Just a Spoonful of Peanut Butter

Original Image by Daniella Segura via Flickr Creative Commons

These little buggers may look like benign legumes to you, but something inside me twinges when I look at this picture. Even now. 

I stopped eating peanut products in April 2012 when my health was spiraling out of control. Back then, everything I ate brought on an allergic-type reaction. These reactions were growing stronger and stronger, and peanuts carried a reputation. Instinct told me to stay away. 

Peanut butter remained a staple in our home until April 2013. I was on a “make aaaaaaall the things” kick and decided to try my hand at making peanut butter—trans-fat and corn syrup free. 

I soaked my peanuts for the recommended 12 or so hours. Then I slow-roasted them in the oven for 24 more hours. Once they were thoroughly dried, I threw them into the Ninja with coconut oil, salt, and honey and let her whirl. But something happened.

The notch at the top of the blade didn’t center the lid. The force with which the blade was spinning caused the notch to cut into the lid and throw hot bits of plastic into the peanut butter. By the time I realized what was happening, so much plastic had mingled in, there was nothing to do but throw it all out. 

I cried.

As 36 hours of work and roughly $20 of product went into the trash, I noticed my ears were itching. I scratched them as well as I could and went about my business. 

Later that evening, I opened the trash can to throw something away. I pressed down, smelling peanuts. The reaction was instantaneous. 

My throat swelled. I began wheezing and coughing. I couldn’t think or see straight. I don’t remember getting into the bed.

In the flashes of memory I do recall, I’m lying in bed in our dark bedroom. My throat feels thick and hot. It’s hard to breathe. Brandon holds my hand murmuring pleas. I know I may not live, but I’m peaceful. If I die in that dark room, I’ll wake in a sea of Light. 

There’s a thermometer. Brandon takes my temperature and tells me my body temp is 94 degrees. He warns me if I lose consciousness, he’ll give me Epi and take me to the hospital. He knows I hate Epi. And hospitals. 

He makes me talk to him. I want him to leave me alone. Let me drift. But he’s so scared. The fear in his voice pulls me back. I return to myself. 

Not for me. Not for the kids. For him. 

I don’t remember rallying. I have no recollection of what else transpired that night. I only remember how awful I felt the days after. Like I’d been hit by a truck. 

After that, peanuts were banned from the house.

A year later, I had another near-fatal reaction after an accidental exposure to trace peanut particles. I wanted to treat the kids to frozen custard. We went through the Eskamoe's drive-thru. I was in the passenger seat. The reaction wasn’t as fast this time. 

We drove home. When I stepped out of the car, my legs didn’t feel right. My heart was working too hard. My head went fuzzy. And then my throat tightened. I almost fainted before I made it to the bed. 

This time, Brandon performed our at-home rescue treatment (EDT) Dr. Carolyne Yakaboski had discovered and taught us the previous summer. I didn’t get quite as bad this time around, but was down nearly a week afterward. 

What was alarming was the infinitesimal amount of peanut that had triggered such a strong response. 

We became super cautious. Whenever the kids came home with candy, B searched them with TSA standard scrutiny. Micah’s teachers probably thought we were half-mad with some of our requests. But I assumed a c’est la vie attitude about it all because—what else was there to do? 

I had one other reaction to trace peanut particles in May 2015. That was my last anaphylactic reaction ever. 

God began healing me in November 2015 after a miraculous moment in a prayer session. Over the next few weeks, I tested one trigger after another. 

In early January, I had a mild reaction after breathing in peanut particles. B brought the reaction under control with minimal effort and miraculous speed, but the old trauma was relived. Even after I had successfully tested all the old foods that were once dangerous to me, I continued to avoid peanuts.  

Enter Sara, my four-year-old daughter. 

A couple of weeks ago, I had a new friend over. I told the story of how God miraculously healed me, finishing with, “I can go wherever I want now. I eat just about everything. Except for peanuts. I’m still a little scared of peanuts.”

Sara dropped her crayon and turned to face me. 

“Why are you scared of peanuts, Mama? Der just peanuts, and Jesus healed you. You should just go over to Grandma and Pops’ and eat some. I don’t understand why you’re scared. You’re not scared of anything.”

I blinked. 

The kids had been coloring. I had no idea they were even listening, much less attentively. But let me tell you something—I had no. doubt. the Holy Spirit had spoken to me through my child. 

When I picked my jaw off the floor, I said, “Well…maybe I will.”

But see…there was still the trauma to deal with. Fortunately, I had the tools. Ever since my prayer session last November, I've implemented the techniques to address issues of forgiveness and emotional trauma whenever they arise.

Two days later, I recalled the night I lay dying in my dark bedroom. I asked Jesus to show me where he was. He appeared at Brandon’s side. Jesus knelt with him, a hand on his shoulder. 

I smiled. I knew he’d been there. 

I asked Jesus for the lie I believed about that situation. He said nothing.
I asked for the truth. Silence.
“So what do you want me to do?”

Jesus hands me a jar of Peter Pan peanut butter. Red label.

Okay, then. 

As instructed, I walk over to “Grandma and Pops’.” What do they have in their pantry? Red-labeled Peter Pan peanut butter. Enough for one spoonful.

The kids weren’t around, which was good. If something went wrong, I didn’t want them to know. Especially little Sara. But I had enough faith to walk across the yard without rescue medication and to ask Mom to video my little experiment. 

I opened the peanut butter jar and sniffed. Nothing happened. Good sign.
I scooped a generous helping into the spoon, scraping the sides.
Go big or go home, right?

I silently freaked as I drew the spoon up to my mouth, then opened wide. 

This is what happened:

So yeah...I eat peanut products now. The thing that almost killed me--more than once--I eat.

Someone recently asked me how I had the courage to do it. I wouldn't have without the encouragement of the Holy Spirit through my daughter combined with the encouragement of Jesus.

Without God's help, it would've been too scary. While my daughter may have delusions of grandeur about my supposed fearlessness, I can assure you--I feel fear just like everyone else. Lots of it. It just doesn't control me anymore.

I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner this week. It was delicious. 

Jesus still heals, y'all. Never doubt it. 

Here for the Comments--My Response to the Response to My Food Journey Miracle Post

My recent post about my struggle with food received an overwhelming response. Not all of it positive.

I posted my story in the mast cell groups on Facebook. While most who took the time to read were encouraged and/or happy for me, some just weren't.

I don't blame them. Not at all.

Mastocytosis/Mast Cell Activation Disease affects every aspect of human life. There's no square inch it doesn't attempt to claim. To make matters worse, there's no cure, so it's a disease without much hope. Outside of Jesus, anyway.

And let's face it, Jesus causes trouble wherever he goes.

I thought I'd address a few of the comments made, not because I believe the people who made them will read my response but because you may need to. Some of the questions the comments imply may resonate with you. 

And deep down, who doesn't love a good Facebook debate?

The Comments

"I can't believe I wasted time reading this"


As someone who has battled MCAD, this comment translated as, "I came here looking for real hope, and you gave me a fairy tale." Do you feel the despair in that? Doesn't your heart break just a little? Mine does. 

To this commenter, I would offer this quote by G. K. Chesterton: "Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten." 

Jesus slayed the ultimate dragon when he gave his life on the cross. His life was for us, and His life makes us whole. In mind, body, and spirit. God is on mission to redeem it all.

"Unless you have a disease that can be cured by...science...we are all stuck with mast cell. Some people needs their meds to live. This gives false and dangerous hope to people. Unbelievable... I have seen firsthand what a supposed cure can do folks. Putting the word cure on an illness known to be incurable except for periods of remissions can and does cause false hope. Wording is everything. There was no disclaimer...only stating cure. If anyone and I include myself in this.. Wants to say what is helping them as far as diet, supplements Et al then cool, but, unless it has been medically verified as a cure with accompanying information this becomes another blog with the supposed miracle cure. As a scientist, I aware people for reasons still poorly understood can heal. Hope is good. Proclaiming you have a cure without science not so much"


I agree--"wording is everything"--though even the best of us get it wrong from time to time. But the careful reader will notice I never used the word "cure" in my story. Rather, I spoke of healing. Why? Because I want to be clear. While medication, diet, and lifestyle modifications helped, these things did not end my disease. Jesus did. He healed me.


"I'd like to give my view on this as an atheist (and I know a lot of you are already placing labels on me for using that word, but please do not prejudge). I do not believe in prayer or a supreme deity that has the ability to heal us....but...I do believe that prayer can certainly be viewed as a form of meditation and there has been verifiable scientific study done on the effects that meditation has on the body. The most recent National Geographic has an article on the mind body effects of being in nature...scientific data. Including changes in EEG brain waves and drastic reduction in cortisol levels in the body. Doctors are actually writing "prescriptions" to patients to spend time in a natural setting for healing purposes. From my own personal experience, I can slow my heart rate purely by relaxing my body (I suffer from SVTs) and to some extent slow the progression of Mast Cell attacks the same way. This has been seen by multiple ER docs while I was hooked up to monitors. Then there is the whole epigenetics issue. Scientists have shown that these switches can flip back and forth quickly to stimuli and rapidly affect how our body reacts...or over reacts. She is not claiming to have been healed overnight. Nor did she do nothing but pray, she also modified her diet and tried other avenues of improving her symptoms. I believe placing this is the realm of religion is what is bothering some of you, but if you look deeper and place what she is saying in a more scientific framework, maybe you can understand better..."

I appreciate this person for coming to my defense. Truly. She was kind when others were not. Elsewhere, she chastened those who left--in her words--"incredibly rude comments," some of which were deleted by the moderator. That being said, we aren't on the same page. 

2015 was a rough year for me. Though I continued to lean into the Lord day after day, my thoughts weren't always positive. During the weeks before I was healed, I struggled with restlessness, guilt, anxiety, and shame. I was tired, beaten to a pulp by this monster of a disease. My mind did not heal itself. Jesus healed me.

"I always have to wonder, if you are "cured", perhaps the diagnosis was incorrect all along."


I expected this one from the beginning. Before Jesus healed me, I told Brandon and my mom that when He did it, people will say I never had the disease. People tend to reject what they don't understand.

But MCAD isn't a diagnosis doctors toss to the masses like beads and candy at a Mardi Gras parade. It's difficult to obtain, which is why I had to travel all the way to Minnesota to get it. 

While I'm sure God had more purposes for my Mayo Clinic adventure than I can imagine, I understand at least two--Gastrocrom (a medication which allowed me to eat without absolute misery) and that diagnosis. He wants the world to know no disease is incurable when it comes to Him. 


"I'm happy for you Melissa. It seems like your body has calmed down by making nutritional changes. The jury is still out on mast cell disorders, so thinking positive is a good thing. My fear however would be that your overzealous claiming of healing might turn around and bite you - should you regress, relapse, get triggered again etc. I've seen many women in this group already speak of going years "ok" than not ok. For me, EVERYTIME I have gone there - psychologically, emotionally etc and believed "I'm completely better now!" Or "I'm finally coming out of this!" --WHAM. I've been sent back to reality. So I learned to be "cautiously optimistic" and to speak about "improvement" and not black or white declarations that only kick my ass later. Just my share/2 cents. Mast cell (so far) keeps me humble."


I totally understand the warning. I've been in remission. And yes--I thought I was better, then BAM! But this isn't remission. I'm healed. Thank you, Jesus! 

"I am taking this with a grain of salt..be careful with the word "cure." Glad you feel better..please be respectful of all here. Religion, politics cross over many people's comfort level. And seems to imply we are all in the same boat and all able to pray our way to wellness. That is simply not the case. And can lead to blaming those who don't believe to the degree you do or in your religion. Makes me squirm a bit...got my armor on for the replies with this one..I will remove this post if the comments become attacks or too controversial."


Writers, to publish is to give readers permission to quote things you never said and infer meaning you never intended. 

Now let's discuss the idea of "pray(ing) our way to wellness..."

If anyone could've earned healing by faith, prayer, or specialness, it would've been Jenny. 

Before her, I'd never encountered such indomitable faith. Oh, how she loved our Lord! How she sought Him! She was humble enough to seek prayer wherever she went. Churches, communities, and even Dodie Osteen prayed for her healing. Until a few weeks before her death, Jenny believed she would live. Not hoped. Believed.

The woman was so magnetic that people sense her pull in photos. People who didn't want to like her couldn't help themselves. Few love others like she did. She was often the sickest person in the waiting room at MD Anderson, yet she stopped and prayed for people every visit. People who got to live. Before she let hospice put her into an induced coma, she prayed for and blessed everyone at her bedside. She sent me a goodbye text telling me how much she loved me. Jenny went out thinking of and serving others.

If we could achieve our own wellness, Jenny would've been here to celebrate her daughter's fourth birthday four days ago. But after two years of intense suffering, she died. 

Did I survive because I'm so much better than her? Because my faith is stronger? Absolutely not. And if my prayers achieved all that, Jenny would still be here.

This commenter didn't need her armor. She got no argument from me. 

Healing can't be earned. It can only be received.

"I am glad you are doing better, but to claim that God healed you leaves a lot of Christian people who are dealing with the same thing out. I find it distasteful that God would pick and choose you and leave everyone else to suffer. I think there are are too many variables to leave it to "God fixing everything".... Could have been shots finally registered in your system after all that time, anxiety dying down after postpartum time frames end, allowing you belly time to heal after a severe infection.... Ect.... Too many variables to leave it at "God chose to heal me over everyone else."


This commenter doesn't understand my God. And frankly, I don't either.

Human inclination is to fear what we can't control and to dismiss what we don't understand. 

We can't control God, nor can we understand him. So we fear and dismiss him. We explain him away.

And guess what--I've done it, too. 

I have no idea why I lived and Jenny died. I have no idea why some are healed and others suffer all their lives. But that doesn't mean God didn't heal me. And it doesn't mean He doesn't want to heal others. 

Truth be told, these thoughts aren't all that unrelated to some of my own, which have led to questions. Lots and lots of questions:

1. Did Jesus ever turn anyone away in the gospels? Did He ever say, "No, I'm not going to heal you. It's my will for you to be sick. Your illness brings me glory?"
2. Does illness bring glory to God? OR is it possible to suffer with something that doesn't glorify God in such a way that God is glorified anyway? Isn't that kind of the spirit of Romans 8:37?
3. Does God send illness? Is sickness of God? Or does the enemy send sickness and then God uses it for His own purposes with the intention of drawing us to Himself and with a heart to deliver us from it and all lesser loves? 
4. Does God want us to cuddle our sickness and hold onto suffering because He worked it for good in our lives? Do we need sickness to maintain our sanctification? Should we? Or do we just need Jesus? 
5. Is sickness the best way to experience the nearness of God? If so, what does that say about the saints in the Bible? They weren't sick. Are sickness and pain the only ways to cultivate humility and dependence?
6. Can we best fulfill the Great Commission when we ourselves are sick?
7. If it was God's will for people to be sick, wouldn't Jesus have been going against God's will by healing them? Wouldn't we be going against God's will every time we prayed for healing?
8. In Scripture, Jesus doesn't only heal believers. Many he healed weren't believers when he healed them. Some left him, healing in hand, without a thank you. So what does it mean that He didn't do many mighty works in Nazareth because of their unbelief (Matt. 13:58; Mark 6:5,6)? What role does faith play?
9. The mission stated over and over again in the Gospels is to preach the gospel and heal the sick. Preach the gospel and heal the sick. Preach the gospel and heal the sick. When Jesus sent out the twelve, he told them, "Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out demons. Freely you have received, freely give" (Matt. 10:8). This doesn't sound like a pick and choose kind of God. So what's the deal?
10. Could the gap between what we see in Scripture and our experience be our fault? As in the fault of the Church? If so, what does this say about our will versus God's will? If not, does the God who is the same yesterday, today, and forever carry out his will differently now than he did in the first century?

In Summary:

Notice I have all these fabulous questions and no easy answers. I can't offer a satisfactory response to any of them because God is mystery. But here's what I make of my experience with the information I have at this time:

God did not send my sickness. Neither did He waste it. God used my physical sickness to rescue me from sickness of mind, body, and spirit. My sickness was the fastest, most efficient way for God to do this and make me usable. My sickness did not glorify God; I glorified God by leaning into Him through it. God never smiled at my pain; He smiled at what I did with it.

The enemy sent my illness and used it to try and kill me. Again and again and again. He did this because I'm dangerous. He failed because God didn't allow it. God is sovereign.

And yet other dangerous, usable people die. I don't know what this means. But I do know God is sovereign. He is the head of all principality and power (Col. 2:10). Not a moment of this storm was outside of his perfect control, and his character and attributes do not change with circumstance.

God healed me. God used prayer to heal me. My healing would not have happened outside of persistent, fervent, expectant prayer. My prayers. Prayers of family, friends, and elders. The prayers of many.

