The Stuff of Christmas

     Today I introduced the song “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” to Bryan for the first time.  He thought the song was ridiculous.  He’s probably right.  It doesn’t exactly scream Christmas, but there is a certain childlike charm to it, all the same.  Our conversations inevitably turned toward the childlike joy that can surround the gift-giving of Christmas, probably spurred on, in part by the fact that I was also wrapping the last of our Christmas gifts.  While there’s plenty of conversation to be had about the, ahem, commercialism and overemphasis on well, just stuff that accompanies Christmas, Bryan made an observation on the joy of a child opening gifts on Christmas.  He noted that children seem to have so much more excitement surrounding the receiving of gifts, more or less because they are not able to obtain those gifts by their own means.  
     In light of the true spirit of the season of Christmas, I think of the impact that God’s gift to us-- grace, mercy, salvation-- can have on our lives.  A gift that we cannot and do not have the means to obtain on our own, nor can we fully grasp without the gentle leading of the Holy Spirit.  It’s a rather simple, almost obvious observation to make about this time of year.  Yet, I can’t help but be aware of how the simplicity of the message can get crowded out by all the extra stuff.  And I’m not talking, this time, about the materialism of the actual gifts. I’m talking about the cookie baking. The Christmas tree decorating. The driving-around-and-looking-at-Christmas-lights.  The Christmas card sending. The Christmas carol singing. Yep, I’m guilty on all accounts.  I love me some good ol' Christmas traditions, and it will probably continue to get worse as Anika gets older.  (sorry Bryan!)  But, these things mean nothing-- seriously, absolutely, positively nothing, if not for the joy, the shepard-quaking, heavenly host-singing joy of our dear Saviour’s birth.  At the risk of trying to over spiritualize cookie baking, I see through the midst of all of this stuff  to the heart of a people who try to emulate that joy in as much merriment as they can possibly produce (or mass produce) through the traditions and events of the season.  Because it should, and often does, lift one’s soul to higher heights, right into the heavenlies, to think of Jesus, at birth, was already, perfectly, irrevocably, our Lord. And we respond sometimes in the best way we know how--with our stuff.    

Queso Dip that puts Velveeta to Shame

I remember having a queso dip years ago at a super bowl party that was outta this world.  I never did try to replicate the recipe, and since making a move toward more real, traditional foods, wasn’t sure how I would replicate it without Velveeta.  Velveeta, in case you’re not aware, is NOT real food.  Sorry.  Here’s a recipe that has real food in it.  I can’t take credit for this recipe-- Food Renegade is the brains behind this wonderful concoction.  However, I did tweak it a bit to more closely match the queso dip I remember many super bowls ago.  My version may not be the most authentically Tex-mex dish, but hey, this is how we Midwesterners do things! ;)

1 egg yolk

1 Tbsp. arrowroot powder (if you’re scratching your head, wondering what the heck arrowroot powder is, don’t freak out, corn starch works too. Arrowroot is preferable though)

1 Tbsp. milk

1 C. cream (again, if you’re wondering, dang, I don’t have any cream, first of all, don’t freak out about it being fatty, and bad for you--it’s not! But, I subbed an additional cup of milk...whole milk is preferable..)

1 C. milk

8 oz. grated cheddar cheese

4 oz. cream cheese (optional)

2 C. salsa

½ lb-1 lb ground sausage (I used mild breakfast sausage, cause I’m a spice wimp.)

salt & chipotle chili powder to taste

1.) Brown sausage in a pan. Set aside for later on in the recipe.

2.) Mix egg yolk, arrowroot powder, and 1Tbsp. milk until smooth.  This helps create the Velveeta-effect.

3.) Next, pour cream and milk into a saucepan and warm over medium heat. Gently stir in the thickener and continue stirring until the cream starts to thicken.

3.) Once your sauce begins to thicken, add in the grated cheddar cheese and small spoonfuls of the cream cheese.. Lower heat to medium low, then continue stirring until the cheese melts and you have a deliciously creamy sauce.

