A new way to walk the ancient paths

Fear and Food

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 07:57:03 -0700

I talked to my chicken lady, yesterday. I wanted to reserve 100 home-grown, pastured chickens for my family to eat in 2009-2010. That’s 2 chickens a week, roughly, for a family of 8. Our investment for this: about $1500, and a chest freezer. I can think of no better savings account.

Our conversation was instructive. And a bit discomfiting. It seems that, given the uncertainty of the market, my chicken lady and her husband have decided to cut back their production from 1000 chickens, to 600. Their chicks have gone WAY up in price, too, so they’ve had to raise their prices. Last year, the same amount of chicken would have cost me $1200. Makes you long for old times, doesn’t it?

But the price isn’t what bothers me. She was undercharging, in my opinion. It’s the downsizing. How many other small producers will be hedging their bets this year? What will this mean to the American food economy? It will certainly mean more centralization—the last thing we need.

What can we do? I’ve started already, myself, and I ask you to join me. I’m pre-ordering. My beef and chicken are ordered, and I’m working on my lamb. I’m helping my farmers solicit more customers. I’m encouraging them, and telling them that their produce is still wanted. I am only one woman, but I hope we can raise an army.

Support your local farmer. You need her.

The plank in my own eye....

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 11:49:24 -0700

It’s so much easier to focus on the speck in my brother’s eye. Especially when it’s a big one that hurts me, personally.
But what about the plank in my own?
My husband and I are currently, and have been for years, struggling financially. Now that my husband has said “enough is enough!” to working for little, and then no pay, we find ourselves stuck in limbo-land, between the past we have left behind, and the future we may not yet embrace. In this situation, it is all too easy to blame the other guy, to see ourselves as the victims.
But today, I wised up. Okay, so we haven’t been paid since the beginning of November. And we haven’t been paid enough to be comfortable for the past aeon, and not enough to pay our bills since July. So, things have gotten ugly between us and our creditors.
BUT! We still have over $400 in the bank to cover the automatic payments of January. Our mortgage, utilities and food are paid up. While our children may not be eating their favorite foods, and may be just plain tired of beans, they are eating a balanced, healthy (generally even organic) diet. They never go to bed hungry, unless they refuse to eat.
And today, my toddler was sick, so I stayed home from church with the “babies” of the family. And as I listened to my Bible DVD while I rocked them to sleep this morning.
I heard this:

“And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?
Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye.” Matthew 7:3-5

I looked around my comfortable house, and considered just how often I have compromised my “do not support slavery/worker abuse” stance with my purchases. Although most of our belongings HAVE been purchased with ethics in mind, not all have.
After all, I DO have 6 children that we raise on one income. And we do “need” stuff, right? But, do we?
How much do we really need? And if I refused to buy cheap products, produced by workers who are either starving children, themselves, or the parents of starving children, how would that really change my household?
You see, I’ve learned the last month that I can certainly “not” spend.
By necessity, I am learning to do without.
But, oh, what a hypocrite am I! Because when I have had the means to buy, I have not always made the ethical choice. And worse: I knew exactly what I was doing, and I did it anyway. And our seasons of “slavery” or “sweatshop” pay have been nothing compared to the woman who must listen to her babies cry themselves to sleep every night, as they slowly die of malnutrition. You know, the woman who assembled my daughter’s dresses? And as I turn away from the speck in my brother’s eye, of which he appears to be unaware, I am overwhelmed at the size of the plank in my own.
And so, in a year in which I had resolved not to resolve, I now must. 2009 will be the year that, no matter how “able” I am financially, I will not purchase anything without considering where, how and by whom it was made. I know that, in some cases, this will make my purchases more expensive. I know that there’s no way we could ever make enough money to make this an easy task. I no longer care. We will buy used; we will make for ourselves; we will do without; we will break down and buy the expensive thing. My children will grow up in a home where we live our convictions, not only when it’s easy, or convenient.
Having faced the situation for some years, now, I know what it’s like for people to work, and save and scrimp, and just keep falling more and more behind. How can I profit from another’s suffering?
We are free from the threat of slavery for us and our children. Will we also set our own slaves free? Rest assured, if a slave is making our garbage bags, clothes, food, etc., we are a slave-holders by proxy. In my mind, this is worse than traditional slavery, where we would have, at the least, known how our slaves were fed, and clothed, and housed. Slavery is alive and well, and more brutal than ever before. In so far as God enables me, I will no longer take part in it.

