winter rains + change

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Last week was a terribly busy and stressful week with more doctor appointments than I care to recall.  Everyone here is okay, just some appointments following up on Phoebe’s growth and progress since her diagnosis, a first-time visit to a brand new support group for kids with Celiacs, and some appointments for myself.  I had heart surgery a number of years ago, and have been mostly doing fine, but lately have had an increase in palpitations/skipped beats, so I’m following up on it and wearing a heart monitor for the next month (its so fun to be a tangle of wires).  It was strangely gratifying to have the doctor tell me it’s probably mostly the fact that I have three kids five and under.  Sleep deprivation and stress can do crazy things to a person!

A drizzly cold rain is spitting outside as I type this over a steaming mug of tea.  Every day it seems we hear more and more birds singing, and February is nearly over.  We try to get outside and run and explore as much as we can.  Spring is on its way, though I can’t say I love spring as much as I do winter.  I am still hoping for one more good snow in March!  In fact Phoebe dressed all in white the other day and told me she was a snowflake and then proceeded to chant “We want snow to come our way” all morning.  God gives special attention to the prayers of a child, right? 😉  I don’t want to let go of the early mornings huddled around the fire, everyone gathered over books, tangled hair and blankets.

We went to SC over the weekend to help Brandon’s parents do some work on their house to get it ready to sell.  While the guys worked outside all weekend, my mother-in-law, kids and I spent time together inside and out exploring some nearby parks.  We are always grateful for time with them and that they offered to pay Brandon for the work, which is unnecessary but a huge blessing to us in this season where finances are tighter than ever.

In other random news, Phoebe had her first loose tooth last week.  She got up from nap one day with a terrified expression, like she thought she would be in trouble, and announced that she wouldn’t be sucking her fingers anymore because her tooth felt uncomfortable.  All week she tilted her head to the side while she chewed (it is her front bottom tooth) and yesterday morning during breakfast, it just came right out.  I think she was surprised that it really didn’t hurt!  She had a note and $1 from the tooth fairy in the morning, which she promptly put in her little wallet.  Noah thinks the whole thing is so cool and he can’t wait for his teeth to fall out.

Meanwhile, Philippa has been getting molars and has been miserable the past few days.  Also, I have begun officially weaning her.  She nurses only in the morning and at night before bed, but because of some of my own health reasons, I need to wean her.  I’ve been delaying it because she still loves it and so do I.  I kept hoping she would sort of lose interest.  She cried pitifully for it this morning and I nearly caved, but it’s one of those times that necessity must rule over emotion.  I will hold onto the night feeding a little longer and then in a few weeks we will both have to let go.  I have loved nursing my babies so much, and I never know if God will choose to give us another, but I have also been nursing and pregnant nonstop for the past six years and my body is letting me know it needs a rest.  If it was up to me I would probably hold onto these years forever, but God finds a way to help us let go, even when our fingers have to pried off of the thing.

I love being a mother so much, I count this the most privileged work of my life.  I hate the letting go parts that come with it, and I know I will fight it at every stage.

I’m so thankful that in it all, all the changes I don’t love, my God remains changeless.  I love that the same words that soothe my soul and bring me peace and comfort are the words that have comforted and satisfied countless thousands of others for hundreds of years.  Changeless.

When my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”
(Psalm 61:2 ASV)

 

Whatever is life-giving

It’s Monday again, the beginning on a fresh week.  I’m always thankful, the familiar rhythms we keep here, all the while holding loosely as we ride the waves of change.  I’m not big into change, I like our “normal.”  Since finding out my four-year-old’s diagnosis of Celiacs disease, I’ve been trying to stay afloat in the wild waves of change.

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A few weeks back I read these ancient words by John Chrysostrom:

“Lord give us tears and remembrance of death.”

What a thing to pray.  Give us tears, Lord.  I think of how I’ve felt since finding out the news about Phoebe–like there is an ocean of tears I want to cry but can’t access.  It’s just down there somewhere, stuffed beneath.

Give us tears, Lord.  Sometimes we just need the release of a good cry.

A few weeks ago I fed our family, stacked clean dishes to drip dry in the sink, kissed them all goodnight and folded tired legs into my car in the dusky evening.  I drove over to my friend Megan’s house in a weary silence.  She and her husband have a small hobby farm nearby and have been living a simple organic lifestyle, as well as practicing the GAPS diet with their family as part of their journey to health + wholeness.  As I continue researching ways to heal my Phoebe’s digestive system to help her grow and gain weight, I needed to talk with someone who’s been down this road ahead of me.

