Happy Birthday, Mom

Last Sunday, a couple of days before her birthday, 

Monika and I, with our hubbies, went to see mom at her home

to celebrate her 84th Birthday.

In years gone by, she felt bad that her birthday was so close to Christmas.

It was not that she felt sorry for herself, 

but for those of us who wanted to make it special ...

"when it's such a busy time."

Since she gets her food pureed now,

we decided to bring cookies to dunk in coffee.

A peppermint cookie may or may not have brought back some familiarity,

but we know she enjoyed the time around the table 

in the company of son-in-laws who still make her laugh. 

On her actual birthday, 

Monika and I had not planned to meet there, but we did.

Sometimes we try hard to make her smile for a picture.

The truth is, 

I want to guard others from seeing her with her strange expression.

And yet, this is what I've come to understand ...
she wants to smile

but most of the time, no matter how hard she tries,

something is off.

I believe she knows it has something to do with her mouth,

but her brain is forgetting how to send the smile signal to those muscles.

Strange, how simple things we do so naturally

still need a clear command and follow through.

On the other hand, 

it shows the complexity of how we are made.

So marvelously created. 

We have made new memories with mom this year

and I'm thankful for the peace and contentment she expresses. 

Happy Birthday to my smiling mom!

♡♡♡

It's Changing Me

I have long stopped trying to fix or correct my mom. The days of feeling like, surely I can help her remember, I can help her by organizing her, she knows these things, she only needs reminding, are not feelings I fight any more and it's a good thing, because it only frustrated both of us.

As time went on, we saw a lot of funny things happening.  Repeated discussions about the lady in the mirror, the people on the wall who had moved into her apartment, the outfits she put together and what food belonged in the fridge.  Scenarios that made me laugh and made me cry. Mostly they made me sad.

So where are we today? We enjoy the small things. Such as when she holds fast to my hand, when she communicates something, when she sings along with a song, when looks at me in recognition or shows excitement in any way.

It can happen that I can go from feeding Jack, enjoying his smirks and antics, to getting in the car to feed my mom in the home, and I can't help but contemplate the reversal of roles. To recognize that there was a time when she fed me. She talked to me and made me smile even when she could not understand my gibberish. She cared for me with utmost love, even if she got nothing in return.

So now it is my turn. I stare at her as I put the spoon to her mouth. Sometimes I study her features, so familiar to me, willing her old self to shine through, not wanting to forget. And then I remember what a good mom she has been to me. It puts perspective to everything a season. And, in a strange way, I appreciating what I had even more. I'm realizing how blessed I've been and that it is a blessing to serve her.

Leaning on the Everlasting Arms

Mom's been in a home for about 6 months now.  She had no problems getting settled but I found it hard to see how quickly she went downhill. I think we expected it, but it still gave way to a whole new learning curve and many questions.

At this time I appreciate that she has grown into a good routine.  The caregivers have come to see her sweet side.  I keep wishing they could have known her how she was and pray that they will treat her with kindness when I know it must not always be easy. She has a hard time understanding simple commands, such as sit down or open your mouth etc. She needs as much care as a baby and that is a task I admire the care aides for.

The interesting thing is that not once has she asked to go "home." She has expressed joy in seeing us and a yearning or longing she's had, but mostly she accepts whatever comes. I marvel at how she does not complain and she never begs us to stay longer. It makes it easy to go for a quick visit more often.

So this is what I've done. Sometimes it's basically just a good-night hug. I appreciate that her room is tidy and clean and, if I come too late, she's been tucked in with hymns playing on her CD player. I love that they have come to know that this is the best medication for her. There are times she has surprised me by saying my name. We hold hands and sing along with the hymns. Sometimes I read through a list of her favorite Bible verses, most of which she will finish by memory, if I stop.

I can't express how good it feels to see her comfort in the words she memorized so long ago and it amazes me to see the lasting value of a faith she has clung to, not only in word, but in practice. Recently I was brave enough to ask her is she wanted to pray and without any hesitation, with eyes staring about, she went into a prayer, praising our "Almighty Heavenly Father" that He never leaves us alone ... and then her words faded ... but with that one sentence she put me to shame.

