Take Me Back

We found ourselves in the South without our oldest girl. She couldn't miss two weeks of school and was thrilled to stay with cousins and keep her regular routine. We hit the road with "our" three year-old spunky girl instead. Glorious, perfect weather everyday, bird-watching adventures, a great little zoo found unexpectedly by Oliver and me, visiting Hobby Lobby (we don't have those!), bonding as a family and attending a new church--just a bit of the good stuff on this blessed trip.

As we neared the final three hours of our 24 hour drive, my husband called out to his travel-worn family, "Okay, who wants to turn around now and do it all over again?" The kids answered that it was an amazing vacation but they were ready for home now. They'd begun to mentally prepare themselves along the way, imagining routine and things they love about Canada and home. We'd been gone for two weeks. 

But I simply blurted, "Take me back! I'll turn around right this instant!" Can you blame me?  :)

Live Below The Line--Day Two

The pretty girl with the bouncy ponytail and the contagious laugh brought a large black garbage bag of clothes through the door. She chattered on with my mom about who knows what while my I dove into that bag. I was the first one to get my hands on it and I was closest in size to the generous girl we called "cousin". I yanked out a blue sweater and held it up to me. I squealed inside and thought, I won't be embarrassed wearing that old red one anymore. My salvation had come in the form of a fashion rescue and I was giddy with delight. Hand-me-downs were sunshine on a cloudy day at our house and I couldn't wait until school started.

I've been having flashbacks of my teenage years as I participate in this challenge with my family. As a child, so many emotions were involved with our financial struggle that I could barely dog-paddle in the deep waters of stress. It's true, I never felt destitute, as I mentioned yesterday, but there were specific moments when I sensed I embodied deficiency. I'm sure peer pressure and hormones played a large role in those feelings but they were there nonetheless. Today, as my children became a little more accustomed to what they were "allowed" to eat, I reminded them there's an end in sight for us, but perhaps not for others. We talked about how some children may never be able to escape a life of poverty and that they need to think about that when they're tempted to complain about the nutritious egg they had for breakfast. Every moment, every day we do this, it's sinking in a little more, for them, and for me.

Our meals today consisted of eggs and porridge, leftover homemade pizza, a handful of veggies, roasted chick peas, a little fruit, a hot dog and some milk. Each child had a cookie for a snack and I have coconut bread baking in the oven for tomorrow. Besides the odd meals that I can't buy organic or whole grain (and hot dogs are a rare treat they did not complain about :), I've surprisingly been able to feed my children healthy food. A quick text to my sister, Holly, confirmed this pleasant finding as she elaborated on the deals she was finding on delicious, nourishing food. I found it humbling and inspiring when she described how she and her husband would be giving grocery cards to those in need and ensuring those stores were on a bus route. We were both grateful we have an abundance of knowledge on health and nutrition because beginning the challenge with that awareness greatly affected how we spent our tiny budget--another scrap of a mentorship idea to tuck in our back pockets.

Just for you...

My Mom's Coconut Bread:

350 degree oven

-2 1/4 cups whole grain flour (we use spelt or coconut flour normally)

-2 tsp baking powder

-2 tsp cinnamon

-2 2/3 cups unsweetened coconut

-1/2 cup agave syrup, honey or soaked dates

-1/3 cup goat's butter or coconut oil

-2 eggs

-1 1/4 cups brown rice milk or coconut milk 

-1 tsp vanilla

Grease a loaf/bread pan (or use parchment paper). Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. Cream wet ingredients in another, then add to the dry mixture. Fold into loaf pan and pat into place.

Bake for 50 minutes or until a knife comes out clean.

Optional, for a treat: Drizzle with a lime glaze (1 squeezed lime, 1/4 cup cane sugar, 1/4 cup coconut milk).

This is a dense, delicious bread that can be tweaked with various types of ingredients. Enjoy!