Simple Abundance

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 09:11:03 -0700

We have a song on our computer, called, fittingly, “No cash for Christmas.”
My favorite lines: “My wife and I, count all of our joys. All of our kids are good girls and boys. Should I pay rent, or should I buy toys? Because I got no cash for Christmas!”
I laugh, because we didn’t choose. Neither was possible. Our total holiday outlay is certainly under $20. This may sound like a sob story, but it’s not. It’s perfection.
In the midst of a lean time, we are discovering the our Daddy, the Most High God, Creator of the Universe, owns the cattle on a thousand hills. And because He provides for us, we practice some major ingenuity, and we have some great friends with hand-me-downs, our children are currently happily playing with their Christmas gifts.
And they are all good girls and boys, a blessing to us, and to the world.
One thing we did differently this year: we parents didn’t give gifts to individual children. Instead, we gave gifts that would bless us as a family. A box of duplos from a friend who buys from thrift stores and resells on Ebay. A box of OCC Kinex from the same. An encyclopedic guide to the battles of the Bible that I picked up at Costco a month or two ago. 5 batches of brightly colored, homemade playdough. And finally, my greatest triumph: A kickboxing bag, sewn from a piece of fluorescent orange canvas I picked up on Freecycle 2 years ago. Stuffed with sleeping bags, it serves a dual-purpose as toy and storage space. All to be shared, a blessing to our family. (Especially the punching bag, which will hang in my basement and be available to little boys who are feeling a little “aggressive” with cabin fever the next 2 months.)
My 5yo daughter summed things up beautifully a few minutes ago. “This Christmas is even better than last year!” Praise be to God. Yes, it is.
Soon, our lean time will come to an end. I won’t be sad to see it go, but I will remember it with great affection. God has blessed us this day.
I need to go. I’m about to make a rich, beautiful chocolate torte to take to Christmas dinner at my In-Laws’. Out of beans. When you can do that, who needs cash for Christmas?

I'm sorry....

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 19:39:44 -0700

My life is full. Right now, it is full of too many things, too many sources of stress, of stimulation, of worry. And daily I struggle to see life through the “love” lens, rather than the “fear” lens.
And tonight, I saw myself doing the exactly wrong thing. And I repented. I want to share my experience, because I hope someone else will avoid making the same mistake so long.
We currently are making major changes in our family, in the area of finances. We have some pretty major financial crises going on right now. My husband is also working on a major deadline that has plagued us for a number of months, now. So, he’s busy. Way. Too. Busy. And generally not here.
And so, we’ve been struggling, and there are times that I’m afraid I just can’t handle the pressure any more. I have felt so utterly alone.
And here’s why: In the midst of this struggle, I have fallen into the habit of seeing my children as one more source of stress—one more thing that is “too much!”
Whatever happened to my blessings? I renamed them, and I named them wrongly. You see, sometime along the way, I stopped seeing my children as precious persons, whose minds, hearts and souls are just as important and multi-faceted as my own. I began seeing them as potential crisis-creators, bickerers, and mess-makers. And the more I’ve seen them that way, the more that’s just what they’ve become.
Tonight, I saw myself, just the way I am, and I was appalled. How often I plead with my children to be “on my team!” But I kicked them off of it long ago, when I began seeing them as part of the burden I bear. They want to be on my team, but first, I have to say, “I’m sorry!” and invite them down off of the bleachers (where I’ve wished they would just keep still!) and back into the game.
So, I finished this day by saying, “I’m sorry!” to my children. And now, I say it to my husband, my family, my friends. So often I have told you that I believe that children are people whose thoughts and feelings have just as much validity as our own—if not more. And I have been a hypocrite. I have taken this thing I believed, and nearly stomped its existence out of my life.
Tonight, I remember. And I’m writing this so that I cannot forget. Tomorrow, it’s a new game, and I have a full team. Each one has different gifts and talents that God sent to our family, so that we could win. No longer will my children sit the bench, and listen to me accuse them when the plays fail. We will play together, and we will win.

