Living-Deliberately.com

“The point is, being unbalanced in matters of faith, politics, sports, family, work, and hobbies leads to depth knowledge, to competence, to the full array of human emotions and capacity of caring, which in turn leads to interaction with those who do and don’t share your assumptions, which means fully participating in life and the human family. ”

“Balance” is one of my little pet words that honestly has been grating on my own nerves lately. This article was a timely spin on the idea.

Read Julie’s column here.

We went to bed just after 11. We’d watched last year’s Country Music Awards, saw Sugarland, Rascal Flats, Kenny Chesney (who doesn’t sing a song dh doesn’t love) and the indomitable Keith Urban at the piano. Darkness felt good and we snuggled into one another with the cool night air wafting in from the open window.

gratuitous use of imagary, I know.

Red Fox and Fly had other plans. They yipped and yapped and barked and growled. They often start barking at night so at first we didn’t pay too much attention. Then they started pacing on the porch and running circles around the house, barking incessantly. David got up to “shush” them at the window and when he did, he saw the orange glow of a huge ball of fire.

We hadn’t smelled smoke because the wind was blowing the other way. We didn’t startle at the sound of sirens, still being used to hearing them daily in the city. It still dawns on us slowly that if we hear them out here, it’s because something BIG is happening.

And what it was the 100 year old house at the end of the street. The house that used to be a store. It faced the tracks and had become worn and run down. The latest occupants had only recently moved out; I doubt it had gone through many modernizations or updates in the past several decades.

We stood under the black night sky punctuated by a million white stars, in the cold and wet grass, barefooted and pajama-ed, and watched as the flames engulfed it. Water sprayed through holes in the roof and made the fire inside dance around, which gave the sickening impression of movement inside the house through the windows. Thankfully though, to everyone’s knowledge it was empty. Probably started by a drug accident or wiring problem, or, as some locals think, intentionally burned in attempt to get the insurance money.

Today it’s blackened ash and a smoldering pile of what used to be. The firefighters managed to save the huge walnut growing nearby that could have spread the fire to the neighboring house. I thought as I walked home in barefeet and the train whistled by on the tracks, past the fire, that one more “something” of this town- that- once was was now gone. Old wood that was raised as a new century came in, as a town was born, that saw generations of trains rumble past, was now dust.

This time next year the site will be invisible save for the tangle of kudzu taking it’s place.

“Honestly, I’m amazed that people are still beating this particular (socialization) dead horse. Homeschoolers packed it off to the glue factory a long time ago. (That’s how we stick together all those sugar cubes for our model Egyptian pyramids.)”

Great article! Read the whole thing here.

When I first met dh, he was subsisting off of jarred baby food (like weight lifters often ate), King Vitamin Cereal, and restaurant food (lots of late night trips to Denny’s). He thought he ate great; I was horrified.

When we married, he became my “learn to cook” guinea pig as I devoured “southern cooking” recipes in an effort to capture the Mississippi flavors he grew up with. We had green beans soaked in ham hocks, piles of pork chops, biscuits (part of an endeavor to find the BEST recipe), and lots of rich desserts made with convenience foods. We thought we ate great; our midwife was horrified.

When we went to Mom’s on Sunday for dinner, Dh always wanted seconds on meat. By then we were on a tight food budget and only had single servings at home. Mom sometimes got frustrated with sides because dh only liked green beans and corn and she was used to broccoli with cheese, boiled cabbage, stir fries and medleys, and sweetened carrots. I loved it when she made extra sides for me, who was usually pregnant and craving veggies. We thought we ate great; our new “grind-your-own-grain” friends were horrified.

When we moved to our house on Greenfern Lane, with it’s sprinkler system and good sun exposure, my gardening attempts finally paid off. We switched to whole foods and got rid of creamed casseroles. I breastfed our fourth for two years and we learned what foods made him sick and healthy. No more nitrate-laden food, no more sugared “healthy” cereals or pre-mixed yogurts. Dh learned to love fried squash, baked hard squash, veggie soups, eggplant, zucchini, carrots, onions. We challenged our picky eating by tackling one new food at a time, sometimes taking a year to get to know it. We thought we ate great; the lady in the Chick Fil A and McDonald’s drive thru knew better.