Live Below The Line Challenge--Day One of Five Days

We're club joiners, my sisters and me. What I mean is, we turn all challenges and inspirations into clubs for each other. This time, Holly decided to take the Live Below the Line Challenge and invited us--and a couple hundred people on Facebook :)--to join her. Since we three sisters experienced poverty for a time in our childhood, we understand that perspective. However, as parents organizing, budgeting, worrying, praying about what to feed their children, we can only sympathize. For that, I am exceedingly grateful.

We didn't always know where our next groceries were coming from as teenage girls and a single mom living in a subsidized town-home, but somehow we never felt totally destitute. We had a gracious church that brought us food hampers and we always knew God would provide what we needed... because Mom told us He would. And, He did. When my mother couldn't make ends meet, Jesus brought us our basic sustenance--His Word at work, through His people, walking in a choice to listen to what they read.  

As a result of the Challenge invitation, I gathered my reluctant children and showed them how many verses in Scripture expound upon the importance of God's people caring for the needy. There's a lot. Do a search yourself and be amazed. He cares for them immensely and He requires we do too:

"'He defended the cause of the poor and needy, and so all went well. Is that not what it means to know Me?' declares the Lord." (Jeremiah 22:16)

I desire that my family knows God in that way. And we do, for when we give, there is no more gratifying and blessed emotion than when sharing with fellow humans who are equal to us, but merely in a less fortunate position. Still, my kiddos were quite concerned that they might starve. They were all for giving, but feeling the pain of the hungry? Now that was another story! I assured them that they would not die, but that experiencing hunger pangs was probably a good thing. Our gratitude is directly related to our attitude and theirs needed to change--and so did mine. De-cluttering our home of unwanted things and donating a little money here and there doesn't lead to the true thankfulness that empathy does. And so, they agreed and we began this morning.

(Molly, journaling her response to the Challenge)

Live Below The Line is an organization that raises money to end extreme poverty and human trafficking. My sisters and I and our families are living this week on $1.75 per person per day. This includes all we eat and drink. (We did not join the actual group because we each have charities we are presently working with.) With seven people in my home, our allotment is $61.25 for all of us for the whole five days. That is the average for the poverty line for Canada. I'm sad to think that it's lower in some countries. I wondered, how would I continue to feed my family healthy options? Did we have to say goodbye to organic food? Is it true that we would succumb to Mr. Noodles and potatoes every day? I was concerned only about quality, not quantity. Eating less would be something we could (and should) all get used to.

So, I rolled up my sleeves, tapped on my calculator and got creative with our menu. I began by writing down items that were "unbudgeables", such as, eggs, milk, greens, of some sort, and apples. The rest would be "gravy".  The greatest challenge was the shopping! I've never stood in front of the grocery store shelves for so long, price-checking and comparing. Of course, as a newly-wed I weighed everything and carefully collected groceries that added up to my last dollar, but thankfully, recent married years have been overwhelmingly blessed and not penny-pinched. Finally, I arrived at home with the necessities and deducted food we already had that I didn't want to waste. And, if I purchased a large bag of rolled oats, for example, I divided it according to what I thought we would eat that week. I did not include condiments, olive oil, spices, salt and pepper, since I already owned these. I reconciled with myself that this budget could represent a needy family who may also have acquired these items as well. Perhaps I'm wrong.

The reality of it all began to sear my heart as I stood there between the soup and canned beans. I hadn't thought about soap, shampoo, toilet paper, medicine... and the list went on and on in my mind. I closed my eyes and prayed God would show us exactly what our lesson should be in all of this. I was already begin to feel it coursing through my veins. It was less about buying just the right groceries, less about being part of a new challenge, and more about awareness of the mothers who stand in that very aisle and nearly cry in their plight. Ashanti's desperate whining shook me from my thoughts. "Mommy! I neeeeed fishy crackers!" And I hurt for that poor momma all over again.

