A New Normal

     
       Have you ever felt that feeling in your heart? The one that no one likes to feel? The one that feels as though your whole heart has gone through a French press? It's the feeling that has you lie awake at night in agony over whatever is happening in your life; those moments when things get shattered or destroyed. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I think we all experience that kind of real heart pain at some point in our lives, and it can be absolute agony. As I sit in the counseling office, across from those who are in the midst of their own personal world falling apart, I easily empathize with them, and I pray earnestly that the pain they feel would pass soon. I quickly assess the situation, try to stabilize the 'patient', and then try to help them through their pain. It is both painful and a blessing for me to be a part of such difficult times in a person's life. I am honored to sit in the pit with them. Sometimes I don't say a word. Sometimes I try to bring hope, but the events that happen in the lives of my clients will leave them nothing like they were before that life changing event that brought them into my office.

       A few nights ago, while I sat in class, we began to talk about the topic of grief. The professor facilitating my particular preceptor group began talking about her counseling career and how sometimes it is extremely difficult to listen to a person grieving. We want to fix the problem, but what that person really needs is to come in week after week, sometimes for a very long time, and express their pain. They are not ready to move on, they cannot move on just yet, and usually the counseling room is the only place they really have someone to listen to them, week after week, retelling their heart wrenching story. She spoke about how difficult that can be as a person listening because we often want to help them begin healing, but the truth is, talking about their pain over and over again is a huge part of the healing process. Unless they get it out, they cannot even think about moving on. As I began to think about grief, I thought about the times in my life when I have been stricken with grief. I thought about the times when I felt like I couldn't move on, maybe even months later after the moment of loss took place. Those moments change us, don't they? We aren't quite ever the same, are we? And then I wondered: why are we all in such a rush? Most of us know the feeling of grief well, but why do we always seem to expect those grieving around us to 'get over' their grief so quickly? Why do we all forget within a few weeks of a death that affects a friend, that that friend will be grieving for a very long time? Do we ever really get over a profound loss?

       Recently, I came across this quote from C.S. Lewis, an author I profoundly respect. In his book Grief Observed, he writes,

“Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous.

To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for

appendicitis is one thing; after he’s had his leg off is quite

another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals

or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will

stop. Presently he’ll get back his strength and be able to stump

 about on his wooden leg. He has ...‘got over it.’ But he will

probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and

perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged

man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it.

Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying

 in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be

changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took

for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At

present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall

presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.”

 

       When I came across these words, they resonated deep in my heart. This man knew what it was like to face immense loss. Whether it is an actual amputation, the loss of a child, a spouse, or any other family member, we are changed forever. Whether it is the loss of the dreams we thought we had for our lives, or the loss of physical health, we will never be the same. Perhaps it is the loss of a home or a battle with cancer or the loss of vision or the loss of a friend or whatever 'loss' we experience, life will be different from that very moment of the loss until the day we part from this earth. Our lives will forever be transformed by the things we once had that we no longer have and that's okay.

 

        After pondering this quote for some time, I came to the conclusion that perhaps my job is not to help the person sitting before me return to some sort of 'normal' that they've always been accustomed to, but rather my job is to help them find a new normal. No matter how long it takes, I need to be someone who is willing to walk through the pain with those God puts in front of me and I must not rush the process of healing that needs to take place. We each have experienced things in our lives that have changed us forever, maybe even things that feel as though they have taken our arm or leg with them, but there is hope. No, we will never be the same again. Perhaps it is okay to begin to find healing and closure, even if we are substantially different than we were yesterday.

 

       Reflect for a moment, with me. What have you lost, friend, and how has it changed you? How have you been changed by the things you've experienced in your life? Can you relate to the words of C.S. Lewis? I pray that you will find peace, friends, as you journey through this life, continually changed.