Megan and I used to go to the same church years ago when we lived in a different town.  We found each other then with another couple and formed the sweetest little tight-knit community.  We discovered I carried our first baby, and Megan discovered she was losing hers.  We splintered a bit, then.  We took a job forty-five minutes away, and they helped us move in and settle.  We said we would stay close, but the distance and busyness of new seasons filled our days.  Then they moved closer to where we were, and we ended up taking a job that moved us back toward them once again.  Now we are a few minutes away from each other.  I haven’t spent much time with her over the past few years, but lately we’ve been trying to squeeze in more visits.  These years with young babes and trying to get a start as a family with first homes, it fills our days to the brim.

Pulling up her snaking drive, gravel crunching under tires, the summer evening silence broken by the bleating of newborn baby goats, the quibbling of chickens, the sing-song of crickets.  I walked in, we greeted with tired smiles and hugs.  Her children were tucked into bed, her husband out of town for the week.

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I love being in another woman’s home, I’ve realized–observing her ways, her patterns.  It is so sweet to watch someone’s familiar paths–the way she pulled on her farm boots and grabbed a bucket of feed to take to the goats.  Our chatter and commiserating and quiet laughter as she tore a handful of mint from her garden, steeping it directly in water, pressing it through, handing me a steaming mug.  We sit on her front porch for a long while in the summer evening cool and quiet.  Later we move inside, she cuts open the package of a whole chicken, pulling out a drawer, grabbing that particular knife for chopping, the way her fingers unconsciously trace the onion, pulling back the papery skins.

We talk, we pour out honest emotions, we open hearts–all while she moves in the quiet rhythms of her home, her needful tasks.  Throwing a load of laundry in (as she apologizes).  Wiping out the bag which held her raw milk pick up.  Preparing the chicken to boil overnight.

Around her home scriptures were taped, phrases of healing were hung.  Index cards taped above the sink forming the shape of a cross.  A large paper with the word TRUTH written on it, surrounded by phrases and scriptures such as “God’s pearl” (with scritpure), and “Deserving of watch-care” and “Created to be a nurturer,” hangs in the kitchen above her stove.  Stories everywhere.  Well-worn paths.

Give us tears and remembrance of death.

Remembrance of death–sounds morbid, and on first reading, my soul shrinks back from this.  No, I don’t want to spend time remembering death.  But then I think of my Savior’s words: “Remember me.  This is my body, broken for you.  This is my blood, poured out for you.”  He wants us to remember Him, specifically to remember His death.  We like to speak of our risen Savior, and indeed our faith is in vain and we are of all people most to be pitied if He did not rise from the dead.  Why do our souls resist remembering His death, especially when He told us to do it often?  Whatever Jesus instructs us to do, it is life-giving to us.  Maybe we live best when we remember keenly our finality.

When I asked her what their whole experience has been with these extreme dietary changes, Megan answered, “Martha, it’s been life-giving to us.”  It’s probably what struck me most and stayed with me after our conversation.  These changes, these new rhythms to be learned–they are not easy, but they are proving to be life-giving.  I am finding the same to be true.

It’s been two months since we began this journey toward a healthy and growing little girl via dietary and lifestyle changes.  We are still researching and toying with the GAPS diet and a grain-free/dairy-free diet, but going gluten-free as a bare minimum has been fairly easy.  Our rhythms are different.  The toaster + bread machine have been replaced by our blender/food processor.  Bowls of nuts or rice are often soaking by our sink.  Ribbons of zucchini have replaced pasta.  Our buying has changed: grass-fed beef gelatin, Kombucha, bulk whole chickens to make weekly portions of bone broth.  I’ve been learning about best sources for bulk raw nuts, for filling out pantry with coconut flour, almond flour, medjool dates, tapioca flour, xantham gum, coconut butter, coconut oil, coconut milk.

Papers, printed recipes + stacks of books are scattered all over my kitchen counter.  The house cleaning suffers.  This process is daunting in many ways, exciting in others, especially as I start to feel a difference and feel better, to see my appetite changing and my body responding.  Phoebe seems to be responding, too.  Her eyes seem just the slightest hint brighter.  Her random occasional low-grade fevers have stopped.  She isn’t as tired.  Her appetite seems to be improving.

It is difficult, as any major change would be, but it is giving us more life, and for that we are thankful.

*    *     *     *     *

A special thanks to Megan and other friends like her (Wendy, Caroline, Liz + Anna, to name a few) who have reached out, shared a ton of resources, words of encouragement and hope.  I have found them and their stories to be the most helpful, but I have also been really helped by Carrie Vitt’s cookbook “The Grain-Free Family Table” as well as Danielle Walker’s cookbooks “Against All Grain” and her blog.