers and immigrant as "illegal aliens" evokes imagery of crazed little green men in space suits trying to take over our entire country! sorry, long aside...I won't go into it further right now...). Anyway, in Mauritania, people help each other out. Even the strangers. The few occasions where Joel and I were having a tight month, friends and neighbors stepped in by lending us money and inviting us to meals. There is no massive bureaucratic sinkhole that sucks in the unfortunate never to be seen or heard from again! Not that the Mauritanian government (aka military) has things better figured out than we do, seeing as they tend to screw up pretty much anything they get involved in. Maybe that is the point?....

Ok, so I'm starting to ramble a little bit. All I really wanted to say was that although my job makes me exhausted, stressed-out and frustrated, I don't hate it, at least not anymore. I am constantly at a loss of what to do with the college-educated, professionally-experienced clients we have that can't seem to manage to land anything better than a manufacturing job. And I'm at a loss of how to show employers that hiring these clients is not a social service, but a wise business move. And I'm also at a loss of how to show my other co-workers that I am not here to compete against them, which seems to be the current mode of operation, but that I'd really love it if we could work together!!

I should point out that my job is something that I've been really grateful for. Not only was it a huge blessing just to find employment of any kind in order to keep a roof over our heads, but this job is an engaging and also laid back (most of the times :o) environment full of coworkers that I have grown to really appreciate and like! I love hearing the different languages circulating through the office, especially trying to pick up what I can of the Arabic that I hear. I get to learn about different cultures every day. And some of my only friends in Houston are from my work, and it helps to not feel so lonely all the time!

My goal for this year is to be better at my job, which means finding more jobs (the economy could help with this if it would just get its act together!). Also to keep from being isolated, which has been hard to avoid in a new place with Joel working whenever I am not. But I tend to keep a better perspective when I'm surrounded by people to keep me in line, and to keep me from obsessing (and being depressed) about situations at work. So I'm going into 2010 with a new attitude, and I'm bouncing back. Is that all you've got, YMCA?

Ringing in the New Year...

2010-01-01T20:07:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve. A celebration full of fun, anticipation, good times with friends, and excitement over a fresh start in the year to come! And I made it to approximately 11:50pm last night before falling asleep.

Don't get me wrong. 2009 was a big year (even if it went out as a bit of a flop). I look forward to 2010 being even bigger, if for completely different reasons. But by 11:50 last night I could completely relate with old man 2009, staggering along barely even caring that baby 2010 was about to be born! Because I am completely exhausted! I feel like the last few months I've been living like a person in a coma, and I have no idea what has been going on around me.

I attempted to write a blog about it, which turned into my personal memoirs, so I'll just summarize some of it here, and maybe post the rest in subsequent entries (not for the faint of heart).

In short, 2009 was a marathon that left me exhausted. In 2009 I managed to hit 7 different countries, crossed the Atlantic 6 times, finished up some major projects in Mauritania (including getting my theater club en brusse and helping with several murals), saw my roommate get married, had a whirlwind COS, said goodbye to dear friends both Mauritanian and American without promise of ever seeing them again, travelled back and forth from Texas and Wheaton 6 or 7 times, unpacked all of our belongings, repacked them all, drove to Houston, unpacked everything again, started a new job which drives me absolutely crazy, watched my husband re-start an old job at the Dirty Bird which also drives me crazy because it keeps him out most nights, and I lost my cat--whom I love and still makes me sad! (did I mention she also traversed the Atlantic Ocean, 3 different countries, and 9 different states only to disappear during a Texas thunderstorm, never to be seen again). I was also here for the birth of a new niece and a nephew, and in September came down with a bug of my own that I've been dealing with ever since!

There is probably more that I am forgetting, and even though I didn't make it to midnight last night, I did spend today day hiding out in my apartment deciding what the next decade will look like. So I came up with a couple of resolutions for the year:

--Find a place in Houston that recycles so we can finally empty out the trunk of our car that has been accumulating paper and cardboard for the last 4 months. Yes, I live in the least environment-friendly city in the country.