I miss who she was, but am so encouraged to still see glimpses of it and know that one day she will be whole and well again. The Lord Almighty is with her - He will never leave her.

Mom's New Home

It's been at least a year of trying to figure out how the system works and what one needs to do to get a parent into a care home. Our health care system lives by the motto that "home is best," which sounds good in theory and works well for those who are able to manage, at least for a short time, once basic needs have been cared for and they are not in danger of hurting themselves. I  fought with my own thoughts on this, so often. When I was not with her, I thought, yes it's okay, she and Abe can manage. But when I was with them, I could not imagine how. He was understandably tired. Having a care giver come in here and there, does not help the husband who has to be aware of his wife wandering at night or worse, falling and not being able to help her up.  

When a person loses their way in their own home, has forgotten how to get up when she falls, is not aware of her reality or her space, what she is doing or what she wanted to do, one begins to question that motto. My first inclination to move mom came about when she was frustrated about not being able to manage taking care of food or making a meal. I was told that you cannot move a person because the kitchen frustrates them. I did not know how to explain that the space that has been her happy place has turned into a place of torment, because things burn, things rot and spoil and she does not know why. When we explained why these things were happening, she felt belittled. I could tell she felt like a failure. Her feelings and what she wanted to do were there even while her mental capabilities failed her. Her self esteem was shaved off bit by bit.

So, the day that we were able to move Mom into a care home, really was a day of relief. As much as it was emotionally difficult, we were also very thankful to know that now she would get professional care around the clock. 

Monika and I took her in with a bag of clothing and minimal toiletries. I felt like I was sending mom off to camp. She was not sad or scared. She was totally accepting of going with us and settling into a new room.  We explained as much as we thought she could maybe understand, and she just smiled and said it was okay. It seemed like she was feeling "freed up" of responsibilities. Going on a vacation.

A nurse dropped off a walker and we practiced walking with her. At first it looked like she would not be able to steer it, but by the next day, she did fine and was quite proud of herself. 

Abe came by a bit later. It was time for lunch and, because it was her first meal there, someone decided to bring an extra tray for him. There was a flu going around, so we all had to wear masks in certain areas and mom and Abe were given a private area to eat their meal. I love how she is laughing in this photo. 

 As I write this, five days later, I am still in awe of how accepting mom has been of her move. She has not complained about anything, not once.

The day after her move I was eager to see her and as I walked past the nurses' station, I noticed some patients dozing there, where an eye could be kept on them. Have you ever noticed this? It looks like a time out place. Anyways, I was just going to turn down the hall, when I looked once more and, there she was! She was one of them! Already!

I woke her and asked her how her night had been. She said it was good. She does not initiate conversation easily, so it is mostly about asking her questions that she will answer however she likes, true or not. I asked her if she'd missed Abe and she said, "He's around." I asked her who had dressed her and she said she had dressed herself! Even though it was not true, she was positive! When I complimented her on her walking, she showed off a bit. It was cute.

Mom's attitude has blessed me this week as I've gone through many of her belongings, little notes here and there, precious scripture, unsent cards beautifully written, envelopes she prepared and forgot about or lost the cards for and reminder notes. Her heart was to give unselfishly of herself as she trusted in the goodness of God and of people. The beauty she practiced in life continues to shine as she accepts the care of strangers.  God's grace is enough for her, even now.

Reminiscing

On September 24th, six years ago, 

I picked my mom up from the hairdresser's and took her home to get ready for her groom.

A few hours later there came the bitter sweet moment 

when my H and I stood at her apartment door, ringing her name,

the name she'd had for 55 years, for the last time.

We took her to the church and parked by a door away from the main entrance,

in case someone would want to see the bride before it was time.

It was a beautiful wedding -

two families coming together in a way we never would have imagined -

filled with hope for their best!

This past weekend I had a spur of the moment "moment"

when I realized we needed to celebrate. even just around a small table.

Monika and I put together a simple Faspa

and Mom and Abe were thrilled.