These prayers kept me alive, kept me close to Jesus, and helped me navigate the path laid out for me. The path led me to a group of people who operate in the Spirit of God. They saw my plight, had compassion, and rescued me through more fervent prayer. They had faith for me when I didn't have it for myself. Enough faith for me to expect something to happen.

My healing was intrinsically tied to deliverance, which was brought about in a personal prayer session (Sozo), a ministry of the group mentioned above.

My healing glorified God. My liberation unleashed more of the Holy Spirit into the world. Now whole and operating in the power of the Holy Spirit, I can better fulfill the mission--preach the gospel, heal the sick and brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, help the blind to see, liberate the oppressed, cast out demons, raise the dead. Make disciples. Make disciple-making disciples. 

I'm called to give as freely as it has been given to me. Which, you gotta admit, has been pretty freely, so I best be serious about this, yo. 

The miraculous bolsters faith in the miraculous. My prayers are not what they once were because I now believe in the impossible. I ask for impossible things. I believe for impossible things. The impossible has become my new normal.

I know that not everyone I pray for will be healed and delivered, but what do I lose by praying? What do I lose? Time? Energy? Who cares? I get God! Even when the miracle doesn't come. And now that I know it might, by the grace of God I'll never stop asking.

I want to do this thing in such a way that if I'm wrong I'll be the most pitiful fool who ever walked the earth and when I see my Jesus face to face I'll have nothing to regret. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll get to see God do something REALLY cool like raise somebody from the dead!


So yeah...that's where I stand. At the moment, anyway.

Now that I've closed my most recent Facebook debate, let a new one begin. And in the spirit of full disclosure, if you comment, especially if that comment is nasty or despondent, you'll be put on a list and prayed for. You've been warned.

Food--The Struggle (It's Been Real, Folks)

 

Original image via Flickr Creative Commons courtesy of Michael Stern

 

It Begins

My first systemic reaction to a food happened right after Christmas in 2004. Brandon, my family, and I were vacationing in Branson and were watching a movie. Along with everyone else, I was popping pistachios.

Then something odd...my ears swelled, grew hot, and began itching. My throat followed suit. I put the pistachios away, popped a Benadryl, and didn't think about the experience again for over a year.

Over the course of 2005, I  sometimes felt unwell after I ate--weirdly sleepy, grumpy, bleh--so I began The Maker's Diet with my parents to clean up my eating. That seemed to help. For a while.

Discovery

Then in early 2006 (a particularly stressful time in my life), itching, hives, swelling, shortness of breath, etc. became common during and after meals. I don't know why it took so long for me to stop living in denial, but eventually I was able to associate the way I felt with food.

Within a few weeks, I eliminated wheat, dairy, corn, soy, and tree nuts from my diet, and I stabilized. For a while.

Spring came with a case of hay fever from HELL. I went about either drunk, sneezy, coughy, sleepy, and sensitive to light and noise or knocked out cold by Benadryl. I wish I were kidding.

Original image via Flickr Creative Commons courtesy of NIAID

The Allergy Shots Experiment

So I saw an allergist. He prescribed daily Claritin, Singulair, and an inhaler along with weekly injections to treat my environmental allergies. (He didn't want to touch my food allergies. They scared him.) I improved. For a while.

A few months into treatment, my allergies worsened. I became increasingly sensitive to the foods I knew I was allergic to. New foods piled onto the "no-no" list. If I had to walk across campus while staff was mowing grass? Asthma attack guaranteed. And then I began reacting to the allergy shots themselves.

At first, it was just localized swelling and itching at the site of injection. No big deal. Normal, even. Later, I had systemic itching. Oh well. Pop a Benadryl. Whatever. After that, full body rashes. Not pretty, but not life-threatening. Go back to the office. Get a steroid shot. Go home.

The day my tongue and throat swelled was a different matter. After an in-office dose of Benadryl failed to bring my symptoms under control, I was given an injection of Epi. The nurse told me this was normal. That some people need Epi every week after injections.

Uh...no thank you.

When I became pregnant with Micah, I used my pregnancy as an excuse to stop treatment, and I never went back. And I got better. For a while.

Original image via Flickr Creative Commons courtesy of Greg Friese

 

The Descent

After pregnancy, things went back to normal...but worse. In June 2009 when Micah was three months old, a few soggy chow mein noodles hidden in a sub par chicken salad sent me to the ER. That episode ended with two Epi injections and a frustrating 10 days of steroids during which this breastfeeding mama had to pump and dump several times a day. Good times.

The next eventful moment happened in January 2011. Brookshire's began carrying pre-made gluten free muffins in the bakery, so Brandon brought some home as a treat. Which they were...until two hours later.

Guys, I'm not a puker. I have a gag reflex of iron. I once went 10 years without a good purge. Even now, I have to be pretty sick to toss my cookies, but that day...I tossed my muffins. Again and again and again and again.

In two hours I puked 11 times. That may be more times than I've puked in my life outside of that day. Each heave was so forceful I was sure something would hemorrhage. Every time it ended, I collapsed onto the floor beside the toilet unable to move.

I don't know how to describe that level of misery except to tell you that I wanted to die. I prayed the Lord would take me. No other pain, no other emergency has ever caused me to pray that prayer.

There was no relief. I couldn't pick myself off the cold bathroom tile. I think Brandon eventually did it himself after he jumped a few flaming hoops to get me the anti-nausea medicine I needed.

Unfortunately, I believed my little puke-a-thon was the stomach virus of the apocalypse. My mistake.

As my friend Tim said the other night, "What you believe matters."

Once recovered, I ate another muffin. Two hours later, I start puking again. As if the first mistake wasn't enough, I used the anti-nausea medicine too soon, thereby trapping the offending substance (teff flour) inside my body, which forced it to run its course.

Take my word when I tell you this was a bad decision.

A few days after this, I caught an actual stomach virus, then another virus, then the flu. Then I got pregnant. Oh boy.

I stayed sick until week 26 of my pregnancy (which amounts to six months of constant illness), at which point I perked up. Until I had Sara.

During labor, I had a systemic reaction to the epidural, which didn't even work in the end. Man, oh man, was she worth it, but dude...

 

The Plummet

After her birth, I wasn't the same. I knew something was wrong. Suddenly, it wasn't just what I ate. It was what I touched. What I breathed. But I couldn't think about me. I had a sick baby to take care of.

Things spun out of control. I couldn't safely administer Sara's medicine because I reacted to it upon skin contact. I lost several more foods. Anaphylaxsis became a common occurrence. I lived off Benadryl. And I bought a medical alert bracelet because I never knew what would happen, when, where, how, or why.

When God healed Sara of RSV and her chronic ear infections, I snapped. Like a twig.

One afternoon, I ate a coconut macaroon for a snack and immediately had an anaphylactic reaction. The next morning, I awoke to pain. Tissue pain. Muscle pain. Bone pain. All of it. Pain which never left. Which I still have to this day, to a lesser degree.

I began to reject all food. Even water made me ill. After several days of being unable to eat and too slow to drink, I dehydrated and had to be given IV fluids.

Elders from our church prayed for me. Within a couple of days, I was able to eat again, but everything gave me trouble. I might eat one thing one day and reject it the next.

We struggled for months to figure out what to do. We tried fasting, supplements, liquid nutrition, amino acid powder. I dropped a lot of weight very quickly. I remember wondering if I would die of starvation.

In September 2012, we learned of the GAPS diet, which is a gut-healing diet. I followed it to perfection, practically living off broths and soups. And it was enough. For a while.

 

Floxed

I won't go into the details of how it happened--you can read the story here--but after being poisoned by a fluoroquinolone drug, my issues worsened. This is when I had to stop drinking coffee and wearing make-up. I lost a ton of foods at once and had to begin wearing a mask every time I ventured into public. Even normal, natural scents like lavender essential oil sent me into respiratory distress. Anaphylaxsis became even more common. As in "three to five times a week" common.

I remember at least two instances during that time in which my spirit separated from my body, allowing me to see everything outside of myself. I remember deciding at least three times to live rather than depart to my Lord for the sake of Superman at my bedside.

In early June 2013, I found myself in another crisis. I again ended up in the ER. This time, we all wondered whether or not I would survive.

My family called a prayer meeting on my behalf, which resulted in God saving my life in a really cool way. For the summer, I was able to eat anything that grew in our garden. Even watermelon, which I hadn't been able to eat in years.

(Note: Prayer changes things. Every time.)

When the summer ended, so did my freedom. I lost all the foods I had enjoyed over the summer and several more, and had one final crisis in December. Fortunately, I was able to stay out of the hospital that time.

Nutritional Therapy

 

I enlisted the help of my friend Jennifer Nervo of 20 Something Allergies in February 2014. She had just become a licensed nutritional therapist. With her help, I gained stability in my diet by following a low-histamine Autoimmune Paleo plan on a four day rotation, which is every bit as complicated as it sounds. I couldn't eat a wide variety of foods, but for the first time since I became ill, I was eating enough.

Even still, my "safe foods" list dwindled.

In summary, food has been a struggle, and the struggle's been real. 

I always knew God would heal me, but part of me doubted my food allergies would be included in that healing. I mean, they've been around for a decade.

When I imagined being well, I imagined going around mask-free and fearless. Having my old energy back. An absence of pain. Even the ability to eat the things I could before I was really sick.

But then Jesus showed up, and all this impossible stuff started happening. First my hands. Then the way I tolerated cold temperatures. Then no more mask because fragrances no longer affected me as they once did.

I couldn't help myself. I asked, "Why not my food allergies?" If Jesus could heal all the other symptoms, he could heal those too.

One day, I tried a bite of a gluten-free cookie. Just to see what would happen. Nothing happened. Then I tried goat milk. Again, nothing. Then eggs. Nothing.

Bulletproof

 

When I no longer required a mask, I told Brandon I wanted to attend the Project 41 White As Snow gala on January 22. (Project 41 is a ministry for sex-trafficking victims and prostitutes in Ouachita Parish. The gala is their big fundraising event each year. Contact me if you're interested in joining the prayer team.)

One morning not long after buying the tickets, I was praying through the Lord's Prayer. (I often use it as a guideline and personalize it to fit the needs of the day. Martin Luther style.) When I got to "give us this day our daily bread," I felt the Holy Spirit say, "You have not because you ask not." And I knew in some mysterious way He wanted me to ask for permission to eat the food at the gala and if I did, He would allow it.

I began telling people--Mom, Brandon, my prayer group--"Just you watch. I'm gonna eat that food and be fine. No matter what it is."

Sure enough, I enjoyed grilled chicken, candied carrots, seasoned green beans, twice-baked potatoes (with cheese and pseudo bacon bits), and two bites of cheesecake (no crust) that I didn't have to cook. Without issue.

As Brandon so eloquently put it, I was bulletproof.

The Big Leagues

 

My stomach wasn't too happy the week following the gala. I had a fair amount of GI inflammation, nausea, intestinal pain, and bloating. Which--granted--isn't all that bad considering what I've been through, but still...

I figured God had given me a free pass for that one night and I'd have to wait a bit longer for complete healing. No big deal. I can be patient.

My prayer group met on Friday night. They asked for testimonies of miraculous healings, which we've been seeing in a steady stream since December. I shared my story again for those who hadn't heard it and for those who wanted to hear it again, during which I mentioned I was believing God for complete healing of my food allergies.

When I got home that night, the Holy Spirit whispered to my spirit, "You haven't asked to be able to eat the food tomorrow."

I'd planned to attend a bridal luncheon in honor of my cousin's fiance the next day. A meal would be served. Honestly, partaking hadn't even occurred to me. Neither had requesting permission to do so.

"Okay, Lord. I would love to eat the food tomorrow. If it would please you, will you allow me to enjoy it?"

I lacked the assurance I felt before the gala, but was content to leave the matter in the Lord's hands. I knew I would know whether or not the food was for me when I saw it. No matter what, I was thrilled just to attend. I hadn't seen my Chapman cousins in years.

 The menu.

Long story short(er): I. ate. it. all. (Minus the orzo and cheesecake crust.)

I knew the moment that fabulous salad was placed before me, it was meant for me and I would be fine.

I even took a bite of the orzo pasta, mistaking it for rice. (I didn't read the menu carefully.) That mistake might have killed me three years ago and would've required Epi and an ER visit in 2009 and 50-100mg of Benadryl as far back as 2007.

But that day my face swelled a little bit. Basically, the equivalent of a sneeze. I didn't even flush.

Mom and I laughed and laughed and laughed throughout the entire meal, which may have been slightly inappropriate, but we couldn't help it. We were absolutely drunk on the joy of the Spirit. (We may have cried a little, too.)

What happened was impossible. The food was delicious. And that cheesecake? The best thing I can remember eating in 10 years. Hands down.

"Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus," was the song of my heart which accompanied each bite.

The End

 

The night after the luncheon, I renewed the habit of praying over each meal (in addition to Sara's sweet blessing), thanking God and praying it would heal and nourish my body and the bodies of my family.

This habit accomplishes several important things at once:

1. It reminds me food is a gift, not a right.
2. It reminds me of the Giver.
3. It's a declaration of dependence upon Father for all sustenance. 
4. It forces me to be a good steward of what I put into my body, which is the temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19), and reminds me that "all things are lawful for me, but not all things are helpful" (1 Corinthians 6:12).
5. Each bite becomes joyful worship (1 Corinthians 10:31).  

Here's what has happened since:

 

 Oatmeal and goat milk for breakfast yesterday morning. 

I hadn't eaten oatmeal in four years. Brandon left

some in the pot, and I just knew it was for me!

A little coffee to go with my Jesus time this morning. 

First time in three years.

Lawful, not helpful, but oh so yummy.

Omelet with farm fresh eggs, onion, bell pepper, spinach, and goat cheese.

Not low histamine and definitely not AIP approved.

Should've made me flush, sneeze, and itch for the rest of the day, but I'm good.

After my bowl of oatmeal yesterday morning, I said it out loud and posted it to Facebook: I don't have Mast Cell Activation Disease anymore. I'm healed.
 
What a delight eating has become! I can sit before my plate with gratitude, joy, and confidence. No fear. I've been eating foods I haven't enjoyed in years without a hint of discomfort, even when I kind of expect it.

For so long, food was an enemy. No more.

I've been healed of an "incurable disease" by my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I no longer claim MCAD. All my online biographies have been changed (see below). I humbly and enthusiastically accept the gift the Lord is pleased to give--healing of body, mind, and spirit.

Just one month and a couple of days into 2016, the Lord has proven His word to me. This is the Year of Abundance, indeed.

Emergency Desensitization Technique

If you've followed my health journey over the past couple of years, you may recall me mentioning a mysterious "treatment" used during my mast cell episodes. It's my secret weapon against those angry little buggers.

Time-lapsed mast cell degranulation. Cool to watch. Not so cool to experience.

The treatment now has a name--Emergency Desensitization Technique (EDT).

 Me at Dr. Carolyne's office receiving a lymphatic treatment in 2013.

My friend, Dr. Carolyne Yakaboski of Natural Wellness Center in West Monroe, Louisiana discovered EDT in an effort to save my life. She called upon the most effective protocols she'd learned throughout her experience in natural medicine, and spliced them together in a specific sequence.

And. It. Is. Amazing.

Family and friends have performed EDT on me countless times with nearly perfect success. Only once did I use Epi in addition to the treatment. My kids, family members, and friends have experienced the wonders of EDT as well.

I've seen EDT relieve symptoms* such as:

• sneezing
• coughing
• wheezing
• itching
• headache
• insomnia
• anxiety
• difficulty breathing
• dizziness
• fainting
• brain fog
• nausea
• sciatic pain

Over time, it also may decrease sensitivity to particular allergens and triggers. It certainly has for me.

I believe EDT is a significant factor in my improvement over the past two years. Improvement which shouldn't be possible considering that Mast Cell Activation Syndrome is a progressive disease.

What IS EDT?

EDT is based upon modern allergy relief techniques and the ancient principles of acupressure and deep breathing which trigger the body's natural healing response. It's simple to perform and requires no special skill. All you need is a pen, paper, a few cotton swabs, and an accessible way to learn it.

I've longed to share the technique with fellow floxies, masties, and allergy-sufferers for as long as I've used it, but I have friends all over the world who suffer like me. They can't all fly to West Monroe to learn from Master Carolyne in person. (Though I would love that. Party, anyone?)

SO, during my social media hiatus, Dr. Carolyne and I filmed a video tutorial which demonstrates how to perform this simple technique from the safety and convenience of your own home. Dr. Carolyne provides instruction while I serve as her willing prop.

I loved practice sessions for this video. I received two or more treatments a week while we worked on it, and felt great by the time we were done.

This two minute clip features my personal testimonial. (Please forgive my awkward camera presence and southern drawl.)

If you are interested in learning more about EDT, contact Dr. Carolyne Yakaboski at http://dryakaboski.com/ or call her office at 318-387-3000. 