When we’d survived “year seven” of our marriage, which brought us dangerously close to divorce, and I discovered bistro cooking and we launched into the Great Wine Experiment. We started with sweet wines and grilled most of our food. After time, Lambrusco and Riesling were too sweet and so was soda. Dark chocolate took the place of milk right about the time we discovered Pinot. Spinach salad was common and that was the year we learned to roast beets, leeks, and root veggies. Our children asked for Lox and cream cheese while shopping. Our oldest fell in love with sauted Brussels sprouts. Plain yogurt and granola was the breakfast of choice. Grilled Salmon was a weekly main dish. We gardened heirloom veggies, shopped the farmer’s market, and ate seasonally and locally. We had our own hen for fresh eggs. We thought we ate great; very few were horrified.

When we packed up everything and moved into a 2 bedroom apartment in East Tennessee we found Dave Ramsey. Our “food budget” became an articulated thing and I tried to balance eating politically and frugally. We started eating “beans and rice”, doctored up in as many ways as I could think of. Even trying beans was a step of maturity on my part; learning to love them was a surprise. Higher gas prices took over our wine category almost completely. We were as close as we’ve ever been to eating a vegetarian diet that was still very high in protein. We picked our fruit at farms, got to know the owners of a great produce market, and got excited over the opening of a new farmer’s market in town. We still ate seasonally; plates full of veggies, buttermilk pancakes and waffles with puddles of real maple syrup. I even learned to bake my own bread. When we rented a house our garden was the biggest we’d ever had by 3 times. We thought we ate great; we were right, held up to our old standard.

When my new friend mentioned a book she was reading called Nourishing Traditions, I was intrigued because it had to do with one of my favorite subjects, food. She’d suffered a loss earlier that year and made a life change because of it and my heart and ears were open. She had us over for dinner and served us local fruit, whole grains, soaked and toasted nuts, and sprouted beans. The next day my entire chemistry felt and reacted differently; a gastrointestinal “high”. I was converted and bought the book. From there we tried new grains like bulgar, millet, amaranth. Our grocery list went from 15 pounds of white sugar a month to zero. Our fats are real fats that our bodies can break down. Our nuts and legumes have the phytates soaked out of them so that we can assimilate the vitamin content. No more MSG, hydrogenated or trans fat, or corn syrup. Our food is gorgeous and nourishing to our very pores. We are true omnivores, eating good meat, good eggs, good dairy, resplendent vegetables of all kinds, and fruit in abundance. We are blessed. My sons’ reflux condition is finally controlled and almost non-existent. Our bodies are leaner; we ate fat and lost fat. We can’t tolerate more than a few sips of overly sweetened soda, junky white flour products bloat us up like balloons, fake foods hold no temptation. If you make soups you’ll know what I mean when I say, “our surface has been skimmed”. We eat great, period.

Last week I looked at my cookbook shelf and found some old friends. Back when we married, when we were expecting our first baby and eating in a way that horrified our midwife, I’d obtained a copy of Laurel’s Kitchen. Also, her Bread Book. Somewhere in the journey I found Bistro Cooking at Home, Chevy’s Fresh Mex, A Real American Breakfast, and the Moosewood Restaurant’s book of soups and salads. Every single one of them are compatible with what is prescribed in Nourishing Traditions; some recipes may require a tweak here or there. This week I’ll expand my menu to include some “new” recipes that have sat on my shelf, some for more than 10 years. They were here with me all along, waiting for me to grow up, for may palate to mature beyond the sweet, fluffy stuff of the modern American diet of sci-fi food. I learned to chew and taste in stages. We learned to try new things, to even recognize they were out there, gradually. The definition of “good” evolved. My chemistry changed, my cravings adapted. I think my old midwife would be impressed. At the least, she’d be comfortable sharing my table. I eat great and there’s still more to explore.

Hebrews 5:13 “for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.

