Why wasn't I told?

Not in one million lost socks in the dryer did I ever think I'd be writing a post like this.  And I lose...hmmm...probably 1 in 6 socks.

Truth be told, if you even hinted that I read something like the words that are about to follow, I would have thrown the gravy and the boat and told ya to sop it up with some biscuits.

I get it.  My thoughts went like this, "If this stuff were so bad, it wouldn't be sold in every grocery store." Or, "The doctors would tell me to avoid it if it really were that harmful."

How deceived we are.

Some of you will read this and shake your pretty little heads and wonder where my marbles went.  Others will glance over it and move on.  But my hope, is that at least one of you, makes a change.

I'm telling you, it'll rock your world.

Side note: Don't get overwhelmed.  Make one little change a week.  Don't go all cold turkey on me.  I only did because I was fighting to live.  And you're going to go through detox.  Which sort of feels like dying.  But you aren't and you won't. Husband R couldn't get off the couch for 2 days and he lived.

I'm going to divide this into sections so those of you who only like to read the parts that pertain to you, ahem, can skip ahead.  But really all of it pertains to everyone.

1. pH of your body
2. Cancer - The don't get it plan
3. Grains
4. Tips and Tricks
5. The changes I've made and the ones I'm still battling

Can I get a ph?

Your body has a pH.  Remember, like in science class, acids and bases?  I vaguely recall parts of that. But your blood is either acidic or alkaline (basic).  And the food you eat has a pH value. It either makes you more acidic or more alkaline.  Here's a handy chart. http://www.phmiracleliving.com/t-food-chart.aspx 

I can count only one thing on the alkaline side of that chart that I was eating regularly.  Just one.  The rest was acidic.  And when your body is acidic, disease will flourish.

Look, it's not that I didn't care.  I just didn't know.  And now I do. And you do too.

The cool thing about it?  Disease can't live in an alkaline environment. 

The goal is to live 80/20, with 80% of your foods being alkaline and 20% being acidic.  So you can have your cup of coffee and your slice of pie, just know that the rest of your day needs to consist of alkaline foods.

For example, Husband R and I eat a meat (acidic) for every dinner except on meatless Mondays.  We counteract that though by drinking 4 oz of juiced kale a day and we try to eat a salad and raw veggies for lunch.  It takes 20 bowls of oatmeal to equal the nutritional value of one bowl of kale.

Kale is bringing sexy back. 

Can-sir? No thanks (you can find most of this in the Cancer Killers book)

How about these fun facts. 1 in 2 men and 1 in 3 women will get cancer. Super.

5% of cancer is genetic.  100% of cancer is influenced by your lifestyle.

But that's good news.  You control your lifestyle, you can control cancer.

To avoid it all together, you need to revolutionize your diet.

• Clean up your carbs – consume almond flour, high fiber vegetables and fruits
• Fix your fats – consume raw nuts and seeds, coconut oil and olive oil. Avoid commercial dairy products all together.  One glass of inorganic store bought milk contains residue of 100 different anti-biotics.
• Perfect your proteins – Animal products are the most important food to buy organic.  An average man should consume 20g per meal and a women 15g per meal
• Trash the toxins – The culprits: processed meats, acrylamides which come from grilling or frying foods, artificial sweeteners, pesticides in animal feed, non-organic animal products, soy

Cancer defenders, hi-ya!  Try to eat one of these with each meal
Green tea
Broccoli
Cabbage and cauliflower
Raw cacao powder
Dark, leafy greens
Organic animal products (grass-fed beef, pasture raised poultry and eggs)
Curcumin (found in curry powder and turmeric)
Flaxseed
Carrots
Mushrooms
Seaweed
Tomatoes
Avocados
Citrus fruits
Berries
Nuts

Healthy Cells             vs.                         Cancer Cells (double every 90 days)
Use oxygen for fuel (exercise)                          Uses sugar for fuel
Lives in an alkaline environment                       Lives in acidic environment
Need proper nerve supply (chiropractic care)    Don’t need nerve supply


Grainy grainy grains. Beyond gluten free

We all should know by now that white bread literally isn't a food.  But did you know that even "whole wheat" breads are no bueno?  Grains turn to sugar as soon as they hit your saliva.  And what did we just learn about cancer?  Bingo, it's fueled by sugar.

We all have cancer cells in our body.  You can either feed them in an acidic environment and watch them grow. Or starve them in an alkaline one and laugh as they die.

And if you're like me and aren't quite sure what is an actual grain.  Visit this website, it helps us slow folks keep up. http://www.grainfreeliving.com/list-of-grain-and-grain-free-foods/

We eat Ezekiel bread.  It has no sugar and is organic and is made from sprouted grains. Which are worlds better. It actually tastes pretty good too!


If you're reading this first you're a slacker and I say that with lots of love

Read labels. You're that person at the store that stands staring at the shelves. Be the ball.  If you can't pronounce it or lose interest 700 ingredients down the list, put it back and step away.

Throw out corn syrup and high fructose corn syrup. Even in your vitamins, the gummy ones. You know who you are.  It's poisoning us, people

Milk avoid it or buy whole organic if you'll die without it

Soda, diet or not. Pour it out.

Drink water. Take your body weight and divide it in half, that's the number of ounces you need to drink daily.

Don't watch the scale.  Just by making these changes your body will settle at it's natural weight and stay there.  You won't need to count calories anymore.  Husband R and I have both lost and kept off 15lbs, without adding any sort of exercise. Don't judge, we're hibernating.

Just do the next right thing.  Don't worry about dinner if you just woke up.  Just eat what's right for breakfast.  Shoot, if you can't even process what to eat for breakfast yet, at least just drink 8oz of water.  Hey, that would actually be the next right thing now too! 

Change-a-roos

I used to drink a cup of coffee every morning, a diet soda for lunch and a beer with dinner.  I now drink coffee maybe 3 times a week (I'm an addict) and don't even look at soda or beer.  I have a glass of wine reserved for special occasions like bachelorette parties in Miami. Holla.

I visit my chiropractor twice a week.  His name is Dr. R.  Which confuses and disturbs preschooling A.  She now has two R's in her life and one is a Dr. and she just can't seem to understand how that is possible.

I buy a poop ton of almond flour.  Because I can't live without chocolate chip cookies.  Amazon is my friend.