In such a short time they have become two peas in a pod ...

with a dependency on each other that is hard to fathom,

even though now it is Mom who has become more dependent.

He listens for her getting up at night 

and during the day takes her along wherever he goes ...

letting her think it's because he wants her near.

He lays out her clothes, prepares food alongside her

and does the laundry that she is oblivious to.

He keeps her on track as to what day it is,

what time it is, and when to take her medication.

He keeps her from going to bed much too early

by playing recorded music shows  ...

which she takes in with delight.

We do not know how long we have 

but we know that time is slipping away,

that things are constantly changing.

Our conversations are limited

but they are possible.

Mom still puts her arms around me

smiles in my face

and says that when we get together 

she feels this closeness - a longing fulfilled.

They leave, holding on to each other,

his cane steadying him so he can steady her.

He reminds her to put on her seat belt

and they are off one more time,

feeling celebrated ...

choosing not to think about tomorrow.

Yet in a strange reversal of roles,

 the thinking is happening here.

May God's love and grace lead the way.

Mom in the Mirror

As mom continues her decline in her mental and physical abilities, I find the changes less and less surprising and we actually get into this routine, if you will, of not knowing what to expect.  While at first, I was more shocked at every turn, trying to bring her back or trying to teach her how to cope, I find myself more accepting of the changes.  I'm realizing that you can't teach at this stage. She can say, "thank you, for helping me" and  "I'll do that," but she does not retain the memory.  What I do find surprising is that she remembers how we keep telling her that pictures are paper.  But it does not change how she thinks about them. She'll say, "I'm tired of hearing that," and keep treating them as visitors.

There are times I just have to give myself the freedom to laugh. Last week, after spending half a day with her, convincing her to get dressed, doing laundry, cleaning her fridge and secretly taking care of or disposing of food she had gathered under the couch, I started imagining a film crew following us around and I laughed until I cried. 

She called me into the bathroom where she was supposedly getting dressed, pointing at the mirror, she said to me, "I can't tell who it is, if it's your daughter or your granddaughter, but she is always greeting me when I come in here, and smiles at me." I patiently told her it's a mirror and that she was looking at herself.  (I digress ... I am still trying to teach her.) She ignored what I said and went on to tell me in animated fashion that they always wear the same thing and that they then laugh at each other. 

One of her physical weaknesses is that she is getting unsteady on her feet and easily loses her balance. A few weeks ago we asked them to come join our family for a picnic at the park across the street from where they live.  With some help, they made it to the picnic site. When we got there with the food, she was on the blanket face to face with Jack. At 82, other healthy women would say they cannot get down on a blanket but mom does not realize this, and she was down on all fours, trying to get low enough to talk to him. It ended up being a highlight of their week, seeing the children and eating chicken and Rollkuchen.

While it sometimes is easy to focus on the handicaps, things we can't comprehend and hard decisions to be made, it is our simple spontaneous drop in visits and plans to include them that still bring delight to both mom and Abe. They are the things that keep relationships as open as possible and are helping me learn to walk a care giving role that I never would have seen myself as being able to do. 

For now I see a bitter sweet lesson in how the deception in the mirror smiles at her and gives her joy, because she chooses to smile. 

The Blessing of Gathering 'Round the Table

It is always a highlight to eat together with friends!

Sharing food around the table is as old as time

and more beneficial to our well being than we would imagine. 

At Lovella's we sat at a table laden with beautiful little cucumber sandwiches, puff pastry bugles filled with egg salad, rhubarb scones, mango cups, chicken puffs, bruschetta tarts, fruit salad and scones with Devonshire cream and blackberry preserves.

And if that was not enough, for dessert out came tiny pavlovas topped with cream and fruit.

 We all have a fascination with and love of food 

that just goes with chatter and fellowship,
enjoyed more when shared.

This brings me to the question of,

what if food was just a necessity for survival?

What if there were no creative ways to enjoy it?

For many this is a reality because of famine or poverty,

but, ideally, this earth has been made to produce a variety of food that,

when used in the right way and shared,
is about so much more than just staying alive.