--Not belittle david (or others, but mostly david I think) for doing things that I do myself (such as make new year's resolutions...)

--Gain 20lbs (Hooray for Heman!!!!!)

--Be a better wife, a better daughter, a better mother (can you be better at something you've never been before?), a better friend, sibling, and coworker

--Last but certainly not the easiest: find and record 1 reason per week to appreciate where I'm at and what I am doing (current state of mind-this is going to be tough)

Well, those are my resolutions. Feel free to call me on them and keep me on track! Especially if you know a convenient place for me to recycle. A girl can only have so much cardboard furniture!!

Bring it on, 2010.

Spirit-killer

2009-11-09T19:26:00.000-08:00

I know it's been quite awhile since I've blogged anything. There's been a lot going on lately with work and life, but nothing I felt particularly like blogging about. Lately, however, I've been thinking a lot about fear. Fear and our society's bizarre obsession with it! We live in one of the safest periods in the history of time. Mortality rates are down, life expectancy is up. Modern medicine has more capabilities to preserve life than our ancestors could ever have imagined. We have cell phones, 9-1-1 emergency responses, seat belts, airbags, and alarm systems. We should feel an amazing sense of security. And yet many people are completely dominated by fear. America used to be "in God we trust," or "the home of the brave." But today our societal structure has been built upon intricate networks of fear and intimidation.
Last week I sat in a new employee meeting with our company's Aflac representative. She pitched several different insurance packages to us that could potentially offset the costs of a potential future tragedy, if we start paying monthly installments now. There is a life insurance package (which is on top of the automatic package our company provides) which will double or triple my current "award" (1 year's salary) to Joel if I die. There is also cancer "protection." I can start payments now, and in the event that someday I get cancer, Aflak will help to cover my expenses (more fully than most insurances, and without a pre-existing condition clause). There is even a coverage package for rare diseases. I can pay about $25 a month and if I come down with any number of rare diseases--including mad cow disease or West Nile virus, I'll be paid for my pains.
The representative had a wealth of examples and stories about freak accidents and random occurences that rarely happen in life outside of Grey's Anatomy. Stories about people falling with lanyards and cutting off fingers or children getting bizarre immune disorders. She preyed upon our feelings of being alone and vulnerable. She took away any faith in God or family or health or anything else, and instilled a terrifying feeling of lack of control and connection. And several of my coworkers, desperate for that control or connection to someone that will support them through tough times are now participating in various plans. And so it's got me wondering what has happened to our society, when our confidence passed away and fear took over.
I spent the last 2 years of my life in Mauritania, and didn't feel afraid once. Joel and I were the only white people for miles. We experienced a coup d'etat. We slept outside. I was alone quite a bit--as a women in an environment that was very anti-women. Our neighbors and host family were Arab and Muslim, a culture that is often quite hostile to the West. But you can ask Joel--we weren't afraid once.
Now I'm back in the States, and I find myself obsessively locking doors. When I'm at home alone I bolt my door-sometimes twice. I didn't hesitate to enroll in my work's healthcare plan--that was half the reason for finding a job! And when I walk alone at night I get freaked out quite a bit.
So what's the difference?
The only thing I've been able to come up with is self-reliance. Here in the States we pride ourselves on self-reliance and being independent. In Mauritania they have a "mashallah" attitude about everything--basically saying that life is in God's hands and there isn't much we can do about it. They have a community focus--one that says that neighbors take care of each other and look out for one another. People in Maal constantly told me "we have no problems here," by which they really meant no one is ever alone, and we don't let anyone come to harm under our watch. For example: one time we heard a domestic squabble going on a few houses away. A woman started yelling. And in less than a minute, our entire neighborhood had convened, men descending on that household as though it was on fire! They mediated the situation, and everything was taken care of quickly and without problem.
What is my response to this? As a result I've been thinking a lot about Matthew 10:28: "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body..." What have we traded in this obsessive journey for self-preservation where we have stopped caring about the soul in our desire to protect the body? In our quest for comfort and protection, we have cast aside God, neighbor, friend, and faith. Has our increase in health care, safety measures, convenient appliances and life expectancy really made our world a better place? In our society where we allow ourselves to be dominated by fear-mongering from the media and other influences we prevent ourselves from truly living, and from ever discovering truth. So my challenge today is to think about your community--the structure of family, friends, co-workers and neighbors that may be providing support to you in tough times. Think about where you are placing your trust--beware of that which can destroy your soul.