We buy nothing processed.  Well, let me take that back.  We still buy certain processed things for preschooling A's lunches but we make sure they are organic and we read every single ingredient on the label. Back to Nature is a good brand for kid friendly snacks.

We juice something every day. Kale. Kale. Kale.

Breakfast is my nemesis.  I'm not crazy about eggs, plus they're acidic and  I have yet to find a grain free cereal I like.  I usually end up eating some "healthy" bar or fruit. I gag on smoothies. I'm still fighting the breakfast battle. Any ideas?

Let me just say, since the good news I've cheated quite a bit.  The coffee flows a little more often along with the wine.  We ate real pizza this week and Husband R told me it didn't even taste like real food.  I disagreed and ate another piece.  It's the holidays, there are cookie exchanges and potlucks and family gatherings.  I'm just doing the best I can.  Each day I wake up with motivation to do the next right thing.  I never said it would be easy, but if this coffee drinking, cheese eating, french fry loving girl can do it, there's hope for you!

I'd love to hear from you and if you think you'll make any changes, or if you already have, how they're going!  So please comment below.  Things like this are much more fun if we do them together!

Stay tuned to learn how your hidden food intolerance could be making you fat, or giving you headaches or causing asthma and a boatload of other symptoms!

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It All Makes Sense

I didn't plan on writing again today.  Writing takes a lot out of my brain and truthfully I don't have that much brain to spare.  But you have overwhelmed me with your emails and response to yesterday's post and thank you for that. But, I don't think it's fair for you to have to wait for the rest.  Just please bear with me, as my mind is still spinning and this might be a really long post. I'm still trying to sort through what's up and down, mostly what's up though.

My dad called me in September, just a few days of finding out these stupid cells had metastasized  Fancy way of saying cancer has taken a boat ride in a river of whatever to my lymph nodes.  What is a lymph node anyway?

But Dad, he read me a story like good daddy's do.

2 Samuel 23:9-10 "He stood his ground and struck down the Philistines until his hand grew tired and froze to the sword.  The Lord brought about a great victory that day."

The he in this verse is Eleazar, one of king David's mightiest warriors.  And he stood his ground.  He fought until his hand froze to the sword.  And then the Lord brought about a great victory.  Eleazar didn't just pray and sit back and say God's got this. I'll wait in my tent while He works it out.  Eleazar fought.  And fought.  And fought.  Ally, my dad says, you have to fight.  Work like it depends on you and pray like it depends on God.  God will bring you a victory.

I went to work.  I got copies of my pathology reports.  I highlighted and poured through them word by word. Phrase by phrase.  None of it made sense.  So I researched and googled and made phone calls.  Still it confused me.  I prayed for wisdom and knowledge to understand.  I became obsessed. And God revealed to me.  The pathologists and doctors don't know for sure this is melanoma.  Which is why my surgeon (Dr. Italian we'll call her) was taking my case to the tumor board.  Because she didn't know.  I tried to get in touch with Dr. Italian.  I needed more answers than this.  I left messages and dug up email addresses and bothered everyone in the office. They know me by name. I needed to get in touch with her. She finally called me back.  The board has decided because you're over 25 years old to treat this as stage 3 melanoma.  We historically see atypical cells in those 25 and under and melanoma in those older. You're older.

I heard myself say NO.  Without even realizing my mouth had opened.

Have you ever said no to a surgical oncologist?  We put doctors on this pedestal like they know everything, but they don't know.  Dr. Italian is an excellent surgeon, she does her job well.  But she's human.  And though I'm human too, I have a God on my side who isn't and He said clearly to me, no, this is not the path I have planned for you.

Nervously I told Dr. Italian I was not going to have more surgery or go through any kind of chemotherapy without being ABSOLUTELY ONE HUNDRED PERCENT positive that I have melanoma.  What do we need to do to figure that out?

Well, there's a genetic analysis lab at the University of California San Francisco.  It's the only one in the country.  They are on the leading edge of being able to find the oncogenes responsible for melanoma.

Then that's what I want.  I want them to rule on what's going on.  I need to have all the information I can possibly have to make the best decision I can make.  Dr. Italian agreed to send my info across the country.  Only it takes 3-4 weeks to get any results.  This was the last week in September.  I wouldn't know until the end of October at the earliest what is lurking inside me.  What do I do in the mean time?

I'm going to fight.  And wait. And fight while waiting.  And wait while fighting.

I asked Dr. Italian to order me a full body scan, to see if these stupid cells had taken up residence in any of my major organs. You prayed for me again.  I had a friend tell me she was praying on her knees for me while her husband asked what in the heck she was doing on the floor.  My mom begged God.  Literally begged.  Another friend, in Jesus' name, declared healing over my life. My aunt started a family bible study focused on scripture about healing.  I read emails everyday and wrote down bible verses.  I read these verses and my very life depended on them.  I poured out tears while you poured out your heart.

Guess what?

My pet scan was clear. No evidence of cancer anywhere else. That was a good day.  A very good day.

But that wasn't enough.  God wasn't even close to being done.  God always has more than you're ready for.

I remembered this friend I used to have.  She is holistic and into alternative healing and honestly, I thought she was off her rocker.  Until I got sick. And now I needed her.  And when I called her, she didn't laugh, she didn't say I told you so.  When she had every right to.  She gave me information and doctor's numbers and told me what to buy and what to eat.  It didn't sound so crazy anymore.

I began my journey into natural medicine.  God designed our bodies to heal themselves.  Our bodies are capable of fixing what's wrong and defending us against intruders.  We just have to get out of the way.   And you know what?  Had the cells not spread to my lymph node I would have never even called my friend.  If my surgery had removed the tumor and Dr. Italian had told me I was in the clear, I would have recovered and resumed life as normal.  Sounds good.  But it wouldn't have been good enough. God knew I needed a wake up call.  My little family was headed down a dangerous path.  God rescued us.  And I'm more thankful than my words can even say.  Thank you for allowing those little cells to hitch that ride.

I now have loads and tons of information about how to prevent cancer.  I will write to you about that another time.  But I want you to know, sugar fuels cancer.  Sugar.  No matter what kind, whether it's obvious like in candy, or hidden in bread or floating in your peppermint mocha.  Cancer opens its mouth, swallows the sugar and grows and travels.