(Note: By promoting this video/technique, I do not gain financially in any way. I simply want to share information that has improved my quality of life in hopes that it will do the same for others.)

*EDT is not intended to diagnose illness or to be used as a substitute for medical advice. Please consult a physician in matters relating to serious illness and medical emergencies.

Just Say "No" to Self-Pity

With over a decade of experience under my belt, I know about diet restriction--both the good kind and the harmful kind. (Note: I do not advocate calorie restrictive diets.)

I understand the feelings of deprivation and the fear of change. I know what it's like to starve in a land of plenty. I've been so sick I could only tolerate a handful of foods. There have been times I could not eat at all. Thanks to God and an amazing health team, I am no longer in that place. Through lots of grace and support, I have survived and learned a few things along the way.

Check out a snippet of my journey at 20 Something Allergies, the blog of nutritional therapist, research enthusiast, friend and witch doctor extraordinaire, Jennifer Nervo.

Jubilee Farm

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I so enjoy gathering with family over a delicious, bountiful meal, looking into the faces of those I love. It causes me to ponder Heaven--an eternal feast with our Savior and the family of God. My heart flies with joy in the day and hope for the future. Christmas is great, but we have brought much "doing" into it. Thanksgiving still allows me to "just be" with beloved souls as I contemplate the goodness of God.

For as long as I can remember, my mother's family has gathered in my grandparents' living room on Thanksgiving night. Before the feast, we bless the meal and share one thing for which we are grateful. We have so many blessings from which to choose. The room which once seemed spacious is now quite snug due to the marriages and babies of my generation. There is food enough to fill us all. We have been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. Our answers range from "toilet paper" to "Jesus Christ" with many things in between. There is always laughter. There is always at least one "amen."

Due to my extreme sensitivities, I will not be able to join them this year. The thought saddens me, but I don't see why I have to break from all tradition. If I could be with them tonight, upon my turn to give thanks, I would answer, "Jubilee Farm."

To truly appreciate my answer, a story must be told.

Early in 2012, my dad had a difficult decision to make. He could retire at the end of the school year, or continue a job he no longer enjoyed in order to secure a more comfortable retirement. Dad's health was deteriorating, but if he resigned my parents would no longer be able to afford their house. Mom encouraged him to retire anyway.

My parents brainstormed about possible jobs my dad could do. A bad back is a bigger obstacle than one might think when considering a career change at the age of 60. They asked the Lord to guide them, and waited with eyes wide open.

One day, Mom came upon Proverbs 27:27--"There will be enough goats' milk for your food, for the food of your household and maintenance for your girls." (ESV)

She shared the scripture with Dad. "Maybe you could farm," Mom suggested. "You can grow our food, and maybe even make a little money." Dad once wanted to farm for a living, but his grandparents discouraged him so he went to college instead. Mom has always dreamed of a Little House on the Prairie lifestyle. It was a crazy idea, but my parents are just the right kind of crazy for this brand of adventure. 

If my parents were to become farmers, they needed to sell their house and find some land. They discussed moving closer to Farmerville to be nearer to Mom's parents and my family. Mom asked her dad to look for property outside of Farmerville. In no time at all, he secured the twelve acres which would become Jubilee Farm.

But there was one small problem: to buy a farm you need money, and money was something my parents did not have. Mom's parents agreed to help. They covered the cost of the land with Mom's inheritance and a promissory note which Mom and Dad would pay within a year upon the sale of their house. It didn't quite work out that way. Eighteen months later, they still haven't sold their house. Instead, they paid the difference with Dad's inheritance, which came in only a few weeks ago. Talk about a leap of faith....

After Brandon took a walk on the new property and had a talk with my dad about the merits of reducing and eliminating debt, Brandon came home to me one May afternoon with the looney notion of selling our house, buying a trailer and forming a commune with my parents and sister on the farm-to-be. My health was tanking at the time. "It would be nice to have your parents close by," he said. I thought he had lost his mind. But eventually, I lost mine, too, and we became the first family to take up residence on Jubilee Farm. 

The land here--it isn't prime property. This place used to be a dump. Literally. There is a lifetime's worth of glass shards in our front yard. Three pipelines run through it, and there isn't a lot of marketable timber. It's rutted, weedy and wild. It isn't pretty. The soil is acidic and rock hard, which is the opposite of good farmland. However, it's lack of apparent potential made it affordable, which is what we needed. And we know that the Lord does not see as man sees. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord sees deeper and farther (1 Samuel 16:7). He saw potential and beauty, and helped us see it, too. Even Jenny, who visited before many improvements were made, declared the property possessed "a blessed quality."

In January, I shared the story of how Jubilee Farm earned her name. What I didn't share is the passage the Lord used to speak a blessing over our little farm. I read it in January, just before Mom's Jubilee Birthday celebration, and inscribed it in her birthday journal.

"You visit the earth and water it,

You greatly enrich it;

The river of God is full of water; 

You provide their grain,

for so You have prepared it.

You water its ridges abundantly,

You settle its furrows;

You make it soft with showers, 

You bless its growth.

You crown the year with Your goodness,

and Your paths drip with abundance.

They drop on the pastures of the wilderness,

and the little hills rejoice on every side.

The pastures are clothed with flocks;

The valleys also are covered with grain;

They shout for joy, they also sing."

-Psalm 65:9-13

Brandon tilled the ground. Dad put his Master Gardener's knowledge to use, and balanced the pH of the soil. In March, we planted the gorgeous baby plants the Yakaboskis sold to us, and watched them grow. The work suited Dad, even with his bad back. It actually made him feel better.

 

Unfortunately, some mistakes were made. Overwhelmed by the bug population trying to eat our lovely little plants, Dad used a mild pesticide early in the season. In his defense, almost no one around here has much success at organic gardening. He simply gave in to what the Master Gardener class taught him, and what other gardeners do themselves. But it didn't kill the bugs, and I couldn't eat the first of the produce as a result. Later, he tried a more potent pesticide. I didn't know he was spraying again, and walked outside with the kids about 20 minutes after everything had been doused. The poison, which is a neurotoxin, almost killed me. I do not exaggerate.

The initial exposure is the worst reaction I have had to date, and there were long term effects. It put me in the bed for weeks, and set my health on a steep decline. I made some mistakes of my own, and found myself unable to eat or drink again during the first week of June. I was watching all of that gorgeous food come into my kitchen, and couldn't eat a bite of it. I struggled to believe God's promise to me that I would live because I felt like I was dying. I will not rewrite what has already been written, but it is important to note that a prayer meeting took place on my behalf and things drastically changed afterward. 

Yes, mistakes were made, but God trumped them all. Within a few days, I was eating again. Granted, it was only raw eggs and cream of rice cereal at first, but when I began to eat "real food," I could suddenly eat from the garden. Zucchini, squash, tomatoes, tomatillos, eggplant, peppers, onions, cabbage, all of it! I could even eat watermelon to which I have been allergic for years. I could eat foods then that I cannot eat today. And best of all--the food was healing my body. As I ate, I could feel a gentle tingle throughout, almost as if I was feeling the healing taking place at a cellular level. I will never forget the sensation.

When I finally climbed out of survival mode, I realized how well our garden was doing. Others gardeners would comment that their gardens weren't doing as well, and they had years of experience. Rains came regularly and at the right times, nourishing the plants and washing away the poison. Dad, determined to never use pesticides again, began to pick off the potato bugs and tomato eating worms by hand. The Louisiana summer was not overly hot. We grew enough safe, beautiful food to feed our families, to share with our friends and to sell at nearby markets well into the month of July.

The excitement we experienced in the summer is mostly over now. We have greens to look forward to, but a recent frost killed our squashes and only a few green tomatoes remain to be fried. But when I look back at what came to pass, I tear up a little. 

God used the garden to save my life. The thought leaves me speechless. 

It overwhelms me that as early as the spring of 2012, God was actively answering the prayers offered for me in June 2013. Think about this--as you make your requests before God today, His answer is already in the works. He resides in our past, present and future, and is not bound by time or money or our limitations or our mistakes. He reigns over all. And He is building with us a rapport of faithfulness so when the next trial comes, we can say with greater assurance, "God, You are faithful, and You are good. I trust you."


I am thankful for Jubilee Farm. I am thankful for what she says about my God. He is the ultimate Gardener, enriching the soil and the soul, bringing the rain and sunshine as needed for growth. He crowns the year with goodness. He makes our paths drip with abundance.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Happy Birthday To Me--Part 2

Although I cannot be certain what caused my abrupt decline during the first week of June, I have my suspicions. I blame it mostly on my being an insufferable rule follower. While this quality made me a model student in school, it has proven to be a problem in other areas of my life. Model students don't make many friends, but they do draw negativity in the forms of disdain and jealousy with impeccable magnetism. Excellence to the letter can be crippling for the Christian, making one highly susceptible to legalism. Fortunately for my soul, the Lord showed me a long time ago that being a goody-two-shoes doesn't earn me any marks in His Book. Where my health is concerned, rule following hasn't done me many favors either.

I have followed every doctor's protocol with precision. Each time, I have suffered for doing so. I can trace this pattern back to the spring of 2006 when I first began seeking relief from my allergies. I never missed my allergy shots. I hated needles, but I was there each week believing, hoping I would get better. I got worse. A lot worse. When I would develop the inevitable sinus infection during stressful times in college, I took the medications and steroid shots prescribed by my primary physician. Which also made me worse. I did everything my OBGYN suggested without question. Bad idea. After my health collapse in 2012, I followed the advice of the immunologist, gastroenterologist, and rheumatologist, undergoing their tests, taking their medications and paying their outrageous bills. To my detriment, of course.  When Dr. Cave sent me home with an overwhelming amount of drugs, supplements and homeopathics in November, I made a chart, methodically taking the right thing at the right time. One by one, I grew intolerant to them all until I had a severe reaction to the methylation supplements in early March. And then there is the incident involving the Cipro. My BioSet practitioner was helpful overall, but I responded poorly to several of her suggestions as well. Dr. Yakaboski has been the exception. She alone has done no harm. While her treatments cannot heal me, they make my life liveable and grant me much relief.

In addition to seeing doctors, I have remade myself time and again in a desperate search for safe nutrition. After attempting several difficult diets and being met with failure upon failure, I finally stumbled upon the GAPS diet, which I began last September. I followed the diet and lifestyle protocol as rigidly as my resources would allow. GAPS was instrumental in improving my health knowledge and practices, but because I am an extreme case, several of the diet's major tenets not only failed to help me but have caused more problems. I do not tolerate bone broths, and I have recently learned the probiotics and ferments which are so wonderful for everyone else have actually increased my hyper-immunity. In the past few months, I have altered my diet several more times, trying out juicing, raw greens, a low-sulfur diet, a vegetarian diet and others. Nothing has helped. Upon another doctor's recommendation, I added ground flax and chia seeds to my diet to help build a mucous layer in my gut. Flax and chia are great for most people. Though I knew deep down they would not be good for me, I followed the instructions with perfect obedience anyway because I simply cannot help myself. It took about two weeks for my body to rebel. And I am here to tell you, I am full of sass, even at the cellular level.

God allowed me to enjoy my birthday party on June 1, a kindness for which I am very grateful. On the night of June 2, I had an allergic reaction to Brandon's toothpaste....from kissing him.....after he had swished and gargled water to protect me from the smell. On the morning of June 3 (my birthday), I forgot to check my tolerance to my daily dose of ground flax seeds, and had a severe reaction to them. I was teeter-tottering by Tuesday morning when I reacted to the ghee I had come to enjoy in my rice cereal. After that, I couldn't eat anything at all without extreme nausea, gastrointestinal pain, systemic inflammation and swelling in my throat. I was struck with a strong sense of déjà vu when it became impossible to sip water without burning and nausea. I sipped anyway, but without food it just wasn't enough. We began working on getting home health out to the house on Wednesday in order to avoid the hospital. By Thursday afternoon, it was obvious that home health services were not going to work out, and I was too dehydrated to go any longer without fluids. Without any remaining options, we headed to the ER.

Hospital emergency rooms are full of dangers for people like me, which is why people like me tend to avoid them. The combination of people, chemicals and medical professionals who just don't understand make for a highly unstable and unsafe environment. The evening was difficult, but God manifested Himself in several different ways. He blessed my double mask. I reacted to several environmental triggers, but none of the reactions were severe. One of mom's former laboratory students popped in, and spoke an encouraging word from the Lord. A very nice, conscientious male nurse took charge, and started my IV. Without him, I'm not sure I would have been given any care at all. Overall, I was neglected by the on-duty nurse practitioner (who I apparently offended when I declined x-rays), and left the hospital still dehydrated because I was cut off after only half a bag of fluids. (Dude--that was an expensive--not to mention risky--half bag of saline.) Thanks to a passionate, hard-working doctor and an extraordinary, dear friend who also happens to be a nurse practitioner, I was set up with another IV Friday night (June 7)--this time at home. 

Upon returning from the ER Thursday night (not desiring to repeat the experience any time soon), I began trying to take some food. I remembered reading in Gut and Psychology Syndrome by Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride that raw eggs are well-rounded, easily absorbed nutrition which put little to no stress on the digestive system. I was feeling too nauseated to attempt cold, raw eggs, so I scrambled, salted and warmed them in a pan before drinking them. They were a bit slimy going down, but they settled perfectly.

If you are unfamiliar with food allergies, you may not know what a miracle it is that I could eat eggs when I could eat nothing else. My tolerance to them is actually quite shocking as eggs are extremely allergenic. I have come to think of eggs as my "manna"--a provision no less miraculous than wafers falling from the heavens.

The ways of God are ever beyond me. 

The Saturday following my birthday (June 8), another small group gathered in my parents' home on my behalf. We left the guest list in the Lord's hands this time, and He put together a small, fascinatingly eclectic group to pray together. I sat in a chair, double masked and hooked up to an IV, as people asked the Lord to heal me and grant me clear direction on my healing journey. The men blessed me by praying with authority and power. The women plead my case before the Lord. An elder and dear friend from my church anointed me with oil. The meeting was both remarkable and not. Clouds did not part, I was not made well with a sudden touch, nor did we hear a distinct, booming voice telling us that everything was going to be okay, but God was present. He honored the gathering He had ordained, and He has answered the prayers of His people. 

Following the prayer meeting, I had some decisions to make about new doctors and treatments. I decided against them for two reasons--

1) A lack of clarity. I just wasn't sure. At the meeting, we all asked the Lord for clear direction. I felt confused, not certain at all, so I chose not to move forward. That being said, if I receive clear direction at any time regarding any doctor or treatment, I will do exactly as God suggests.

2) The story of the woman with the bleeding issue (Mark 5).  God kept bringing her story to my attention because it contained a message for me--"No more doctors." Like the woman in the story, I have suffered much in the hands of physicians, and funds are running low. In the end, the woman wasn't healed until she ran to Jesus, all out of alternate options. God wants to work a miracle here, and I aim to let Him.


And God has worked a miracle already. Within three weeks, I went from being unable to drink water, to eating raw eggs and boiled squash, to pureed vegetables and soups, to well-cooked and carefully prepared meat and vegetables, to things I have been allergic to for months....and in some cases, years.

Boiled zucchini and ground beef purée. I ate baby food for a little over a week.

Broccoli and squash purée (it tasted a lot better than it looks) with lightly cooked scrambled eggs.

Eggplant lasagna made on 6/22 with fried eggplant, fresh tomatoes, bell pepper and fresh herbs from the garden with homemade juice from beets (also from the garden), carrots and apples. In my opinion, this is the best meal I've made in the last year. I'm not only saying that because I have been deprived.

After reading that jalapeños help to reduce inflammation of the GI tract, I decided to make poppers on 6/23. These are fresh Jubilee Farm peppers, sliced in half, seeded, stuffed with fresh goat cheese, wrapped in Applegate bacon (to which I had been allergic since January) and drizzled with raw, local honey. They were heavenly, and I felt great after eating them.

On Sunday night, I made and enjoyed fried green tomatoes. Yesterday, I ate fresh watermelon for the first time in years without Benadryl!!!

Something has changed. I have changed. I have been remade. And truly, it cannot be explained apart from Jesus Christ. 

I am not supposed to be able to eat bacon and chicken and peppers and goat cheese and watermelon.

I should be having allergic reactions every day, as I have for about as long as I can remember, but I'm not.

I eat the food grown from the earth of Jubilee Farm, and I feel good. I get a little burst of energy after each meal, which may not seem like a big deal to you, but I cannot recall a time in my entire life when I felt good after eating. I think what I am feeling is....healing. I still occasionally have pain after I eat, but the pain is nothing compared to what I was experiencing before. (TMI warning!) I have also been to the bathroom twice without the assistance of an enema in the last two weeks, an event that had not occurred since April.