 

 

A 'Broken Social' and Still, Peace

       The other day, my husband and I were talking about how Lyme has affected me. Many of you know me as a completely extraverted chick who is completely in love with life and people. I usually get filled by being around people...constantly. I'm a social butterfly who can't stand being stuck at home for several days in a row. I'm a 'go getter' who is always up for a challenge; always up for learning and intellectual development. I absolutely love caring for those around me and I enjoy making people happy, comfortable, and feeling special. However, to my dismay, my extraverted self seems to have taken a hit! As Mark and I discussed several things, Mark said to me "I think your social is broken"! I couldn't agree more.

       These last several weeks, probably months, have been difficult for me. Going out with friends is still very fun, but I find myself completely exhausted by the end of a short outing. Taking part in activities that cause me to have to use my already exhausted brain leave me embarrassed when I can't keep up in board games or in situations where I am supposed to be concentrating or remembering multiple rules. Being physically active kills my already pained and fatigued body. I seem to have become boring. I'm boring to hang out with these days and I am exhausted when I do it. Don't get me wrong, I still have a ton of fun with friends, but most times I seem to relate more to the ninety year old grandma than my peers. I could handle you coming over for tea and chatting, but don't make me work too hard! :) So, please, forgive me when I turn down your invitations to do exciting things over the weekend. Forgive me, friends, when I seem like I am no longer interested in hanging out on a regular basis. I am, I just sometimes can't.

       To explain the fatigue I often feel is nearly impossible. It's something I am beyond frustrated about. I just can't seem to be myself, no matter how hard I try. All I want to do is sleep and I do sleep...a lot. Some, in fact, may think I am just being lazy, but a nap has become necessary for my functioning. Good thing I get to nap when the baby I nanny naps if need be! This is a far cry from the Kaitlyn I have always been. I get stressed out these days over the silliest things, and my mind can easily go a little crazy with all the thoughts I have rumbling around in there. I find myself stressed about finances for covering the bills that my health insurance doesn't cover. I stress about what others think about me and if they are perceiving me as lazy. I stress about being a good friend in a time when I seem to need friends to help me more than I can help in return. Each day is a fight to remember that this too will pass and one day, hopefully soon, I will be completely well again. this journey is exhausting!

       Even in the midst of this craziness...in the midst of my worry and concerns for the future or my crazy thoughts that can easily take over if I let them, I have found peace. For several days, I have been listening to this beautiful song written by a dear friend, Becky Smith. The song is one that is much like a prayer. The chorus goes something like this:

 

Let Your rain of tenderness fall fresh on me

Jesus, let Your unfailing love completely surround me

And I will stand in hope as I wait for You, Lord

Let Your peace, come over me

Let Your peace, come over me

 

 

        Ah, how beautiful, isn't it? This has become my daily prayer. Even in the middle of this trial and even as I cannot function like I know I can when I am healthy, His peace can still cover me. I don't know what this disease means for me. I don't know if I will come through this relapse and never deal with a relapse again. I don't know if I will be sick for the next year and every five years after that, until I leave this earth. I have no idea if my insurance company will continue to cover my illness. I cannot be sure how this will affect my family in the future. I don't know anything for certain, but I do know that when I ask for His peace, He will not leave me void. I don't know when I will be feeling 'normal' again, or when my 'social' will no longer seem 'broken' or when I will have my energy and extraversion back, but I do know that I can still have peace in the midst of difficult times. Join me, friends, in letting His peace come over you. Let His unfailing love completely surround you. Wait for Him, and I promise, He will not leave you without His presence and tenderness all around you. He can give you peace.

There, Here, and in Between

     

 

 

       It's been a few weeks since I last posted. I know I promised to keep my blog updated, but it seems as though when I am not working or interning or sitting in classes, I'm sleeping! I cannot even describe the amount of exhaustion I have experienced. I go to bed exhausted and wake up in the morning feeling as though I have hardly slept. I've become pretty accustomed to this routine and though it's difficult, I count each day as a gift. I can still get out of bed; something many Lyme-ies can't do. I am thankful.