Freedom in Christ

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 20:20:21 -0700

I’m out of my horrible, depressing funk. What a relief.
My escape was a 2-step process. First, I gave up on me. In the face of my husband’s 80-hour work week, no matter how valiantly I prayed, or tried, to be a joyful mother, I was failing. Striving to be more patient, in the face of a crying baby, two complaining children (One of whom is repeatedly punching me in the leg while screaming), one poopy toddler, a spilled mess of something-someone-snuck-into-behind-my-back, and my oldest child’s rolled eyes and reminders that he is, in fact, a perfect human stuck with us freaks all day was just never going to work.
I think I did actually sweat blood, trying. Well, I nearly rubbed a hole through the skin in the middle of my forehead, anyway.
So, I gave up.
I finally got the point. I’m not strong enough to love these children with God’s perfect love, and I never will be. God will never give me the, “Here’s some of my love for these children for you to keep. Now you’re perfect and on your own.” shot. That’s not how He works. He wants me to need Him. He wants to help. In fact, He’s happiest when I just let Him do it for me. So I am. I’ve stopped asking God to give me His strength, and started asking Him to love my children through me, to be present in my every word and deed.
I’m not suddenly perfect, but we are all happier, now. I’m not sweating blood anymore, anyway.
Second step: Forgiveness. I finally saw my ledger sheet, where I weigh the costs vs. the benefits of the decisions and struggles of the past few years, as the unforgiveness it truly is. Where do I get off keeping score, anyway? Largely, I keep score with my husband, and if he returned the favor, I’d come out the loser in that game.
In fact, the thing I have held most against this man is his forgiveness, his ability to believe the best of others, his lack of cynicism. And the thing that I benefit from most in this man is the same. He extends grace to me every day, and yet I have held it against him when this personality trait is displayed outside of our home.
And so, I am forgiving, as I have been forgiven. The past is the past. It is over. The present is a struggle, but not such a great one when I lay down the burden of the past that has crippled me as I try to manage each day.
The future is bright. I don’t know what it holds, exactly. I do know that God is in charge there, just as He was in the past, and just as He carries me now.
And that’s all I need to know.

Late-Night Kitchen Thoughts...

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 21:26:48 -0700

It’s just about 9:30, and all of the children are fast asleep. Aaron is working late, tonight, and I am alone. Just me, the dehydrator, and my nightly kitchen routine.

I don’t like being alone, tonight. Late fall is always a season of struggle for me, as the sun passes away for the winter. Frankly, I’m tempted to put on a comedy, and forget, for awhile, how stressed I am, right now. But morning looms, and with it 6 hungry children. If I don’t make breakfast now, I’ll pay later.

Ideally, I make breakfast every night. It’s a habit I’ve only learned in the past month or so, when breakfast became oh-so-much more complex. We got one of our children tested for food sensitivities, and predictably, eggs and dairy topped the list.

I’m a whole-foods Momma, and this news seriously messed up my routine. When we got the results, I was purchasing 8 gallons of milk, a gallon of cream, and 6 dozen eggs, straight from the farmers, every WEEK. Even with 6 children, that’s a lot of eggs and dairy. I also purchased cheese by the 5-lb block, at the rate of 1-2 a month.

We (ideally) only eat humanely-raised meats: Pastured or free range poultry, and Grass-fed beef and lamb. Oddly enough, raising animals in a way that does not fly in the face of God’s revealed will, through nature and His word, costs more than treating them like inanimate protein-production units. So, our meat is expensive. We try to eat it once a day, at most, and then sparingly.

So, what on earth to do about breakfast? Oatmeal lasts my children about 10 minutes. (Did I mention that they have their mother’s long-lost super-fast metabolism?) Cold cereal is poison. Soy is generally GMO, and even if it isn’t, I’m not playing that game with my children’s hormones. We need protein!

The answer to my breakfast dilemma is two-fold: Nuts (expensive!) and Beans (Cheap!). Guess which one is my favorite. And so I’ve been experimenting with our existing bean dessert recipes, trying to turn them into breakfasts that truly nourish my family. And I need to do it fast—before they get up and start to fall apart at the seams because they’re ravenous, and breakfast is still cooking. The only way to have breakfast ready for 6 (actually 5, since Chastity is exclusively breastfed.) fast enough is to cook it the night before.

While I’m making breakfast, I soak things, sprout others, dehydrate something, start a stock simmering, and try to remember to clean something before I’m through. Generally, I give up and get to bed after I’ve started 10 projects, finished 4, and trashed the entire kitchen. I may wake up to a mess, but at least we have something to eat.

Oh—and I should probably get back to that…..

But first: The stress? I’ve been “strong” for some years, in that clenching your teeth, squaring your shoulders, and carrying-on-in-spite-of sort of way. And now, the reasons I was steeling myself are passing away before my eyes. And so, I’ve let down my guard. The problem: I’m in that lull in oomph that comes between laying down a false strength, and regaining the strength that only God can provide. I’ve almost passed through the Valley of Baca, and laid down the old. But how, now, do I pass INto His strength? While I meditate on this problem, I’m still the center of the wheel, around here. Sometimes, I wish I could just walk away, and find some time to gather the pieces of myself back together, before pressing on. But now is not the time. For the moment, I am alone.

My answer lies here:
Blessed is the man whose strength is in thee; in whose heart are the ways of them.