Granted, I have a long way to go without any idea of how long full recovery will take. I have completely released my healing timeline to the Lord. He can and will (with or without my permission) do whatever He wants. And whatever it is He wants, He is doing it now.

Things feel different upon this restart. My journey for the past seven years has been two steps forward, three steps back. Today, I feel like an infant taking slow, faltering steps, but I believe that those steps will grow steadier. Rather than regressing, I will gain momentum. I will eventually run, leap, skip, play and all the things that someone as sick as I have been should never be able to do again.

I will.....because though I am not yet well, I am already healed. It's already been done. Remember, God isn't bound by human limitations. He works outside of time. From His perspective, His work is complete. The promise has been made, the fulfillment set in motion. My job is to believe my God, to think and act as though my healing is as good as accomplished. Of course I must continue to accept my current limitations. I will do all I can to avoid environmental triggers, take naps, guard against overexertion, eat good food, take detox baths, and give myself enemas as necessary, but now I possess the freedom to do these things with the end in mind, something I find to be equally terrifying and beautiful.

In the end, being good at following the rules failed me. Miserably. God has none too gently pried my fingers loose from my beloved little book of shalls and shall nots, completely bankrupt of power to save--another kind of healing entirely. Today, I watch that book smoke in a fire I lit. And I know: I will never be the same again.

To all who have prayed anywhere at any time---thank you. God has heard your prayers! He is answering them at this very moment.

"In fact, [I] expected to die. But as a result, [I] stopped relying on [myself] and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead. And He did rescue [me] from mortal danger, and He will rescue [me] again. We have placed our confidence in Him, and He will continue to rescue [me]. And you are helping us by praying for us. Then many people will give thanks because God has graciously answered so many prayers for [my] safety." (2 Corinthians 1:9-11 NLT)

Let us praise Him for what He is already doing!


My birthday week may have been slightly disappointing, but the month of June has proven to be one of the most exceptional months of my life.

I may just take up the habit of having a birthday month after all.

Happy Birthday To Me--Part 1

Women know how to get the most out of their birthdays. Only men have birthdays. We ladies get a birthday weekend, a birthday week, or (if you really know how to play your cards right) a birthday month. I have decided I don't want to celebrate for an entire month. I think I'll take my birthday week and move right along.

I'm honestly not sure how to describe my 29th celebration. It was bookended by two precious gatherings for my sake, but the days in between were hard. Very hard. However, I think I shall begin my recount with the actual celebration, which was highlighted by getting out of the house, good food and sweet people who love me.

 Sara called me "Mama" for the first time ever at my party on June 1! What a great gift!

 Micah and Samantha Davis both made me cards! They were perfect!

 The man in the corner gave me four dark chocolate bars and a $25 gift card to iTunes.

 One never errs with chocolate and music.

 We all ate up some baby love. Mr. Will Davis is a sweetheart!

Brandon grilled steaks for everyone while I cooked mine safely on Mom's stovetop. I also made my own me-friendly (at the time) birthday cake. Dark chocolate lovers, rejoice! I'm going to share the recipe. Everyone else can skip the next couple of paragraphs:

Dark Chocolate Zucchini Cake

Cake:

1/2 cup coconut oil

2 cups organic, sprouted rice flour

1/2 cup cocoa powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 teaspoon coarse sea salt

1 cup Grade B organic maple syrup

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3 large eggs

2 cups grated zucchini, packed

1 8 oz. organic, dark chocolate bar, chopped

Line the bottom of a 10" springform pan with unbleached parchment paper, and grease the sides with coconut oil. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine dry ingredients in a medium sized bowl. Scoop out one cup of mix and set aside. In a separate, larger bowl, cream the coconut oil and maple syrup. Add vanilla and eggs. Keeping the cup of flour mixture set aside, add the bowl of  dry ingredients to the wet, and beat until well combined. Place the 2 cups of zucchini in the bowl the dry ingredients were in, add the cup of flour and the dark chocolate pieces, and toss to coat. Then add the zucchini to the rest of the cake mixture, and stir until just combined. Spread the batter into the springform pan and bake 50-60 minutes.

Dark Chocolate Ganache

1 cup full fat organic coconut milk 

8 oz. unsweetened Baker's chocolate, chopped

maple syrup to taste

While the cake is cooling, chop the Baker's chocolate. Bring the coconut milk to almost boiling, and remove from heat. Place the chopped chocolate into the hot milk, and stir until smooth. Add maple syrup to taste. You will use less for a darker chocolate flavor, and more if you prefer a sweeter frosting. 

I poured my ganache over the cake immediately, and set the entire thing into the fridge to cool. If you don't have a ton of allergies, you may want to garnish the cake with chopped pecans or fresh fruit. Strawberries would have been divine on this cake! Maybe next year!

(This recipe was adapted from the blog Sweet Sugar Bean. I'm not good enough to come up with 100% original recipes quite yet.)

After the dinner, per my request, we took communion. I don't get to go to church anymore, and this is the one gaping hole I can't fill from home. I know that communion may be a strange way to end a birthday party, but it was my favorite part of the night. Remembering my Lord in that way at that time was an all important breath before taking the plunge that was the week to follow.

To be continued.....

Thoughts on Jubilee

Maintaining a state of jubilee has been harder than I had imagined. It is difficult to live in mental, emotional and spiritual freedom when the walls of my world are continually closing in. It isn't easy to not think of myself as a sick and struggling mother when that is my reality on most days. It is almost impossible not to fixate on my symptoms when they are constantly changing, surprising me and even sometimes making me laugh at the strangeness of it all. On the other hand, it is an effortless thing to allow my mind to wander to the things I would like to be doing that I cannot do, to my disappointment that I am not the mother I desire to be and to my growing realization that getting better is going to be far more complicated than loosely following a diet for a couple of years.

When I first began the GAPS diet last September, I envisioned a slow and steady journey toward healing. I saw myself getting better and better until--voila! While I rejoice to report that my digestive symptoms have improved significantly during the last 7 months, the ground has unexpectedly crumbled beneath my feet in other ways. My environmental sensitivities continue to worsen. In addition to toxins, fragrances and latex, I have become violently allergic to peanuts. I came very close to going into anaphylactic shock on Sunday evening after attempting to make peanut butter for Micah. I simply breathed in peanut particles released from the garbage can and within a few minutes my body temperature dropped, my sinuses swelled shut and I was struggling for breath. Now, peanuts are banned from the house indefinitely, and life has become even smaller. Weirder, too--I have ordered a good-quality cotton mask to wear in public as a safety precaution. If you ever need a giggle, just imagine the thoughts of my fellow grocery shoppers. On the bright side, a mask may make occasional church attendance possible again.

If the only opposition to my efforts to live in liberty were physical, it is possible that I would be having more success. But we are whole people whose bodies, souls and spirits are all intricately intertwined. When one part of our make up is assaulted, the other areas suffer. If our entire composition is assaulted at once, it is only by the grace of God we stand.....or at least get back up again.

Jenny received disheartening news at her last two doctor's appointments. I know she is going to hate reading this, which is why I feel it necessary to remind her that I love her as my own soul. I can't separate the two anymore so it is impossible for me not to take her hard news personally. (So there! You can't be mad at me.) A couple of weeks ago, she was told that the chemo was no longer working. The liver tumors were larger. The cancer in her esophagus had returned, and it had spread to her lungs and stomach lining. Experimental medicine was considered, but last week she was released from the trial because they had run out of the smaller sized pills and Jenny could not swallow the larger ones. I will not for a moment pretend that the difficulty of the past few weeks has nothing to do with her circumstances. Jenny continues to amaze me by her capabilities in spite of constant pain and a grim prognosis. As she often reminds me, she still has today and God will provide her with breath until He is ready to call her home. I'm just afraid He's going to call her before I am ready to let her go. I know it won't be a goodbye--rather more like a "Bon voyage!" and an "I'll be along soon"--but I tremble when I anticipate the pain I fear is coming.

I have been under considerable duress physically and emotionally, so it follows that I would be affected spiritually. And I have been. I have felt distant from the God I so need, the God I so depend upon for everything from what to put on my daily to-do list to the strength to pull it off. I haven't liked it. With no way to fix myself, I asked Him to fix me for me. I searched His Word for answers. I  prayed. I quieted my soul so I could hear Him. When He was ready, He spoke--

"Let go. Trust me. Give thanks."

The message came to me in no less than five books I was reading at the same time over the course of three days. It came to me in emails, in conversations.

"Let go. Trust me. Give thanks."

I heard it in a podcasted interview online. I saw it on Facebook. It was spoken in a sermon.

"Let go. Trust me. Give thanks."

After several days of being pummeled by these instructions, I received this helpful hint--

"P.S. It's all tied together."
  
It was during a conversation with Jenny that I realized what had happened and was able to verbalize it. "You know?" I said. "I think my problem is that I am suddenly doubting God's goodness."

Now, I know God is good. I have known that since I was three. I have memorized Scripture passages teaching the theology. The cross proves it. Without thinking, several examples of God's goodness to me in particular come to mind. The truth of God's goodness is a part of my spirit's bone structure, but my soul had lost touch with my spirit's conviction in the midst of the day to day struggle of being me. Because I had lost touch with this truth, I was suddenly trying to place the circumstances in my life in an order that made sense to me. It wasn't working. I was becoming frustrated, feeling overwhelmed and getting sick....er.

I had to let go. I needed to trust God. I was called to give thanks. The three instructions are pretty interconnected. To let go, I have to trust. When I give thanks, it's easy to let go. When I'm trusting, I can clearly see God's goodness, and gratitude is a natural by-product of the process. But I couldn't start with letting go or trusting because I can't will myself to do either. However, I could will myself to give thanks. I didn't have to look far to find things for which to be thankful.

1) Jubilee Farm coming to life

 Thanks for the photo, Ann Marie!

2) Baking with babies

3) Sara's first egg hunt

4) Meeting Mr. Clarence, the precious man who provided me with goat's milk last summer when I could eat little else.  Mr. Clarence belonged to my Uncle David's congregation at Good Hope Baptist Church. He gave to me because he loves my uncle and our Lord.

 

5) The first planting and planting party at Jubilee Farm

 Our beautiful plants purchased from Yak's Farm on Hwy. 33

 Enjoying a tomato just a few minutes before getting stung by a wasp. Poor baby!

 Meet Rich who might as well already be a part of the family as Micah now asks for Auntie and Richie. :)

Only two and a half weeks after beginning my Gratitude List for 2013 (inspired by Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts) I have 45 gifts recorded in my journal. That's forty-five items that remind me that God is indeed very good and worthy of my trust. Forty-five items telling me I can let go.

Living in a state of jubilee is not pretending that life isn't hard or putting on a good face. Jubilee is saying, "God I trust You have our good at the center of Your plan" even when we can't make sense of things. It is looking at the world as a giant gift and life as a grand adventure. It is believing that life is still good even when it is painful. It is being able to say "thank you" when you are lying on a mattress only conscious enough to know that if you close your eyes for a moment you may wake up in Heaven. It is being able to pray as you are about to toss your cookies into the toilet. It is a peace that goes so deep that it doesn't matter if you never get well because healing isn't your real prize anyway. It is knowing that even if you lose a part of your soul, you'll get it back one day. Jubilee is Jesus, and that is something I always have and am never without.

Growth: A Health Update

Growth is gradual.

Real, organic growth can only be measured over time. The mixed greens Dad planted in the Autumn were young, tender sprouts the first time I went out to the small patch. The next time they were a little taller, fuller, darker. The next time a little more so. If I had gone out every day, the changes may have escaped me entirely. Even when I am very observant, I cannot see my children grow. I only realize they have grown when Micah's pants are suddenly too short or when I fail to snap the buttons of Sara's onesie.

Invisible types of growth are even more difficult to spot.

A friend gave me a copy of a delightful little book entitled Loving the Little Years: Motherhood in the Trenches by Rachel Jankovic. Rachel is the mother of five children, and experience along with her love of the Lord have granted her much wisdom concerning little ones. In the chapter, "Fruit of the Spirit Speed Quiz," she discusses the importance of observing and commenting upon the personal growth in our children. She writes--

"It is very easy for us to forget about the progress they make and to ignore the problems that they no longer wrestle with. If you have been faithfully disciplining your children, I guarantee you that there are many, many problems that they no longer struggle with....As a parent it is very easy to demean their progress by demeaning the struggle. Instead of praising them and pointing to their progress to encourage them, we ignore it.....Try to notice these little mile markers on the path of sanctification."

Commence domino effect in the brain.

The first thing I realized is, "Wow. I seriously fail at this." I'm pretty good about telling Micah that I'm proud of him, but I'm very general in my praise. For example, I may say something like, "Micah, I am proud of you because you are kind" or "Micah, you are so smart! I am proud of you!" Rachel encourages her readers to be more specific. So during bath time the other night, I told my son, "Micah, I am so proud of you! You used to cry every time I washed your hair, but you hardly ever cry about that anymore. You are such a big boy!" I wish you could have seen the smile of pleasure on his sweet little freckle-nosed face. He was delighted that I had acknowledged his progress!

Our little moment gave birth to other productive thoughts such as "Wow. Look at how far Brandon and I have come! We used to fret over the smallest things. Now we live under a ton of pressure and are granted just enough resources for daily bread, and we are doing really well. Praise God!" and "Wow. Sara may still have fussy moments, but look at how far we've come in a year. We've come from 6 hours or more a day of weeping and wailing to an occasional temper tantrum. Praise God!"

Finally, I directed my course of thinking inward and pondered my own progress. "Just a couple of months ago, I was having daily meltdowns. I can't remember the last time I lost control of myself. WOW! Praise God!" With that thought, I stumbled upon a realization that may be obvious to onlookers, but it's one I have missed almost entirely until that moment because I am constantly caught up in day to day survival mode--"Oh my gosh, I'm better! I'm much better."

And there it is--growth.

My meltdowns were a symptom I never got around to blogging much about. Mostly because it was my most embarrassing one, which is saying something as many of my symptoms have to do with poop. I have a condition called "pyroluria" which is caused by a group of chemicals called "kryptopyrroles." Pyroluria causes "irritability, anger, poor memory, impaired intellectual function, poor immunity and inability to deal with stress" (Gut and Psychology Syndrome, p. 44). I didn't exactly want to broadcast to the entire world that I was yelling at the kids every night and literally pulling my hair out when Sara would cry (girlfriend is LOUD) and occasionally daydreaming about tossing the screaming infant, the rambunctious boy, and the annoying dog out the window all at once and letting them fend for themselves while I cooked dinner. But I am unable to remember the last time I felt this way.

 It's not that I've become more patient or that I'm suddenly a better mother. No. I still feel very stressed when I'm chopping vegetables with a sharp knife that has been known to fly out of my hands due to my clumsiness and trying to check the food in the oven without burning the crying baby clinging to my pants leg so tightly that the pants actually fall off and simultaneously trying to ignore the redheaded boy literally bouncing off the walls of the living room who for all the world looks like a bizarre pinball in a machine while the dog barks loudly and annoyingly at the wind or the birds or the grass or at her own shadow. I still feel the stress that pandemonium brings and I often feel anger. I just no longer lose myself in it. I am now well enough to stop, breathe, pray and move on.

Other little mile markers on the road to restored health:

--I am reading again. I have always loved to read, but for awhile, my brain was so cloudy that I could not read. It was too much work and the words wouldn't stick anyway. The only book worth putting that much effort into was the Bible. I am now reading five books in addition to the Bible. Wow! Praise God!

--I am able to enjoy my kids! A few months ago, I was in a place where I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Taking care of children felt impossible all the time. It feels like I've suddenly woken from an 8 month long coma, and I'm getting to know two amazing little strangers. It's absolutely blissful. Wow! Praise God!

--Getting the kids ready to go outside doesn't leave me breathless or exhausted anymore. Wow! Praise God!

--My kitchen is beginning to look like a science lab with all the weird concoctions I've been making in the name of health. A few months ago, I was doing well to provide enough food for everyone. There was no time for experiments! Wow! Praise God!

--I am now able to take walks. It may not seem like much to you, but it's a pretty big deal to me. And not only am I taking walks, I am carrying Sara in the ErgoBaby, walking uphill and through the woods, lasting for 20 minutes at a time. Walking used to deplete my stores of energy, but now it often replenishes them. Oh, how I have enjoyed these walks! They are always a good time for the kids and me, and I love being outside and feeling strength in my body, a strength I didn't have a couple of months ago. Wow! Praise God!

--While I continue to suffer from dyspraxia, I am having fewer accidents.  Wow! Praise God!

--Getting out of the house no longer feels impossible. It's still hard, but not impossible. And I want to get out! Wow! Praise God!

--My smallest blue jeans are finally beginning to fit again. My smallest pair of pants are snug! I'm absorbing nutrition! Wow! Praise God!