       While I am feeling slightly better these days, I am still pretty sick. I finally feel human, so I guess that's a step in the right direction, but I still have a ways to go. Yesterday brought on a bit of anxiety for me as I went to the doctor and had my PICC line removed. To many reading this, you probably think I should be excited and jumping for joy, but I'm on the fence between relief and fear all at the same time. The PICC line was removed because my insurance company will only pay for twenty eight days of treatment for Lyme (chronic Lyme apparently doesn't exist?!). Because of this, we need to do a bit of a dance to get the insurance to cooperate. That being said, I anticipate another PICC line in four weeks or so, but in the meantime, will have absolutely no treatment. According to the doctor, if we remove the PICC line, stop all treatment and resubmit our treatment request in four weeks, the insurance will likely pay for another twenty eight days of infusions and view my case as a 'new' case. It's the only hope for their cooperation, and the only way I can afford to pay for this monster bacteria to go into remission again.

       The relief of my situation comes because I can now begin consuming coffee again and I can take a shower like a normal person without having to wear a sleeve on my arm! I won't have to rearrange my life for the next month to accommodate time to infuse my IV meds. I won't have to remember to flush my PICC line twice a day and I won't have to worry about a heart infection or blood clots in my line. These are all wonderful things and I am elated to have such things off my plate. But there is still fear. Will I take a backslide in the interim of treatment? Will I lose the miniscule bit of ground I have made in these upcoming weeks? What if the insurance company still declines my request in a few weeks for more medication, even after we've done their dance and followed their rules? How will I ever pay for this if there is no insurance coverage? My mind can easily become overwhelmed, and sometimes it does. How will I ever keep this anxiety under control in these next few weeks?

       The truth is, the only thing that keeps me moving forward and not getting lost in a sea of depression and anxiety is that I truly believe there is a purpose for my life here on this planet and that God has a plan for me. Regardless of the struggles I face, I know that whatever happens, my life will take the exact course planned for me and that's comforting. I can't say that I don't have moments where I am anxious or feeling depressed. I do. I am not superwoman. I am human just like the rest of you, so I still struggle. I struggle to understand why I have to walk this road again or what the future holds for me. Lyme has stolen so much from me over these years. As I blog in the future, I will share these things I have lost, but I undoubtedly want everyone who reads my stories and keeps track of my blog to know that while Lyme has stolen much from me, it has also blessed me in ways I could have never imagined.

       Those who know me, know that I can't stand 'pat answers.' Life is gritty, hard and often painful and I don't mind expressing that and hearing others talk about their struggles in a very authentic way. But when I say Lyme has blessed me, I mean it. It has changed me, molded me, and challenged me to be who I was created to be. It's challenged me to understand true compassion and acceptance for those around me. It's shown me that this life is not about looking good on the outside, but rather about knowing each other and experiencing life together on a real, vulnerable level (I'm still working on that one!). So let me be vulnerable. Let me be raw. Lyme is a horrible disease. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. To be honest, I am afraid of what could happen in these coming weeks while I am left untreated. But let me also say, I am clinging to the hope of a God who knows my struggles and weaknesses and I am clinging to a God who has never left my side through this all. Even while I shake in fear some days, He is still there. Even when I lament over the things Lyme has taken from me, He is there. Even when I find joyful moments filled with hope for an extravagant future, He is there. If I've learned nothing else, I've learned those things about my God. He is always here with me, He is always in my future before I am, and He is present in all the moments between the here and there.

A Little Bit of Rain

       I know, I know, it's been several months since I last posted anything on this simple little blog. It seems life and graduate school eat up most of my days. Between classes and interning, paperwork and everything in between, my life is pretty busy. On top of all that, nearly full time work on the days I am not interning keeps me even busier! Who knew a toddler could have so much energy?!
 