“Constant practice”. What is good for an infant is not what’s good for an adolescent is not what’s good for an adult. We get there through constant practice and trained discernment. Each new level might make us think we’ve found “the best”. Remember the first time you tried something new and found it exciting and delicious? What’s true is the that the best foods aren’t complicated, manufactured by science, or unusual. And one person’s baby food may another person’s challenging new experience. I think it’s sometimes more a reflection of where that person is “at” rather than a reflection of the food itself. “Good” becomes “good for…”

Breast milk is good food…for my baby. Soda is junk that is good for no one. Margarine is a false food that pretends to be good food. Grown ups need fiber that comes from chewing things and regularly, not occasionally. Getting fed once in awhile leads to nutritional and bodily distress.

I can hardly wait to see how this grows and what beautiful, blessed, challenging food is “good” for me next year! If I’m living right, it will not be the the exact same thing I’m eating today. Joy in the journey indeed.

Snuck some time this afternoon to work on the links for my other blog. Bigger project than it sounds like because my current template didn’t allow for links. So I switched templates, copied the html from one that did, switched back and copied and pasted. :-)  Also got it to accept an avatar. Can’t pesonalize it though. Probably my mistake but if anyone can figure out why, let me know. Here’s my site on how we educate ’round here.

No big blogs because my brain is on hiatus. Can’t seem to string together an entire sentence that makes sense and mostly spending time doing crafts with the kids, cleaning the house, and chewing thoughts. Here are some of them:

• Reading the convo from last week to Dh over the weekend, he had this to say, “I wonder if seeker-churches are just like some kind of Triage. They can’t focus on *both* structuring everything to the neophyte and growing others to maturity. At some point, the older ones move on, hungry for some meat.” This flies in the face of our holistic view of the parish-church mentality, where a local body can minister to a variety of needs, similar to a family with multiple members, and how they grow and adjust to healthfully meet the needs of one another. The family was an institution of God before the congregation; seems there is wisdom in that.
• ebay is a good little money maker. Now to get a digital cam so I can make the most of it and empty the “box room”. I’ve got painting to do and art bags to sew for next week. Oh, and ask Rick what he does for film developing; that stack is getting high!
• 10 year olds are huge. And his smell is changing. And he got his first pimple. Makes me want to lock the nursery door or something.
• Fall is happening right on schedule. Maples and Walnuts, red and yellow, are dropping little leaves in the rainy, wet breeze. We talk about firewood everyday and hot tea has become a daily occurrance.
• our days need a jolt of the liberal arts. Time to update the links on the Rhthm of Our Days.
• country music videos are addictive late into the night. And to think…if I’d not had Rowan, who made me suddenly crave that which I previously couldn’t stand, I’d never even know what a fun guilty pleasure these could be!
• my daughter looks gorgeous in her peacock blue sweater
• getting in touch with an old midwife friend may help me deal with an old hurt. May give it a try.
• Yesterday RK colored all over himself in ink (but methinks the streak on his back had to come from some other guilty party), walked out of the yard and down the road with me running behind him, learned how to say, “Teeeeeaaaaa”, flushed the toilet 10k times, and had another rousing game of Egg Ball.
• It’s Florida Week for UT. Go Vols! What a perfect autumn sport. Gotta root them on just for the picturesque beauty of it all!

It’s not a good start when you accidentally pour buttermilk into your one cup of coffee a day for the third time in a week……

cough.gag.spew.gross.

Sahah asked this in the comments and it was so good I decided to pull it up for a post.

“you talk so much about this Nourishing Traditions stuff and I’ve read it other places too. I always am left with this question: Does it cost more or take much more time to live with this kind of eating/cooking lifestyle?”

On cost: in many ways it’s cheaper. One thing that was said to me, and what I’ve tried to pass along, is that newbies should start with the steps they can handle. You may not want or be able to do the whole thing right from the git-go.

One thing that made implementation easier for me was that I was already in the habit of pre-planning our meals and living on a budget. For most of this year, my grocery budget for a family of 6 was $450 a month. Now, let me tell you, a lot of people would say that they don’t spend that much more than that but without careful tracking, it can EASILY double. I thought we ate pretty healthy; mostly whole foods and very seasonal.