Now in the beginning it was no good terrible awful.  I cut out coffee and diet soda and any grains and all sugar.  My body hated me.  HATED me.  It's called detox.  I was tired and sick and mean, very mean.  I cried into my salads.  I despise salads.  Especially when I can't drown them in buttermilk ranch.  I remember making this so called cancer fighting salad.  Kale and spinach and bean sprouts.  Broccoli and carrots. All tossed in olive oil and vinegar.  I literally cussed at it.   That's it, I'm crazy.  I'm cursing at leaves. I was so lost. And awful to live with. And tired.  Of trying and tired of fighting.

2 Samuel 23:9-10.  Fight until the sword freezes to your hand.  My salad fork was my sword. As silly as it sounds. I had to let it freeze to my hand, so I wouldn't out of weariness throw it in the garbage.

I purged our pantry and filled our fridge organically. I met with Maximized Living doctors. Found a chiropractor. Started taking supplements.  Insurance would cover surgery and chemo.  They won't cover alternative therapies.  Plus the grocery bill of this once proud couponer doubled.  We went from spending $300/month to $600/month.

And I began to read a book.

My dear friend who prayed healing into my life mailed me a book called The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson.  It's about circling your dreams and fears with prayer.  I spent an entire day circling God's promises.  And the Holy Spirit gave me Jeremiah 30:17

"But I will restore your health and heal your wounds declares the Lord..."

I asked Husband R to circle it with me. And I circled and we circled. Til we were dizzy. We are still circling that scripture.

I learned how to pray through but also how to praise through.  I asked God to restore my health but I also thanked Him for healing me.  It takes more faith to praise God for future promises than it does to ask him for what you want.  And don't read this wrong.  God is not a genie in a bottle.  You don't get to use Him to get what you want.  You use biblical teaching to surrender and get what God wants.  And He wants the best for you.

I wasn't even asking God for financial provision. I wanted so desperately just to be healed.  But we didn't stop tithing. And God didn't stop loving.

In the weeks that passed God worked and blessed and stunned us. He spoke. And acted. 

Satan said fresh food is too expensive.

"But here's an absolutely free organic garden. I want to feed you."

Satan said cut out every single extra expense, especially tithing.

"Keep giving me your first fruits. Here's a full ballet scholarship and a month of free preschool for your daughter.  I love her too you know."

Satan said you'll never have enough money to afford the things you need.

"My grace is sufficient. Here's a free juicer.  I want to bless you."

 Satan said if insurance doesn't cover it you can't do it.

"But here's absolutely free chiropractic care.  I want to heal you."

These things actually happened. In real life. God's presence was that obvious.  And I know it's not usually this way.  But He is my Creator.  He knows I'm not so observant. If He hadn't been that in my face I would have missed Him.  He wanted to be found. He's teaching me to find Him.

There's that saying that God puts people through hard things to strengthen your faith.  That made me mad. I had a strong faith.  I was walking with God. I know you can always grow in God but I didn't need cancer to do that. I was growing already.

And then I heard it.


I know that you know Me. But I don't know that you know what I have done and what I can do.


Satan said you'll always have cancer. You're going to die from this.

And just as easy as the word melanoma rolled off the tongue of that first doctor, this past Friday the words "I have fabulous news" burst forth from Dr. Italian.  The genetic analysis can say with close to a 100% certainty that your original biopsy was not melanoma.  You have an atypical nevus. But I'm too old remember? Well we're certain this isn't melanoma. 

"I have greater plans for you. Your cancer never was. I want you to live. For Me."

And this went off in my head. "Oh praise the ONE who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead." (Listen here)

And I got it. Really got it. For the first time in my entire life. I told Dr. Italian thank you and fell, shaking, onto my face.

You see, I believe Jesus died for me.  I know He gave his life for me. But it's always been hard for me to fully wrap my mind around.  It had felt so far away and happened so long ago.

The punishment for sin is death.  I'm a sinner. I deserve to die. From cancer. But He paid my debt. He literally raised my life up from the dead.

Do you understand??  Do you get it??

In August I was dying a death I deserved. 

In November, "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God." Psalm 40:2-3


And I'm not special. I'm not any different than you. God wants to love us all this obviously.  Jesus died for the starving baby in Africa and the millionaire in New York city and everyone in between.  We're all redeemed.  

It took having cancer and being saved from that cancer for that to resonate deep within my soul.

Don't come to God when you're fixed and shiny and new.  Come to God now, with your hurt and sickness and pain and mess.  "There's power in the name of Jesus to break EVERY chain."

Even yours.  Believe in His name.  Let him break every chain.

And never go back.

I know I won't.

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Counting Breaths

August 19th 2013, breathing stopped. Or so it felt.  And for 3 months, I've consciously had to tell myself, breathe in, breathe out.  I counted them.  Afraid if I didn't, they would stop.

It didn't happen all of a sudden.  The physician assistant's words. She left a message for me to call her back.  It's never a good thing when they ask you to call back.  I was chasing preschooling A in and out of inflatable tunnels at one of those indoor play places when I stopped to listen to the message.  Little did I know the dark tunnel I myself was about to be hurdled into.

Preschooling A down for an afternoon nap and me sitting on my bed. Return phone call.

Your lab results came back from the mole we removed. It's melanoma.

Okay.

You'll need to meet with a surgeon.

Okay.

They'll most likely take a lymph node.

Okay.

All I said was okay.  I didn't even know what melanoma was. So I said okay.  It's okay, right? All okay.  I hung up.

And googled.

A few swift key strokes, "melanoma" and wikipedia returns this "Melanoma is less common than other skin cancers. However, it is much more dangerous if it is not found early. It causes the majority (75%) of deaths related to ..."

Without even clicking, it's scary. With clicking, I'm certain I'll be dead in two weeks.  Cancer.  Cancer is NOT okay. That's when the breathing stopped.  I cried for a long time just sitting by myself.  I don't know how I made it downstairs, but I stood in the doorway of Husband R's office and sobbed.  Was I breathing then?  I can't be sure.  R will tell you I was.

I collapsed. It's cancer I blurted out.  Did we pray?  We probably prayed. I don't really remember what happened after that.

Days that felt like thousands of years passed and I waited for the hospital to call. I tried getting more information from the dermatologists office.  I couldn't.  I researched and waited.  They called on Thursday.  Scheduled me for a consult the following week.  The patient coordinator told me it's stage one.  I was at the mall eating Chick-Fil-A in the food court when that call came in. I was with my babies and my sweet friend. I filled her in and sighed.  It's funny how you remember.