       As if life isn't crazy enough, I haven't been feeling well for several months. Last year, in the spring, I found myself battling a case of pneumonia which left me feeling not quite myself ever since. As anyone with a chronic illness could have the tendency to do, I wrote off my symptoms as nothing to worry about. That extra sleep I seemed to need? Maybe it was just the heat as we didn't have air conditioning over the summer. Those pesky headaches? Maybe I wasn't drinking enough or maybe it was the stress of so many life changes at once. Random joint pain and swelling? Surely that was just from the heat. So many little things that were bearable at the time were easily ignored with some effort. It's so hard to know if I'm being paranoid or really sick sometimes.

       Summer soon gave way to fall, and another move took place (the second in a year) and I began grad school. My symptoms soon began to take their toll. They were still manageable, but I knew that their presence was something of a red flag. By Christmas my hair began to fall out more rapidly than it usually did and I noticed swollen glands and a whole host of new symptoms. Getting out of bed in the morning seemed nearly impossible and I just didn't feel right. A trip to a new family doctor to get some blood work completed, barely into the new year,  proved pointless as all the tests came back 'normal.' By spring I became highly suspicious of this wretched Lyme Disease's return. Somehow I lingered in denial, partly because I didn't know what doctor to see and partly because I didn't want to be sick again. If you are unfamiliar with my story and my journey through Lyme disease, feel free to check out my earlier post, Untamed Blessings, for a very brief glimpse into my teenage years when I suffered from this disease. Perhaps sometime I will go back and give more explicit details, but that's a post for another day. At any rate, I didn't want to be sick and perhaps I believed for a moment that if I ignored the symptoms altogether, and trusted the blood tests of the family doctor, then I wouldn't have to be sick. Faulty, I know, but bear with my insufficient logic.

       Spring came and I knew I was sick. All the sleep in the world could not energize me and along with various other symptoms, the pain in my body had reached a new high. I couldn't return to my old Lyme doctor because she doesn't take health insurance - something that is not possible for me to financially handle. After some searching, I was finally informed of a doctor in my area who treated Lyme disease. All I wanted was a blood test to confirm some sort of diagnosis. I had been down this road before, but I was nervous. Finally, in June, nerves and all, I took myself to the doctor. Thankfully he was located ten minutes from my home. The initial consult convinced the doctor of a lyme disease relapse and I think I finally crawled out of denial. That was a hard day. The next two weeks crept by slower than molasses as I waited for the blood work to confirm or deny my suspicions. I already knew what the results would indicate, but I couldn't seem to believe it until I had hard evidence. I knew that if the tests were negative (which can happen with Lyme if the blood work is not sent to the proper lab) my insurance would not pay for treatment. If positive, I could possibly get some help. Let's just say I experienced a bit of anxiety in that time. I knew I was sick again, but the hard evidence would force me to face my fears.

       On July 11, I got the news I knew I would. Blood work indicated that I, once again, was sick with Lyme disease. Hearing the doctor say I was 'positive' was both a comfort and difficult. I was sick again. Hearing him say I needed a PICC line (for IV antibiotics) was even more devastating. I knew I was sick; very sick. I knew that this was the likely course of action, but in that moment when the hard facts met the thoughts that had been rustling around my mind, I suddenly felt weak. I was sick again. After six years of being symptom free, I was about to start my journey through Lyme disease all over again and I didn't want to. I didn't want to deal with everything all over again, but I didn't have a choice. I didn't want to tell people I was sick. I didn't want to admit that I couldn't continue with the load of responsibilities and involvement I currently had. I didn't want to face the reality that I was going to have to rest. I didn't want to be reminded that in the last several weeks my husband became somewhat of a caretaker and assumed nearly all household responsibilities after work when I simply could not function without several hours of sleep to recuperate. I didn't want others to see me as weak and I didn't want to be weak. In the midst of all these fears and unwanted things, I had no choice. The truth was, I was sick and would be for a while. I am sick.