--I have as much trouble remembering my last life-threatening allergic reaction as I do remembering my last emotional blow-up. I continue to react to all kinds of things, but I haven't felt like I was dying in months. Wow! Praise God!

--I no longer feel like I'm suffering. There are still many foods that I cannot eat, but I can eat so many more than I could last summer. I enjoy eating again! I have favorite foods! I'm not hungry all the time anymore. I continue to have pain, but I usually don't notice it. From time to time, I still run into a wall of fatigue (exhaustion you just can't push through), but it's a rare occurrence these days. I have lots of little complaints, but compared to how I was feeling in September, I just can't say that I'm suffering anymore. Wow! Praise God!

 I have a long road to hoe yet.

But God (don't you love those two words when put together side by side?) began peeling away my sick rags last week, and He began with the ones that were covering my eyes. Suddenly, I can see the growth! I can measure the progress!

It would be easy to attribute my improvement to my diet and lifestyle changes, but God removed that possibility a couple of weeks ago when I read this sentence from The Imitation of Christ--

"Neither canst thou be delivered or eased by any remedy or comfort, but as long as it shall please God thou must bear it."

When I read that, I felt the Lord speaking to me as clearly as I hear the hundreds of questions Micah asks me on any given day--"It will not be your diet that heals you. Forget your two year timeline. I AM going to heal you, and I alone will determine the time frame."

Those words were humbling, encouraging, frightening and freeing all at the same time.

Humbling because I am always humbled when the Lord of the Universe speaks to my heart, revealing His watchcare over my tiny existence.
Encouraging because I know healing is coming! It is already happening!
Frightening because God may extend my illness longer than my estimated two years. It could go on indefinitely, and I don't particularly like being ill.
And freeing because I now know that my healing doesn't depend on me following the GAPS diet to the letter. It is simply a tool in the hand of God. I cannot mess this up! That's freedom!

I think I hear the echoes of a trumpet blast of liberty!

Thank you for your prayers! They are being answered! Thank you for continuing to bear witness to my adventure. It hasn't always been fun, but it has most definitely been good. And God's just getting warmed up!

 Up, up, up the hill. One of the hills we climb on our walks.

 Micah likes to say, "Momma, I beat you!"

 Me and my girl on one of our walks.

 Playing in the creek that flows through our farm.

 Sara likes to cook. She's made me a pumpkin soup in this picture.

She also likes to feed me. Good to know she has some nurturing characteristics.

 Her disinterest in baby dolls had me thinking she was all tomboy.

 Being silly!

 

Beet kvass, a blood and liver detox drink

My Master Tonic to fight flu, colds, viruses and bacterial infections.

 Here it is before "brewing" for two weeks.

Here is the Master Tonic post brewing and bottling. I got over half a gallon of medicine and several baggies of prepped veggies for soups, stews, etc.

A true word about growth: "So then neither he who plants is anything, nor he who waters, but God who gives the increase."--1 Corinthians 3:7

Addressing the Elephant

I am NOT an "ignore the elephant in the room" kind of girl. If there is an elephant in the room, I believe it should be addressed. It is unnecessarily awkward for everyone to converse over or through an elephant. If someone tries to move around the elephant, that person will either:

A) Trip
B) Look ridiculous or
C) Find herself with a large mammalian rear end in her face.

So let's address the elephant!

In my quest for healing and health, medical doctors and Western medicine have failed me. I have baffled them at every turn. One such doctor, who specializes in allergies and immunology, basically told me to go home and starve to death. (I will admit, however, his exact words were a bit more diplomatic.) Because "modern medicine" failed to help me and because my symptoms were so severe that I had to choose between doing something radical or dying, I chose to do something radical. "Something radical" usually equates with "lifestyle change," and it has certainly meant that for me.

I have radically altered my diet, choosing only to eat "gut healing" foods. My diet does not resemble the standard American diet in the least. It doesn't even resemble diets that are widely considered to be "healthy" in our culture. If changing my diet wasn't enough, I'm also making as many personal care and household products as possible. I see multiple natural doctors, take supplements instead of medicine, drink herbs and regularly have this super shady "BioSet"/acupressure treatment done. I talk of "toxins" and "energy pathways," and I've traded my nice home for a trailer and the commune life so that I can help my parents begin an organic farm.

Most of you are probably thinking one of three things:

A) "Oh my word! She's crazy! I knew it!"
B)  "Oh, bless her heart. She must be so desperate!" (I hear this one in sweet, old-lady Southern drawl, don't you?)
C) "I am really worried about her. She's just going off the deep end with all of this new age hocus pocus. She'll be worshiping stars, hugging trees and practicing voodoo before we know it."

For those thinking choice "A," you are absolutely right. I follow an invisible God who asks me to die daily to my own desires, to store up invisible treasure in invisible places instead of seeking financial gain, and tells me that I have to love people who are absolutely awful to me, and to the best of my ability with the help of the Holy Spirit, I do it because I love Him. That's crazy.

For those thinking choice "B," you are also correct. I am desperate. I was looking at death in the eye on a daily basis. If the recurring anaphylaxsis didn't get me, I was going to starve to death. Starving isn't on my list of "Top 10 Preferred Ways To Die." (What? You don't have a list?) So yes, desperation drove me to take drastic measures.

And for those of you thinking choice "C," I honestly understand your objections (voiced or unvoiced) to my choices. I am not at all threatened by those objections because I once had them myself. I've had to be utterly convinced that what I'm dealing with is actual science and not some kind of crazy juju devil worship or worse--another "power of positive thinking" or "prosperity gospel" thing. I have read lots of good research done by renowned doctors who have nothing to gain by their findings. I am now satisfied that the science is real, and was surprised to find that it has been around a long time in the forms of ancient Chinese medicine and great-great-grandmother's home remedies. Today, we are simply able to better explain these seemingly mystical practices thanks to the scientific advances made over the course of the last several years.

For those who are still truly concerned, consider this--most of us do not know how cell phones work. We don't understand the science behind these little gadgets that we all carry around in our pockets and purses. But we do carry them. We also use computers, fax machines, and credit cards with little more than a vague idea of how they work. While most of the natural therapies I'm using aren't anymore infallible than prescription drugs, they are working for me. In small yet significant ways, I am better....without communing with the universe, dancing naked on hilltops, or other such nonsense. I hope you now feel free to think of me as only crazy and not as misled.

As I have learned new information that has helped my family and me, I have had a hard time keeping it to myself. I am so excited to find simple remedies to common ailments that do not include potentially harmful substances! So I share my discoveries on Facebook, on Pinterest, in emails and in face to face conversations. My doing so makes some of you feel very uncomfortable. Your reasons are your own, but I know that there is often an unspoken tension between two people who are making drastically different personal choices. I have felt this tension myself, so I know many of you are feeling it--this ambiguous, unsettled feeling. It's hard to give this feeling a name. Is it guilt? Is it the sense that we are being judged? Usually, the feeling is far too complex to label.

I have given this subject lots of thought, so allow me to suggest that the reason we feel so uncomfortable when another person's behavior sharply contrasts with our own is that we chronically seek validation from others. We need validation, and if you've lived ten years on this earth, you know that more times than not, people just don't give it to you. Here is hope--the Christian does not need validation from people. We continue to seek it, but we don't need it.

In his book, The Imitation of Christ, Thomas a Kempis writes, "He to whom the eternal Word speaketh, is set at liberty from a multitude of opinions," which basically means that it is okay if no one understands you and everyone thinks you're crazy. If you are following the Lord and hearing His voice, you do not need the approval of man. I do not mean to say that we should go out of our way to be weird for the heck of it. I simply mean that when the way of the cross leads you to strange places, you don't need the approval of others to know it is where you should be because all that matters is that God wants you to be there.

I also don't mean to say that we can live however we want without regard to the needs and feelings of others. The Bible discusses this topic generally and specifically as it applies to my situation. For general purposes, concerning liberty and the care of others, we are given Galatians 5:13-14--"For you, brethren, have been called to liberty; only do not use liberty as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'"

Specifically concerning diet, we are given Romans 14:14-23. Paul writes--

"I know and am convinced by the Lord Jesus that there is nothing unclean of itself; but to him who considers anything to be unclean, to him it is unclean. Yet if your brother is grieved because of your food, you are no longer walking in love. Do not destroy with your food the one for whom Christ died. Therefore do not let your good be spoken of as evil; for the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. For he who serves Christ in these things is acceptable to God and approved by men. Therefore let us pursue the things which make for peace and the things by which one may edify another. Do not destroy the work of God for the sake of food. All things indeed are pure, but it is evil for the man who eats with offense. It is good neither to eat meat nor drink wine nor do anything by which your brother stumbles or is offended or is made weak. Do you have faith? Have it to yourself before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves. But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because he does not eat from faith; for whatever is not from faith is sin."

I will confess now that when I read the words I placed in italics, I crumbled and wept. Without realizing it, I had become prideful in my heart about my new way of living. I had come to believe that the way I was eating and seeking health care was superior to that of others. I am wrong when I think like this for "all things indeed are pure." (Excepting deep fried Twinkies. I am sure deep friend Twinkies are not pure.) On the other hand, if a Christ-follower believes that natural health care is unclean, to her it is unclean. This is the case for my friend, Jenny. I have shared with her some of the natural alternatives available to her, but because she has a negative spiritual history with natural health care, it is unclean to her. God would not have her seek alternative medicine as I have.

However, because we love one another and because we trust that we both follow the Lord's leading, we are comfortable with our different approaches to healing. I even rejoice in it! Wouldn't it be a grand thing for the God to use Western medicine to heal my friend and alternative medicine to heal me? Wouldn't it be a glorious picture of how God can do whatever He wants, however He wants? Wouldn't it be a magnificent show of how it is not medicine that heals, but the hand of God?

Allow me to apologize now if anyone has felt the brunt of my superior thoughts. God has shown me the error of my ways. I now see clearly that what I am doing is not necessarily better, only different. Forgive my human weakness. As Thomas a Kempis further writes, "We are too much taken up with our own passions; and too solicitous about transitory things." I will likely continue to share some of the good information I discover, but I will understand completely if that information isn't for you. The last thing I desire to do is to "destroy with food the one for whom Christ died." I will strive to "pursue the things which make for peace and the things by which one may edify another." I promise you that Christ in me will not allow me to judge you for doing what you believe to be right for you and your family. I will remember that "the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit." It is one of my sincerest wishes to walk in love to you. I can promise these things because Christ has promised the complete the good work He began in me (Philippians 1:6). I can always bank on the promises of God, but I cannot promise to give you validation for your choices anymore than you can promise to give me validation for mine.

 The validation of others is worthless, anyway. The only validation anyone truly needs.....the only validation that will ever satisfy is the validation found in Jesus Christ. Real salvation begins by deciding to stop trying to save yourself, and looking to the sacrifice of Jesus Christ to save you. It has been accomplished for you, and you cannot earn it with any amount of money, talent, service, education or power. And once you invest yourself fully and completely in Him, nothing--not illness, not loss, not disapproval, not disappointment, not the cruelest persecutions, not even the largest elephant in the room--can touch you.

Lord of the Sauerkraut

Lately, my thoughts have been consumed by food--making grocery lists, figuring out how to get the items needed for my special diet, researching said special diet, meal planning, and then actually preparing the food. I cook an average of two meals a day. When I say cook, I don't mean that I throw chicken breasts, a can of cream of whatever soup and a cup of rice in the crock pot (although boy, do I wish I could). I mean that I gather fresh onions, garlic, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, bell peppers, squashes, greens, etc., wash them, peel them, chop them, configure them in a way that I can get my family to eat them and sweat over a hot stove and busy oven while they sizzle. From prep to table, I usually budget 90 minutes to 2 hours for dinner. Granted, I'm slow-moving, but still. And that doesn't include clean-up! In addition to those two meals, I have to make little extras like bone broths, ghee (to which I am apparently allergic), and probiotic food. (Can you believe that the woman writing this post is the same woman who complained about cooking every day in a week just a couple of months ago? These days, all I do is cook! My, how we can change . . . .) Sauerkraut is currently the only probiotic food I've attempted because it's relatively fast, easy, allergen-friendly and cheap. And surprisingly, I find it to be absolutely delicious! As you can see, I mean it when I say that I am CONSUMED.

Awhile ago before I began the GAPS diet or knew what it would entail, the Lord impressed upon me that I would indeed be healed of my sickness but that my healing was going to take a long time and it would require a lot of hard work. Not long after receiving that encouraging and slightly scary word, I began my research into GAPS. As I read, I remember thinking, "Lord, how on earth am I going to manage this task feeling so fatigued all of the time? I don't have the energy for this!"

"And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.' " (2 Corinthians 12:9)

He has certainly proven Himself in this word to me. I have no idea how I have managed to do it, but I have managed to produce the required amount of wholesome, gut-healing food without fail every. single. day. Feel free to view this fact as a miracle. I certainly do.

Another concern I had about beginning this diet was related to my time with the Lord. I knew that I would be busy. In the past, busyness often meant that I would miss a day or more of reading my Bible and spending time in prayer. I have come to view God's Word as my lifeline and prayer as my strength, and I cannot imagine surviving the day without those things.

I remember studying John 6 several weeks ago. Jesus warned his listeners, "Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to everlasting life, which the Son of Man will give you because God the Father has set His seal on Him." While studying the GAPS diet, the danger of laboring only for the food that perishes (daily bread . . . . or in my case, broth and vegetables) became a very literal concern for me. I feared that all of the work I was to put into healing and nourishing my body would rob me of the time I needed to spend nourishing my soul. However, God has answered my concerns by building two new activities into my daily schedule that have rendered this danger impossible--Sara takes a nap two hours after waking and two hours after Sara wakes, I collapse from exhaustion. Sara naps, Micah plays, I sip my tea and read my Bible for I simply cannot do one more thing without taking a rest.

If rearranging my schedule wasn't enough, God has also been doing this cool little thing in which He opens my eyes to His presence during the most mundane, everyday tasks--while pulling a shirt over Micah's red head, while observing and deciding how to respond to Sara's temper tantrums, while chopping vegetables, etc. These revelations come out of thin air, simultaneously knocking me over the head like a frying pan and sweetly warming my soul like a ray of sunshine.

My favorite head-knocking, soul-warming experience is my most recent. On Saturday, I made sauerkraut, the very important probiotic food mentioned above. (I will delve into the reasons that probiotics are so important for me in a future post.) In an effort to invite you into the metaphor, I need to share a bit about the process--

To make sauerkraut, one must take a head of cabbage, wash it, peel away the bruised and wilted outer leaves, cut it into quarters, pull out the core, and shred the leaves with a knife or food-processor. The shreds must then be tightly packed into glass containers along with filtered water and a tablespoon of all-natural, unprocessed sea salt. The containers should sit upon the counter for an hour or so until the shreds begin to soften and wilt. At the end of the hour, the containers are emptied into a bowl, one by one, and the shreds are smashed so they will release juices important to the fermenting process. The smashed, shredded cabbage and juices are placed back into the container, which must sit upon the counter for 3-7 days.

My frying pan/sunshine moment occurred as I stood smashing my cabbage. My eyes suddenly opened and instead of cabbage, I saw myself. I saw myself pruned and washed, cored and chopped, salted and smashed--all to serve a higher purpose far beyond my raw, unregenerate state. Raw cabbage would reek havoc upon my seriously impaired digestive system. It has to be transformed if it is to be helpful to me. Likewise, I cannot reach my full potential without my own season of "smash and wait." Oh, how my eyes opened! Oh, how I saw! I have been asking, "Why me? Why me?" with wist instead of wonder! I should be asking with wonder! Isn't it wonderful that the Lord would think upon me, poor and needy and raw and cabbage-like as I am? Isn't it wonderful that He would take the time to pick up the shreds in which my circumstances have left me, place me into a bowl and carefully, lovingly press me until I become something else, something more? 

This is what God's power does--it makes my weakness my strength! Truly, this illness is a "messenger of Satan" (2 Cor. 12:7). Satan had his purposes in this trial, but those purposes are nothing so noble as transformation. He is out to destroy me, but God is over-ruling him in every domain of my life in which he threatens to enter. My body has been attacked, yet it serves as a portrait of grace because it is doing things it should not be doing. I'm SICK, y'all! I should NOT be able to spend 4-5 hours in the kitchen every day! My mind has been attacked. It is a miracle that I haven't given up by now, yet when the dark, depressing thoughts come, the Lord brings through the "brain fog" His words I have hidden not in my mind, but in my heart. His words defeat Satan every time. My spirit has been attacked. There are times I want to run away, but the presence of the Lord is my anchor, my strength, my stay. His presence is also my joy, which is the reason I can smile when I have run out of reasons to do so . . . . because He is always near. Not that I smile all of the time or even half of the time. Let's get real, here. Life totally sucks for me right now. But joy does remain, and a single smile in a day is pretty miraculous.