Cost is ‘iffy’ though. If you want to go all organic on your meats and dairy and produce, it’s probably going to cost you a lot more, unless you grow a good portion of that yourself. If you want to be more vegetarian in your approach and not do much meat, it can cost a lot less. Grains, even good organic ones, are not expensive!

Right now I’m trying to keep our food under $550 a month. It’s hard because I’m still adjusting to a new shopping/store routine and our oldest could probably go through a gallon of milk a day. Our budget allows for good coffee, little chocolate, no processed foods, no junk.
If you shop with my meal plans, you’ll get an idea of how I’m eating and what I’m spending. I use organic grains and beans (non-irradiated). I usually buy organic, free range eggs. I get local produce for the most part but it’s not all organic, or if it is, not certified. Local honey. Nuts and maple syrup and olive oil from Walmart because they are so much cheaper and we eat a lot of them. I hate Walmart though and am looking to adjust this area first.

With the book, I don’t forsee going into the raw meat territory. And I haven’t been making my own stocks due to an a difficulty getting good bones; I buy stock with no MSG.

As for prep: it DOES take pre-planning. You have to know your menu enough to anticipate setting out beans to sprout, grains to soak, cheese to drain. The first few weeks I spent a lot of time in the kitchen and a lot of time THINKING about what I needed to do in the kitchen. Now, it’s much more streamlined. I usually look ahead and lay out the future meal’s requirement while I’m working on the present meal.

Sound tiring? It has it’s moments. But this is no crunchy deprivation diet. The food is BEAUTIFUL. The book is very appropriately named….you can feel that Nourishment in your very marrow when you get in the groove. The Tradition has  a routine and flow. Food has purpose. When you can eat THIS good, this tasty, and feel great for it too, why wouldn’t ya try it?
Jordan Rubin had a great thought he shared on his show awhile back: we often pray, “bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies”. And we pray that over a plate of NON food that we want him to bless and somehow give our bodies what they need to work. We want Him to bless the junk so we don’t have to eat better. But food is either blessed or it’s not blessed. He’s already provided us with a bounty of wonderful things to eat. REAL foods that we can say, “thank you” for and know they are good for us.

the same author, Sally Fallon, has a book called Eat Fat, Lose Fat. I’ve added it to the list of books I want to read because besides feeling TONS better eating the way we have (and c’mon, see the below post and how could we not feel good to our very pores?!), we’re actually losing inches.

My dh has lost an entire pants size to his great surprise. His metabolism is up. Not having added any new excersize in, he attributes it completely to the food.

Good, high quality saturated fats, also affect hormones (sexual and not), seratonin levels (anyone want to explore the rampant problem of depression and low-fat diets?), and our ability to concentrate.

and anyway, on a total tangent that I don’t have time to explore: I hope no one, on this site or any other, is thinking I’m being a pharasee and saying it’s a law to take your children into church with you, or any of the other outward manifestations of our christianity. That would be to miss the point entirely. I think most of the “pharasee” argument is not unlike that of my old pastor, who inadvertantly and I’m sure unintentionally, wanted to so guard everyone’s personal expressions and put them under a blanket of “love” that any move in a more deliberate direction was guilt ridden. Suggesting someone is just being pharasitical because you don’t like what they might be saying is a convenient argument. It also shuts down any true dialog. I think modern christians are so threatened by any expression of christianity that might threaten their autonomy that they don’t know how to accept it, and either paint with a very broad, “everything goes” brush or reject it as extremeism. What the heck is wrong with it having some merit? And why are we all calling ourselves “followers of Christ” when we can’t stand up for a gosh-blessed thing?

Friday breakfasts are gettin’ amazing….

whole wheat bread (I like the Baker’s Inn 9 Grain), dipped in egg/milk mixture and cooked in  unrefined coconut oil (that’s the one with flavor).

Smeared with homemade cream cheese.

Drizzled with sauted peaches in butter and cinnamon, and the remnant of melted butter dripped over the french toast.

Sweeten with a little pure maple syrup. And serve with hot, freshly ground coffee.