       So here I am...having already begun treatment. Only one week in and it's been such an experience already. I am learning so much about who I am, where my value lies, and where God is in the midst of my suffering once more. This will surely be another journey to recovery, but I feel like I should share it with you all. I've decided, in the next several weeks, while I go through treatment, I will share the raw journey with whoever reads. It won't always be pretty and it won't always be great, but I will share the details of my journey nonetheless. It will be a real telling of suffering, but a even more telling of blessings as they show their faces. I know we will find some blessings along the way, even in the midst of a little bit of rain. 'Til we meet again...

      

The Seconds Between

       I am known for having wacky dreams. Many of my dreams are complete insanity and nothing short of strange. Often I wake up in the morning asking myself what I ate the night before to make me dream such crazy adventures. Ever since I was a little girl, I've had an imagination that takes imagination to even begin to imagine. I won't humor you with the strange dreams I have; you probably would start to question the soundness of my mind. Never the less, I assure you, these strange story lines only stay in my unconscious hours and these dreams of grandeur never cross into reality...thank goodness!

       Last night was no different at first. Silly dreams of being chased by vegetables or swimming in lakes of sweet, decadent ice cream started off the night. I would be lying if I told you that I don't ever think my dreams have meaning. Just not those kinds of dreams. However, ever once in a while, I have one of those dreams that shake me to the core. You probably know what I mean. Maybe not. It's the type of dream that resembles reality so much that it cannot be put out of my mind. It's almost creepy, actually. I mean, what if these things started to come true! I think we might be in trouble. But sometimes they do. A little hint of De ja vu always hits me when something similar to my previous dreams really does happen in real life. It's kind of strange. Regardless, let me give you a bit of back story before I tell you the impacting dream I had last night.

       Many of you know that I am super passionate about human trafficking and bringing healing to those caught in such a vicious and horrid cycle. If you did not know this about me, take a minute to read my blog from several months back Standing in the Space of Injustice. If you are aware of this fact, then you would understand my frustration with people who only talk about the problem and do not seek out ways to make a difference. Perhaps you are not as passionate about trafficking as I am, but my frustration is with those who claim to be passionate about something, but never take a step to change the injustice in which he or she is passionate about seeing change. I believe change starts with us. Each of us can make a huge difference if we take the risk to see change happen.

       My frustration runs deep. Not only am I frustrated with secular circles that seem to blow smoke and allow their fire to fizzle out almost as quickly as it began, I am also frustrated with the Church. As a part of the Church I am most frustrated with the fact that many churches leave themselves open to the criticism of those around them who are looking for help and the church forgets to do something. Many people wonder "Where was God when 'X' happened?"...I think a better question is "Where were God's people when 'X' happened?" So in an attempt to wake the church up, I bring awareness to the problems around us, try to light the fire of passion in the people of God, and attempt to find my own way into the world of action and not just apathy. This brings me to my dream.

       I will not waste your time and tell you the entire dream in detail, but rather, I'll give a quick snapshot of what was going on in my mind last night. The dream was one that started off with some burglars trying to break into the church I attend. For some reason, my parents were there with me and we were trying to protect the objects inside. I don't know what those objects were, or why they were so important, but during several frantic moments we ran to every window and door and locked them as quickly as we could. It was the middle of the day, so the burglars could see what we were doing as they ran along the outside of the building trying to climb in. At one point, they discovered that two of the large windows we locked actually had broken locks. They appeared to be secured, but were actually broken. In a moment of panic my parents tried to continually push them back out of the windows and I ran to the basement to make a 911 call. I needed to rally up some help.