A few weeks ago, my friend Jenny mailed me a copy of this beautiful poem of which I was reminded as I stood at my counter smashing sauerkraut on Saturday--

Broken Lilies

 by Alice Hansche Mortenson

"While working in my garden,

I one day leaned too low

And rudely broke two lily buds

That I had cherished so;

Regret and consternation

Across my spirit stole,

But tenderly I gathered them

And placed them in a bowl.

And to my joy they did not die,

Their fragrance filled our home;

They seemed to open lovelier,

Thus set apart alone.

Oh, I shall never doubt again

The Gardener Divine,

Who breaks His buds, not carelessly,

But with the wise design

That He may draw them close to Him

Through sorrow set apart,

Their fragrance breathing sweeter in 

The garden of His heart."

To some, God speaks in the garden; to others, in the kitchen or the schoolroom or the office. He is God of both big and small. He is Lord of the whole earth and Lord of the sauerkraut. He is the King of my heart. And I am so glad that my illness has opened my eyes to His worth!

"It is in life's common experiences, that Christ usually reveals Himself to us. One of His disciples asked Him to show them the Father--he wanted some remarkable revealing, a great glory, like the Sinai splendor. Jesus said, 'Have I been with you these three years--and have you never known Me? I have been showing you the Father all the while!' He had been doing this in sweet, gentle living, in patience, in kindness, in thoughtfulness, in purity and simplicity of life. The disciples had seen all these beautiful things in their Master, day after day--but they had not dreamed that these were divine revealings; that in them, He was revealing God!"---J. R. Miller, "The Life of Jesus"

Taste and See

In the beginning, when my illness was so severe, new and scary, it was difficult to decide which part of it was the most problematic. My allergies were frightening, and they could have ended my life at any time. My digestive system was traumatized to the point that I had difficulty drinking water. My fatigue was discouraging. The pain was depressing. Now that my symptoms have plateaued and I've had some time to process and deal with the fallout, I have decided what the worst part of my illness is not. The worst part is not my food limitations, which is weird because I have always REALLY loved food, and I am now super limited and am becoming more limited all the time.

These days, my entire menu is chicken, beef, venison, turkey, tilapia, tuna, grapeseed, canola or sunflower oil, eggs, greens, green beans, broccoli, cauliflower, avocados, asparagus, carrots, squashes, pears, rice, tea, honey, potatoes, and sweet potatoes . . . . all on careful rotation.That's it, and I still have phantom reactions. Salt is the only seasoning I can use without unpleasant consequences. (Thank you, GOD, for salt!)

I did not arrive at the conclusion that my life was not finished overnight. I have grieved with real shock, real guilt, real anger, real depression, and real tears over the loss of many, many foods I once enjoyed. It took awhile for me to become accustomed to cooking a meal every night, something I never imagined I would do, but I have gotten the hang of it. Brandon helps by cooking breakfast most mornings, and I occasionally assign him grilling duty. For lunch, I eat rice cereal or leftovers when I'm feeling frisky. I have eaten at a restaurant only once since May. I trust very few people with my life, so I rarely eat from other people's kitchens. Our social events aren't often centered around food anymore, but I have found that it isn't that bad. As would anyone, I sometimes sigh with longing for a favorite food--chocolate, peanut butter, bananas, goat milk, popcorn, pizza--but not long enough to make me unhappy . . . . not even when food is being passed around and praised and the pleasant scent of whatever is being served wafts in my direction. It has taken several months, but I have worked through my losses. I won't say that I "have arrived," but I have learned to accept and even embrace my food limitations.

This is not my work, but the work of GOD in me. Nothing in me wants to lay down my imagined right to eat what I want to eat. Nothing in me is able to look on contentedly with goodwill as people exclaim over foods I would very much like to eat. [Aside: No one is allowed to feel guilty. You hear me? NO ONE (Dad)! I do not begrudge anyone the enjoyment good food.] Nothing in me is able to be hungry and happy. And yet, by some miracle, it is happening. I'm cheerfully laying down my rights one by one, most of which truly are imagined. The pleasure others find in food brings me pleasure. I can feel hungry and smile anyway. I won't claim to be able to be hungry for long and still be able to smile. Ha! I'm no super saint! However, left to myself, I would be a bitter, jealous mess of a woman with whom no one would care to associate.

What's my secret? I'm so glad you asked because I've been dying to share! I'm feeding, just not on food . . . . in the traditional sense, that is. I'm satisfied and sustained, but my satisfaction and sustenance reach beyond physical implications. I'm experiencing pleasure, and it is a pleasure that surpasses the likes of chocolate molten lava cake, creamy pasta dishes, ice cold Coca-Cola, and even PIZZA.

You may recall the Timothy Keller quote I cited in my first post about my illness--"This is the real food I need--Christ's unconditional commitment to me." This quote has been on the chalkboard hanging in our kitchen since May 3rd. I see it every day, multiple times a day. It is a part of me now, and was the diving board that catapulted me into a deep pool, brimming with instruction and encouragement. The "deep pool" of which I speak is actually only one verse in the Bible--

"Taste and see that the Lord is good. Blessed is the man who trusts in Him."--Psalm 34:8

I have meditated on this verse for several weeks. As I have done so, the Lord has brought me to many scriptures, familiar and new, that have given me greater insight into what tasting and seeing means. These verses have also been instrumental in my healing and emancipation from my idolatry of food. Below, I have typed out my hand-written journal entry, which gives shape to my thoughts about food. I tremble a little to share something so personal so publicly, but it is my deepest wish to be able to encourage others with the same encouragement with which I have been encouraged. If you followed that last sentence, you will probably be able to follow my entry--

"Immediately after Jesus taught a crowd of disciples that He is the Bread of Life and that believers must eat His flesh, many disciples turned away because the lesson was difficult to understand and even harder to accept. Jesus then looked to the Twelve, and asked, "Do you also want to go away?" John 6:68-69 records Peter's passionate, heartfelt response, which seems to parallel the exhortation to "taste and see" in Psalm 34--"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. Also we have come to believe [taste] and know [see] that You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God."

I hypothesize that Peter knew and loved Psalm 34 all of his life. He extensively references and quotes Psalm 34 in 1 Peter. The most obvious reference is one to verse 8--"as newborn babes, desire the pure milk of the word, that you may grow thereby, if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good." (1 Peter 2:2-3) Sara is now nine months old, but as a newborn, she would screech until she was given food. She demanded food every hour on the hour. Girlfriend was hungry. That is the hunger I should cultivate for the word of God, which points to the Word of God.

I believe when Jesus was teaching us to pray that we would be given "our daily bread," He was not speaking of actual bread. (Matthew 6:11) I believe Jesus was instructing us to request and seek out the daily strength and sustenance of the soul. In the same sermon, Jesus teaches, "Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?" (Matthew 6:25) He goes on to say that the Father knows what we need. If He takes care of the sparrows, He will take care of His prized creation--mankind. I know that there is poverty in the world so severe that people starve to death and die in the elements. What about those people? That question causes me to believe that the bread spoken of in each passage isn't bread at all. I believe that Jesus is referring to Himself--the Real Bread, the Living Bread. I believe when He told us to pray, "Give us this day our daily bread," He was instructing us to seek our daily Sustenance in the Word--Jesus Christ.

My Bible cross-references Matthew 6:11 with a favorite passage from Job--

"He knows the way that I take; When He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold. My foot has held fast to His steps; I have kept His way and not turned aside. I have not departed from the commandment of His lips; I have treasured the words of His mouth more than my necessary food." (Job 28:8-12)

In Deuteronomy, Moses reminds Israel that God humbled them, allowed them to hunger, and fed them with manna "that He might make [them] know that man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Lord." (Deuteronomy 8:3) This lesson tastes familiar to me.

If we feed on the True Bread, we "are abundantly satisfied with the fullness of [His] house, and [He] gives [us] drink from the river of [His] pleasures." (Psalm 36:8) We are promised that "there is no want to those who fear Him. The young lions lack and suffer hunger; but those who seek the Lord shall not lack any good thing." (Psalm. 34:9-10) Jesus is the True Bread, the Bread of Life. He tells us, "Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to everlasting life, which the Son of Man will give you . . . ." (John 6:27) The Son of Man has given me Himself, and I need Him more than food. He is the True Manna. God the Father fed the Israelites with manna from Heaven, but Jesus is the fulfillment and embodiment of the symbol. By giving us Jesus, God the Father has fed the entire world (John 6:31-33) I am awed by the perfect beauty, clarity and symmetry in the Bible. All things point to Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of all things!

And Jesus says it Himself--"I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst," meaning that I can starve to death, but if I have Jesus, I have all I need. I have everything. (John 6:35) If I come to Him for sustenance, He will not cast me out. He will satisfy me. (John 6:37)

 Life and the enjoyment thereof does not lie in earthly pleasures, even pleasures so keen as coffee and dessert. The ultimate pleasure is the fullness of life that Jesus gives--the Bread of Life, Himself. When I am in doubt, I will "feed on His faithfulness." (Psalm 37:3) When I sigh with longing for chips and salsa, I will delight in the Living Bread, and He will grant the real desires of my heart. (Psalm 37:4) When my heart is set upon monster cookies, I will reset it upon the Word of God, which is no empty word for me, but my very life. (Deuteronomy 32:46-47) When I am ravenous and my stomach cannot tolerate food, I will remember that my Shepherd stands ready to feed me, keeping me from being "consumed with hunger." (Ezekiel 34:11-16, 29) He feeds the birds of the air and the beasts of the field. (Matthew 6:26; Psalm 136:25) He will certainly feed me--body and soul."

(End entry.)

The journey has been messy and difficult, and continues to be. The hunger and cravings don't go away. I don't always maintain the proper attitude, but Jesus, the True Bread, is my home base and resting place. In Him, I find my center. The True Bread does not kill me, but gives me life. The True Bread does not deprive me of oxygen, but gives me clean, fresh air to breathe. He does not upset my stomach, but gives me nourishment. He does not make me itch, but provides balm for my wounds.

You may not have the food restrictions I have. Nonetheless, I invite you to join me in the most satisfying feast in this life! Let us feast on Jesus! He is everything we need and more than we could ever dream! Once you get a real taste of this Bread, you will see that everything else in this life becomes bland and pales in comparison.

Breakthrough

I'm not sure when it happened exactly. It happened subconsciously . . . . a gift from God in my sleep, maybe . . . . or perhaps through a series of small choices toward a common end. Regardless of how, the decision was made without my knowing it was made until after it was made that I was not going to allow my illness to define me. I would not allow it to consume me. I would not allow it to rob me of the joy of living. I would not be denied the pleasure of putting a puzzle together on the floor with my son--even if doing so left me stiff and sore. I would not miss an opportunity to gather with friends in my home--even if it left me tired and in need of a day of recovery. I would not let the sometimes searing pain shooting downwards from my shoulders into my fingertips keep me from enjoying the simple happiness of rocking my baby, holding a book, baking a cake or writing in my journal. I would not even allow myself to grow petulant or bitter about my very restrictive menu. I would live, and I would do it with joy.

I first noticed the shift in mentality the week before last as I was trying to decide how I was going to get the vegetables I needed to do my rice and vegetable fast for three days. I didn't really want the half-rate grocery store produce knowing that good quality produce could be attained at a local farmer's market. I did not feel like getting the kids out, driving half an hour and trying to keep kids happy while I shopped in the heat and humidity, but I decided to do it anyway. I had no delusions of grandeur. I knew I would need help, so I called my grandmother. She helped me get kids in and out of the car, helped me manage them as we walked around the Ruston Farmer's Market, sat with them as I grabbed a few things at The Olde Wheat Barn and distracted me with adult conversation as Sara screamed her head off on the car ride back to Farmerville.

I realized again several times over that something had changed within me as I did things like roll my eyes in annoyance at the pain in my hip and knees as I played in the floor with the children, ignore my fatigue as I priced items and shopped the children's consignment sale in Ruston, and grit my teeth at the pain in my shoulder and elbow as I mixed the batter for another, slightly better-looking, gluten-free apple cake (sans the cinnamon as I have discovered that I'm allergic to that, too). I found myself smiling instead of fretting about the fatigue and pain that was sure to follow a sleepless night of holding a sleepless Sara. (I will not pretend that I was not frustrated to be awake during perfectly good sleeping hours, but I had moments in which I could enjoy the fact that I was cuddling my baby, something I don't have much longer to enjoy as Sara's first birthday is quickly approaching and as we do not plan to have anymore children.) One rare hour in which Sara napped in her bed on her own, I chose to play with Micah in his room instead of rest in my chair. His pleased and satisfied grin was a far greater reward than any period of rest can produce.

Beyond discovering that I don't have to say "no" to all of life's pleasures, my heart has learned to embrace the yeses that my illness brings. I cannot be constantly busy anymore, so I can joyfully say "yes" to slow days at home with the children. I must take time to "sit on my laurels;" therefore, I can say "yes" to unscheduled time with the Lord. I have time to read, to think, to pray, to call my friends who live all over the continental U.S. and are still spreading, to listen to Timothy Keller's sermon podcasts (available for free on Itunes). And to my astonishment, I find myself once again dreaming about the future! You can't quite know the importance and beauty of dreaming until you are unable to do it. The abruptness and severity with which my apparently long-term illness came made me afraid to dream for awhile because I couldn't see a future without my illness in it, and that terrified me. Now I realize that I can live joyfully with my illness (thanks to the goodness and nearness of my Savior), and I am no longer afraid. I can dream as big and wide as I did before. My dreams are just . . . . different. In some cases, I would say that they are better . . . . improved upon by the refining work of a loving God.

It may have taken almost three months, but I'm finally happy in my new reality. I won't lie--there is a tension in this new reality. The tension stems from the belief that I shouldn't be and won't be in this place forever, and that I should try everything I can to get better. My next (and hopefully last!) course of action is another diet plan. You may ask, "Why another diet? The others did not work." I would agree with your assessment, and answer, "The other diets did not work because I had the wrong goal in mind." The other diets I have tried were intended to increase my tolerance of food, but only served to make me aware that I am a hot mess who is allergic to almost everything and can tolerate almost nothing. Thus, I was ushered to this very important question--"Why?" The conclusion I came to was a fact of which I had already been aware--"My digestive tract is so damaged that it is leaking undigested food molecules into my bloodstream, causing me to react to everything I eat." (This conclusion was made possible by reading lots and lots of research done by people far more intelligent and knowledgeable than me.)

I alluded earlier to the suspicion that God gives me new thoughts (and sometimes helps me connect old thoughts) in my sleep. Well, I believe that He may have helped me to FINALLY make this connection while I dreamed one night--"If the severity of my allergies stems from problems with my digestive tract, maybe I should begin the healing process by treating my digestion problems FIRST rather than my allergies." (I know . . . . DUH! Right?) The GAPS diet does just that. (For more information about the GAPS diet, click here.) The goal is to heal the digestive system using nutrition, supplementation and detoxification/life-style changes. My mom ordered some books about the diet on Monday. Once they come in, we have to do our reading. This diet isn't one you can just begin. You have to plan, gather food and products and prepare, and then you begin the multi-phase diet. I don't know what kind of timeline that puts me on for improvement, but for the first time since all of this stuff began, I feel confident that a new approach to nutrition will help me. Maybe it's because my mom and I decided this is what I needed separately, and then talked about it. Maybe it's because a product we tried earlier in this journey led us to this information. I don't know. I just feel like this diet is going to work!

My hope is that the diet/lifestyle will heal my digestive system, which will improve my allergies, which will then decrease or eliminate my pain. I say "improve" my allergies and not "cure" because my allergies existed long before my body went berserk. I expect to still have them on the other side of this health crisis. I don't believe that out of hopelessness, but rather out of logic and realism. Besides, I was okay with my allergies before all of this began. I will be completely okay with a few lingering food allergies after it passes.

 However, if my pain persists after I get a handle on my nutritional health, I am certain I will be okay with that, too. I have had the privilege of knowing and valuing the Lord in ways I had only dreamed of before this year began. I understand that God is enough--even when pleasurable foods, the thrill of success and carefree, good times are stripped away. I know that I can possess very little and still have joy because joy is not an emotion dependent upon pleasure and good times. Joy is a Person, a Person who is near to the brokenhearted (Ps. 34:18), a Person who satisfies from the fullness of His house (Ps. 36:8), a Person who has blessed me with an illness because His love knows no depths. This illness will prove to be one of the greatest goods He will ever work for me and my family. And that conclusion is the ultimate breakthrough because it just doesn't get better than that.

Prayer Requests:

I am currently struggling. I have pretty severe stomach and intestinal pain when I eat. So sometimes, I don't eat. But then I struggle with hunger pain and low energy, which is difficult when taking care of small children. So, I eat again, and the cycle continues. I also eat because I'm afraid to go into the GAPS diet too skinny. My Grandmommy believed that everyone should have a little extra weight on reserve. I don't want to lose my reserve. I am heavily considering a visit to a GI specialist in Monroe, but I am concerned about spending unnecessary money and doing more harm than good. On another note, my arthritis pain has also been pretty intense for the past several days.