This morning was the beginning of Day One and my children began with a muffin--leftover from Sunday breakfast. Tomorrow, I warned them, would likely be oatmeal. (A couple of them don't like it, but if other kids don't have a choice, they don't either :)  There was no snack after math time. That was difficult for them. Lunch consisted of naan bread smothered in tomato sauce, grated cheese (on sale), melted in the oven and a few slices of veggies. I was able to swing a pretty tasty shepherd's pie for supper. I think six out of seven approved and so I am a victor :)

 (a nice, filling snack)

A few things I heard from them today:

"Mommy, I don't like porridge. What else can I have?"

"Do I have to do this challenge?"

"But, I have to be physically active today. I can't afford to not eat well!"

"I'm HUNGRY!"

"What's for Snack?"

"You're not going to starve me, are you?" (Daddy, who agreed to this :)

"I think this is a very good idea."

"I'm really learning to be thankful."

"Are you going to eat that?" (gazing at sister's food longingly)

"I think we should do this all the time!"

"We don't really need more food than this."

"I'm happy with just a little."

"Don't forget Mommy bought popcorn kernels and that will last a long time."

"I'm glad you're making us do this."

(In prayer) "Lord, please help us to feel the pain that others feel when they're hungry."

"I'm STARVING!"

And that was just one day.

The Altar of Bereavement

A thin veil hangs between Earth and Glory, where Everleigh now resides, and we as humans just don't know what to do in that space. The church sanctuary is just that--a solemn, safe place for mourners to gush and share in a way people can only do when heaven is that palpable. So we weep and ask questions, hug one another, beg God for His comfort and promise to hold our babies longer, love them better. It's holy ground, where families long separated sit side by side, forgiveness in their embraces, tear-filled eyes smiling understanding. Somewhere in the deep chasm of loss, love and healing emanate potential light. Eulogies are given and behind words of anguish and anger, is a thread of hope that somehow there's a reason for the seeming insanity of baby death. 

Rick (Grandpa) reads Everleigh's favourite bedtime story, as he would each night, but this time to us, the assembly of fellow grievers. As he turns each page and asks, "Is that my panda?" sobs fill his voice and he gazes at the tiny casket and closes with, "Goodnight, Monkey."  Karen (Grandma) eloquently and honestly lists the ways this small person has transposed her from a private person to one who is open and enraptured with life as she views it through the eyes of a near-toddler. No one doubts the unconditional love for this little being. Heather, her young mother, is calm and lovely and speaks with a desire for all of us to know her daughter more. She holds the hand of Everleigh's daddy, Andrew, as he cries into the microphone how he loved his girl. His mom and sisters encircle each other and express their hearts too in a cascade of sadness and tenderness for their lost baby. So much pain, adoration and hope, all mingling at the altar of bereavement. 

Then, love-brimming, sorrow-filled pallbearers lift the wee box that holds only the pretty shell of little Everleigh, knowing her soul is long gone, healed and free. Still, as they walk, the aching human heart can barely grasp that truth. Jesus Loves Me plays while the procession carries her out of that Holy Place. But the song is really for us, because we're left behind and so very much need to feel that, in the middle of all of this, Jesus loves us, that His plan still proceeds and that this terrible thing isn't unseen by Him. We need to know He hears the cry of His people and rushes to comfort. We need to feel His Spirit after we've left the Holy Place and we're floundering for answers and are tormented by heartache. We need to move on and choose joy when it seems right to remain broken--for her. 

The days will march on and my loved ones who held that giggling bundle with each rising and setting sun will clasp emptiness for awhile. It will take their breath away at times. Grief hurts. But Jesus was not unacquainted with sorrow and He will tangibly offer solace if we enter the Holy Place that becomes portable as we whisper-cry His name. And, one day, just as that precious baby girl sees Him face to face, we will too. Then we will know and understand what we couldn't possibly have comprehended in this earthly life. But for now, when sweeping answers won't suffice, it will only be the experience of real heart-mending Love that will be desperately sought. Love for Everleigh embodied every word and every song in the sanctuary. It was present because of the Love that was given at this very time of year. That Love now holds us close in our deepest mourning and helps us to enfold each other to restore joy once again.