       As I spilled the story to the operator on the phone, I was told that help was on the way and that a team would be there soon. Somehow, next thing I knew, I ended up outside the building, running through the town in reckless anticipation of the help that was on the way. I ran from person to person begging for help. No one responded. Not one single person. As time ticked on, hours and hours passed. I knew that my parents were fighting hard to protect whatever was inside that church, but I knew that I needed to continue searching for help. I wondered if the help I had secured with the 911 operator got lost, so I searched the city for any emergency personnel. In a moment of desperation, I burst into a huge warehouse, hoping to find a vigilante that would come with me. What I found was appalling to me.

       As the doors flew open, I found hundreds of police officers standing around, socializing. Had they forgotten that there was an emergency happening? What was going on. I began to scream and beg for their help. My efforts went unnoticed by all but a handful. I thought I had found help. Quickly, the officers followed me out and began running down the sidewalk with me towards the church where my parents were likely losing their battle. Out of nowhere, they all just stopped. To my left was a small coffee shop. One of the officers said "Hey, let's grab some coffee on our way!"

        I was furious. Didn't they know how important this fight was? Were they not aware that it was their job to stop burglaries? Did it not sink in that my family's lives were at stake? Stop for coffee? STOP FOR COFFEE?!?! I screamed at them and continued to beg them to come. Grabbing their arms and pulling them, I tried to make them budge, but instead they sat down at the barista table outside and ordered their beverages. Without pause, I stood staring at the only female officer. "Please...you have to come". She gently retorted "We'll get there in time. Sit down and relax. We have a few minutes. They burglars will be there when we arrive and then we will apprehend them. There is time." Furious I stared at her for a moment and then closed my eyes, unable to look at her any longer. Slowly began to count silently, using my fingers to keep track of the numbers. 1...2...3...4...5.....

       The female officer sounded caught off guard. "What are you doing?" "Counting the seconds between the time you learned about the injustice and the moment you decide not to do anything about it" At that my mind gave me an image of me turning and running down the sidewalk, stopping at nothing. I pushed people out of the way and ran as fast as I could. I would not have a pause. And then I woke.

       I wonder if that's what it is like in real life? How many times do we hear about an injustice and then take time to think about it and finally decide we will do nothing? In the meantime, a battle is being fought. A battle for life. A battle to protect. A battle that needs more warriors on the side of good. How many seconds, minutes, days, months, years, does it take for us to pretend to have passion and then finally decide not to do anything about it? How long do we sit and sip our coffee while the battle rages on? Where is the band of rescuers?

       There is no excuse. What is wrong with humanity that makes us believe that while we sip on coffee, the babies in our generations are being raped, trafficked, lured into drugs, forced to work on rice farms or sew clothing in sweat shops...broken...and that's okay. Where is the urgency? Where is the concern? Where are the actions? I beg you...do something. Heed the lesson of this dream. Please, do not sit and count the seconds between finding out about injustice and deciding you will do nothing. No, no single comfort in this world is worth allowing the innocence of people around us to be taken away. No single comfort, to me, is worth letting a ten year old be forced to have sex with countless men who do not value her worth. No comfort is worth the pain she will face. None.

Please, people, wake up from your slumber...don't just sit there and count the seconds.

Looking Back While Moving Forward

       As I sit in my cozy little apartment in the city, I can hear the noise of engines revving at the light outside our home and sirens wailing off in the distance. These are not uncommon sounds these days and most times I hardly notice them. My Christmas tree still twinkles in our living room and the tiny lights captivate my attention. The Christmas balls dance with color and sparkle in a way that only Christmas balls on a tree can do. It is a bit gray outside and this makes me feel retrospective for some reason. The lights, the colors, the weather; not to mention the mug of hot tea I am sipping. I can't help but reflect on my year and what it has carried.

       What a journey this year has been. There are no other words to describe this year than adventurous. Crazy adventure, to be exact! The year started in a whirlwind for us. Newly married, finishing school for me, and so many other every day things taking place. Somewhere in the first few months we felt a change for our short life together was making way for an awesome appearance. It took nearly all year to emerge, but after much praying, tears, studying the Word deeper, and getting on the same page with God, we knew He was calling us to a new homeland, a new place where He had called us to go. Our year quickly turned from months of seeking His face and searching for his plan, to a call of obedience. The story is way too long to share, but by spring we knew that God was asking us to trust Him no matter what and to obey the call He had placed on our hearts. God was moving us to the greater Philadelphia area.