These thoughts have been going through my mind 

as I recently read an article about new ways to eat ...
or should I say, just good old fashioned ways to eat.

some basic principles:

don't rule out any foods completely (unless you have severe health issues) 

enjoy the variety without focusing on calories 

choose healthy starches - our body craves it for good reason

choose natural (with fat) dairy products 

load up on fresh and slow roasted vegetables 

enjoy a piece of cake when called for - celebrate

With new diet fads coming and going continually, the only lasting one is to build lifetime habits that are healthy and enjoyable, not a chore to stick to! Doing our own cooking and baking is still the best way to do this.  If this idea sounds too overwhelming, a good way to start is to change one thing at a time until it becomes a habit. I can relate to this way of making changes best. It happens slowly and as I look back over the past 10 years, I can appreciate these changes, hopefully for the better.

All this to say that food is a good thing.

It provides a way connect
whether in grief, in joy or just daily life.
It places value on the receiver.

It nourishes and strengthens.
It's a gift given to bless.

We never want to forget to give thanks!

For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving,

I. Timothy 4:4

The Nitty Gritty of this Disease

So, one more ... just an honest update if you will ... and then I'll leave this be.

I was thinking about how she hardly ever calls any more ... and then she called three days in a row about the same thing. The third time she said, "I have a stupid question." I was ready ... as she proceeded with
     "We're having soup and Rollkuchen and Abe won't let me feed the kids."
     "Well, Mom, you can't. They are not there."
     "That's what Abe says and he's mad at me."
      "He's not mad. He just does not know what to say because it won't work. Have you tried?
      "I have, they won't take it."
      "Well, they can't because they are just pictures.
      "No one's ever told me this before!!"
      "Well, how can I explain it to you? They are not there in person, You can't tickle them or hug          them. Don't worry, they are eating at home.
      "How do they eat at home, then?"
      (getting exasperated) "They live at home and that's where they eat."
      " But they are here ... "

I was hoping this would stop when I removed the pictures, but soon after that she called and referred to Julene and her family being at her place. I realized there had been a picture on the counter that I did not put away, so I told her to turn the picture down. She could not grasp why. "Then you won't see them." I said. "But they are here!" she insisted. I reminded her that they are in Indonesia and that we have not seen them since last summer. She was incredulous. While I could not believe I was having this conversation, she could not imagine that I have not seen them for that long.  She finally just said, "Well, they have been here." I asked her where they are and if they were sitting on the ledge. She said, "They come in the door and sit down and smile at me." I asked her if Julene had given her a hug. "No ... she has not." "Well, if she were really there, Mom. That's what she would do. And she would talk to you. She would not just smile."

As it stands now, quite a number of photos are back on the fridge. I asked her who had put the pictures back. She said she did not know; with a quick assurance that it was not her. It turns out, no one has put them back. So we know she has. Just the same way she has put what we trash back in the fridge or returned the dirty towels to re-use after I've thrown them in the hamper. I don't want to make her look bad. It's not who she really is and why it baffles my mind.

We rarely part with her really accepting what I tell her. She only concedes that she has never heard of "such things". She putters around constantly and moves things and forgets to put them back. Moms of two-year olds would understand. But I'm not her mom. I've never seen her like this and it's hard to not get frustrated, especially when I see her being stubborn. She has never been stubborn. She has never insisted on her own way. How can I make her feel like I'm okay with it? Sometimes she might just think I'm mad at her too. I tell her I'm not. I'm just sad she has to go through this.

Monday Mom Day

It was sometime in 2015, seeing signs of changes in Mom's abilities, Monika and I decided to set Monday mornings aside to pop in on her. Mom was delighted, of course! She had the table set in pretty dishes with home made sweets and fruit salad in dainty tea cups, waiting when we walked in the door. I had no idea how fleeting these days would be; bitter sweet tears welling in my eyes now as Mondays have evolved to times where we just tackle the most obvious thing that needs doing. Coffee and sweets forgotten. Sometimes we both go, sometimes just one of us goes, but Mom does not recognize time any more, so when we both can't make it she does not even know. 

Let me share with you the gist of what I wrote last week ...