Who passing through the valley of Baca make it a well; the rain also filleth the pools.

They go from strength to strength, every one of them in Zion appeareth before God.

Please pray with me that I finish this race.

"Pumpkin" Scones

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 21:06:38 -0700

1/2 C. Fair Trade, Raw Sugar
1/2 tsp Ginger
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
3 C. Sprouted grain and/or rice flour
1/2 C. coconut oil, preferably solid
2 C. Mashed Winter Squash of your choice

Method: Mix together dry ingredients, cut in Coconut oil
Incorporate pumpkin, roll out 1 inch thick
Cut into wedges, bake at 425 for 15 minutes.

Elimination Communication: Walking in Step with your Baby

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 21:14:00 -0700

Chastity pottying with Daddy.

I am a mother of 6, and I am potty-training my 2 year old, fifth child. And I’ve learned something. I still have no clue how to potty train a toddler without tormenting the child, and myself. It takes me about a year of agony to manage. I feel the presence of Brazelton and Freud in my mind, threatening me with the cost of my child’s therapy if I mess them up teaching them to use a toilet.

But no more!

With my sixth child, I have finally decided to embrace an Ancient Truth. Babies are born toilet trained. Forget everything you’ve ever been told about potty training. It’s a lie meant to keep you purchasing over-priced, environment-thrashing hygiene products.

Chastity, my second daughter and sixth child, was born this summer. When I was pregnant with her, I read up on Elimination Communication (EC) which I had read various little articles and websites about since my first pregnancy. “This time,” I swore, “I’m going to do this.”

EC made sense to me. Whenever I picture my ancestors, moving west in covered wagons, I just can’t imagine them pulling off to the side of the Oregon Trail to wash a bucket of diapers. Yeah, right!

Still, with no one else around me trying EC, it was hard to get started. And parenting Chastity had its challenges, without trying to start EC, or so I thought. About 2 weeks after Chastity was born, she began to have horrific “colic,” which kept me up nights, and made her unpleasant throughout the day, as well.

About 6 weeks later, I got low on diapers, and decided to finally give “EC” a shot. I contacted a Twitter-friend named Shae, the only person I had any personal relationship who’d done it, and got a few tips that made it all seem do-able.

This choice saved me many a sleepless hour. As soon as I removed Chastity’s diapers, I discovered that she was crying before she pee’d. Every time. In addition, if she was left in the pee, she continued to cry, growing more and more frustrated every minute. Before we EC’d, she would grow more and more frustrated, swallowing air as she cried, making herself gassy, and therefore, crying more.

Within a week of removing my baby’s diapers, I had been pee’d and pooped on numerous times, but I had discovered a contented baby.

For the first 2-4 weeks of our elimination communication journey, we kept Chastity’s diapers off, and kept a potty bowl or cup on hand to catch her waste. We tried to make the same cueing sound each time she went. This was a good place to start. Our clothing was saved by a generous supply of chux pads, which were provided by a neighbor who receives them as part of her dialysis supplies.
We soon grew tired of lost, spilled and awkward potty vessels, and moved her pottying to the bathroom sink.

Chastity and Daddy smiling and Talking to one another in the mirror while she potties.

Moving to the bathroom sink has its benefits and its costs. The biggest benefit is pictured, above. Potty time is happy time. The cost. Well, picture yourself as the strange, disgusting hippy chick whose infant just pooped in a public restroom sink. It washes out, world! And I promise, I wash it. EVERY TIME!

When Chastity hits about 6 months old, and is ready to sit up, I plan to move her to the toilet for her potty trips, and it’s all down-hill from there.

EC has challenged and changed me as a mother. Forever. Never again can I believe that babies don’t care about their own hygiene. Never again can I be an all-or-nothing, perfectionistic parent. We have “on” days, and we have “off” days with EC, just like any other aspect of parenting. I’m learning to relax, smile, and enjoy the journey. Even when I get pooped on.

(As an added bonus, it’s sure speeding up the potty-training process with her 2 year-old brother, who no longer has a hesitant, apologetic mother begging him to use the toilet. I’m matter-of-fact and confident. The sort of parent who gets results. And he’s kind of noticed that he’s the only one around here still using his pants. Peer pressure can be a good thing!)

Vitamin-Rich Fruit and Almond Soup (Vegan)

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 06:53:17 -0700

Ingredients:
1 Tbl Red Palm oil
1 Tbl Coconut oil
5 Granny Smith Apples, sliced (if conventional, always peel your apples!)
Pulp from 2 cooked acorn squashes
4 C thick almond milk
1 C water
1/4 c. Raw sugar, or 3 Tbl honey
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp almond extract
1/2 tsp salt

Heat oil in your favorite all-purpose pot, add apples and saute. Add squash, almond milk, and remaining ingredients. Puree and serve hot. Goes well with Breakfast brownies and herbal tea.