Have You Seen This Cat??

2009-10-19T17:48:00.000-07:00

I lost my cat. She's been gone now for a week and it's been a surprisingly hard thing for me to deal with! I value existence without drama and pride myself as being unemotional, normally avoiding social signs of weakness such as crying or talking about my feelings (I was not raised to by your typical girly-girl). But I've been sitting alone in the evenings while Joel's working and sometimes I can hear her little bell following me about the different rooms! I need her and keep expecting her to show up and bug me some more.

My relationship with Shwey is definitely a love-hate one. I love her so much. I rescued her as a frail, tiny, two-week old kitten that desperately needed me. And she in turn filled this massive void Joel and I felt in Mauritania--that is being needed, having an impact. Finally another creature in the world that what we did mattered to! So having her around...we bonded. But at the same time, she's not the sweetest cat in the world. The only cuddle time we have is when she thinks I'm asleep, at which point in her mind it is safe to get in hand's reach, and she curls herself up against my back or neck and purrs herself to sleep. For the most part, we coexisted (her choice).

Don't call PETA on me, but I think while in Mauritania my perception of animals and their role on earth changed a bit. The first time I saw a donkey being beaten and left to die was shocking. The first time I saw little boys dragging around tiny-birds tied to a string, I couldn't help scolding them, even in my pathetically insufficient language skills. But during my time there I hit a point where I saw animals as far more utilitarian in their purpose. Could I really judge those boys for building a yo-yo out of a bird, when they'd never actually been given a toy? (I'm not saying it's any less horrifying of a toy) If your donkey is a tool or machine that has stopped functioning, is there any point to continue putting money and labor into it?

Joel and I had a dog and a cat while in Mauritania. Locals found it very strange that we didn't beat them (much) and actually let them into our homes and become part of our lives. They found our entertainment of animals very odd. But I think we shared in the same ultimately utilitarian view. Unlike the USA's "animals are people too," campaign, I tend to view animals in their relationship and value to us. Maybe I don't need them to work for me, but I kept Shwey around and she had value because she made me happy. I liked having her around. I liked her warm, fluffy fur when she would curl up next to me. I liked her spastic attacks of anything that moved, because it made me laugh. I liked when my dog, Bibi, would leap up on her hind legs in a ridiculous dance because she was so happy to play when we came home. These animals are what they offered to me. They don't have souls. They aren't eternal beings. I don't know where Shwey is now. If she is dead, that is it. If she is alive, I hope she comes back. But I don't want to mourn her. I'm not going to feel guilty if I have another cat. I do miss her and her silly antics, and Shwey if you are reading this I do want you to come home!

I think we learn to love in stages and expand as people. As very small children we only know how to love ourselves and our parents. We learn to love siblings, cousins, friends, and crazy aunts and uncles. When we add a pet, especially one that is dependent completely on us, it opens up another level. Not that pets are more important than the above mentioned relations, but they help to bring us out of ourselves in the way that others do not, because they rely on us more than anything else. I think they are probably a good phasing point towards children. A lot of people that have never had kids talk about their pets as kids, most people that have children never compare their animals to them! Why is that? I think they've taken it up a notch, seen how much more they could love something, and how much less selfish they can be. Even though now it feels like our little family has been broken up, and while I really miss my "baby" that I was looking forward to having around for another 15 years, I know I'm only at one step on the journey, and still have a lot to learn about loving myself less and others more and being part of a bigger family and community. So maybe we'll end up adopting one of the sad little creatures we've seen at the shelters we've visited. Who knows. But if you are thinking about getting a pet I recommend rescuing one--visit one of your local shelters and walking away will be one of the hardest things you've ever done.

And if you see this cat--let me know!!