I told my family...my friends...my church.  Prayers began to flood the heavens.  You prayed for me. I laced my tennis shoes and coped and ran a lot. And prayed for myself.  My mom reassured me this isn't the way I'm going to go.  I kept thinking about preschooling A growing up without her mom.

"Time to put your big girl panties on and get your 'nomer removed." Sister's words.  She's funny sometimes.

Surgery happened.  A 6 inch scar behind my knee and a 3 inch scar in my groin. A week missed of work and sleeping on an air mattress because I couldn't climb the stairs. It wasn't awful.  I have a good husband, an amazing mother in law, a small group who lays hands and prays, friends who cook unbelievably well and a sister who hires cleaning ladies.

But nothing prepared me for the next set of results.  Husband R and I were driving the forty five minutes to meet with my surgeon, to get the results from the lymph nodes they removed.  We spent the drive planning what we would do that evening to celebrate the good news.

But then it wasn't good.  And it was your melanoma has spread to your lymph node.  You'll need more surgery and then to meet with a medical oncologist.  I cried again and had to count my breaths.  My surgeon told me something about not being totally sure and needing to speak with her colleagues, the tumor board.  Remind me never to belong to anything referred to as the tumor board.

A lot of God happened after that.  Things I promise you will come in following posts. Things I am still processing and forming into words and being overwhelmed by. What I need you to know now.  At this second.  Is that I'm okay, actually okay.  But you'll have to come back and read why.

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Desperate

I'm reading this book. This incredible life giving book. I highly, highly, highly recommend it.  If I had tons of money I'd buy a copy for every mom I know. Seriously. I underlined so much in the last chapter I read that I decided to type up a big chunk of it.  I have a terribly horrible memory, but typing things seems to make it stick.  Then I thought, well it's typed, why not share it?  Which I'm not entirely certain is allowed but I'm citing the reference so hopefully it is (and if you don't tell, I won't either!)  I just loved it so much and it spoke straight to my journey as a mother that I NEED to share it with you.  From Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe, by Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson.  Read this. Then go buy it.

Excerpt from Chapter 13 "The Art of Life"


God lives in my home, but sometimes I ignore Him and don’t hear the music He is playing just for me. This journey of mother-hood is a challenging marathon of moments, hours, days, months, years and decades. And yet, in each moment, God has sprinkled across our paths beauty, love and joy. We have only to cultivate eyes in our hearts to observe this Artist’s work of life. Whether it be a baby patting his mama’s chest as he gurgles milk, or a toddler giggling and screaming in fear at the sight of a frog; a little girl pretending to be a princess all dressed up in pink, or a little boy who spilled the milk one more time and longs for the gentle voice of grace from his mom; even a hormonal, reactionary teenager growing up and straining toward adult life; all of these moments and passages have the mystery and grace of God in them, just waiting to be unpackaged as evidence of His love.

Our shoulders often falter under a constant weight of performance and duty. We get caught up in the hectic cycle of endless tasks and often end up finding our lives to be a barren wasteland of burdens. We ask half-heartedly for a sip of His grace, never fully expecting Him to listen and answer. Yet Jesus wants us to come for a bottomless lake of his mercy, joy, fun, love, forgiveness, power, beauty, adventure and freedom. He desires to give us eyes to see every moment from His perspective, looking out with a view over all of eternity --- and seeing the stark difference between what really matters and what will soon pass.

Over the years, God has taught me to celebrate the infinite possibilities of what each day might hold. Choosing to look for the very fingerprints of God in every part of my world, as evidence of His love, has become a central life goal.  However, living a life of joy and contentment and imitating Him in our homes requires a willing ness to see our lives through the lens of God’s eternal perspective. He is wild, way beyond our control, and more interesting than we can imagine with our limited minds; but far too often we live in the mundane and don’t see the miracle of the moment because the eyes of our hearts have become blind to His reality. 

To me, one of the beautiful graces of a strong woman is the ability to see the true value of her own life and the lives of her children and to celebrate them every day, as Jesus did.  It was Jesus Himself who gave the example of treasuring children; He took time out of His busy day to hold them, to tousle their hair, to bless them.

Choosing to Be Thankful and Practice Being Content

To move from feelings of desperation to delight requires that the eyes of your heart and the attitude that you express be ones that exemplify God’s own heart and attitudes. We must come to accept and agree with scripture that “children are a gift of the Lord,” and that “the fruit of the womb is a reward” (Psalm 127:3). We must fit our heart to agree with God’s heart.

If every morning you look at your child as a gift from God, a blessing that He has bestowed today, and thank Him for that blessing, you will approach your children with love, patience, and grace. You have to bow your knee and say “God, you really are good and you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave me this child.” Your heart will not feel contentment and joy until it is aligned with the voice of God’s Holy Spirit within you. You will develop strength and fortitude in the attitudes you choose to practice and exercise. If you develop muscles of praise and thanksgiving, you will come to find increasing strength and stamina in those very practices. 

As a result, true joy, coming from God’s spirit, will bubble up in your soul. You will begin to see that your children are developing their own attitudes of gratefulness. Those around you will be blessed by being with you. A dedication to strengthening yourself in God’s Spirit will reap an exponential reward both in your live and the lives of those around you.

Put Away Distractions That Steal Your Joy

Television, cell phones, Facebook, blogs, social networks, and media of every kind are prevalent and prolific in our lives. We are so accustomed to such things that we hardly even know anymore how to enjoy the natural and “unplugged” moments in our lives, spending time in nature or treasuring experiences with loved ones. The modern person no longer walks into such interactions with a peaceful sense of contentment in the moment, but rather a frenetic restlessness, constantly wondering if, while gone from technology for a few moments, someone has left a comment, e-mail, tweet or Facebook message --- all distant and impersonal interactions.

The truth is that Jesus made us to be intimate with our family and friends. Only in personal and close interaction can relationships satisfy the deep longings that all of us have to be known and deeply loved.  If we cannot find a way to substitute an addictive, virtual faux reality for the opportunity to build intimacy and shared joy in the lives of our children, we will never pass on to them the concept that God is loving, present, intimate, and responsive. I often see women who have become so used to the substandard life that they cannot see that they have become empty, shallow, and impatient with a real live human beings right in their midst, who are longing for love but are also so ready to give back generously. 