When I got there, she was mixing batter for pancakes to feed "the kids" (pictures on the fridge). I looked at Abe and he just looked at me, tired of this scenario.  Because this was becoming a problem, I decided it was time to remove the fifty or so family photos, mostly children, that were smiling at her every day. In a way it made me sad to think I was removing the memory of them, but I'm not sure anymore if that is how it goes. Before I got there she and I had planned that we would bake buns so, if I was expecting anything it would have had to do with starting to get those ingredients out, but this is my new mom. I went ahead and found everything I needed. When I started putting pans of buns into the oven, Abe left to get groceries, so I stayed until he was back. 

Being in mom's kitchen gives me a chance to tidy up the most oddly cluttered counter and fridge. It's hard for her to remember how and where and for how long to store food. While I cook I can clean up and dispose without her really knowing. At least, so I thought, when suddenly on this Monday she wrapped her arms around me and thanked me. She said she loved cooking with me. I told her I'd help her as long as I could. It was a rare jewel of a moment where I felt I had her back. 

These days, when she has called, it has usually been out of frustration at her new reality. Of course, she does not know it's new. She thinks that anything strange she does, is something that she has always done and that we are the ones who are coming up with new concepts ... such as that pictures are not real people. In her mind they are "present" in her kitchen and she feels guilty for not being allowed to serve them. She feels sad that they have to sit there and watch her eat. And as we try to talk her through it, she feels shame when she gets the feeling that we think she's gone mad.

As I was writing about my day I realized how much Mom still feels. In the midst of her confusion, she apologizes for disappointing us.  She thanks us. She feels joy, pain, anger, shame and pride ... and it dawned on me that with all she is losing, feelings are not on the forgotten list. 

Thinking about this consoles and yet breaks my heart for her as I suddenly know how I don't want to make her feel. If I can use the time we have left to make her feel proud, joyful, needed and accepted for just who she is, even if she is not like who she was, maybe we'll be able to work things out on this path of learning, where every week can be different. 

This week she pulled out an old photo album and pointed out precious memories to me, page after page. 

Paper was paper. Memories were memories. She said I had made her day. She made mine.

In the Winter Season

As carefully as he descended those steps,
he still tumbled - the resulting hospital stay

distressing him more for her sake than his,

because he knew how much she needed him.

When we stayed with her she wondered why -

our help and presense a mystery in her blizzard.

Again and again, she went to look for him

thinking that surely he had come home.

And when he finally did,

she became his physical strength to hold on to

 and he resumed his place as her mental help.

Together they could face life and go on.

But what we saw, soon was clear, 

that while his broken hip would mend,
the disorder in her mind would not -
giving her illusions we could not try to sort.

Another turn on this path that deceives her

into thinking pictures on the fridge can see,
that maybe she can invite them for soup -

and why is he telling her they can't?

She sets out well worn recipes to bake,
yet can't remember what they look like,
instructions eluding her understanding.
And when she silently rises in the night
hoping to get a start on a meal,
he follows to help her through this fog
 that refuses to define time or reason.
Why does it matter, what time it is?
Her eyes give evidence of  the storm
of questions trying and tiring her to no end.

We just want to hug her and cry.
How true what a wise man long ago said,
Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting.
So we grapple with one desire and prayer
for the beauty of her innocent inner being.
Lord, let her faith in You remain.
May her songs never stop.
Encourage her tender soul day by day
never to let go of the hope she has in You
until she receives the reward she has earned.

Mom, I'm so Sorry!

Alzheimer's is a terrible disease that is slowly stealing pieces of my mom's mind. Looking back over the past year, it has manifested itself by blurring her sense of time. It is a confusing concept - she can recite the months from the childhood memory part of her brain but she forgets what month we are in now. For those of us who plan each day, we have no idea how we depend on this awareness of time. Not knowing, creates panic and undue stress for her even in the mundane daily tasks.