Tropical Chocolate Torte (Updated)

nospam@example.com (Aaron McCall) — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 23:20:00 -0700

This torte, although not a diet food by any stretch, is on the healthier side of the dessert cart due to the MCT’s(Medium Chain Triglycerides) in the coconut oil, the reduced sugar and the sugar buffering effect of the beans’ soluble fiber. It is also almost agonizingly rich both in its flavor and mouth-feel. It is quite sufficient in rather small doses, but does not punish so readily as many desserts when eaten in more generous ones.

Ingredients:

Dry(ish) Ingredients
- 1 cup cooked black or kidney beans
- 1/4 cup pecans (Nourishing Traditions crispy style preferred)
- 3/4 cup almonds (Nourishing Traditions crispy style preferred)
- 3/4 to 7/8 cup cocoa (to taste, I prefer my chocolate very dark)
Fat
- 1/2 cup coconut oil (I have used 1/4 cup coconut oil and 1/4 cup butter or 1/2 cup butter depending on mood and availability of coconut oil).
Liquid Ingredients
- 1/4 cup Orange or Orange/Pineapple Juice concentrate
- 1 1/8 cup coconut cream
- 5 eggs or equivalent egg substitute
Sweeteners
- 3/4 cup honey or 1 cup sugar (raw preferred)
- 3/4 tsp 85% stevioside stevia powder
- or 1/2 tsp liquid stevia extract
Flavorings (Optional)
- 1/4 cup Rum or equivalent Rum extract

Process:
Process almonds, pecans and oil in a food processor until relatively smooth (a little bit of graininess is unavoidable). Add the beans, juice concentrate and coconut cream and continue processing until smooth again. Now add the cocoa and sweetener and incorporate them thoroughly.

Here the process forks:

Either add the egg substitute and mix in thoroughly
or add eggs one at a time mixing each in thoroughly before adding the next.

Pour batter into a 9 inch round cake pan that has been greased and “floured” with cocoa and place in cold oven. Turn oven on to 300° and cook for 1 hour and 5 minutes. Check with a toothpick. It should come out not quite clean.

Carob Pinto Bean Brownies (Vegan)

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 20:17:53 -0700

4 C. Cooked Pinto Beans
3/4 C. Coconut oil, melted
1 tsp. salt
1 Cup Raw, Fair Trade sugar
1/4 tsp liquid stevia extract
1 tsp vanilla
2 Eggs’ worth of Egg replacer
1 C. Carob Powder
1-2 Tsp Baking soda.
1/2 C. Flour (any kind you like—I used a multi-grain blend I found in our mill—Wheat, Rye, Triticale, Brown Rice, Black Rice, and Buckwheat. You could use wheat, rice, whatever.)

For this recipe, we will be celebrating electricity, and modern kitchen gadgets. Put your pinto beans, your melted coconut oil, salt, sugar, stevia, vanilla, and egg replacer in your food processor. Make it into a puree of yumminess. Don’t eat it.
Mix Carob powder, baking powder and flour in a separate bowl.
Now put your puree and your dry ingredients into your kitchenaid, or other mixer.
Beat the snot out of them. And celebrate the fact that there is little to no gluten here to overdevelop.

Grease a 9×13 inch pan, dust with Carob Powder, and bake the brownies at about 350 degrees, until they’re done to taste. (Some people like their brownies chewy and underdone, others like them all crunchy and caramelized. You choose.)

The Ancient Paths

nospam@example.com (AmberDawn McCall) — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 22:07:06 -0700

I love the Old Ways, the natural rhythms of season and change, life and death, sunrise and sunset. I am soothed by the kneading of bread, the nursing of infants, the mealtime table. In the Ancient Paths, I find rest for my soul.

I find a life in which creation is precious, and to be greeted with deep and abiding gratitude. I thank the Creator God for the sun, and the plants it feeds. I thank Him for the animals that provide my family with milk, meat and eggs. I am thankful for the water cycle, which provides my children with clean water.

I want to live a life that honors God, and his creation. I want to live in symbiotic harmony with our planet, not as a parasite who inevitably kills off her host.

As I find Rest for My Soul, I hope that I can help you to do so, as well.

I won’t bore you with pop-psychology, or spiritual drivel. Instead, I hope to help you to find the good way, and to walk in it. To find peace in the rhythms that modern man has forgotten. To reconnect.

Shalom.