Make a Commitment in Your Heart

Experiencing the deep fulfillment of being cherished is one of the best rewards of my life. Investing in love has paid off dividends far beyond what I could have initially imagined in my relationship with my children. They are my delight and best friends.

Yet this process developed by faith, and over an extended period of time. I had to behave as though I loved and cherished my children even when the feelings were weak or hidden, learning to be patient and really listen to them when I was exhausted was a commitment I had made long before finding myself in such situations. I had resolved beforehand to focus on saying words of life and encouragement when I really wanted time alone; to use a gentle and respectful tone when I was tempted to express anger. It was out of the belief that these commitments mattered to God that I made them. The core of this concept is that feelings will follow obedience. The more I practiced love, joy, peace, patience and all the other fruits of the Spirit, the more I found myself loving such attributes in the depths of my heart. It was as though God gave me these children, so that I could grow up and become all that He had designed me to be.

Children see through the lack of integrity of a mom as they grow older. If a mom is not living out her words of love by giving love, her children will learn to not believe her words. It is so vitally important that we live with integrity by choosing to worship God in front of our children through all the moments of our days. Celebrating God and all His attributes as well as his blessings creates a winsome energy that fuels a child’s own desire to follow hard after God. When a mom practices seeing the miracles and joy of God’s own making in all the moments of her day, a child will hunger after the same heart attitude.

See what I mean?  BUY IT!

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Repeating Peace

Stomach flu.  Say those two words within 5 feet of me and you might get...well, you definitely won't get hugged.   Preschooling A had it a few weekends ago, in her bed, in our bed and at the dinner table. Yes, while we were eating.  So odd for July. But obviously the virus didn't look at the calendar before invading my baby.

Being the  awesome mom that I am, I freaked out about A throwing up while sleeping and choking and us not know until morning.  So I slept in her bed with her.  For two nights.

Mistake.

She then, once well, decided she couldn't go to bed without me.  "I want mommy."  That's all she'd say, then proceed to scream and run out of her room the minute we laid her down.  I tried putting one of those door handle thingys on, the kind only adults can operate, and apparently A is an adult.  She got that piece of cheap plastic off faster than I could even figure out how to put it back on. 

It quickly escalated in ridiculousness.

Get back in bed.  No. Pick child up lay her down.  Child stands up in bed and refuses to lay down. Mommy walks out and closes door. Child opens door and runs down the hallway. Mommy screams. Child cries. Mommy gets Daddy.  Daddy lays child down in her bed.  Child stands up, hollers "I want mommy." Daddy threatens. Child really cries. Daddy gets Mommy. Repeat.

Sounds fantastic, huh?

My own mama used to say something to me.  To all her children really.  Every time we got out of the car to go to school.  Or left the house for ball practice. And especially when we got behind the wheel at 16.  From as early as I can remember, which is really only back to like 8th grade because I have an awful memory, which also may be due to the same mama praying my memory away (which she admits to doing), but none the less I remember these words.

"May the Lord bless you and keep you, may his face shine upon you."

It was her mantra.  Ingrained on our hearts and in our souls.  So much so that my sister has even passed it on to her kids. I'm sure even at ages 8 and 5 they could quote the line to you.

What I didn't know then, but know now is that line, is scripture.  Found in Numbers.

"The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace."  Numbers 6:24-26

Thanks to my mama's prayer, I have been blessed.  Even in rough, scary, horrible times He has kept me. Safe. Loved. Under His wing.  And even now I see, no I feel, his face shining upon me.

But the last part of that verse, the part that mama left out, probably because we would have stopped listening after the first fifteen words anyway, but that part about peace. We're missing that.  As a family unit, most days, peace eludes us.  

And it makes me sad.

We try.  We really do.  We wake up kind and patient and loving.  But preschooling A argues one too many times and tells me no over the most mundane asks and peace refuses to hang around.  What's with that?

A year ago or so, Husband R and I took a family mentoring class together.  Our homework in that class, inspired by the book What is a Family by Edith Schaffer (which is not the easiest book to read), was to write a family mission statement.  This was before A knew how to talk back or to even really question anything.  But interestingly enough, even back then, on the top of both our lists, the mission for our family, was the word PEACE.


Even before we knew what was ahead, we knew we wanted our home to be calm. Quiet. A place of refreshment.  And to this date, it's not.  Most days it's loud because A is trying to get my attention.  And it's stressful because I'm putting A in time out for not listening.  And it's exhausting because it's the same thing over and over and over and over again.

Solution?  I went shopping.  

 And bought this for my wall.  My mother gave me the first half.  But I'm making the second half my prayer.

May the Lord give our family peace.

And because shopping alone will never be enough, because "without the word of God as my daily bread, I would honestly be buried in a pit so deep that I wouldn't recognize daylight," (Beth Moore) I also found and wrote down this verse.

"Repent, then, and turn to God, so that times of refreshing may come from the Lord." Acts 3:19

Its what I want.  It's our family mission.  Peace. Times of refreshing. 

Look, no one is perfect.  And if you "hold out for perfect, you'll end up holding nothing." - Ann Voskamp

So when I get angry at A for not listening. Because she won't. And when I scream. Because I will. 
I can repent.  And try again.  

Repeat.

Only because of the grace of God.

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Happy Royal Baby Day

Welcome to mama-hood Kate Middleton. 

I love that even though you're royalty, you had to labor and push that baby into the world, just like the rest of us mamas.  I love that even though you're married to a prince, you won't get a straight eight hours of sleep for many months to come. And while you were standing in wedges with perfectly flowing hair, just 24 hrs after birthing that baby, I sat thinking how you'll get pooped on within the week. Yes, that's what it's all about and not even you, Kate, can escape it. 

And isn't it wonderful?

A sweet, baby boy.

And we love him, because he's yours and William's, a prince.

With all the talk and twitter and constant coverage, my mind wanders back to another Prince, born thousands of years ago.

And if he were born today, with all the internet and social media and easy news access, would he have been bombarded by paparazzi and blogged about and googled?

I can't answer that for sure, but my guess is no.

Because the whole thing about that baby, the Lord of Lords, was that he came into the world humble, innocent, widely unknown.

It had to be that way.

He had to be just like us, the common, the beggars, the poor.

He had to be accessible and approachable so that we could be saved.

So welcome to the world little prince of Cambridge.  I pray that you grow to one day know and honor your creator.