       It would take a few months to get to where we knew God wanted us to be, but we would eventually make it. Those days were very difficult. We needed to hand over our finances to God, continually ask Him for direction at every step, and  attempt to walk in the palm of His hand through it all. The summer brought many lessons, some of which were: 1. Learning that God provides for our every need physically, financially, mentally, spiritually; every need when we trust Him and get in the center of His hand. Even when life is challenging, He provides and we find joy 2. God wants us to have an intense love and care for the 'least of these' and taking action to care for such people is beyond fulfilling. 3. I am beyond thrilled to have a husband who wants what God wants more than what he or I want and a fearless leader who is willing to chase a crazy adventure with me. I am blessed beyond measure. 4. When we are ready and willing to be used by God, He doesn't delay in using us! 5. Prayer really, truly works. 6. The list goes on! 7...8...9...etc.

       Through the generosity of some friends, we spent the summer living in a small apartment near the city as we pursued support as missionaries to the greater Philadelphia area. We went through a lengthy process of partnering up with a great church called The Journey and Mark began an internship with the church where he will spend the next three or so years training and learning how to plant a church. We will work side by side with our current church family, serving in all the ways we can and experiencing the community that God has called His people to be. We love our church and have enjoyed learning more about them, getting involved with them, and jumping completely into the water with these truly awesome people.

       The fall brought the official move into a neighboring city to Philadelphia to this cute little, cozy apartment from which I now write. It was amazing how this place was provided for us and how perfect the location is for our ministry. The very day the 'For Rent' sign was placed outside, we happened to be walking around the city, looking for housing. We were the first to call about the place, and the ones to rent it! This is no small task in the city as housing disappears almost as instantly as it is discovered. But by the grace of God...

       Fall also afforded me the opportunity to go back to school and pursue my graduate degree. This is a dream come true. I have always wanted to be a licensed counselor, and I am a step closer to that God-ordained dream. With one semester down and another about to begin, I enter with confidence that I am right where God intends for me to be. I couldn't be any happier in a grad school program than I am in this one. Biblical Theological Seminary is simply phenomenal. Counseling comes easy for me...well, as easy as counseling can be. I have a true heart for the broken and weary and absolutely want to be used to change the trajectory of the lives of those I will counsel. My deepest desire is that I would be used by God to bring healing to the places that need healing in my future clients and that through them, I too would grow closer to God, daily relying on Him to provide wisdom and insight into the needs of my future clients.

       So, as I reflect on 2012, I am well aware that we have come through a lot, but not without the hand of God guiding us throughout our days. I have grown so much this year in many ways. I have experienced quite an adventure and wouldn't trade it for anything. When Mark and I first got married over a year ago, I said to him on several occasions "Mark, let's do something crazy for God. Let's go on an adventure!" Little did I know, that just a few months later, in the beginning of 2012, God was orchestrating just that.

       May 2013 be the continuation of a grand thing and even better at teaching me even more about God - the one my life is dedicated to. May I serve feverishly and bring Him all the honor and glory He deserves. May the burden for the poor, orphaned, widowed, broken, victimized - the least among us be so heavy on my heart. Yes, may I decrease and He increase.

Happy New Year!

Savings: Homemade Yogurt

       If you're anything like my husband and I, we eat yogurt like it is completely going out of style! We love it! After going to the grocery store and realizing that, between the two of us, we devour four large containers of Stoneyfield yogurt a week and taking a moment to add up the cost of that, I decided to look into making my own yogurt. French Vanilla is our favorite, but I was willing to make plain yogurt and flavor it on my own if it meant that it would save us a pretty penny. It was either that or stop eating it, and considering how nutritious yogurt is, and how much we love it, I knew that my only options were to continue spending the $15-$20 a week on yogurt of make it. I chose the latter.