Then, try not to roll around in it…eat it s-l-o-w-l-y and tell yourself, “Happy Friday”. Even your freckles, if you have them, will sizzle with delight.

On our drive to town we travel a winding country road with many little hills. And about three-quarters of the way down, over a hill and curve combined, one emerges around a tree to a truly spectacular view across the Cumberland Mountains. Layers of green and blue and mountain mist seem to go on forever and I drive by slowly to take it in.

I always get there and gasp, “Hello beautiful.”

Yesterday though was foggy. We could only see about 20 feet around the perimeter of our car. We came over the hill and around the trees and…

W, who’d been looking at a book in his lap up to this point, glanced up at the shrouded view and yelled, “Hey! What happened?!?! Where’s our mountains?!”

at the same time, his older brother, who’d also been looking down in his lap, missed the mountains entirely and yelled excitedly,

“Hey look! In that tree there! An OWL!”

Big picture or little detail. The trueness to their personality cracked me up

It warmed up to be an almost achingly beautiful day. The throbbing pulse of the season change is beneath our feet, just a whisper right now but there all the same.

“If a choice doesn’t match up with scripture, if it doesn’t fit with God’s character … then it is no longer a choice, it’s a sin. It really doesn’t matter a hill of beans how I FEEL about it … it’s sin.”

That little gem came from Amy’s blog.

Here’s another quote:

“I spent A LONG time wanting my faith to fit into my life, rather than moulding my life around my faith …”

It’s been nagging me why certain sentiments and lines of thought grate on me in ways that can’t be dismissed. Why can’t I just be casual? All inclusive? Live and let live?

Here’s a quote from Mike in his comment section. I name the speaker only to properly identify who said it but I think it’s the view of many:

“it’s a slippery slope I admit, and there isn’t a right or wrong, it’s just fun to argue about it.”

And I’ve said the following here before: Right or wrong, I DON’T believe all choices are equal. I don’t beleive EVERYTHING comes down to preference.

Notice I said “thing”, not “one”. If I accomplish one thing in life, I’d hope that I grew in my ability to love others regardless of the choices they make in thier life.

But some choices ARE better than others. And in a walk toward sanctification and growing to be more like Christ, some choices ARE more “right” than others.

There’s a “take what works for you and leave the rest” mentality, a BUFFET of choices out there, that we (moderns today) tend to want to apply to everything. But you know what? Aged cheddar is better than velvetta. Wine is better than grape koolaid. Life matters. To be honest is better than to be liar.
All choices are not equal. Ideas (and buffet choices) have consequences.

I used to have a pastor that dissuaded the different choices people make by implying that some were looking for righteousness in what choice they made. As in, “I’m holier than thou because I have bread at communion rather than saltines.” Or, “I’m holier than thou because I homeschool rather than public school.” The result was a paralysis of a pursuit of holy living. People were afraid they’d be seen as “proud” if they tried to do anything that might be different than what the congregation at large was doing. And, I’ll go the next step because I experienced it: it robs the blessing one recieves when they do something sacrficially out of love for Another.
Looking for righteousness outside of Christ is what is the problem there. Then, talking about and flaunting it.  NOT the choice. Real bread (and not being casual about the elements) really is a good thing. And homeschooling for the right reasons may be a very sound choice, a very sanctifiying choice, for a family to make. Homeschooling itself won’t make them more holy. But being willing to walk more like Christ, perhaps via the extra hours and sacrificial lifestyle that homeschooling provides, WILL.

This all goes back to my origional point. If it’s (Christianity) all one big buffet, if it doesn’t matter what I do and what I choose, then I’d rather not bother. The consequence of an idea.

“And they brought young children to Him, that He should touch them: and His disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, He was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God”
(Mark 10:13-14).

I”m late posting today because the few internet moments I’ve had today were spent over on YouCanKnowGod. If I had time today, I’d do a word study on the word “suffer” to see exactly how it’s used in this text. This conversation has made me very sad today.