The

One

True

King.

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Popsicles in the rain

Confession time...there's this thing I struggle with. And I mean really struggle with, not like getting a toddler dressed and out the door struggle, but like if you asked me one thing I wish I could tackle and stomp out for good, it would be this.

Accomplishing too much at one time, or should I say attempting to accomplish too much at one time. Because let's face it, there's only so much one mama can handle. Yet I keep pushing to get it all done. And you know who suffers?

Toddling A. Who really needs to be upgraded. She's turning three next week after all and if she were still toddling I'd be concerned she was a little behind the curve...so Preschooling A it shall be.

Anyways, she is the one who ends up feeling like she's always in my way. But in reality, shouldn't she be in my way? She's a little girl wanting to do little girl things, like ride her scooter directly into the path of the vacuum. And spill flour all over the floor while helping make pancakes. And turn her playroom into a caution taped off police only disaster zone.. It's me who has the problem.

Try saying that out loud...it's my problem.

Last week I decided to have some friends over to play. I could have left it at that, had some friends over...the end.

Nope.

Not this girl.

I get home from work the night before and immediately start cleaning. I like my house but there is a lot of floor space and a lot of corners and sometimes it feels like I might as well be cleaning the driveway because the dirt doesn't stop! But here I am hurrying and busying and on a roll making sure there's toilet paper and hand soap and carpets vacuumed. And I'm sweating which is apparently all you do when you live inside a humid wool sock...aka the south. And that makes me mad and I remember I hadnt even cooked dinner yet.

And yep, you guessed it. Here comes Preschooling A. All smiles and just a flying on her scooter. I finish vacuuming and turn around and she has completely turned over a runner and scattered even MORE dirt onto the floor I JUST vacuumed.

I knew it wasn't a big deal but I had a ton left to do and was tired and she was supposed to be playing upstairs and so I see it as not listening and I lost it. You can add your own details. It wasn't pretty. And there were tears. The kind of tears that tell when a little heart is breaking.

And I'd like to tell you this doesn't happen often, and its true the yelling doesn't, but the feelings do. Being interrupted when I have nine different things going on drives me batty. And while I have learned not to yell and scream, I still confine Preschooling A to her room or tell her things like

"Not now"
"Go play"
"Just a second"

But....and here's the thing...

All the not nows and go plays and just a seconds will be over all too soon. And there will be the vacuum, sitting there, saying, now I have you all to myself muhahaha and ill be longing for the  interruptions of my sweet Preschooling A.

So just as I'm drowning in my guilt and shame and can't figure out how to come up for even one breath of relief, God brings me this.

"We are merely moving shadows, and all our busy rushing ends in nothing." Psalm 39:6

So I dropped what I was doing and Preschooling A and I went outside and ate popsicles in a glorious thunderstorm. Yes, even before we ate dinner. And the tears stopped and the guilt melted down along with the purple flavored ice. And isn't life just like that? Things get all out of order and sticky and then it starts to rain and lightening strikes and we get a choice. To keep trudging along the best we can, or trade all the chaos for a wild, unashamed, eating popsicles in the rain kind of moment.

That night I chose to trade. Trade a clean uptight house for some smiles and a gooey face.

I learned something else. To quote a favorite writer, Ann Voskamp,

"Hurry always empties a soul."

I don't want an empty soul. And most importantly, I don't want my precious daughter, the most important gift God has ever trusted me with, to have an empty soul either.

I'm working on slowing down and doing more soul filling these days.

And about that clean house...our friends came and our friends left. A mess that is. A tremendously wonderful mess. A we had way too much fun mess.

An honest to God mess of memories.

And that...

That'll fill your soul 'til it's downright flowing over.

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Fully loved - no.matter.what

'Sup?  We just spent an ENTIRE day at the zoo and the aquarium.  It's what I wanted for my birthday present this year.  Because one, I'm a nerd and b it seemed like the perfect day.  That is until you're toddler has a meltdown at 9am and is scared of the dolphin show and says at every single exhibit "I wanna see something else!"  Remind me next year to ask for a pedicure and massage.

Writing to you with my trusty straw-ber-rita at my side (which is all my brother's fault, after all he is a rep for Anheuser-Busch and with each sip I pay a little of his salary...right) seems like the perfect way to unwind.



So here I am.

Brand new.

We don't get to be brand new very often in our lives, some more than others, but new is how I label myself these days.  I'm new to a state, a town, a community, a job, a church, a preschool, a doctor's office and all the other things that come a long with moving.  I'm even new to Publix.

Exciting and little bit hair raising all in one go.

I've conquered a lot in the past month to negate my newness, minus actually changing my license plate and registering my car which my insurance company calls daily about.  I'll get around to that before well, I'll get around to it. I promise.

But besides all that, you know what's been the hardest to overcome?

Friends.

Finding them.

I've met women. And I've met mamas. But friends?  They're proving to be a little more elusive.

I recently read an article, passed along to me, ironically, by a good friend, that discusses why women need friends.  You can read it here.

You see, not only is spending time with good friends scientific...whoop whoop for oxytocin!

Spending time with other women is spiritual.  And just like if I slack on any other aspect of my spiritual life, I feel I live with a void.

A void so obvious that when another girlfriend from NC spontaneously visited me, I had to choke back tears as we stood hugging in my driveway.  Just that short hour of a visit, talking about nothing and talking about everything filled my fellowship tank for days.  You can read her blog here and fill up your own tank.  It's worth it. Trust me.

So, if friendship is THAT important for us women, why are friends so hard to find?  Doesn't make much sense to me. Shouldn't all us women, and especially all us Christian women, be reaching out and over and in and out again to other women? 

I've been in contact with two mom groups recently.  One I found online through a meetup website and the other I found through a local church.  My first experience with the online group was a mom's night in.  I had a blast.  The other mom's were friendly and welcoming and funny, good grief were they funny.  I'm not sure I'll make a best friend there but I will definitely be getting together with them again.