Actually Leaving the Desert

2009-09-30T19:44:00.000-07:00

In other news, I thought I was moving past Mauritania. Even if I haven't processed it fully (or at all for that matter) and haven't packed it away in a neat little box or compiled it in a concise blog post, I thought I was a normal person again (as normal as I ever was). I even caved and changed my profile pic on Facebook!
But, I am definitely not normal. For example, I still find myself craving long baguettes made of only flour and salt, or a huge bowl of spoiled milk camouflaged with excessive amounts of sugar. I fight the urge to obsessively shake everyone's hands whenever I walk into a room or leave it. I find myself putting my hand over my heart and averting eye contact when I encounter a man, especially one that I don't know very well. I find myself telling people things are "bismillah" or "tewf," or "zayn hatta!" and expect them to understand me! I wear sweaters in the summer in Texas and really can't comprehend certain disciplines such as not eating too much, exercising, reading/studying, being alone, or getting to work on time. To top it off I'm pretty sure my hair is still falling out!

And yet I still thought all of that was behind me. Until I started working back in a refugee resettlement agency. All of a sudden I am surrounded by people who are not only interested in my experiences, but have heard of Mauritania and can also ask somewhat relevant questions about my experience! And I run into Iraqis in the lobby talking about cell phone plans in Arabic and it sounds like a TMobile commercial I'm watching on Dubai 1! And today I helped a young guy from Iraq named Mohammed and a young guy from Somalia (also named Mohammed) go on job interviews which went really well, and it was such an amazingly cohesive moment. Suddenly my worlds are colliding and it makes sense! I don't have to relegate poor Noura to life in her alternate world of Mauritania and pamper Melissa here in the US as though nothing is different. Mauritania happened and life is happening now. I can say Salamu Aley kum and there are some folks around that understand. Or they don't and that doesn't matter. And although I'm still unsuccessful at processing my experiences so that I can parcel Mauritania off into a pretty little box (only to be dusted off and opened during the scattered Ramadan and Tobaski phone calls), I think I have a pretty good shot at adding it to an overall mosaic of my life, that is turning out to look pretty beautiful after all. All the disjointed pieces that I thought would never fit anywhere are sliding into places and it's not such an issue, them coexisting, after all.

I am who I am and I've been where I've been. It's all a part of the person I've become and the person I'm becoming. And it doesn't really matter if I don't see the big picture or can't pull some profound meaning out of every experience. Because there is a bigger picture, and it's all coming together for a bigger plan, one that all of our mosaics are ultimately going to fit together in a giant portrait of beauty, redemption, grace, and joy! So, I'm embracing those pieces, and excitedly watching as my life swells into a pretty cool piece of art. I may have left the desert and taken the camels off my wall, but I'll never put them behind me!

Leaving the Desert

2009-09-30T19:13:00.000-07:00

So I don't really know that I have passed some spiritual testing or anything like that, but Joel and I are finally starting to move from our personal desert crisis of being broke to one of financial stability. It's been quite a frustrating process, but like most of its kind a learning one. We've learned a lot about community, and about relying on God. I think I mentioned a bit about it before, but basically I was confronted with some real testing of how I trusted in God. I definitely trust in His provision, but was throwing around a lot of catch phrases like, "It'll work out," or "God's in control." The part that rocked me was realizing how God has promised to provide--not necessarily by getting Joel and I jobs where we could fall into a comfortable income bracket. I saw His provision coming from family, friends, and seemingly random situations. Which was awesome. But I really started to get nervous that it might be permanent, and maybe His way of providing wasn't going to be the way I wanted!

Turns out, God did provide in an awesome way that I was also ok with :o). It took longer than I'd wanted, but I just got a job with the YMCA doing employment development for refugees! It is exactly where I want to be right now. The job doesn't pay great, but I'm sure in the long run it will still be more than we need. I've learned a lot about true community and being part of the universal church over the last few weeks, and am starting to view my belongings a lot less as mine, and more as a the possessions of God, intended for His purposes and His people. They have been lent out to me temporarily, but should be incredibly fluid--much more than I have tended towards in the past. What would my life look like if I didn't truly own anything? Definitely a more sold-out version of committed living. That may sound redundant, but my committed living doesn't always seem very different from normal life. And it needs to.