At the beginning of this year, feeling some sense of urgency, mom made a trip to the Dollar Store and bought cards in mass amounts, Soon she was overwhelmed with all the cards for her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, strewn about in piles - missing envelopes, partly written -  frustrated at not being able to figure out an order. Monika and I organized a filing box with the designated cards filed behind each month of the year so she could write them when needed. What we learned is that this new concept was not teachable. By the next day all of the cards were out of the box and many were sent out within weeks. So then, when almost everyone received their greetings at the beginning of the year, we thought she was done! However, as the months went by, birthdays came around and she thought they needed a card. We told her not to worry because she had already sent one. Her response was always, "but that was last year!" . . . making this a very long year, mostly because she has had unnecessary stress about writing cards over and over again.

You see, my mom is was  is caring, beautiful, smart, tidy, hard working and organized. But when the fog settles in on her, her living space becomes a whirlwind that tells a hundred other stories.  We don't know this new mom, and walking in on this scene, knowing it's not how she wants things, is hard. How can she create order when it does not happen in her mind?

The second thing and the one most of us think about when we think of Alzheimer's or dementia, is forgetfulness. A normal phone conversation between us can go like this:

me: Hi, Mom! How was your day?
mom: Oh, I'm so tired. I was so busy!
me: Oh, what did you do today?
mom: I don't know. (laughs or sounds sheepish)
me: (I let her think . . . and ask questions to stimulate her thinking, before she resorts to asking, Abe, what they did.)
me: So, did you go out at all? ( I know because I called and she was not home)
mom: Oh yes! Abe took me to Sears to get a jacket for my Birthday! (and we are both so happy when she remembers this special event!! Because the connection happened.

Now I know the card writing is something that will pass and leave only good memories of how she loved us, and we can all forget what we did yesterday, but there are things in everyday life that don't come out quite so sweet. At times I catch sight of her "in another world" unaware of the conversation we're having. She may be focused on a children's book or a photo, seemingly having shut us out. Sometimes we are misunderstood while trying to help her see things, such as her unsafe ideas of food storage. We sense her distrust in our advice which she will act upon in her own way with uncharacteristic stubbornness, and I come away, from what is supposed to be a nice coffee with mom, feeling sad, angry and frustrated. And then guilty.  Maybe it helps to realize it's because I love her and this is not how I want to lose her.

On Saturday we will celebrate her 82nd birthday. Excited to come for dinner, she will depend on Abe to tell her when the day is here.  This year, in spite of the early signs of the dreaded disease, I'm thankful  that we still have so much of her, the most obvious one being her awareness of and love for her family. I thank the Lord for her and for the blessing she has been and always will be to me as I continue to learn from her.

More on Absent Teeth and Tooth Fairies

While on the subject, I've been wondering how it is that kids can look so cute with their missing teeth while I've been more than self conscious about the gap in my teeth. For just a moment here, I forgot I was not wearing that uncomfortable flipper tooth.

It all began last fall with a hint of a toothache which I ignored until one day, as I took a bite into a hamburger, I felt a sharp crack and knew something was very wrong. It was then I went to get it checked out and was told my tooth had split right down to the tip of the root and had to be pulled. Ouch!

So the plan was to pull it and put in a dental implant at the same time. A dental implant is a permanent screw that gets put into the jaw bone to hold a new tooth. However, once my tooth was out, the periodontist realized that he would have to do a bone graft to allow for enough  bone to hold the screw intact. That was the worst part of the whole procedure, but hey, after childbirth and such  . . . we can handle things like this, right? It took the first six months of this year for the skin graft and bone to set and heal, during which time I wore a flipper tooth, which  drove me a little crazy because I could not eat with it. Did you know that eating seems to be part of any good time and that is exactly when you want to wear it?

This last week, we were finally able to do the actual implant and now we wait for the bone to fuse with this screw. In the meantime he put on a temporary tooth which I am not to bite on just yet. I should be able to get a new (final) tooth in the fall. Phew! (if only I had known)

Now, usually there are a few other non-invasive options, one being a bridge. The idea of a bridge, while less painful in process, did not appeal to me because of the extra flossing, stress on the crown next to it and potential bone loss that happens in an area of a missing tooth. Generally speaking, the dentist will encourage you to get an implant if you have a good insurance plan . . . or a generous tooth fairy . . . and I am hoping our self directed insurance plan will be just that. Wishing all the best to those of you who have this on your calendar.