My next experience was with the church mamas. I had been in contact by email with the group organizer and was incredibly excited to meet these women.  I had tons of fun with the online group but was ready to get involved with a faith based group.  Now, granted, we met up at a kids museum/play place, which we all know can be chaotic and not necessarily the best place for getting to know people, but I was astounded. When I walked up to the group in the parking lot, no one spoke to me, that is until I was introduced by the organizer.  I chalked this up to the fact we met in the parking lot and maybe they thought I was standing in the wrong place.  Plus, I didn't speak to them either...touche.  But surprisingly, once inside, any connections made were initiated by me. These women are kind, I'm sure, they're great mom's, absolutely no doubt, and once I spoke to as many as I could, they were friendly and even welcoming.  And I will give it another chance because I truly believe they meant no harm.  But what if I had a different, quieter personality?  I would have been ignored. 

Why is it that the group with no church/religious or even spiritual affiliation was more friendly and welcoming?  My mom said to me a few days ago, "people in a bar are more welcoming than people in a church."

Ouch.

That.is.heart.breaking.

And moms, women, ladies, that won't change unless we change it.

WE HAVE TO CHANGE.

If you're a believer, and you belong to any sort of group, whether affiliated with your church or not, recognize this issue.  No. Don't recognize it.  Tackle it.  Solve it.

End it.

I have this theory. I believe it's true for moms but I'd go as far to say it's true for most women.  We're scared. Scared of being criticized.  Scared of being judged.  Worried we just won't measure up. So we don't reach outward, we hunker inward. I read these words from Beth Moore recently, “We will never be secure until we realize we are fully loved by God, no matter our failings.”

Read it again. This time with my emphasis

“We will never be secure until we realize we are fully loved by God, no matter our failings.” 

So what if your kid had a donut for breakfast.  At least he ate.

So what if you were on your cell phone for most of your child's field trip.  At least you showed up.




You've kept the kids alive.  That's nothing to sneeze at.

This is what I'm saying.  God loves you, fully, no matter your failings. And that's all that matters.  What are you afraid of?

Talk to the new person. She needs you to.  And you might find out, you need her too.



p.s. I must tell you, in actuality, I have met someone. A friend. She's in fact a neighbor to my realtor. And she reached out to me. When I had no clue who she was. She has two beautiful children and an even more beautiful spirit. And I heart her. And if she's reading this, "Hi friend, I'm thankful for you. And know, you're welcome to drink a strawberita with me anytime!"

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Nomads no more

Hello there lovees! I can finally breathe again.  For a little while I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest and my brain at the same time.

 

I considered it a success if I opened my eyes in the morning and remembered where I was. 

Remember the house I posted a picture of in my last ramblings? ( We didn't buy it. Not one teeny tiny inch of it.  Not even the poop colored counter tops.  It didn't appraise.  Not just the counter tops, but the whole house.  Came in 30k less than our offer. 

Alas, we were homeless. AGAIN.

We gave up looking for a house to buy and decided to build our own.  We bought some land, we contracted a builder.  We were told August was to be the completion date.  So now what?  If I can still count correctly that's 5 months we gotta find a roof over our heads.

After calling every rental listing from craigslist to your momma's house, we finally found a townhouse willing to rent to us short term doberman owning tenants.  We were to move in the first week of April.  And with that we packed our bags and headed to NC for Easter.  That was March 25th.

On March 26th, the very next day, my realtor calls.  "So hey, you know the house you walked through, in the neighborhood you're building in, the one you saw as an example of what you're building?  Yea well the guy who was under contract on that house, his financing fell through, today. You wanna buy it?  You can close April 25th."

Ummm...hold on...let me call my husband...I don't even remember what that house looked like...we can buy it for the same amount we were going to build for? Are you speaking English?

Yea so long story short we did just that.  We bought the house Charles (I got some of his mail, so we're on a first name basis now) built but could not buy.  I'm considering putting a "This is the house that Charles built" sign above our front door.  Classy?  I think so.

After our Easter week in NC Husband R and doberman Bo Bo headed back to the lake house to wait out the time before closing and Toddling A and I adventured across the east coast, from NC to VA to WV to MD and all the way back to GA again.  We were gone for just shy of 30 days.  Hence the trouble remembering where I was when I woke up.  You try sleeping in the same bed with a toddler for a month.  You'd be lost too.

So all that I wrote about being thankful and seeing God's hand in this process?  It's still true.  If not even more true than before.  It kind of feels like we kept grabbing these homes and God kept slapping our hands away.  We finally got  our fingers around one, we were holding on tight, and God took it away for the 4th time.  I was frustrated, sure.  Confused? Absolutely.

But there was and is beauty from ashes.  This beauty to be exact.  We just had to find it, or should I say it had to find us.

So we're in.  No longer homeless. 

Unpacking.... now that's a whole 'nother story.

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One Thousand Gifts

Well herrroooo,

I guess I should say Happy New Year!  I am in awe that it's been 2 months since I've written to you lovely people.  I hope the beginning of 2013 has been kind to you. Also, happy merry lent season for those of you who practice it.  I asked Husband R if he was giving anything up for lent to which he replied, "North Carolina."  He's a sassy one he is.

But alas, we have given up NC and are officially Georgians.  When I explained to Toddling A that we were moving to Georgia she said "I not like that boy."  Someone takes after her dad.

Anyways, I have a lot to say to you and my fingers are too cold to want to say them.  I thought GA was warm.  Apparently not. It's also rainy.  Does anyone else feel like it's rained entirely too much as of late?  The sun'll come out tomorrow, you can bet your bottom dollar.  I haven't checked the forecast for tomorrow but I'm not betting my bottom dollar, then who will pay my heat bill if I'm wrong?

God is good all the time.  Did you know that?  I mean like all the time.  Even in the rain.  And the cold.  He's still good.

Let me list to you my reasons as of late to prove to you He is indeed good, and faithful, and just and loving.  This might be a long list.  And that's a very good thing. 

1. We listed our house on Sunday it sold on Tues.  For the math challenged, the house was under contract in 3 days.  What was the offer?  1k less than list price and no closing costs needed. Say what? It's true. 


2. Part of the reason it went under contract is because I have snazzy, fancy friends who let us borrow all their nice and fancy things to stage our home.  I mean top to bottom, furniture, decor, candles.  All not mine all used to make the house pretty.  And it worked.

3. We had these windows.  These double paned windows.  That had this sort of seal in between those panes.  Those seals got lost.  I looked everywhere.  And condensation and foggy stuff crept in.  Windows are expensive.  Certainly the prospective buyer will want money or windows replaced. How about no.  How about that buyer only asked for a $500 credit be applied to closing costs. 