So, thanks to everyone that has helped us along the way as we've been struggling somewhat. Way to be part of the Kingdom here on earth! I've only had 2 days on the job so far, but they have been so exciting--which is all the more affirmation that I am in the right place and moving in the right direction. Like I said--He provides!

Redecorating

2009-09-28T08:11:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update on how life in our new apartment is going:
We've settled in pretty well so far, and are really liking the neighborhood. We've been getting to know our neighbors somewhat and hope to really build some relationships there. We are also really centrally located, only minutes from fun places like the Astro's ballpark and the museum district. An added bonus is that we are still only 30 minutes from Joel's family, and really close to where I'll be working as well.

Our apartment itself is really pretty fun. It's 2 bedrooms, which is more than enough space for us--in fact we've been having trouble filling it!! Since we've found ourselves short on seating, Joel and I decided to build a new couch from cardboard. Joel has been blogging about it some, but I wanted to give an update about it, since my part has now come into play. Joel's was building the actual structure, my job was to make it something someone would want to sit in. But the whole goal was to make it 100% recycled and 100% free. The cardboard took 1 easy trip to the dumpster, but we have been stumped with how to make it look nice. Well, last night I came across some new items, and am trying to figure out how to use them! Anyone know anything about furniture upholstering from scratch?

I obtained these fabrics and some cushioning last night. Although I'll hopefully get my hands on some more cushioning, I am trying to figure out what to do with this material so that it doesn't look like a janky dorm couch (or our other couch, for that matter). For any artsy readers out there, thoughts or suggestions? I could really use some help!

Enough of this Individualism Business, Let's Have Some Collectivity

2009-09-20T22:18:00.000-07:00

So I really love my friends, family, and all of the crazy people in my life that are constantly encouraging me and driving me to be consistent, be more loving, and truly consider what my life should look like in this crazy world that we live in.

Lately we've been talking a lot about faith and problems with church. In Biblical times, the early church was growing. It says in Acts that numbers were being added to it daily! We are talking hundreds. Because there was something about it--something authentic and something different and something attractive that was drawing people to it. Something that seems to be missing from churches today, which to be honest tends to evoke images of little old ladies, booming organ music, boring sermons and lame guilt trips. But Devin, Jason, David and several others have been having discussions lately about what the church could and should look like, living actively in community and promoting service and social justice throughout our world. Joel and I have been talking about the things we think are missing. And today Joel's brother was talking about our complacent congregations--people that are showing up each Sunday set to receive and never really giving. Our pastor today talked about racism and classism and other issues that keep members of the church from true community.

The fact is, Jesus' love is transformative. No matter how often we reject Him, He is loving us (past, present, and future)--demonstrating that through His ultimate sacrifice on the cross and His healing ministry during His life on earth and today through the power of the Holy Spirit. But many of our churches don't seem transformed, and don't even offer people many areas to show that if it's present in their own lives. So Joel's dad had this idea which expands on the analogy of the body of Christ. He talks about fishing, and how today we "cast our lines" in isolation, as opposed to a more effective way of casting our nets, the way people fish when they want big results.

So, since I'm always searching for relevance, I was trying to figure out what he meant and how to really apply that in the church, and here's the basic workings of an idea that I've come up with (credit going mostly to Joel's dad and everyone that I listed above. Basically I'm just compiling what they've said): What if churches had a centralized way that they ministered to each other--everyone giving and receiving as was intended? I can envision a huge database of members, skills, availability, gifts, etc. When I did volunteer coordination at World Relief, a lot of people couldn't figure out what their gifts were and only wanted to donate their time in a general way. What if someone could take 20 minutes with members of the church and help really identify ways they could serve--be it tutoring high schoolers, a free tennis lesson, offering childcare (mom's with several kids could handle one more), space in their home, training on excel and other databases, vocational training, ESL training, music lessons, a homecooked meal, microfinance loans, or clothing donations? The list could go on and on and on!! And if there was a way people could access these potential ministries or notify the church of their needs--with no embarrassment because everyone was doing it as a part of the same unified family. The church could actually be MEETING those needs in a tangible way and not just dumping money off to parachurch organizations they think could do it better. The church might become more relevant in our communities. And as those around us see the way we truly care for each other, it might be something they want to be a part of. As they see the way we really love others, the way we share our lives, they might decide there is something to this Jesus business. And isn't that what the early church was all about? We aren't supposed to be doing it alone.