On Food and Faith

 

A while back, a comment that led to some email exchanges and a look at a fairly new blog called, http://morewithmuchless.blogspot.ca/, gave me a new awareness of the complexity of anorexia and the consequent fear associated with food preparation.

On her blog, Michelle tells of the thought process going through her mind as she looks at food or considers preparing a meal. While on her road to recovery, she is blogging her way through  the More with Less cookbook - a challenge that can paralyze someone who is already guilt ridden about food consumption without a recipe book focusing on how to cook with less. 

Michelle asked whether any of us of the Mennonite Girls Can Cook would be open to do a guest post on her blog. Although we are not choosing to add writing to our cooking and speaking schedule, one of her questions resonated with me and I thought I'd respond to it as best as I can.  Please be aware that  I am only addressing her question and talking about my personal experience. Eating disorders are complex illness that can be life threatening - my heart has been heavy just realizing that this is not an easy road for someone trying to get well, but I am not eligible to give advice on that. If someone you love is struggling, please seek professional help and do all you can to help them come through.

The Question:

How did growing up in a Russian Mennonite family affect your relationship to food? Did your family come from a history of shortage? If so, how does that affect how you view food consumption/restriction now?

 

My response:

Growing up in a Mennonite home I knew that my mom would always have something prepared for meals. Even when she worked full-time, I never heard an excuse coming from her, saying she did not have time to cook.  There was not a lazy bone in her, the biblical meaning of which was lived out in both of my parents’ lives. She made things from scratch as much as possible, ever conscious of the cost of prepared foods. She prepared ahead by keeping basic ingredients in the house, making soups, baking breads and preparing home-made food to pack for lunches. We did not grow up with snacking foods, when the meal was served we were hungry and the food was nourishing. Mealtimes were family times. We waited for each other and talked about our day. It was a time to connect.

 

My father and my grandmother went through food shortage and hunger in Russia during the war and later, in Germany, after the war. My father had to look for food in trash cans and my grandmother shared with me how her health suffered from lack of sugar and butter. I often take her words into consideration now, with the talk of how both are not good for you. The fact that hunger was something very real to my father played a big part in how he raised us. We were not allowed to complain about food and we were not allowed to throw food from our plate into the trash. We were taught to give thanks for our food and to be grateful for full tummies.

 

This brings me to something I consider to be important in my view of food, be it consumption or restriction. I believe that the giving of thanks for what God has given plays a vital role in how food affects us. When we realize food is a gift from the One who provides for our needs, we will be careful about how we handle it. We will not try to find fault with it unnecessarily, be it the ever fluctuating views about foods or just plain being picky, which shows ungratefulness. I believe that the giving of thanks can bless food to cleanse it in instances where we have no choice. There are times I question some of today’s dietary restrictions and where they are coming from. Obviously there are situations where it is vitally important to follow a certain diet, but in certain instances our self induced diets can lead to a life of problems, stemming from some form of worry or ungratefulness. So let us give thanks to Him who made the world, along with the food we eat, and blessed it proclaiming it to be good.

Exodus 23: 25

“Worship the Lord your God, and his blessing will be on your food and water. I will take away sickness from among you.”

1 Timothy 4:4

“For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving.”

Personal Care Favorites for Winter

I had a hard time figuring out what to call this post . . .
I'm not trying to put some ads into my pages . . .
but I so want to share about some personal care products that
I've come to appreciate.
I'm not getting paid for  this.



African Shea Butter, made from the fruit of the karite tree,  is my new all time favorite for dry skin and cracked heels. It does not have  a pleasant odor, but you do not notice it past the application process. A tiny speck of it rubbed in your hands and spread on your skin keeps your skin and heels moist all day and all night. I was getting a bit frustrated with dry skin flakes on my socks and heels snagging on leggings or tights . . . this paste is the best!
It's available in Health Stores.
 