4.  The real estate market is poor to say the least.  We listed our house higher than any other house in the neighborhood had previously sold for.  My realtor was nervous about the appraisal.  The buyer's agent didn't think the house would appraise. My realtor who originally sold me the house was even doubtful.  I was prepared for bad news.  It appraised. Exactly for the list price.

You still there?  Are you seeing a pattern?  Good.  Because it keeps going.

5. The appraisal came back a week before our closing date.  That means a week before we were to turn over our keys to the new owner, we had no place to live. I had people offering us a place to stay.  It was that bad.  I called corporate housing and short term apartment people.  It's expensive, say 2k more than our mortgage.  Plus lots of money to cover our apparently scary and dangerous dog.  Have you met him?  So I google.  And google some more.  Are shelter's out of the question?  Then, out of the blue, a vacation rental company pops up.  A 4 bedroom lake house, available, in the off season. Cheaper than corporate housing and short term apartments.  And the management are some of the nicest people I've ever done business with.  Yes, I'm writing you from lakefront property.  Beats an apartment hands down everytime.

6.  We had seen probably 35 houses by the time we moved into our lovely rental.  And I looked at 5 more the Thurs after we had arrived.  Nothing.  We even raised our price 10k.  Houses either didn't have yards or were too old or had funky smelly things growing in them or they cost too much.  Really. I gave up at least 3 times.  Did I mention it either rained or snowed every time we looked?  Think I'm lying?  I was looking for houses during a tornado warning.  My realtor she's a champ.  Concluding we're not meant to buy a house just yet,  Husband R and I set a deadline, a week away, if we don't find anything by then we rent something for 6 months. Bleh, okay. Saturday I'm back at it.  Spur of the moment kind of deal.  The last house we see at 4:30pm, could this be it?  It doesn't have a fence.  The kitchen counter tops are the color of poop. I'm not joking.  And it's acrylic paint. Who does that?

But in every other way, it's exactly what we're looking for.  Spacious, move in ready, minus those two things that can be fixed.  Husband R drives from the lake house, an hour away to to see it.  This better be it or I'm in trouble.  Toddling A arrives and has to actually poop.  It's probably the counter tops giving her the idea.  She does so in the half bath, that has to be a sign we're home.  We offer. 8k less than asking price. And we want the refrigerator and a home warranty and 3k in closing costs.  We wait.  And wait.  And wait.  24 hrs go by.  No word.  This can't be good news. Hopefully they're working up a counter offer, I mean we did ask for the cake and icing too.  Phone rings.  Our offer has been accepted.  No questions asked. No counter. You've got to be kidding me.  Happy, happy dance.  Hooorays all around!  We went from possibly having to buy a house we could barely afford to facing renting for 6 months to actually buying a house that will have a lesser mortgage than our house in Charlotte.  Here she is.  I heart her.

Time to get honest. I did not happily float, skip or even glide through this process.  There was doubt.  There were tears.  Gray hair and fever blisters.  Sleepless nights. Yelling.  But one thing that I noticed.  That is different from stressful times in my life before.  I could see God's hand.  Actually SEE it.  Times before, I'd get to the other side of a life event and look back and say, "Wow, God really knew what he was doing." Or "I can really see how God brought all of that together."  But this time, I saw him during the decision making. I felt his presence and his words and his guidance the entire time.  And on those days when I was drowning in doubt or pity He always brought me back.  Sometimes with his word, sometimes through other people and most times through prayer.

We prayed. Out loud. Together. Many times. Because you see, I read this "Up to this time you have not asked a [single] thing in My Name [as presenting all that I AM]; but now ask and keep on asking and you will receive, so that your joy (gladness, delight) may be full and complete. John 16:24"

And after the 35th house it struck me.  Husband R and I had prayed for the home selling process, but together we had not united to pray for the home buying process.  So we did.  It wasn't fancy.  It wasn't dramatic.  We just asked in His name.  And the next day we found it.

I know God answers every prayer.  Sometimes the answer is no.  Sometimes the answer is wait.  And a lot of times the answer isn't really even what we were hoping for.  But try to see his hand guiding you.  Ask him to help you understand his ways.  Thank him.  It's extremely hard to be upset at your circumstances if your in a constant state of thankfulness.  I promise. 

On one of my trips to house hunt, before we had moved, and had to come stay in a hotel and Toddling A and I had to look for houses while Husband R worked, on one of those trips, we literally ran out of houses to see.  But it was only 3:30 and Husband R didn't finish until 5 and Toddling A and I had no where to go.  My champ realtor says we can hang out with her while she finishes up some other work and we'll head back to her office to see if any new listings had showed up.  It's like a 30 min drive so toddling A falls asleep.  I opt to hang out in the car, in the parking lot of my realtor's office so Toddling A can sleep. Fingers crossed she doesn't pee in her seat.  We're still not out of the woods on bladder control while sleeping.  So here I am, sitting in someone's car with my toddler snoozing and probably peeing and nothing to do but sit and wait and hope and fret.  Then the sun came out.  I rolled down the windows.  It warmed up.  I couldn't get any wi-fi for my kindle so I was forced to read.  And read I did.  About thankfulness.  About how even in death Jesus was thankful. 

In her book One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp writes

"“On the night when he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took some bread and gave thanks to God for it. Then he broke it in pieces …” (1 Corinthians 11: 23— 24, emphasis added). Jesus, on the night before the driving hammer and iron piercing through ligament and sinew, receives what God offers as grace, the germ of His thanksgiving? Oh. Facing the abandonment of God Himself (does it get any worse than this?), Jesus offers thanksgiving for even that which will break Him and crush Him and wound Him and yield a bounty of joy."

So as I sat in the car and read that, me who is not facing abandonment, who has been receiving God's blessings since this whole crazy uprooting thing began, started thanking God.  I thanked him for the sun.  Thanked him for my realtor, for Avery, for the money to even buy a house, for a husband who provides.  I just kept going.  And going.  And I stopped worrying.  And of course as the days went on and house was still yet to be found worry crept back in.  But I tried to focus on being thankful.  And on praising God.

And no, this season is not over, and really, is hardship ever over?  Will things always go swimmingly? I'd bet my bottom dollar that it wont.  But here's the thing. I'm learning and I'm growing and I'm keeping my eyes on Jesus.  I'm figuring out how to be content. And I'm realizing I'm loved.  And prayer works. 

And painting your counter tops a poop color brown/green is a very bad idea.

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