       I'll admit, I was a little skeptical at first. I was worried about executing the recipe incorrectly and spoiling an entire batch, then, unknowingly ingesting nasty, spoiled yogurt. The thought was enough to gross me out, but I suppose not enough to scare me away from this wonderful creation. After doing a little bit of research and realizing that there are a ton of ways to make yogurt and every website tells you to do something different, I settled on my own sort of recipe. I suppose having a yogurt maker would make this process a million times easier, but I don't have one, so I will share with you all what I do to successfully accomplish making yogurt. If you're curious about the cost effectiveness, allow me to save you the time it takes to read this recipe and just add this tidbit in now. Brace yourselves, it's epic savings. For four quart containers (yes, I make one whole gallon at a time!) the only cost is one gallon of milk and one small cup of organic yogurt (only needed the first time you make your yogurt. After the first time, you will use your own culture). I believe that comes out to less than four dollars. Yes people, less than four dollars for one gallon of yogurt. Now that you all are completely amazed and will be jumping up to make yogurt (one can dream, right?), let me wow you even more and let you in on how easy it is to make!

First, take one gallon of milk (I use 2%) and heat it to 180 degrees. I use my crockpot. It takes several hours to heat if using the crockpot on high, but I find I don't have to worry about scorching and can easily do other things while I wait for it to hit the proper temperature.
After the milk has reached 180 degrees (this breaks down the milk proteins), turn off the heat and cool to a nice temperature between 115-120. Any hotter than 120 degrees will kill the live culture bacteria in the yogurt you will add and any cooler than 115 degrees will not be warm enough to grow the culture.

 

 

Once the desired temperature  is reached, then take a few spoonfuls of your yogurt culture (preferably organic yogurt) and drop them into the milk. Whisk the mixture so it is nice and smooth. This won't take much effort.

 

Finally, the fun part begins. The mixture must stay warm for approximately 6-8 hours. I do this by turning the crockpot on warm for only about 30 seconds (just enough to take the chill out of the crockpot outer piece). Then, place the crockpot lid on and cover the whole thing with a ton of think, warm blankets to insulate the concoction. Be sure you have turned the crockpot off or you will ruin the entire batch. My favorite part comes next: Go to bed for 6-8 hours!!! Yep, go to bed and let the yogurt do its thing. In the morning, you will find you have a huge batch of yogurt! voila!

 

Before you do anything with the yogurt you've created, place the entire container in the fridge. DO NOT scoop it out of the container you made the yogurt in or it will not set correctly. Only after the yogurt has completely cooled for a few hours, can you scoop it out and put it in smaller, easier stored containers. I like to use glass Ball jars so I can properly sanitize them and reuse them.

 

Finally, feel free to mix in some vanilla extract (to taste) or a small amount of honey or sugar. I don't add sugar as I want this to be a super healthy treat, but I do add vanilla and honey. You can also add fresh fruit in individual servings when you are ready to eat it or granola. All are healthy and yummy options! Enjoy!

 



        Just a few more things. After you have made the yogurt and cooled it, you may notice and clear or slightly yellow liquid on the top of the yogurt. This is called whey. It is actually very nutritious and can be mixed into the yogurt. However, if you prefer thicker yogurt, you can strain the whey off with a cheese cloth.

        I have learned that the longer you continue to use your own yogurt culture to make more batches of yogurt, the thinker the yogurt becomes. After using the same culture a few times, you will see a difference. Each batch of yogurt lasts at least two weeks, but you can still safely use the culture for your next batch at that two week mark. I recommend this!

       Feel free to ask any questions! I've been doing this for several months and find it to be simple, money-saving, and delicious. Enjoy!