Facebook post

Last night I posted something on Facebook, and I wanted to give a brief explanation. I hate cryptic Facebook posts and realize that's what mine unintentionally was. I happened to be exhausted and overwhelmed with emotion at the time. hopefully this will explain a little what I wasn't able to last night.

Excitement. I was pleasantly surprised to get an unexpected visit from an old, dear friend. That made my day!

Sadness. But while we visited I also had the live streaming of our local soldier's body arriving at out airport on. Not only was I sad for the family but it brought back sadness from my dear friend Michael's death in Iraq 7 years ago. And it also encompassed my worst fear...what if that were my son?

Disappointment and guilt. I got word that Drew hurt someone dear to him with his words yesterday. Drew has been hurt with similar words by friends in the past and I know that's just part of life sometimes, but still it pains me that my son caused that hurt of someone I love as well.

Panic and frustration. When I went to Drew's soccer practice I found out that he does have a game on Saturday. I thought he didn't and I offered to work. I panicked and then grew frustrated that I got myself in this situation to begin with.

Joy. This was more accurately pride in my son Drew as I watched him play and enjoy soccer at his second-ever practice.

Helplessness and deep burden. At revival last night, I realized how deeply Jesus feels compassion for the hurting. I also learned how young people aren't coming to Christ the way they did in generations past. People have deep deep hurts and need Jesus and they need to be loved and told this, but the need is so great. I want to make a difference but how in the world can I?

Fear. Alyssa had a tick on get last night. I'm not a germ freak by any stretch but I know the risks of tick-born diseases, and I got very scared.

Love. There is nothing sweeter than rocking your baby to sleep.

So while nothing was earth-shattering, the combination of these emotions really took their toll on me.

this morning I had a good sweet talk with Drew about his actions yesterday. I decided what to do about Saturday. I'm going to trust God with Alyssa.

But i'm still struggling with the deep burden. I'm starting to think that isn't a bad thing. Maybe my heart needs to hurt a little bit for the lost and hurting around me.

The Homework Assignment

With a tired and fussy Alyssa on my hip, I frantically searched.  The paper wasn't where I thought I put it, and I eventually asked Matt to please check my car. I had to find it.  And it was almost bedtime so time was of the essence.

Finally, Matt came in holding it, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

It was Drew's homework assignment.

Yep, you heard me right. Drew is still in preschool but he has a new teacher who gives him homework.  If you know me well, you know that thrilled me. And no, I'm not being facetious.  The first homework assignment was on a  - gasp! - weekend, but Drew excitedly completed his writing and arithmetic.  This second assignment was only a coloring assignment, so it wasn't a big deal if he couldn't turn it in, right?

No, the assignment itself wasn't a big deal.  He doesn't get graded, and he would get over it if he didn't get an item from the treasure chest.  To me, however, these early assignments are setting the pace for his future approach to education but more importantly, authority.

If I am to instill in him a proper respect for authority, it has to start with these early opportunities.  Sure, there will be room for the occasional slip-up down the road, but as the Baby Whisperer says, "start as you mean to go on."  (Although she meant it in the context of eating and sleeping habits, I thought it was an excellent mantra for lots of things.)

A proper respect for authority is one of the "musts" in parenting, particularly for a Christian parent.  Drew must learn early to respect the adult authorities in his life if he is to develop the proper respect for God's authority in his life.  

And that starts young, and in my perspective, a command, request, or assignment from authority - no matter how insignificant the task itself may be - IS significant.

It sets the stage for choices on authority he will face throughout his life, with the eventual goal of submitting himself to the ultimate authority - God himself.

Self-Care Part II

In my last post, I talked about how I believe we can easily be deceived by the well-intentioned “self-care” advice out there.  In this post, I want to talk about what our lives might look like if we do embrace allowing our care to come from Christ.

The question begs to be asked – from where did the need for “me time” even come?  Neither of my hardworking grandmothers are living any longer, but I wonder if they would laugh at the notion. Both of them spent their lives – from what I saw and from what I’ve heard – serving others.

I think it’s our busyness.  Or, perhaps more accurately – our perceived busyness.  (I can feel very busy but I make time for NCIS every week. But that, of course, is part of my rest time. ;)

Still, whether busyness is real or perceived, we desire an escape.  Whether that escape takes the form of a bubble bath, immersing ourselves in our favorite TV show, or something else, we desire that rest.  That desire in itself isn’t wrong.  In fact, Jesus made time for himself to devote to prayer. He needed that rest as well. It’s where we look for that rest that is the problem.