Mud Pies at the Ocean

2009-09-15T15:15:00.000-07:00

"Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us."
CS Lewis

David's comment on my earlier post made me remember this quote. Basically Lewis gets to the crux of what Paul and as a result I were talking about. Infinite joy, infinite treasure, infinite glory is awaiting us. What are we wasting our time for? Shouldn't our lives reflect our yearning for this--striving to touch the glory, to obtain the reward?

True Greatness

2009-09-15T09:58:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about Philippians 3:7-14. Basically, Paul examines the things of value here on earth and points out that compared to knowing Christ is Lord, they are all worth absolutely nothing. Paul says he counts EVERYTHING as loss because of the far surpassing worth of knowing Christ. So lately I've been wondering exactly what that means. Does he mean that any time not spent towards the kingdom is a complete loss? Or is he saying he's willing to give up everything for the sake of Christ? Actually, he does say that later--even the things he has suffered for his faith don't matter because he is gaining Christ as a result.

So, what is the rubbish in my life? What is complete loss because it has nothing to do with knowing Christ? What of my relative "sufferings" should I embrace as leading me closer to being found in Christ? What does it mean to become like Christ in His death? In His death he gave up His entire life so that we could be holy before God. So we also should be giving up our lives in some form.

But here is my constant struggle and what I am not figuring out--what does that look like?? I ask a lot of question but don't have a lot of answers. Are there models of this life here in America?? I certainly have a lot here, even though I know I could pretty easily abandon this lifestyle and go somewhere with absolutely nothing. Maybe my problem is that I view the things of this life as rubbish. I look at job, status, friends, family, and possessions as good things. Some of them are perceived as "Christian values." But Paul says he counts EVERYTHING as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ as Lord. Maybe the problem is we don't treasure that knowledge the way we should. Which makes me wonder, do we really possess it? I mean, imagine the most priceless treasure in the world. Who among us could look upon that and not recognize its beauty, not wish it for ourselves? And if we had it, how could it not consume our entire being? How could we not want to look at it, touch it, and show it to everyone we see?

So to sum up: do I recognize the surpassing greatness of having Christ in my life? If so, then everything else that I am working towards is a lost cause, worthless. If that's not the case, then what am I missing? How do I keep forgetting that?

What's the Big Deal? I Can't Take it With Me, Anyway.

2009-09-03T20:57:00.000-07:00

My blogging tends to get long, so I'll try to keep this entry shorter. But I've been learning something about myself recently and it has held several real glass shattering moments so I thought I would share it! It's about being poor...

There's a lot in the Bible that talks about being poor. It talks about taking care of the poor and loving them and giving all that you have to them. I just spent the last 2 years of my life living in Mauritania, an incredibly poor country, because I wholeheartedly believe that the best way to give value and truly help the poor is by living among them, offering respect and friendship and spending myself to share the opportunities of health and education that I have been given and have always taken for granted. I've always been on that side of poverty. And I can say with an 80% confidence level that I always will be.

However, the Bible has more to say about poverty. It talks about trusting in God to provide for me. It talks about how He cares if even the smallest sparrow falls. He provides for the plants and the animals—how much more will He provide for me?? It also talks about storing up my treasures in heaven—because I can't keep the ones I find here on earth!

So, that being said, here is the thing I've just learned about myself: I'm afraid of being poor!! I need to have some store here on earth so that I feel secure. Maybe this is not a glass-shattering thing for you. But for me, I was never the richest kid and Joel and I try to live modestly. I've always thought that I was a pretty faithful person. I've always assumed that I trusted God to provide. And I still do...at least on an intellectual level. But I've been really worried about money recently, and in a way I have never experienced for. I mean—I just spent the last 2 years of my life living on slightly less than $2 a day and I never worried for a second. So I thought I had poverty figured out.