all of us wearing purple clothing or tiny purple bows in honour and memory of Everleigh

balloons and beautiful large photos filled the sanctuary

Day Nineteen: Praying Kids

Her beaded hair braids click, click, click as she wiggles and tosses around in her little white toddler bed. I tuck the blankets up under her chin and cocoon her all the way down her tiny figure. Maybe that will hold her for a minute. Wishful thinking. I tell her its time to pray and she folds her hands, and with legs bursting from the chrysalis she begins in that raspy voice, "Dear Jesus, please help Mommy to feel better (That's me). Please help Emily to get her pyjamas on. Please help Oliver to play with the ball. Please help Mommy to buy soap. (That's Valerie.) God bless Daddy and Meghan and me and..." (lists a few more people) After a pause, I say, Amen, and she echoes that. She doesn't need to open her eyes because they've already been darting all over the room. I'm smiling because I'm walking down that lane of memories where four other little voices piped out darling, innocent chats with God. She's sliding her pyjamas up her leg to scratch an itch and babbling a story about the day. I'm silently praying she'll take this practice of prayer and make it her own one day.

Indoctrination? Oh, yeah! Why? Because when you believe with all your heart that Jesus is God's Son and that He died and was resurrected and lives today, you want to pass that hope onto your children. When He's held you through trials and spoken to you in your confusion to lead you in a way you couldn't see, you don't want those kids to miss out. When you know their futures will hold fabulous moments and painful challenges, you desire nothing less than the God of their universe be close to them and that they trust in Him. They will each stand at a crossroads one day and decide whether or not this communion with the Almighty did any good. I know for a fact they will say, yes. Praying kids become praying adults, and that's my great expectation.

Truth Intravenous

I hook up to the Truth Intravenous early in the morning. The words of Jesus course through my veins and remind me where I've come from and where I'm going. They are life and liberty, love and healing, inspiration and hope for a new day. In a week where I've been drained of energy, my patience has been more than tested, and twisted philosophies attempt to inject the port-line to my heart, I return to the Truth I.V. for a recharge. Then, as the day wears on and I encounter toxic contagions that bring my spirit down, it can only be temporary because the Holy Spirit whispers the anti-biotic I so desperately need...and I receive it.

Gratitude:

1839. this colour--all summer long

1840. the way they slowly and (im)patiently worked out a little song together--a first!

1841. driving with this kid and laughing together at her first drive-through

1842. her buddies and how they love her

1843. these two besties and how they are still little enough to mostly parallel play

1844. waking up to this scene (as they watch a movie together on a Saturday morning) 

1845. helping to decorate my nephew's wedding in our greenhouses

1846. how she fell asleep during the ceremony

1847. how Jenna's brothers checked out the groomsmen to the Mission Impossible soundtrack before she came down the aisle--all of us roaring with laughter!

1848. Mr. and Mrs.

1849. welcoming you to our crazy family, Jenna! Yep, you already fit in :)

1850. the way he carried his bride and swung her around

1951. getting roasted at the reception and taking it like a pro

1952. the way my sister-in-law makes everything she touches beautiful

1953. how she can be transferred and still sleep--none of our kids could!

 1954. lighting sparklers and creating more cousin memories

1955. all these amazing kiddos at Linda's memorial birthday party

1956. celebrating her life with fireworks once again

1957. all of us missing her and grateful for the years we were gifted after her diagnosis

1958. writing messages in memory of Linda on paper lanterns

1959. the way my brother-in-law, Martin (Linda's husband), is always the go-to man for fireworks and lantern launching

1960. sending them up and watching the beauty of light in the sky--whispering (a few more) goodbyes and see-you-soons

1961. when Grandpa gets into the food

Truth I.V.: gratitude glorifies God and God deserves the glory!

And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, returned, and with a loud voice glorified God, Luke 17:15

May I always remember to glorify You with my thanksgiving, Lord.