I referred in my last post to Jesus being our shepherd.  In studying what a shepherd actually does, my eyes have been opened immensely to this precious truth.  One trait in particular really struck me: 

The sheep doesn’t ever decide for herself where she will be. The Shepherd does.

Let that sink in. 

What if I let my Shepherd govern my every activity?  What would my life look like?  Sure, we don’t have a problem taking our major life decisions to him.  But what about everyday decisions?

Let me give you an example.  A few Sundays ago, I had about an hour before I had to be back at church, and I had just gotten Alyssa in bed for a nap. Everything in me wanted to brew a cup of coffee and sit down, but I instead prayed, “What would you have me do?” I immediately recalled a couple of things my husband had asked me to do that normally I would have just put off for a more convenient time. This time I did them. And you know what happened? I got these projects done with plenty of time to spare. After these projects were completed, I felt at complete peace with getting my coffee and watching football, and I was truly able to relax.  Those 15 minutes following my Shepherd were more restful than an hour of the same activity not following Him.

Our Shepherd knows our needs.  If we’re following him, he is not going to let us run dry without filling us back up.  And dare I say, he won’t let us get lazy either. He has a plan for the way we spend our time. That plan includes worshiping him above all else, serving others, and getting refreshing rest. 

“Self-care” can’t hold a candle to following the Good Shepherd. 

"Self-Care" Part 1

Last night I was really tired. Not the sleepy kind of tired; the physically drained kind of tired.

That's pretty common for a mom of young children. And if I took to heart all I've been reading recently on some Christian blogs, I'd make time for "me" and I'd start perfecting the art of "self-care."  It sounds good.  "Self-care" sounds so, well, refreshing. Soothing even.

Yet I'm going to be bold here and say that I fear we're creating a generation of young women who are deceived into thinking "taking care of ourselves" is the way to manage life.

Now before you write me off here, let me explain that I'm not saying we work ourselves to the bone without regard for our physical, spiritual, and emotional well-being.  What I'm saying is that a focus on "self" is not where the answer lies.

Scripture points to something far better.

I can't think of one Scripture that tells us to prioritize our own needs above others' needs.  Instead I think of plenty of Scriptures that point to the opposite.  Jesus told us to deny ourselves and follow him (Matt. 16:24) and that we are to serve others (Matt. 23:11). Paul tells us to put others' needs ahead of our own (Phil. 2:4).  Nowhere that I've found does Jesus talk about "self-care."

In fact, Scripture lists several times Jesus did seek to be alone or to be alone with his disciples and was interrupted.  Never once did he say, "I'm sorry, guys, I've carved out this 'me time' so I can refresh myself from all I've been doing. I'll be ready to speak to you tomorrow."  Nope, instead he embraced each interruption as an opportunity to care for those around him.

So what is the answer for us?  What Jesus did tell us is that he is our shepherd - the good shepherd.  The shepherd looks after and takes care of his sheep.  The answer to our care resides in the hands of our shepherd, not our own hands.

What is the difference?  My self-care rests in my putting my own needs first. It creates an environment of self-centeredness that is opposed to what Jesus called us to be.  On the other hand, when Jesus cares for us, the burden of care rests upon the one who knows our deepest needs even better than we do ourselves.  And a byproduct of that care is getting to experience the loving arms of our Savior.

What do you think? What do you think it looks like in everyday life to put our own care and rest in the lap of Jesus?

Three Days

This week I took three days off work.  I was longing for a break and I desperately needed to go through our closets.  Matt laughs at me because my chore of choice around the house is rearranging closets or the pantry.  Never mind the gunk building up on the sinks.  As long as my closets are organized, I'm happy.

Because my kids had prearranged places to be, I looked forward to this time alone. An introvert by nature, I long for time to myself, but I rarely get it.  Between working full-time, teaching a class at church on Wednesday nights, attending another class on Sunday nights, meeting with a committee on Sunday afternoons, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping...well, I feel like I'm doing well just to get through each day.  Each day that, mind you, starts at 5 a.m. so I can get all of the above accomplished.

Whew. I'm tired just thinking about it.

My three days off were more fulfilling than I ever anticipated.  And more than just because my closets make me smile.  I learned some valuable lessons that will help me to balance my life a little better from now on.