4.) Next, add salsa, sausage, and salt and chili powder and stir to mix well.  That’s it. You’re Welcome. :)

I wish I had a picture of this, because that seems to make me a more legit blogger, but, how about a picture of a cute baby instead?

                                          Like this queso dip, I could just eat those cheeks right up! :)

This post is part of Real Food Wednesdays and Frugal Days, Sustainable Ways 

Hot Spinach and Artichoke Dip

With December well underway, ‘tis the season for holiday get togethers and with it, the holiday food.  Here’s a recipe for a dip that comes together easily, and the best part—real ingredients that you can pronounce.  If I’m about one thing when it comes to food and nutrition, it’s that I prefer my food real, with recognizable ingredients, as close to their whole form as possible.  This recipe fits the bill pretty closely.  Thanks to allrecipes.com for this recipe:

• 8 ounces cream cheese, softened
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1/4 cup grated Romano cheese
• 1 clove garlic, peeled and minced
• 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic salt
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 (14 ounce) can artichoke hearts, drained and chopped
• 1/2 cup frozen chopped spinach, thawed and drained ( I usually just use fresh chopped spinach, and eyeball it—usually more than ½ cup makes it into the dip when I make it)
• 1/4 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Lightly grease a small baking dish.
2. In a medium bowl, mix together cream cheese, mayonnaise, Parmesan cheese, Romano cheese, garlic, basil, garlic salt, salt and pepper. Gently stir in artichoke hearts and spinach.
3. Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking dish. Top with mozzarella cheese. Bake in the preheated oven 25 minutes, until bubbly and lightly browned.  Serve with pita or corn chips, or as is, with a spoon ;)

One of the reasons I like this dip, aside from the fact that it’s ridiculously good, is the use of spinach.  Greens are a good thing, especially for their calcium content, but what I really like is the fact that the spinach in this recipe gets cooked. What?! Yep, I like my spinach cooked.  There’s a compound in spinach called oxalic acid that binds to the calcium, making it hard for us to absorb.  Unless you lightly cook it, then the oxalic acid gets neutralized, and you get to reap the benefits of the calcium and other goodies.  One of these days, I’ll have to let you in on my green smoothie methods that make use of cooked spinach.  Stay tuned for another crazy good dip coming soon!

This post is part of Real Food Wednesdays and Frugal Days, Sustainable Ways

How to Make a Teething Necklace; Alternatively, How to Make a Cute Necklace

     So today is a change of pace from my last blog post.  I bring to you a (hopefully) fun little craft project to pique your interest.  Anika has been showing signs of teething off and on for a while, and, like the baby she is, putting everything in her mouth.  While at a wedding recently, I wore a chunky beaded necklace, the first necklace I’ve worn since Anika discovered she could move her hands.  While sitting on my lap, though short lived before making her exit with daddy to the foyer of the church, she was mesmerized by my necklace, grabbing at it and whatnot.  Well, like the curious mom that I am, a quick look around etsy at teething necklaces left me thinking I should try exercising my crafting muscles (what few I have) in lieu of forking over $20 for something I could just as easily make.  I’m not that crafty and of course, googled ‘how to make a teething necklace’, yielding this sweet blog post as a result.  I bring to you a tutorial on how to make a teething necklace.  (I would really just encourage you to hop over to this blog, as she has much cooler pictures…)

Things you’ll need:

~A long piece of fabric, about 5” wide, and as long as you’d like it.  I didn’t follow her length recommendation for my first necklace, and it was a wee bit too short.  I did 54” for the second one, and it was much better—gives Anika more to hold on to.

~Some large plastic or wooden beads.  I used wooden balls from Hobby Lobby

~Some scissors and a sewing machine.  Or, if you don’t have a sewing machine, (like me) needle, thread and lots of patience.

What to do:

1.       Cut a strip of fabric 5" wide by roughly 54" long.  Sew it together with right sides facing and then flip it right side out and form a long tube.