When I haven’t been online today, I’ve been busy with clothing inventory. It’s time to change the kids clothing out, sort out what is too stained to keep, what doesn’t fit, and to get a few long sleeved things out for our upcoming fall days. We’ll still be in short sleeves and shorts (with a light jacket for nights and mornings) for a bit yet but it seems we’re having very defined seasons this year. I’ve got every shred of clothing stacked on the table and I’m making a list of what they need before I shop. Celia, as the only daughter, needs the most, but I’m happy to see that it’s primarily incidentals and few fill-in pieces that I need to search for.

I’m pretty basic with clothes and this is good given the size of our living accomodations the past few years! They have two church outfits a season to alternate. Mom commented once that it was funny how my laundry piles were full of the same colors: bright green, navy blue, and red. But with 3 boys, those colors make a lot of sense! Stuff has to coordinate with other stuff or there’s just no point in keeping it. Socks and undies are bought new every season. And everyone needs shoes this fall.

I tried something new in the kitchen today: Baked chicken with peaches. It’s the day before grocery shopping so it always calls for a little creativity! I made it up so don’t ask for specific measurements LOL. Basically it was chicken layered with fresh, sliced peaches, and sprinkled with: rapadura, cinnamon, garlic, onion powder, sage, salt and pepper. We had it with sugar snap peas and slices of montery jack cheese. We ate outside at the picnic table on this most beautiful and balmy of days…..high blue sky, puffy clouds, soft breeze, temps in the mid-70’s.

Thinking today about how nursing a baby over a year, after the time they can safely take cow’s milk, can’t be pinned down to a “right” age. Nursing relationships are so unique and each mother/child combination is different. Breastfeeding isn’t just about a method for nutrition and it’s benefits can’t be canned and sold in the store. So, in honor of those sentiments, here is another painting by Mary Cassatt, of a mother obviously nursing a big, sweet baby.

It’s called “Louise Feeding Her Child”, painted in 1899. Cheers.

• Saturday morning was the “Lancing School Reunion” here in our little remnant of a town. Outside our front door, which is also outside the Plateau Home School across the narrow street, they had chairs set up and people gathering. Cheesy old gospel music sung by a slightly flat but well-meaning man in an old tuxedo shirt got things rolling but (THANKFULLY) a full blue-grass band took over by lunch. We opened our doors wide and sat and rocked on our front porch. Later we headed over for burgers and ice cream cones; no one seemed to care we’d never gone to the Lancing School LOL! They all invited us repeatedly and we heard more than once how glad they were to see children in this house again.
• They had a display set up in the old Presby church with photographs and stories of what the town used to be. Our street was the “main” street; there were 3 other busy streets, a train depot, 3 stores, a library, the school, the P.O. “Coming into town” was a BIG deal for the families of the surrounding areas, mountain people and Cherokee alike. We saw pictures of generations who still have descendants living not far from where they did and heard their stories. A real treat: I met Alice Scott, who lived in my house and grew up here. The house used to be called “The Scott House”; she was 5 in 1933 when they remodeled it and moved in. Her guess is that it was built around 1910. She was able to tell me all about what it used to be like: that it had 5 bedrooms upstairs, that they raised 8 children in it, how her grandma died in the back bedroom, where they did the washing, how it was always a white house, where the piano was kept. I’m excited that she has other photos that she wants to show me!
• Sunday we went to our church for worship, which was wonderful, and headed home for pimento cheese sandwiches. We got home just as my parents and sister and bil drove up. Saturday was spent hanging out, catching up, unloading cargo from storage, and having my sister’s birthday dinner: Roast Chicken, sauted cabbage and squash, biscuits, new potatoes with dill, and chocolate birthday cake.
• Monday: we watched the trains, chatted about projects, watched Baby Ruth on the sonogram recording, said good bye to E and J, rocked on the porch, built a campfire and roasted marshmallows, sat until dark and the fire died down.

It’s Tuesday morning now, everyone’s gone, I have a new-to-me futon (which will sleep guests if anyone is interested in a visit up here!), the coffee’s grown cold, and I have a day of sorting toys and other stuff we’ve lived just fine without for the past year ahead of me. It’s quiet in my little used-to-be town but for the crickets still twittering out in the trees.