1. I. Need. Rest.  And I'm not talking about physical rest. Trust me, after going through my own closet, I was whooped.  I'm talking about mental rest.  I realized that I've been running on empty for so long I didn't know what it felt like to be refueled.  Rest for me (an introvert) is time away from my responsibilities, including my children (and that's hard to take because working full-time I feel like I owe them every ounce of free time I have).  Yet that rest is crucial, and I'm not going to get that rest unless I carve out time for it.

2. I don't need near as much time to get that rest as I thought I did.  Do you ever find yourself famished, anticipating a huge meal, ready to eat it all, and after a few bites find that you're getting full - way too early! Then of course you stuff yourself because you had convinced yourself that you needed all that food.  That was me this week. I carved out three days.  But sometime during the second day I realized I could have been satisfied with just one.  I need rest, but less than I realized.

3. I treasure my kids.  That seems like a "duh" statement, but at the rate I was going, I found that their needs had become items to check off my daily to-do list because I was so overwhelmed (and laden with guilt for feeling that way instead of treasuring these fleeting years to the fullest).  I started envying women whose kids were already grown because they had free time.  I started longing for the days that my kids were older and I could just cook one meal without a toddler yelling (ever so sweetly), "up, up, UP!" (cooking with a 25-pound child on your hip isn't easy).  But you know what I found? After just a little while away from them, I started to miss them.  The quiet house I longed for started to feel lonely.  I had resolved not to watch mindless TV during my 3 days and my K-Love radio wasn't keeping me company. I missed Drew playing with his Transformers in the living room, and I missed Alyssa's chatter about Elmo, books, and of course, puffs.  I missed my kids so much I even went to get Alyssa early today (gasp!) and we enjoyed a wonderful afternoon before picking Drew up from preschool.

Yes, I need rest.  It reminded me of what my pastor said on Sunday about the Ten Commandments. When you need to find your way home, go back to those commandments.  I'm realizing how much truth there is in that.  The commandment I needed to go back to was the one where we are commanded to rest.  I always just assumed that moms got a pardon from that one because anyone knows that even if a mom with young children isn't "working," she's certainly not "resting."  I just assumed at this stage of my life, rest wasn't possible.

But God created us with a need for rest. A need for him.  And just like I make time for everything else in my life, I must make time for rest.

Tummy Troubles

Today has been a difficult day. My stomach is still in knots.

Drew has been complaining of stomach pain for a couple of months at least. What started out occasional got more and more frequent and the past week or so it has been multiple times a day. He wakes up, he says his stomach hurts. He eats, his stomach hurts. He rides in the car, his stomach hurts.  At first we thought he was just imagining this, but Matt and I both realized it was real when he said, "okay," when we told him we needed to take him to the doctor.

Dr. Harrison listened to me and asked questions, and he asked Drew to point at where it was hurting. Drew pointed to his belly button area, and  I can't express how much this meant to me but he didn't just consider my words, he read my face and addressed my biggest fear right off.  He said most of the time the closer the pain is to your belly button, the less serious it is likely to be.

Then he started suggesting what it might be and ordered an X-ray.  Drew did so well with the X-ray and the X-ray tech was wonderful with him.  The results revealed lots of gas bubbles throughout his stomach.  Dr. Harrison prescribed Zantac and told me that he expects this to help fairly quickly. He said if it doesn't help, he will send us to a GI specialist.

With Matt's and my family's history of cancer, you can imagine where my thoughts were when Drew's stomach pain continued to get worse and worse.  And even though it appears that this is fairly simple to treat, I'm having trouble untying those knots in my stomach.  I just want to hug Drew and not let go.

Preschool Days

When Drew got a note sent home from preschool a few weeks ago, I didn't think a whole lot of it.  He has been going to preschool since the summer and has never gotten into any trouble.  Matt and I addressed the issue, confident we wouldn't get any more notes home.

I was mistaken. On Monday when I picked him up, Drew notified me of another note home.  We addressed this issue a little more sternly this time.  I told him that if he got a note home Wednesday, we wouldn't take our weekly McDonald's trip before church.

Well, we didn't get one note home on Wednesday. We got two.

(Note: before you think the worst, the notes were sent home for infractions such as distracting the class, talking during naptime, not obeying the teacher, and "play fighting" on the playground.)

So, Wednesday night, Matt and I had a "come to Jesus" meeting with Drew, not quite literally but close.  We threatened if he got another note home, he wouldn't get to play on his trampoline or swing set for a week. Furthermore, I told him if he wanted to go to McDonald's next Wednesday before church (he lost that privilege that day and he wasn't happy about it), he would have to be on "green" (indicating good behavior) each day between now and then.

