Diabetes....

I found this little tid bit the other day in "Nourashing Traditions" by Sally Fallon. My sister in law is a diabetic and I found this very interesting info. Read on!

In The Saccharine Disease (1975), Cleave says the blame for prevalence of diabetes on the doorstep of refined carbohydrates. He acknowledges the genetic basis of the disorder but "rejects unequivocally" the assumption that this is a "defect". "The hereditary features of the disease...do no more than reflect the inheritance of personal build, including that of the pancreas itself, rendering the persons concerned more vulnerable to the new environmental factor...These features in no sense indicate hereditary defect...the body is not build wrongly but is being used wrongly." The more pronounced the genetic predisposition, according to Cleave, the earlier the onset of the disease, provided the triggering event occurs. In the industrialized society, the triggering event appears to be the overload of sugar, white flour products, white rice and precessed fruits and vegetables. "The consumption of refined carbohydrates...imposes unnatural strains upon the pancreas, either through over consumption, or ...rapidity of consumption and absorption, or...both." Joseph D. Beasley, MD and Jerry J. Swift, MA The Kellogg Report

Now, I've not researched the names of the writers nor the person quoted, but this really does make you wonder and question the "truth" behind mainstream health and our own eating habits as consumers. Let me know what you think!

Right Now

Dishes.

Laundry.

Apple Crisp.

And sleeping tots.

This is my life right now. And I like it!

I recently received this as an email from a friend. Grab a box of Kleenex, put on your thoughtful mind and read this oh so true message. Love to you friends!

This is a beautiful reminder for all of us, women and men, who serve, and raise kids, and take care of things here, there and everywhere. Take time to read it through to the end. It ends in a very unexpected way than it begins, and is applicable to all.

Perspective: The Invisible Woman

It started to happen gradually. One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?"

"Nobody," he shrugged.

Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?"

I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking. I'm invisible.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some
days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going¸ she's going¸ she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell
peanut butter I on it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
1. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 2. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it."

And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness.

It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Author: Unknown

YOU finish the story...

Well, what can I say? What does one say when their husband nonchalantly wears children's play costumes? Not that this is a regular occurrence but it did strike me as quite funny; funny enough to whip out the camera a snap a quick shot before the moment was over. I had a good laugh, a great picture and decided right then and there to:
__________(ya this is the part where you send a little comment about what YOU think should come next, for fun silly!)___________________________________
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Time for Tea

I was fooling around with the camera the other day and thot this picture kinda neat. I like the lighting and contrast of the tea pot and reflection of refracted light through the kitchen window. And then I saw my silly "taking a picture" reflection on the front of the pot and laughed. A photographer I'll never be. Oh well, can't blame one for trying. But this picture will remind me of all the times we've sat together laughing over tea or the times I wished we could. Life is short, enjoy the simple things. Love to you!

Keeping it Simple

I stopped putting away laundry just now to quickly jot this down, so please do read on...

Thinking about how our kids dress opened yet another door for me to peer into our developing life's philosophy. When readying our kids for school this fall,(the whole institution of which I am really questioning the benefits of vs. home schooling...I'll save that for another entry) the thought occurred to me that though all of the necessary school supplies had been purchased and checked off our class lists, we'd neglected to purchase any new school clothes. Shoes yes, pants, shirts and the like, no. Now, our kids have more than enough clothing filling their dressers, closets and even the "next season" bins in the basement storage room. And yet I panicked thinking they'd be the only ones without new outfits for their first day of school. We'd recently received hand-me-downs from friends, all of which were in great condition, fitting both of our older kids perfectly so that settled my little brain down for a bit.

But I have to admit, it did make me question why I really thought they'd be devastated about not having brand new store bought clothes for that all important first day of school. Neither of them had even asked! My husband reminded me that kids at that age don't really notice what each other are wearing, let alone if it's new or not. Heck, for the most part, they don't even really care what they themselves are wearing. When I was a kid, purchasing new clothing for school was an "event". (Not that we went on a big shopping spree, usually only A pair of jeans, maybe a couple of shirts, and shoes of course.) But again, hand-me-downs made up the majority of my wardrobe and actually still do.

It's silly how as parents we inadvertently pass on all sorts of wrong expectations and social acceptables. I'm glad I hadn't mentioned it to the kids amidst my own inner toilings, and they were thrilled at the "handy-down" outfits I'd put together for them for their big day. And I'm glad too, because anyone out there who has kids knows that those brand new outfits don't stay new for long when kids play hard as mine do. (Grass stains on the first day indicate a great deal of fun!) Don't get me wrong, everyone needs and likes to have something new once in a while, and we do make those purchases when necessary, but when I scramble to find places to put away the folded laundry, you know they've got enough!

Lord help me to remember to keep things simple, to appreciate what YOU have blessed us with and to keep my eyes on what's really important in this life.