2.        Measure about 13" from one end and then tie the tube into a knot.

3.        Slip your first bead into the tube and then tie another knot right after the bead.

4.        Continue adding beads and knots until you have about the same length as the first side of your tube left. Finish with a knot.

5.        Now cut each end of the tube into three equal strips - feel free to snip and then tear it, it doesn't have to be perfect.

6.       Braid each side and then sew the ends together.  I’ll admit, this was a bit tricky without a sewing machine, and it’s not the neatest looking, but I figure, not a whole lot of people are going to be looking at the back of my neck.  However, she does suggest a button and elastic loop closure sewn at the ends, which would look pretty cute…good luck figuring that one out for yourself though.  Again, my craftiness is rather limited.

I considered this little project, overall a success, and I would say it’s just as appropriate for mothers and non-mothers alike.  It is a little time intensive without a sewing machine.  Not a problem if you are doing this while you catch up on the latest Survivor episode or something equally as low key.  I wouldn’t recommend starting this project while your baby is in the throes of teething pain, as daddy frantically walks around the house with her.  I’ll let you guess which scenario happened at my household….

Stay tuned for some fun and upcoming posts on some recipes perfect for holiday entertaining—be sure to subscribe to my blog to stay in the loop!

Lament as a Spiritual Discipline [Happy Thanksgiving]

                “I am poured out like water and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted away within me. My strength is dried up like [broken pottery] and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death” (Psalm 22:14-18, NIV).

Thanksgiving is less than a week away.  It’s a holiday that brings with it the requisite intentional practice of recalling one’s blessings, all in the spirit of thankfulness that the holiday generally attributes itself to.  A noble, fruitful ritual, to be sure.  But what about the times in one’s life when you just don’t feel thankful?  When you’re in the midst of a season of life that brings with it despair that threatens to squelch the voice of thankfulness at every attempt.  How are you supposed to see God and His provisions for your life when all you see around you are unanswered prayers, silence and loneliness?  Is there a place in the life of a Christian for a period of lament without the pressure of thanksgiving?  Perhaps I ask this, because of how intimately despair has made itself known in my own life lately.  In the midst of the joys of my life, the dark cloud of cancer has, for the past year, come to rest over my family’s home, as my dad lives his life through an endless barrage of chemo treatments,  and lately, a couple of hospital stays.  There have been days over the past year that counting my blessings just left me coming up short.   

                I’ve often turned to Psalms during periods of lament in my life, and I love how vivid and passionate David gets when he is really on a roll crying out to God.  I read Psalms like Psalm 22, above, and think, wow this guy is really getting carried away.  Isn’t he being just a tad dramatic?   I think there’s a temptation to gloss over the moments of despair.  There’s an overwhelming urge in today’s society to downplay the desolation in favor of a more upbeat message, even at the expense of authenticity.  Perhaps there’s a fear that too much time spent lamenting the circumstance you’re in, and it will overwhelm and consume you.  You’ll forget who God is.  You won’t be a good Christian.

                In the article "The Art of Lament", author, Winn Collier explores the theme of lament, and its place in one’s life as a spiritual discipline.  Collier writes:

                “Lament is an act of love. It recognizes that in order to truly love, one must be truly honest. David knows that if he wants his love affair with God to be true, he must be honest about his anger with God, his accusations of God, his confusion with the perplexing way God sometimes goes silent. 
Lament is a way of honoring God, of taking Him seriously.”

                A logical place to go to in the Bible to learn more about the ‘art of lament’ is the book of Lamentations.  In it, Jeremiah weeps for the destruction of Judah, and of Jerusalem, over which, he has no control.  He finds himself in a position of powerlessness, as all he can do is watch the destruction unfold before him.  In a lot of ways, I feel a sense of powerlessness in my own life.  I hate seeing the cruel blows cancer deals indiscriminately to my dad, as well as everyone around him.  And I find myself, like Jeremiah, weeping and pouring my grief out before God. 