Still concerned with Drew's recent rash of misbehavior, I decided to call and talk to his teacher this afternoon. When I knew the kids were napping, I called his her to assure her that we had been speaking to Drew about his notes and ask if his behavior was better today.  This was my first "conference" with Drew's teacher.  

The call went above and beyond my expectations.  Not only did she say Drew was much better, but she also went into detail about not only what Drew had been doing to get those notes but also what she was doing to work with him. She also speculated the reasons behind his misbehavior.  Out of 13 children in her class, 11 of them are boys.

Bless her heart.

But she said it matter-of-factly.  Whereas I would be begging for sympathy in her shoes, I could instead sense a passion in her voice for her children.  She explained what she was doing in the classroom to help the children learn. She asked if Drew had mentioned her teaching them sign language because that was something new she was doing this year. She was passionate about her children and her classroom.

She then went into some positive qualities that she saw in Drew that I hadn't thought of before. But now, I can see them, and I know how to guide him in the weaknesses and strengths that come with those qualities.

I got off the phone with her greatly encouraged.  I knew that Drew was learning more than I ever anticipated he would in preschool. Sight words, Spanish words, sign language, the Pledge of Allegiance... it's something new every day.  But in this phone conversation, I also knew that his teacher is guiding him as an individual in areas that can't be taught in a classroom.

And as a teacher's daughter, I can say, THAT is what makes a good teacher, a great teacher.

I'm confident that this will be a great year for Drew as his last year before kindergarten.  I'm of course hoping for no more notes home, but no matter what happens, I know that he is in great hands and is getting a good start both as a student and as a person.

Unveiling the Mystery

Prayer has always been quite a mystery to me.  Although I've had a consistent quiet time for my 21 years as a Christian (minus morning sickness days, the early months of my children's lives, and yes I'll admit it, weekends and vacations), sometimes I feel like I'm no closer to an active prayer life than I was 21 years ago.

This week the mystery has begun to unfold for me, however.  Those who know me best know that I am quite an analytic thinker.  I can drive myself crazy thinking and rethinking.  That has certainly been the case lately as I have been navigating through some personal challenges.   

Then the thought occurred to me. What would happen if I took all of those thoughts and started voicing them to God instead of mulling them in my mind alone?  The first time I tried this experiment was in the car. I turned off the radio and started telling God my thoughts.  Gradually, my thoughts turned prayers weren't as random and unorganized as they had been only in my mind.  Almost like a veil was lifted, I began to see my thoughts in a new dimension.  Bible verses and passages with which I was familiar started coming to mind.

It is difficult to articulate exactly how my heart was changing.  It morphed into a confused, self-centered thought process into an organized, God-centered one.  Sin in my heart was exposed and instead of a quick, "I'll do better next time," I was forced to deal with it by asking for forgiveness and making a plan to turn away from it (repent).  I started seeing the issues at hand in a different light.

I started to realize how my previous thought process on my relationship with God was flawed. Though I never intentionally thought of it this way, I felt that since the Holy Spirit lives in me as a Christian, he already knows my thoughts, and he will reveal himself to me when necessary though my current Bible study and church attendance.

However, this is not the example Jesus set.  It is recorded time and again that he withdrew to pray to God the Father.  I've always wondered why would Jesus need to pray if he is God himself anyway?  But he did.  What I can take from that example is this:  If the Son of God Himself needed to converse with the Father to know God's will, how much more do I need that same thing?

Maybe I need to stop relying on my own wisdom, my own knowledge, my own experiences, my own opinions, you name it (keyword: me) and realize that in every single area of my life I am in constant need of seeking God through prayer.  No situation in my life, including my work (which I have 8 years of experience so why would I need God for the day to day decisions?), my church (with 3 decades of experience in a Baptist church, shouldn't I know what works and what doesn't?), my family (no one knows what's best for my family than me right?), or anything else I encounter am I above needing to seek the divine will of the Father.  Not my naturally analytic nature, my experience, my education, or my common sense can take the place of the Spirit-inspired prayer life.

Now, once I've started to experience just a tiny bit of what God wants for me in my prayer life, I realize how great a need it is.  And I plan to continue to take everything to God in prayer.  If it's worth me mulling over, analyzing, or worrying about, it's worth taking to him, seeking not my will but his.

What I've learned in the last few days is this: sometimes I think God is just waiting for us to make the effort, so he can reveal himself in ways we could never ask for or imagine.