But in the Peace Corps, those $2 were guaranteed and taken care of. Some months cash was tighter than others and I had to eat really gross food, but frankly I didn't have many expenses. And I lived pretty well off of care packages. If I didn't have rent, I just told my neighbor or paid him less that month. It evened out because on months that I was doing well I gave him a few extra thousand ougiya. So what is different this time?

Right now there is no income coming in, or projected on the horizon. I have NO IDEA where a paycheck is going to come from, although I'm pretty sure (or at least I was) that it will come from somewhere. This is the longest I've been out of work since my junior year of highschool. On Tuesday, I sat at home staring at my bank account online just waiting for 2 checks to bounce and nothing to do but pray that they didn't get cashed that day!! (Alhamdulillah—they didn't!) Really bad things could have happened if they did (losing our apartment being one of them). And though I racked my brain there was nothing I could come up with to fix it!

So now as our bank account and measly Peace Corps allowance has continued to dwindle, I find myself actually worrying about what we will eat and what we will drink and what we will wear. I panic when the car makes a funny noise—I mean, if we can't get to job interviews how can we get the $$ to fix it if it breaks?? And I am ok with rice and beans every day sure but what if even that doesn't keep coming in?

Now. I post this with some reservations. As I said, I am 80% sure that I will never be truly poor. I can say that because a) I have a college degree (albeit one of the things making me poor right now). That puts me in the top 1% of the world right now. b) I have a strong family support network. Although things are tight for everyone right now, no one in mine or Joel's family is going to let us end up on the streets or starving. But nevertheless the anxiety is there. And it is a lot to ask of anyone right now for loans.

So, in conclusion, I actually do know in my head that we will be ok. Even if something sad happens like having to default on our wonderful new apartment. But, I have never felt worry like this before. I have never felt my confidence in God's providence stretched like this before. And I am definitely still trusting Him to provide. I guess I'm getting a little bit worried about the manner He is providing in. After all, he promised to care for all of our needs, not necessarily provide that cute little apartment or give us more than beans and rice. But I know this to be true: He works all things together for the good of those that love Him. I know it will work out. I know we will be ok. But I have also had a new experience of poverty (and I hesitate to use that word, because sociologically we do not fall into the sphere of poverty just yet, even if our income would indicate such), and a new feeling of compassion for the poor. It is a terrible thing to wonder where your next meal will come from—or where your child's next meal will come from. And in the rush of work or job-hunting or broken cars, it is not always easy to access the abundant services that we may have so readily available in our country—because those things can keep you in the very cycle you are trying to work your way out of.

I guess that's all, just something I've been thinking about. Fortunately I'm looking ahead at the glory to come and not dwelling on my earthly treasures (of which I have managed to hoard more than a few). Sorry about 2 posts in 1 day. I didn't like the earlier one very much anyway.

**Disclaimer: a big part of my current freak-out is induced by how much everything costs here! And I'm sure this isn't just that I'm used to everything costing a penny and being able to fight if I feel I am being unjustly charged by 30 cents. I really think things are more expensive than they used to be!! Not to mention the cloud of desperation everywhere! People attack sales and job posts like they are the last place on earth. People can really be downers. Where is the hope?? Can anyone back me up here? I know a can of tomato paste should not cost me a dollar--especially when it's not even organic!

Keeping my Eyes on the Glory that is Coming!