I find it striking, that in the middle of this short book, Jeremiah seems to have a breakthrough in the midst of his sorrow filled cries.  In Lamentations 3:22-24 he declares:

                “²² Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  ²³ They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.   ²⁴ I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”  

                He continues on in his declarations about God, and in verses 31-33 says:

                “ ³¹ For no one is cast off by the Lord forever.  ³² Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.  ³³ For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.”  (emphasis mine)

God’s promise in this passage offers reassurance in the face of our own personal ‘lamentations’.  Because of His great love, we are not consumed—our circumstance, when brought before God in our grief-filled cries, will not consume us.  Could it be that because Jeremiah took the time to lament properly, he was able to see so much more clearly God’s love?  This Thanksgiving, by first applying the 'spiritual discipline' of lament to the darkest areas of our life, may we see God’s love and provision for our lives in a much brighter light.  

A Baby is Born

“He told me that when Terri gave birth to Chris and he held his son in his arms for the first time, it was the closest he had ever been to understanding the love of God.  He said that though he had never met this little person, this tiny baby, he felt incredible love for him, as though he would lie down in front of a train if he had to, that he would give up his life without so much as thinking about it, just because this child existed.  John set this love beside other relationships, but they didn’t compare.  In other relationships, the person he knew had to earn his love.  Even with his own father, John learned to love him, and with his wife, they had fallen in love over several years, becoming closer and closer friends.  But it wasn’t that way with his children.  His love for them was instantaneous, from the moment of their birth.  They had performed nothing to earn his love other than be born.  It was the truest, most unconditional love he had ever known.  John said if his love for Chris was the tiniest inkling of how God loved us, then he had all the security in the world in dealing with God, because he knew, firsthand, what God’s love toward him felt like, that it was complete.”                

                                                                                                                   -Donald Miller, Father Fiction

If you look closely, you’ll see glimpses of God’s glory all around you.  God’s glory was certainly revealed to me in a fresh, new way in the birth of my daughter.  I was around 30 weeks pregnant when Bryan, my husband, read the above passage to me from Father Fiction.  I remember feeling a sense of sacredness in the words he read, but not realizing the full impact of those words until I held my own child in my hands, and seeing what I can only guess is a reflection of the same wonderment and awe displayed across Bryan’s face as held also held Anika for the first time.  God is incredibly gracious to allow his creation be privy to such a blatant display of his unconditional love for us.  How fitting that Anika means ‘gracious’.  Here is her story.

I am grateful for having had an easy, and dare I say, enjoyable pregnancy.  I was an annoyingly happy pregnant lady, even in the midst of the morning sickness that hit me like a ton of bricks.  (But left as quickly and suddenly as it had arrived, right at the second trimester mark.)  I went into the pregnancy, healthy, low risk, and as such, decided to plan a homebirth, as it was statistically just as safe, if not safer than delivering naturally in a hospital.  The documentary, “The Business of Being Born” summed up nicely most of the reasons we decided on a homebirth.  As it was never medically indicated, (and I knew my due date from natural family planning) we ended up forgoing ultrasound, as we felt the perceived risks of routine ultrasound outweighed any perceived benefits.  This provided a unique sense of…mystery? surrounding our pregnancy, as we, of course did not find out the gender.  It was fun, especially in retrospect to see how many people were guessing a boy, including my midwife, as the heart rate was always on the lower sides of things.  (Apparently lower heart rates are typically associated with boys)  Anika certainly likes to surprise us already!

I ate eggs like they were going out of style.  Baked egg custard from the cookbook, Nourishing Traditions, was--and still is, really--a common , albeit very random,  craving.  That, and yogurt.  Lots and lots of yogurt.  It was a couple of the many ways I made sure to get plenty of good quality protein, as my midwife, as well as a lot of evidence through the research efforts of people like Dr. Brewer and Weston Price felt it was the best way to nourish a pregnancy and avoid various complications of pregnancy. 