My Day With Drew

Today was an all-around good day between my son and me. It started out at Wal-Mart.  (Yes, this might be the only time I'd ever be able to make that statement.)  I took the kids with me to my biweekly grocery shopping trip.  Now that Alyssa is too big for the sling, it has become quite interesting considering I've never let Drew "loose" during my shopping trips. The past few times he has stayed in the cart (where he's not supposed to) until too many groceries force him out, and then it becomes a struggle to maintain control.

On the way in, he saw a kids' Batman car and asked to ride in it. I said yes, only if he's good during Wal-Mart. I didn't think another thing about it because I knew he wouldn't be good. (I know, that's terrible of me.)  However, the whole shopping trip he was as good as good can be. When it came time for him to hop out of the cart, earlier than normal, he stayed right next to the cart, didn't put anything in extra, and even got items for me.  I was amazed at how well-behaved my child was.  Then after we checked out, he reminded me of the true motivation for his good behavior (why didn't I see this coming?).  He said, oh so sweetly, "Mommy, was I good?"  It dawned on me.  Then I had to find a couple of quarters.

Moral of the story: Drew knows how to behave.  Yes, he may convince me that he wants to "do good" but the bad in him keeps winning, but now I KNOW that he has the capacity to behave.  Two weeks shy of his fifth birthday, that's encouraging.

We also had the neatest conversations today.  This morning when I was making him pancakes, I thought I'd put a "plug" in for healthy foods. I said, "You know what was so cool that God did? He created the best foods for you to be these beautiful colors. Like strawberries and blueberries." (Which we were putting in his pancakes.)  Later, I reminded him of the strawberries and blueberries in his pancakes, and he said, "But vegetables are the best for you. Like Daniel ate vegetables for 10 days."  Knowing he was studying Daniel in Sunday School but completely unaware he was soaking it in, I asked, "And what happened at the end of the 10 days?" He said, "Daniel and his friends were healthier than everybody." Score one for his Sunday School teachers!  Then I said, "Yes, and fruits are healthy, too." That was when he proceeded to tell me how fruits were not healthy like vegetables were.  Oh well, guess I'll take what I can get.

We also had a conversation about marriage. He made an anniversary card for Daddy, and I asked him if he knew what that meant (I wanted him to know that his Daddy wasn't the only one celebrating an anniversary next week!). He said, "When you get married, you live together?" I said, "Yes, before I got married I was part of Meme & Granddaddy's family, and Daddy was part of Nama & Papaw's family. But when we got married your daddy and I made our own family and then had you and Alyssa." Then he went a completely different direction and said, "Meme is your mommy, but who is Meme's mommy?"  I said, "Meme's mommy went to heaven before I was born. Her name was Ruth."  Then he excitedly said, "I know about Ruth! Ruth in the Bible, like we studied in the Centipedes class!"  (Score one for the Mother's Day Out teachers!)  I explained she was named after that Ruth but they aren't the same people. Then he proceeded to tell me how Ruth and Papaw would get married because they're both in heaven and are the only ones there.  Gotta love the logic of a preschooler.

Maybe it's these more in-depth conversations with Drew. Or maybe it's because he's about to turn 5. Or maybe it's because Alyssa is a constant reminder of what Drew used to be. But he's growing up. He's becoming a little boy.

I'm treasuring all these things in my heart. And I know if I don't write them down I'll forget them, which is why I'm blogging them. I type a whole lot faster than I write. :)

Not My Gift

I was walking down the hallway of the church tonight with a baby on each hip when I spotted my friend Tiffany with a camera.  She was taking photos of the kids at Vacation Bible School at church, and I purposefully walked toward her, knowing as soon as she saw me we'd share a laugh.   As I predicted, she started laughing, and I said, "You'd better get a photo of this because you'll probably never see it again!"

Tiffany is one of the people in this world who knows me the best.  She knows the good, the bad, and the ugly. And she knew that this was quite the sight.

She knows that my gifts are not with children, but here I was, keeping the babies at VBS for the week.  Now I must defend myself by saying that just about anyone has no problem admitting that they're not public speakers, they don't teach, they don't sing.  But I've learned that I have to be careful to whom I admit that I'm not a kid person because - gasp! - I have two of them.

I honestly don't know why I am not a kid person.  After all I used to be one.  And my mom taught elementary school for over 30 years.  What is wrong with me?  However, I have to admit, I'm getting better.  I'm comfortable with children Drew's age and younger.  I guess you could liken it to visiting a foreign country. Once you've been there, it doesn't seem so foreign.