Sara has her first ENT appointment tomorrow. I am hoping that our doctor can help our girl, which will help us all. I expect a tube surgery in our near future, but we will see.

My appointment with the rheumatologist is on Friday! I have no idea what to expect. I do kind of expect them to think I'm crazy. (Sometimes, I feel like I'm going crazy.) My hope is that he can offer me some insight and guidance about how to manage my arthritis pain until I am better.

Please continue to pray for my Superman. Brandon has so much on his plate right now. An explanation is coming, but know that we are in the middle of multiple major family changes. Due to my health, Brandon is required to handle the brunt of the stress. Pray for his strength, his health and his relationship with the Lord--that it would continue to grow, strengthen and thrive.

Thank you for your continued prayers. It is a blessing I do not take for granted to have a large prayer support system. Grace and peace to you all in the Lord Jesus Christ!

Back to Square One

In an unfortunate turn of events, I am back to square one. Well, not really. I know much more information than I did two months ago. I have dealt with my demons--figuratively and literally. I have experienced emotional healing in the hidden corners of my heart into which I had swept hurts of long ago. I have learned to accept current limitations while maintaining hope that I will not always be in this state. I have embraced the good that has accompanied the bad with a strength that is not my own. So, I'm really not back at square one . . . . It's just hard not to feel like I'm back at square one feeling like I'm feeling and knowing what I will have to endure for the next three days.

It is necessary to confess that I have been naughty. As I was explaining to Micah this afternoon, naughtiness, though not as serious as an offense as disobedience, can still earn us some hard knocks and stern corrections. I corrected Micah's naughtiness. My body is correcting mine. Here's my naughtiness--I really enjoy eating pigs. I like pork roast, pork chops, ham and my favorite cut of pork is a tie between ribs and bacon. It all depends on which one I'm eating at the time. (Yes, I eat like a man . . . let's move on.) Well, on Wednesday morning, I ate bacon with my breakfast. On Wednesday night, Brandon made ribs. Let me tell you about this man's ribs. They are the BEST ribs IN. THE. WORLD. They are tender, fall-off-the-bone, juicy morsels, and he makes this gluten-free, corn-free sauce that is 100% tangy amazingness. Is your mouth watering yet? It should be. I am embarrassed to admit that even though I felt less than great after celebrating my independence by eating what I wanted, I ate the leftovers the next day. (I know . . . shame!) And of course, my body was not very forgiving.

As a result of my naughtiness, I became very ill yesterday afternoon. I had burning in my stomach, asthma symptoms, itching, hotflashes, a migraine and my arthritis pain worsened quickly and significantly. Yesterday, it was easy to speculate that the unexpected rain was the cause, but I am quite sure that was not the case based on today's events. Today, I began reacting to everything I ate as I did two months ago. I had an immediate systemic reaction with each meal and snack--rice cereal and egg yolks, chicken and rice with broccoli, a handful of blueberries. All in all, these are very unoffensive foods. Yet, here I sit in a Benadryl stupor, scratching the insides of my ears like a dog, hotflashing like a menopausal woman and burning throughout my digestive tract like a 50 year old man who has eaten too many chili dogs. I was able to catch a rare nap while holding a sleeping Sara in the recliner this afternoon. I woke to pretty severe arthritis pain . . . . the debilitating kind. It hasn't rained today that I know of.

The facts: I ate pork at three meals within less than 36 hours. Pork is not really good for anyone, and is one of the most allergenic meats out there. The theory: The pork has re-ulcerated my entire digestive tract, allowing everything I'm eating into my bloodstream in too-large particles. My body is attacking these particles as if they were a flu virus, causing me to feel like poo. The best solution would be a water fast. I won't go there again unless I must. As a compromise, I will be eating five very safe foods only for the next three days: rice cereal, broccoli, zucchini, yellow squash and sweet potatoes. The effects will be hunger, toddler-like grouchiness and (hopefully) full, life-giving dependence upon my Savior and Sustainer.

As I begin this Daniel-esque fast, I plan to begin the BioSet program outlined in Ellen Cutler's book, The Food Allergy Cure. This is the program promoted by my naturopathic doctor. At first, I won't be able to do the program as it should be done because my food list will be too short to space desensitization cycles 25 hours apart. However, I think I can reap some benefit from the program even if I cannot follow it perfectly.

I ask you to put in a little extra prayer for me for the next three days. Please pray that I will be given grace, energy, rest, patience with my family, gratitude in my circumstances, joy in the trial, and perseverance in seeking the Lord for every need. Please pray that the Lord would guard me from the attacks of the wicked one as he is always seeking an opportunity to destroy me in my weakness. Instead, may my weaknesses usher me into God's sweet presence!

I am so thankful for the prayer support that the internet allows. I have people praying for me in several Louisiana churches and towns, in many states and even overseas! This is a marvel to me! A humbling, tear-inducing marvel! I cannot say it enough--thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! May the Lord bless you for your ministry.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

It's very late on a Saturday night as I begin to type. Louisiana isn't far from the earliest bits of Sunday morning, actually. I'm sitting in the green recliner I bought for Brandon a few years ago, which I have claimed for over half the time we've owned it for one reason or another, and a snoozing baby rests against my chest because she inexplicably finds my now-protruding clavicle more comfortable than her crib. Sara sighs sweetly as she sleeps, and her chubby cheeks beckon the pucker of my lips. Yes, I'm tired. Yes, I should be sleeping. But I'm not frustrated or upset about not being in bed tonight.

I've been thinking a lot today about the fact that I have not been able to really enjoy Sara's babyhood. Honestly, I feel a little robbed. When Micah was a baby, I had the time and energy to record his milestones, take more photos than should be devoted to one child, and make cute, multimedia videos perfectly timed to the perfect song. Every day, we spent time reading and playing on the floor, and this was in addition to teaching piano and voice lessons, managing the household and having a full and fun schedule. I'm a little concerned that Sara will one day notice and challenge the disparity in evidence of happy parenting, but mostly I'm sad that I haven't really had an opportunity to provide it.

From the beginning, the odds were stacked against us. Sara didn't sleep until we began co-sleeping when she was two weeks old. At three weeks, she came down with a cold that she kept until RSV hit us like a hurricane at the first of January. She was sick with RSV and ear infections for over two months. Utterly consumed by the needs of my frighteningly sick infant and the lesser, yet significant needs of my now three-year-old son, I didn't notice the first obvious signs that my health was slipping. I thought I was tired because Sara wasn't sleeping. I thought my allergies were heightened because we never had winter. I thought my migraines were the byproduct of my postpartum hormones. And now, I live in a reality where I have little energy because of the nature of whatever auto-immune thing I have and because I can't get enough food. I live in a reality in which pain is becoming so commonplace that I'm beginning to ignore the lesser aches and only give pause when those aches become debilitating pain. I live in a reality that could end with the next food I try.

I can honestly say that I don't feel afraid much anymore. God is really keeping my fear under control. However, it would be vilely pretentious of me to lead you to believe that I'm not depressed . . . and worse. For those of you who have experienced depression, you know what I mean when I say that the aches I feel go deeper than my bones. There's an emptiness, a hollow space that reverberates uncomfortably each time I think about not having the energy to savor Sara's babyhood as I would like or wonder if I'll be able to teach Micah to play basketball or consider the fact that it would be dangerous to have anymore babies.

And then there is the food thing . . . . I am so meat hungry, live cattle make me salivate. Rice cereal and vegetables are an absolute gift, and many people in the world would be overjoyed to eat what I'm eating, but when I'm smelling Hannah Peshoff's roast warming in the microwave, Death by Roast doesn't seem that bad of a way to go, if you catch my meaning. (Allow me to interject here that I am thrilled that my family is eating well while I am adjusting and finding my feet. I do not begrudge them good food. I only wish that I could have something fabulous to eat, too.) I feel a lot like the Israelites, wandering around in the wilderness, complaining about the manna they had to eat day in and day out without variation instead of being grateful for God's miraculous provision. I have to remind myself what a gift it is to eat! I have to remember how far I've come in just a little over a week.

 It's funny--and excruciatingly humbling--to realize that I'm identifying with qualities I've never liked or respected in others. I lack gratitude. I have difficulty overseeing the affairs of my household. I have little desire to rise above my circumstances. I have moments of jealousy when I consider how easy things seem for other people and moments of cynicism when those people don't realize what a miracle it is that they feel energized enough to spend a day at the park or at the zoo with their kids.

I've always felt that it is important to call a spade, a spade, and let's face it--my attitude is sin and it's ugly. A friend of mine once put it something like this--God owes me nothing. Actually, the only thing I am owed is Hell. Anything I am given beyond eternal damnation is something I don't deserve. While I am a human being, created and allowed to feel raw, complex emotions, I must always land back in the realization that I am owed nothing. The breath in my lungs, the food (however bland) in my belly, the clothes on my back, the pain in my legs (a beautiful sign that my legs still work), is a gift--a gift I DON'T deserve! The mommy moments that I think I'm missing? I only really miss them if I'm too distracted by my discontentment to enjoy what I'm given. And beyond all of these things, I have been given Jesus, who has ushered me into the presence of God by the merit of His blood alone, who allows me to enjoy these gifts freely without them being an indictment against my rebel's heart. And one of these days . . . . one of these days . . . .I'm going to learn that His presence is ENOUGH! God, You are ENOUGH!

I am going to have to be intentional if I am to pluck out the weeds of discontentment in my heart. I am praying that the Lord would truly be enough for me. I am asking that when I want a bite of what my husband is eating badly enough to consider endangering myself that I would instead choose to feast on Him. Please, please, pray with me. Also, I have found that gratitude is one of the most potent weed-killers out there, and I am going to devote myself to being grateful to the Lord every day. I'm thinking of beginning a Post-It Wall of Gratitude somewhere in the house to look at and add to each day. I will begin my prayers with a "thank you" rather than a "please, Lord." And I think I'm going to start right here, right now with this precious, sleeping baby on my chest. What a grand, grand gift.


What is something big or small for which you are grateful?

Jots and Tittles

When I woke yesterday morning, I felt like I was dying. I realize that sounds melodramatic, but if you've ever been dehydrated, malnourished, nauseated and hurting all over at the same, you understand. My stomach had been very upset with me for days, especially after drinking this gosh-awful stuff.

My nutrition supplement a.k.a The Drink of Torture

It was difficult even swallowing water. The smallest sip would make my stomach roll and burn, and without really thinking about it, I just stopped drinking. It wasn't intentional, but it happened. And Thursday morning, I reaped the consequences. 

I dragged myself out of bed for a moment, only to get right back in. And there I stayed, wondering how long I would feel like I was on death's door. I sipped on a water bottle, but it was painful and slow. As I fought the urge to throw up the little water I had taken, my husband and mother decided I needed IV fluids. My doctor was called, and later that morning, I arrived at the Quick Care Clinic in Ruston. 

Under normal circumstances, I would have been shaking in my boots at the prospect of an IV needle, but I was so miserable, I didn't care . . . much. I may have stopped breathing once or twice. I knew they were going to have a hard time sticking me because my veins tend to run and hide when a needle comes out. Add dehydration to the mix, and you have yourself a problem. I went back to the verse that had been my lifeline the last time I had visited an ER.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God, and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds through Christ Jesus." --Philippians 4:6-7

I prayed through the verse, willing myself to obey through a haze of fear and pain. And you know what? God is faithful. I was flooded with peace, even though I had two nurses worried about getting the needle in my "dry" arm. Once it was in, it had to be wiggled around--something that should have sent me off the cliff of sanity. Instead, I was fine. I was able to tell both nurses helping me about my verse, which was fun. I hope it will help them sometime in the future, too.

I was given two liters of saline, and afterward felt much better. I was allowed to go home under strict instructions to drink with prescriptions for nausea to help. 

I drank and rested for most of the afternoon until it was time to move to the living room to receive visitors. Our small group leaders from church were coming to the house with two of our elders. They came bearing gifts--three meals cooked by three sweet ladies in our church. You ladies who have been ill or recovering from surgery know how reassuring it is to know that your family is being taken care of when you cannot take care of them. A huge burden was lifted as the meals were tucked away in our fridge. 

Our visitors cheered us up significantly after a hard day. They talked with us, encouraged us, and most importantly, prayed for us. Brandon later told me that as the elders prayed for him, he could physically feel his anxieties and burdens lift from his body. 

We had never done this before, but we asked for the elders to come to our home because of the verse found in James 5:14, which states, "Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord." In addition to being prayed for, I was also anointed with oil, and while I was a bit afraid it would be an awkward experience, it was instead a precious, encouraging time for my family and for those who came. I encourage you to consider doing this if the situation ever applies, especially in light of the triumphs of today.

Last night, Sara slept in her own bed and went without drinking a bottle for the second night in a row. She woke once both nights, but was easily rocked back to sleep by my mom. If it had only happened once, I would have thought it was a fluke, but it happened TWICE! After she began taking a bottle on Wednesday, her colic DISAPPEARED! If you are my friend on Facebook, you know what a HUGE deal this is. Because I've been sick, she hasn't been given any Prevacid for her acid reflux, but she has not spit up. Like, at all. We are astounded and thrilled! I cannot begin to tell you what a relief and an answer to prayer these changes have been. 

In addition to Sara's progress, I have had a couple of successes of my own. My pain has receded without medication. It's still there, but only as a shadow of what I woke to eight days ago. I can manage that. And I am so happy to report that I have eaten one and a half servings of Cream of Rice today. It may be baby food. It may not be much. But it's food. I had minimal discomfort as I ate--just a little burning and pain--and the nausea has been controlled today by Phenergan, Zantac and Protonix. Tomorrow, I will try peeled and boiled zucchini if I continue to improve. I know you're jealous.

Today, has been a day of small but significant victories. They are gifts from the Lord, and I am so thankful. If I continue to gain strength, we may even make it to Sara's baby dedication on Sunday, which I in no way expected to be a possibility. 

I want to close with a few thank you's and an excerpt sent to me by my dear friend, mentor and spiritual mom.

First, thank you to my mom, Melanie Chapman, and mother-in-law, Debbie Keaster who have tirelessly taken care of my husband, my children and myself this week. They have cleaned, cooked, nursed, encouraged, prayed, and fed, bathed and played with children day and night. And thanks to the men who have lent them out. Thanks also to my Nona, Sue Saunders, and our Honey, Sue Binford, who have taken me and my kids where we have needed to go, and have allowed me to get some rest this week.Without these ladies, things would have fallen apart here at the Keaster household. Most of all, thanks to my Superman. Brandon Keaster, you have been the perfect husband, friend, helper, rock and spiritual leader this week. I am the luckiest woman alive to have you for my husband.

And now for the timely and poignant passage sent to me by my Mrs. Dixie, who has been praying tirelessly for me--

"The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised!" Job 1:21

O my Father, let me feel, even amid the troublous changes of life, that what I am apt to call painful vicissitudes--are the sovereign decrees and allotments of Your infinite wisdom!

Let me rejoice that every bitter drop in the 'cup of life'--is appointed by my Heavenly Father! May I submissively drink it, saying, "May Your will be done!"

What I cannot now comprehend--be it mine to wait the disclosures of that blessed morning when, standing at the luminous portals of Heaven, I shall joyfully acknowledge that, "You have done all things well!"

I look forward to that time when all Your inscrutable dealings will be unfolded, when inner meanings and purposes now undiscerned by the eye of sense--will be brought to light, and all discovered to be full of infinite love! Other refuges may fail--but I am as secure in You, as everlasting love and wisdom and power can make me!

Blessed Jesus! I would seek to cleave closer and closer to Your cross! May I follow You, O Lamb of God--wherever You see fit to lead me. May I never feel as if I would wish one jot or tittle regarding me to be altered--when the reins of universal empire are in Your hands!

--John MacDuff, "Evening Incense," 1859

Yes, Lord. "May I never feel as if I would wish one jot or tittle regarding me to be altered," for You truly do all things well even when I just cannot understand. 

Baking Cookies and Going Bonkers

I meant to document Micah's first baking experience the other day right after it happened, but I just didn't get around to it. I have been swamped with an equal mix of responsibility and fun. This summer, the average day goes as follows:

7-8am: Wake-up call given by Micah or Scout, the green dog.
8am: Make breakfast
8:20:Eat breakfast
8:45:Clean kitchen
9:00:Laundry, take out trash
9:15: Get ready to teach lessons
10:00: Teach
12:00: Lunch and clean kitchen
1:00: Micah naps. Mommy spends time with Jesus. Check email and FB.
2:30: Get Micah up and feed him a snack. Begin cooking dinner.
3:30: Clean kitchen again.
3:45: Play with Micah and do a couple of chores
5:00: Pass Micah off to someone else, and leave for the theater.
6:00: Rehearse.
9:30-10:15: Arrive home. Eat snack. Clean kitchen for the 4th time. Waste time or fold laundry.
12am: Go to bed, and do it again.