I had mentally prepared myself for going past my due date, in an effort to save my sanity in the last days of my pregnancy.  So when I woke up on Sunday, June 26, two weeks from my due date and noticed some mild cramping that was much different from Braxton Hicks contractions, I instantly thought,  is today the day?  And just as quickly, dismissed the idea and continued to get ready for church.

I felt a strange mix of calmness, excitement, and sadness (plus other emotions I’m sure) during worship that morning. I remember thinking that this could be the last Sunday I would have to worship with my baby inside of me.  That was a sacred moment for me when I realized this, especially looking back on it now.  I felt like not only was I worshipping God with my songs of praise, but I was teaching my baby one last time in the womb about who this God is that I worship, before he/she is born into this world.  I am so grateful for that moment.

      Sundays are also the day that I drive a half hour to a farm to pick up my eggs, milk, etc. so after much debate, decided to call my mom to tell her how I felt and that I may need her to drive me to the farm.  I called her before church, and told her I would update her after church, based on how I felt.  I really hesitated calling her, because both Bryan and I agreed we didn’t want to tell anyone I was in labor.  After calling Bryan on his work phone (which he explicitly told to only call if I was in labor) to ask his opinion on the situation, I finally decided after church to have her drive me to the farm.  While I waited for her to arrive, I called my midwife.  She advised me to rest and take a nap, just in case this was the beginning of labor, but that it was too early to tell for sure.  Aside from the rest I got during the car ride to the farm, I really didn’t give myself much rest the rest of the day, since I decided grocery shopping and cleaning the house/ finishing up some odds and ends around the house were more important.  I took maybe a 20 minute nap sometime in the afternoon.  Looking back, I realized that I was experiencing that last ‘burst of energy’ that some women get at the beginning of labor.  

     At about 6:45pm, Bryan got home from work and promptly announced that he’s tired and hungry.  Great, in my haste around the house, I hadn’t fixed any supper for him, and after having the same cramping all day, was beginning to wonder if maybe I would be up for a good portion of the night.  We decided to go to Chipotle and eat at the reservoir.  Afterwards, I suggested taking a walk, more out of curiosity to see if that would get things going more, in case I was in labor.  Bryan was not convinced I was in labor, but we both agreed to go on a walk anyway.  It was a nice evening, and things were starting to feel a little more intense the more I moved around.  My midwife called to check on me again at some point in the evening after our walk, and gave me strict instructions to go to bed early.  Well, I didn’t get to bed until maybe 10:30 at the earliest.  I wasn’t asleep for very long when I woke up at about 11:30 to some pretty intense contractions that definitely had a rhythm to them.  I breathed through a few on my side in bed until I decided to wake Bryan up around 11:50.  Bryan called Joan and she said to start timing the contractions.  I think he might have started timing them, and she determined at that point that we still had some time, but to call her again if they got closer together, or if we felt we needed her there.  I honestly don’t remember exact details, like how far apart my contractions were, or exact times of when we called Joan, or when she actually came.  Anyway, I think at this point he suggested going and lying down on the couch and watching a Wonder Years episode on Youtube.  I think the thought process at that point was, if it was the beginning of labor, watching tv would take my mind off of things.  Well, I couldn’t focus on watching more than a few minutes of the Wonder Years before the contractions were really starting to take my breath away.  I finally told Bryan that he needed to call Joan and tell her that we needed her there.  At first, he was like, ‘I think we can handle laboring a little on our own, I can help you through this’, but at that point, I just instinctively knew that things were really progressing quickly.  So Bryan called Joan and found out that she and the midwife in training, Cheyenne that she had staying with her were heading back from the Columbus Airport to pick up Cheyenne’s husband, and were originally planning on stopping back at Joan’s house to drop him off before coming to my house--which would have taken over 3 hours.  She suggested calling my friend up who had had 3 homebirths already to sit with me, and to help them determine if they had enough time to drop him off, or if they should just head to our house, which would have taken more like an hour, twenty minutes.  So my friend came over, and sat with me, and we all decided that Joan should just come straight to our house.  She got all of the supplies out of my birth kit, and lined them up for Joan while we waited.