2009-09-03T10:56:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to figure out what it looks like to live a life obedient to Christ—one where I have completely relinquished control and am bearing that cross no matter the cost. I think a lot of people assume the Christian cross is all about the “thou shalt not's,”...restrictions and things God doesn't want us to do. And this blog (title at least) probably seems an affirmation of that. But from what I've been finding out—I promise it's really not! The Bible is filled with God's promises and the FREEDOM that we have in Christ—through obedience. To me that sounds like a contradiction (is it freedom or is it obedience?), so I've been thinking a lot about obedience and sacrifice lately. There's a lot in the Bible about it--Jesus being our greatest example, having been fully obedient to His Father and ultimately sacrificing His entire life.
When thinking about being a follower of Christ, the concepts of sacrifice and self-denial always come up. I tend to dwell on the parts of me that I consider to be more worldly and how I can shut those out; like a lifestyle fast. For example, my desire for comfort. Maybe I should sleep outside like I did for the past 2 years instead of renting an apartment (because you know, there are people in the world that don't have shelter--it is selfish to want that for myself!). Maybe I should not eat any food that tastes good, or go to the effort to cook delicious meals (because you know, there are people that not only do not have good food, but don't have any food at all!). And maybe those do lead to sin or idolatry of sorts. But lately I've been seeing surrender a little bit differently when you are living in submission to Christ. I don't think it's just taking hopes and dreams and desires and impulses and abstaining from them. I think it's denying the deeper part of yourself that wants to be in control by giving Christ complete Lordship over you. It doesn't make sense to cut out the things I am good at or find enjoyable just because I am supposed to “deny myself.” Christ made me a certain way with gifts and desires that in His hands will be beautiful, but He will never force me. However, if I try to hold on, it is ultimately the same thing as giving control to Satan, because he will and I am too weak. But instead I trust that in abandoning my own desires and plans to God's call there is an implicit promise that He is not going to leave me empty-handed. Full obedience means partaking in His divine nature.

So technically there is a cost, otherwise it would not be called picking up your cross. But the way I see it, attempting to retain my own mastery has to be even more costly in the end! Keeping eyes on the glory that is ahead shouldn't really be a sacrifice at all. Practically, I think that is less of a self-denial and more of a daily self-offering and openness to God's direction.

For me, this has recently played out in a big change of plans. I was excited and ready to go to Tulane—so excited and ready in fact that I barreled way ahead of schedule and began to feel a gentle nudging to put on the brakes. I didn't feel like God was asking me to give up Tulane or my MPH—in fact I feel like that is still definitely in my future. But I felt like He was inviting me to learn something, or participate in something much greater He had planned for Joel and I in Houston this year. So as reluctant I as I may have been to do a complete 180 and defer my enrollment for the fall, there has not been any regret. I still feel excited about what God has going on and discovering the reason He led us here. I am so happy to have taken a step in obedience towards His divine nature, and although that might have had it's costs—future career plans, family, current job/money situation, etc, I'm looking forward to what there is to come.

Where am I Heading?

2009-08-31T10:46:00.000-07:00

The first post in a new blog seems like it should be power-packed in some way. Even if there is no one out there reading. It is part of a new beginning, and if I am writing this blog for some purpose I guess now is the time to declare it. It should be evident in the title: Considering Loss. So many of us become Christians in the same casual manner we subscribe to email updates for store sales or to our favorite magazine—or even blog. We are excited at first but there is no real commitment from our end when there is no lifestyle or even attitude change—my email inbox is always open and I am waiting to receive...if I decide I don't like something anymore I can unsubscribe or even mark as spam!

But, if that is our attitude about Christ—always waiting to receive and not putting our entire lives in submission to Him than I would submit that we are not true Christians. One cannot brush over the fact that Jesus said to follow Him we must PICK UP OUR CROSS. That is not, as Brad Buser said, to strap on our cross necklaces. A cross is heavy. It is stigmatic. It is an instrument of torture and a promise of death. So to pick that up—THERE WILL BE LOSS. And I don't think many of us consider that loss when we decide to “follow” Christ, and as a result there is no change in our lives.

I just completed 2 years in the Peace Corps in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania. Over there I was forced to consider quite often, what makes me different? And upon returning I have struggled every day trying to find some meaning in that experience. I've tried to find direction for “what I will do next.” But I've recently committed to myself that I will be living every day. I am not in some waiting period until I move into the next phase of ministry. Life is today and now and everyday. And I will be carrying my cross. This blog is a space designed to keep me accountable to that, a place to record my journey while always mindful of the fact that years ago I died to myself and my life should be a reflection of that.