Blogging has been difficult to fit in.

But back to baking with Micah . . . I managed to fit it in week before last when we had an unexpected night off from rehearsing Peter Pan. We baked chocolate chip cookies, and he loved it! Well, most of it. He wasn't too interested in my compulsive cleanings in between each mess. He enjoyed dumping ingredients into the bowl and mixing them together, but his favorite parts of baking were eating the chocolate chips he dropped onto the counter, licking the bowl and consuming the fruits of his labor.
Whisking dry ingredients.



Licking the bowl.

Gluten free chocolate chip cookies made from rice and potato flour.

Yum! Yum!

Those cookies were remarkably good for being gluten free. This was the first time I have ever made them from scratch, but it won't be the last!

We are through the first weekend of Peter Pan. I have only 4 more nights to be Mrs. Darling, and then I'm back to being Mrs. Keaster full time. A hunch tells me that Brandon is looking forward to that. He is so incredibly supportive of my love of the stage, but he can't enjoy me being away from home until late every night. By being such a good sport about this play and its hours, he has given me a much greater gift than he could possibly know. (I love you, Baby!)

Peter Pan has taken a bit of a physical toll on me. I am exhausted. I'm sore for reasons unbeknown to me--What? I'm old. It takes me awhile and a few cups of coffee to help me get going in the morning, but I am having so much fun. Fun hasn't been the only positive by-product of being a part of this production. The creative waters have been stirred, and the sleeping beast within has been wakened. I am a firm believer in the old adage "creativity breeds creativity," but I'm experiencing something closer to "creativity breeds manic creativity."

Yesterday, I went bonkers. I wish I had taken a picture of the house before I cleaned it up because I had uncharacteristically large messes in multiple rooms. Stuff was everywhere! I started several projects yesterday, and began planning several more. All I really want is to do is to do, to create! So, I added several pages to my novel, framed photos to hang in our "new" home, began preparing for a hypothetical audition, began studying Dickinson again, unpacked boxes, decorated, began planning a scrapbook for Micah's life thus far, cleaned, taught, spent time with Jesus, read my book, mothered and did two loads of laundry.

For me, this is crazy behavior. I am generally a low key, low energy kind of person. Normally, if I make it out of my pajamas, cook dinner, and keep Micah healthy and happy, I count it as a good day. But today, the house is mostly clean, I am creating and possibility flavors the air. And possibility tastes oh, so good.

"I dwell in Possibility--
A fairer House than Prose--
More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors--

Of Chambers as the Cedars--
Impregnable of Eye--
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky--

Of Visitors--the fairest--
For Occupation--This--
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise--"

-Emily Dickinson

Allergies, Sensitivities, and Auto-Immune Diseases, Oh My! Part Two

I've recently had a few scary, accidental run-ins with wheat and nuts. I'm finding more and more that eating out or at social gatherings is hazardous. Thus, I'm finding myself more and more in the kitchen. I am really not that great of a cook, but I can proudly say that I have graduated from the George Foreman burgers, grilled chicken strips, frozen dinners and cinnamon toast stage, where I began almost 6 years ago after marrying Brandon.

All that to say, I have some new recipes I'd like to post. These are extremely user friendly as I think "normal" people could enjoy them, too. They are also healthy, balanced and inexpensive to make.

Red Lentil Soup (the soup for which Esau is said to have sold his birthright)

1 bag red lentils (green will work, but the soup will look more like . . . poop)
1 small onion
2 T. butter
1 small can tomato paste
2 cups+ water
salt and pepper to taste

Saute onions in butter. Add tomato paste, lentils and water. Simmer 20-30 minutes. Add water as needed.
Season to taste. Blend and serve.

Pizza Soup

2 t. olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 cups chicken broth (i make my own)
1/2 t. salt
3 (14.5oz) cans diced tomatoes
fresh or dried basil, or italian seasoning

Heat oil and add garlic. Cook 30 seconds. Add broth, salt and tomatoes, bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 20 minutes. Blend.

Optional:
While soup simmers, saute 1/4 onion in butter. Add frozen or fresh (I use frozen b/c you get more bang for your buck) spinach. Cook until thawed and wilted. Add shredded cheese (I use goat cheese, and I shred it myself).

Serve spinach on top of soup alone or with pepperoni.


Spinach quiche

1 T. olive oil
1 frozen package of spinach, thawed and drained
6 eggs
2 cups shredded mont. jack cheese (if I'm making it for Micah or myself, I use goat cheese)
1/4 t. salt
1/8 t. pepper

Preheat oven 350 degrees. Spray 9 in. pie pan with Pam. Cook onion in large skillet. When soft, stir in spinach and continue to cook until excess moisture has evaporated. In large bowl, combine eggs, cheese, salt and pepper. Add spinach mixture and mix well. Scoop into pie pan. Bake about 30 minutes or until eggs have set. Cool 10 minutes and serve.

Glazed Butternut Squash

Peel and dice squash (or buy frozen). Place foil over cookie sheet and spray foil with Pam. Lay out squash evenly. Mix 1/4 c. melted butter and 2 T. brown sugar. Pour over squash. Sprinkle pepper over squash. Put in 350 degree oven for 30 minutes.



Also, I've learned how to sneak broccoli into Micah's diet. It requires an extra couple of steps, but it's worth it.

Chicken Casserole:

I begin by making my homemade gluten-free cream of mushroom soup, found here.

Then, I chop up a bag of frozen broccoli, thawed. (True, I could buy it pre-chopped, but I can't find it organic, and I'm into that kind of thing.) I throw the broccoli into the soup and let it warm.

I then spray a casserole dish with Pam, and place 1 c. of brown rice and 2 c. water into the dish. I stir in the soup. I take chicken breast strips and season them however I wish, and place them on top. I put the casserole into a 350 degree oven for about an hour.


I've also been enjoying lettuce burgers and homemade fries.

I divide ground meat into fist sized balls, and press flat. I season them with Montreal steak seasoning alone. They can been popped into a skillet on medium heat with butter or on a grill if you want something more figure friendly.

I now make my own french fries, too. I (and by I, I really mean Brandon) cuts potatoes up into small, very thin slices. He also cuts an onion up into strips. He throws the potatoes and the onions a little at a time into a fryer full of hot oil until the potatoes become a golden color. He pulls them out, places them on paper towels to drain, and we season them with Tony's.

I eat my burger wrapped in lettuce. He eats his on a bun. We're both happy. And so is Micah who really enjoys meat and potatoes (along with some veggie or fruit I force upon him).

I hope my gluten-free friends find this helpful!

Allergies, Sensitivities, and Auto-Immune Diseases, Oh My!

I have been called or emailed or texted more than once by friends requesting advice for themselves or their friends when they are given the news that they must drastically alter their diets. Most people are clueless about how to properly nourish themselves if they have to do away with gluten. So how do they manage when they must stay away from gluten, dairy, soy, nuts, etc.? Fortunately for me, when I discovered my allergies, my mother had lived with them for 3 or 4 years already. The change was not easy, but wasn't as difficult as it could have been thanks to her. This post is my way of paying it forward.

Before I continue, know that your life isn't over and neither is your spouse's. You can create yummy, filling meals without gluten. All of the foods in this post are suitable to my personal needs--no gluten, nuts, soy, dairy and limited corn. If you have further allergies and sensitivities, you will want to check the ingredients listed with each item. This post will be a work in progress, and I will update it whenever I discover something new and delicious.

Glutino Crackers Original—Corn starch, white rice flour, organic palm oil, modified corn starch, dextrose, liquid whole egg, yeast, salt, guar gum, sodium bicarbonate, ammonium bicarbonate, mono and digycerides, natural flavor.

Glutino Crackers Vegetable—Corn starch, white rice flour, organic palm oil, modified corn starch, dextrose, liquid, whole egg, yeast, tomato powder, salt, oregano, garlic, guar gum, ammonium bicarbonate, sodium bicarbonate, mono and diglycerides, natural flavor.

Uses:

These crackers are delicious! The vegetable variety is my favorite. I use them as I would any cracker, but my favorite snack is these crackers topped with pepperoni, sprinkled cheese and diced jalapenos.

 

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Betty Crocker Cake Mix—Rice flour, sugar, potato starch, leavening, xanthan gum, salt. May contain soy ingredients.

Uses: The cake mix makes a fine cake, but I use this mix along with butter to top my favorite cooked fruit for cobbler. (You may also use a combination of rice flour, butter and sugar for cobbler.)

Ingredients:

Betty Crocker Brownie Mix— Sugar, semi-sweet chocolate chips (sugar, chocolate liquor, cocoa butter, soy lecithin, vanilla), Cocoa Processed with Alkali, Rice Flour, Potato Starch, Corn Starch, Xanthan Gum, Salt. May contain soy ingredients.

Uses: I think that it's pretty obvious. I love it topped with homemade goat milk ice cream (see below for recipe).

Ingredients: Brown Rice Pizza Crust—Whole grain brown rice, potato
Uses: Use as pizza crust. It takes some getting used to, but it’s better than going without pizza. I recommend Paul Newman’s Sockarooni Sauce for your pizza sauce. I use aged goat cheese, pepperoni and veggies to top my pizza.



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Ingredients: Barbara’s Brown Rice Crisps—Organic whole grain brown rice, organic fruit juice concentrate (apple, peach, pear or pineapple), sea salt.

Uses: Cereal, Rice Krispie Treats (Watch your brand of marshmallows. Not all brands are gluten-free.)

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Ingredients:

Gluten-Free Pantry French Bread Mix—white rice flour, potato starch, corn starch, guar gum, granulated honey, salt, and a packet of yeast. May contain traces of soy.

Uses: It is my all-purpose bread, but it serves best as toast. I can’t use a lot of other mixes because the content of tapioca starch is too high. I have a sensitivity to it.

GF Pantry Brown Rice Pancake and Waffle Mix—brown rice flour, white rice flour, corn starch, buttermilk, granulated honey, baking powder (corn), sodium bicarbonate, salt, xanthan gum.

Uses: This mix makes the BEST pancakes!!

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Ingredients (Brown Rice Flour): Brown rice

Uses: It is so versatile. It serves well as a flour substitute in banana bread recipes, brownies (see recipe below), cobbler topping, and batters. I have fried venison, squash and goat cheese in brown rice flour seasoned with Tony’s seasoning.

Ingredients (Potato Starch): This stuff is my best friend. I use it to make my own cream soups so I can have casseroles (all processed cream soups contain flour) and gravy. Instructions for gravy are on the package. See recipe for mushroom cream soup below.

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Ingredients: (Kinnikinnick Donuts)—Icing (sugar, water, glucose, vanilla), sugar, white rice flour, tapioca starch, water, whole eggs, sweet rice flour, palm fruit oil (non hydrogenated), fructooligosaccharide, yeast, pea protein, egg whites, xanthan gum, fruit concentrate (dextrose, dextrin, fiber), salt rice bran extract, cellulose, baking powder (sodium acid pyrophosphate, sodium bicarbonate, pea starch, mono calcium phosphate), glucono delta lactone, sodium bicarbonate, nutmeg.

Uses: With coffee. They also come in Maple glazed, Cinnamon, and Chocolate glazed. The Maple is my favorite, the Chocolate is my least favorite.

Ingredients: (Kinnikinnick Chocolate Cake Mix)-- Sugar, Potato Starch, White Rice Flour, Cocoa Powder, Sweet Rice Flour, Baking Powder, Guar Gum, Salt, Pea Protein, Sodium Bicarbonate, Pea Starch, Pea Fibre.

Uses: This is my favorite chocolate cake mix. It makes PERFECT cupcakes and a great birthday cake. Top with your favorite icing. I like vanilla icing on mine!

Kinnikinnick is a HUGE gluten-free company stocked with all kinds of goodies! Check out their site here: http://consumer.kinnikinnick.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/consumer.home.html

Ingredients: Brown rice.

Uses: Perfect substitute for grits. Good sweet, dressed up or with a simple dollop of butter.

Ingredients: Rice

Uses: Makes great Asian dishes. You can also buy the boxes with seasonings. The original flavor is free of soy. Add chicken, veggies, and crushed red pepper for a sweet and spicy treat.

Ingredients: Brown rice.

Uses: Use as you would any pasta. I love this brand because it is so hard to overcook. Other brands will disintegrate if you cook them too long. My husband never knew the difference when we switched, and you can get any kind of pasta you need in this brand (Tinikyada).

Ingredients: Brown rice.

Uses: As above, use as you would any pasta. This brand will disintegrate if overcooked, but I like it because it cooks quickly, and you don't have to cook the lasagna at all.
Ingredients: Rice protein.

Uses: If you are into protein shakes, fruit smoothies with a boost, etc, try this in place of whey. It is grainy, but it's better than itching or being ill.

Ingredients: Corn

Uses: Corn bread. Most cornbread mixes have wheat flour. This makes a yummy, but less fluffy version.
Ingredients: Brown rice flour, water, potato starch, canola oil, pineapple juice concentrate, peach juice concentrate, leavening (baking soda, sodium acid pyrophosphate, monocalcium phosphate), pear juice concentrate, salt, soy lecithin, defatted soy flour, guar gum.

Uses: These are great in lieu of Eggos. They are quick, and very good toasted in a toaster. They are not so splendid microwaved. I like them topped with blueberries and maple syrup.

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Ingredients: Goat milk.

Uses: Use the milk as you would any other milk, but decide carefully about desserts. Sometimes the milk taints the cake you’re trying to make. It is perfectly fine for banana bread, pancakes, scrambled eggs and savory cooking though. The aged cheese is also very good. When people say “goat cheese” they are usually referring to the fresh, crumbly goat cheese, which is great on salads and serves as a good substitute for cottage or ricotta cheese on lasagna. The aged cheese is good for pizza, lasagna and anything you would use mozzarella or cheddar for. Both brands are excellent (Meyenberg or Alta Dena).

Now, the holy grail of gluten free snacks!!!

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Ingredients: Snap pea Crisps—Green peas, corn oil, rice, salt calcium carbonate, ascorbic acid. Be careful! Peas are legumes!!!

Uses: They are advertised as salad toppers, but they are great with sandwiches or by themselves as a meal. They are very well balanced with protein, fat and carbs, and the main ingredient is peas!

Ingredients: Sorghum Flour; Grape, Apple and Pear Juice Concentrates; Brown Pure Cane Sugar; Date Paste; Chocolate Chips (Evaporated Cane Juice, Chocolate Liquor, Non-Dairy Cocoa Butter); Expeller Pressed-Vegetable Oil (Safflower Oil and/or Sunflower Oil); Water; Natural Rice Dextrin; Xanthan Gum; Baking Soda; Salt; Vanilla; Rosemary Extract

Uses: This little company is awesome. They make sure their foods are free of all of the leading allergens. No gluten, no nuts, no eggs, no casein. Check out Enjoy Life Foods here.



All of these foods should be available at your local health food store. If they are not, check to see if they can/will order it for you. And always tell your health food store merchants about your dietary needs. They can help you find lots of yummy products. Be prepared to spend a little more on groceries than you used to, but you will live. I promise.

In the meantime, do not underestimate the power of these:
Plain old rice and potatoes make GREAT starch substitutes. There are so many yummy potato recipes and you are only limited by your creativity when it comes to rice.

Recipes (kind of):

Mushroom Cream Soup (for casseroles):

Saute chopped onions and baby portabellos in butter and Tony's seasoning. Add goat milk (1 to 1 1/2 cups). Cook until warm again. Meanwhile, mix 2 T. of Potato starch with cold water. Add to milk, onions, and mushrooms. Stir until thick. Add to casserole.

Microwave Rice Flour Brownies:

2 eggs
1 c. sugar
1/2 t. salt
1 t. vanilla extract
1/2 c. butter, melted
3/4 c. rice flour
1/2 c. cocoa
1 c. chopped nuts (optional)

Beat eggs, sugar, salt and vanilla for 1 minute at medium speed. Add butter, continue beating. Mix in flour and cocoa at low speed. Stir in nuts. Spread evenly into greased 8 in. square dish. Microwave 4 1/2 to 5 minutes.

Homemade Goat Milk Ice Cream

4 eggs
2 1/4 c. sugar
6 c. goat milk (ready to drink)
4 cans goat milk (concentrated milk like Pet milk)
5 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. salt

Beat eggs. Add sugar and beat again. Mix in other ingredients. chill. Freeze in ice cream freezer. Serve plain or with Microwave Rice Flour Brownies.

Recommended Blogs:

http://www.enjoylifefoodsblog.com/
http://glutenfreegirl.blogspot.com/