     I moved around a lot--spent some time on the bed laying on my side, sitting on the edge of the bed, my exercise ball.  While I don’t know how far apart the contractions were happening, I knew that I could barely get up off the bed and make to the bathroom in the next room over before another one started.  I was amazed at the incredible relief I would get in between contractions, even if for a short while.  I was even able to have some semblance of conversation for a few short moments in between.  But, boy, during those contractions, I was barely able to stay on top of the pain, it seemed.  Bryan was right there by my side the whole time, encouraging me, stroking my hair, kissing my cheek.  I even leaned on him for suport through a few especially hard contractions.  Despite the intense amount of pain I felt, I felt supported and a sense of calm the whole time.  Because of Bryan’s incredible, constant support, never was fear allowed to enter into my conscious thoughts.

At one point, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Bryan sat down next to me, and grabbed the sheet of Scripture verses that I had posted in our bedroom and bathroom, and started to read them.  He took my right hand in his, as he started reading the first verse on the page, from Isaiah 41:13-14:

 'I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear, do not be afraid...I myself will help you,' declares the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.  

He pauses, and looks down at my right hand that he had taken hold of, and it was as if we both knew at that point that God had showed up in our midst!  

So at about 1:30am, I would say, Joan showed up (while Cheyenne’s husband just slept in the car in our driveway!).  She checked me right away, and I was at 9-9.5cm and 100% effaced!   She suggested getting in the tub to help relax a little more, and she felt that it would be no time at all before I was pushing--she even said I could give birth right there in my bathtub if I wanted!  So Bryan went and filled up the bath tub, and the relief was amazing as soon as I got in the tub.  She had him put a wash cloth over my belly, and took a cup and poured water over my belly during the contractions.  I was probably in the tub about a half hour before I started to get the first inkling of the need to push.  Joan said to go ahead and push when I felt the urge, but not to force it, just breathe into the pushing.  It was really hard for me to wrap my mind around the logic of pushing, since I had just gotten done focusing so much on relaxing my muscles.  It felt counter-productive at first, because I felt like I was tensing up my belly too much when I would try to push.

 Joan was such a great help the whole time.  She was there when I need her, and would step out into the hallway to give me space, even when I didn’t realize what my needs were at the time.  She even suggested at one point taking off a hair elastic that was around my wrist, suggesting that it might have been just tight enough to cause my focus to waver slightly.  I didn’t realize until I was in the midst of labor how much focus it took to work through the pain.  I am ever grateful I was able to be in the comfort of my home during this whole process, where I could focus and concentrate the best.

My water finally broke once I was back in bed, and actively pushing—we were almost done!   Joan dictated the whole time where the baby was- under the pubic bone, then crowning.  After breathing through a few more contractions, on June 27 at 5:19 am, our baby was born!  Everything happened so fast at this point-- ‘it’s a girl!’ I remember Joan saying, as they placed her on my belly.  The cord was a little short, so she could only hang out on my belly.  As much as I tried to remain neutral over any sort of feelings about one gender or the other, I have to admit, I was surprised to find out it was a girl--such a wonderful surprise nonetheless.  Bryan was crying the whole time (sorry to blow your cover, Bryan! ;), and Joan asked us what we were going to name her.  After drying his eyes, he announced, her name is going to be Anika!  Such a wonderful, precious moment. 

I look back with fondness of the peaceful experience I feel honored to have had with the birth of Anika.  Moreover, I am humbled that, in the midst of one of the most painful, hardest experiences of my life, not only did I trust and have faith in God, but more amazingly, He had faith in me.

  

                                                 Anika Jo, on her birthday!

                                                  ...and 4 months later!