But still, my gifts are not with children.  And that is why I have so much respect for those whose gifts ARE with children.  My heart swells with joy when one of Drew's teachers can't wait to tell me something he has done or when one of Alyssa's caregivers is as excited as I would be when she accomplishes something new.  I appreciate it when my children's teachers give of their time and energy to invest in my child.

That's the way I felt tonight.  Watching person after person giving and sacrificing for our children, I couldn't help but be grateful for all the work they are doing with all their hearts. And because that's not my gift, I watch in deep appreciation.

Coloring Together

A few nights ago, when I was putting Alyssa to bed, Drew brought his large coloring book and crayons to the living room and asked his daddy to color with him.  After I put Alyssa down, I joined the two on the living room floor.  We have a bad habit (which we're trying to to break) of having the television on just for noise, but this night it wasn't on.  It was just the three of us, coloring, talking.

Most of the time I have to drag the details of Drew's day out of him, but not this time.  Matt and I just sat there listening to him talk, trying not to giggle at some of the cute things coming out of this 4-year-old's mouth.  Matt and I were enjoying the quality time we had with Drew - especially since our attention is often divided with Alyssa - in the minutes we had before bed.

Little did I know, Drew cherished this time more than we realized.  The next night he asked the same thing, and then the next.  Last night as I sat down to color with Drew (Matt was outside watering the yard), Alyssa started crying and I had to go rock her for a few minutes.  I would have thought Drew would have continued coloring, but he didn't. He patiently lay in the floor, not lifting a crayon until I came back in the room.

I had a suspicion that Drew's sudden affinity to coloring didn't have anything to do with actually coloring, but this confirmed it.  This seems so obvious, but I have to admit, sometimes our lives get so packed, it's easy to underestimate this quality time.  Drew cherished this time with Matt and me as much as we did with him.  He talked to us in ways he normally doesn't. We listened to him, offered feedback, and were able to invest in him, simply by listening.

The Pancakes

Last Saturday, I got up and started making pancakes.  Drew loves them and we use the "just add water" Hungry Jack kind.  But since Drew is the most picky eater on the planet, I figured, if I'm going to get him to start eating healthier, I'm going to have to get creative.

With my refrigerator stocked with blueberries (which I learned is chock full of antioxidants), I decided to puree some and "sneak" them in.  It worked, except they don't "puree" like I expected. Instead I would describe them as "minced." Luckily I didn't have to sneak this into the pancakes. Drew happily helped me add them.  I also got out my bag of milled flaxseed (have you heard what a superfood that is?)  and added a few tablespoons to the mix.  And while I was at it, what would some ground cinnamon hurt?

After the blue-speckled pancakes were placed on the table, Matt looked at them and said, "why is there blue in my pancakes?"  I told him I had pureed them to get Drew to eat them. Then Drew cheerfully added, "And we added some other stuff to make it sweet!"  Matt rolled his eyes, but that didn't matter to me.  We all ate the blueberry-flaxseed-cinnamon pancakes. Even Alyssa gobbled them up and had a speckle of blueberry on her little chin.

My New Health Kick

I am driving my husband crazy. You'd think after 10 years of marriage that there would be “nothing new under the sun,” but alas, there is. I'm kind of on a health kick, so he says. And normally, he just chuckles at me when I get on my “kicks” and he waits them out. But this kick happens to be affecting him, which is the reason behind the aforementioned driving him crazy.

I guess it started when he ordered me a subscription to “Prevention” magazine a couple of years ago as part of a free offer. It slowly got me thinking about my lifestyle habits, namely what I eat. When the subscription expired and I found myself wanting it again, I signed up for a promotion where I got a book “Healing Foods” with a subscription. Never mind that this “book” was no bigger than an old TV Guide, I still found it fascinating. Who'd have thought that certain foods were actually GOOD for you?

All kidding aside, I found myself especially interested in the foods that have been found in studies to either prevent cancer or slow a tumor's growth. Since Matt's dad lost his 2 ½ year battle with cancer in 2009 and my mom has been fighting a recurrent cancer for almost a year, this hits pretty close to home.

Throw in the fact that I'm 30 now and realizing that you can't stay young and healthy forever, I am on a quest to do what I can do to protect my family. Granted, sometimes stuff just happens. I'm not about to think I can control everything. But at least I can take steps, baby steps they may be.