Funny how deodorant is still necessary when I'm cold. I'm sharing my favorite deodorant because maybe you have never considered the difference between deodorant and antiperspirant. We do not know if the link between between some health concerns and aluminum are true, so this is not to put anyone on a guilt trip, but just to say that there actually is a deodorant that works.
I have found that there are many options for men but not for women. Go figure!
The one I've used for many years is the Adidas Cotton Tech aluminum free deodorant. The one on the photo says new (I think it's the powder option that is new) but it's been around for a long time and I am very happy with it.
I get it at Safeway.



Zilactin is also a time proven medicated ointment for cold sores. Good to have on hand for the first sign of a cold sore to keep it from going crazy. It also helps to dry out pimples and numb the pain of canker sores. I think you an get it at any Canadian pharmacy.



And last but not least . . . a product I hope stays around . . . is a Lanza molding paste for fine hair.
After I dry my hair, I rub a tiny bit into my finger tips and then use my fingers to rub the paste into the roots of my hair and generally just give it shape. I can run in through the cold weather mist - even wearing a hat - come inside and shape it like new just using a round bristled brush to tease and lift it again.
 This product is available at hair salons.

So that's it for today. I hope you found something helpful
or share something that works well for you.

Where I Walk

I've walked this path close to our home for many years.

Countless mornings I've been joined by a friend
 who lives in a house just down the road . . .
in fact, by the end of this (school) year we will have shared
100 seasons of walking.

This friend is a lover of birds and never ceases to amaze me with what she sees.
 

In the middle of a conversation she will stop and take not of a rare variety of a tiny bird in the bush, a crane on a stump in the lake or a wood duck amongst the mallards . . . all the while I'm glad if I can figure out the difference between a goose and a duck.

Last week, one morning as we walked in the rain, we came to a stop and had to take a detour, as the lake had overflowed onto the path. We laughed at the ducks frolicking on our path. 

 

I love this path . . .

the benches . . .

the pond . . . more visible as the leaves come down . . .

the little picnic tables . . .

the variety of tall trees and messy underbrush . . .

and the changing colors through the seasons.

On this particular day, the carpet of gold laid out for us, made me feel like
 we were treading on holy ground . . .
 almost afraid to crush the effect by walking on it.

Soon these trees will be bare and possibly covered in snow.
The snow will melt and before long fresh lime-green growth will appear.
Seasons are an integral part of life . . .
at the moment made more real by the reality that
 a SOLD sticker is plastered onto the For Sale sign at
the house just down the road.

But a plan is in place that when she moves to the other part of town next week,
 she will get in her car . . . three mornings a week . . .
 rain or shine . . . my doorbell will ring
 and we'll continue our walk
one season at a time.

 

I think I will Make it Now

For the past three weeks or so I have sniffled . . .

coughed up a storm . . .

felt all kinds of whistles and sounds . . .

much like wind going at sails, in my ears

as I moved through mountain passes and a number of flights. 

Then I sniffled some more and dealt with a feeling much like

a heavy rock shifting in my head, as my sinuses filled up.

I've felt frustration . . .  irritation . . . shivers . . . pain

and a loss of what to do or take next.

Buckley's . . . Vic's Vapor Rub . . . salt water rinses . . . . hot baths
. . . . vitamin C . . . Tylenol . . . a round of antibiotics . . .
and finally some clearing and hope coming back in the form of

Tylenol with codeine and ibuprofen extra strength!

 

But what put the rainbow in the sky was

 the chicken noodle soup that arrived at my door  . . .

lovingly made my my mom. 

A mother's love, no matter what age, is still the best medicine.

 I think I will make it now.

An Extra-Ordinary Life!

You may already know that the oldest person in Canada passed away. Well, that does not totally sound right, because obviously now there is another oldest in line. However, Elizabeth Buhler, the oldest woman living up until last month just barely missed her 112th Birthday.

There is an interesting little connection here in that the girlfriend I walk with is employed by a grandson of the late Elizabeth Buhler, and she directed me to an article, written by J. O'Connor, in the National Post. A truly inspiring life story!

Elizabeth Buhler was born in 1899 in a Mennonite Colony in the Southern Ukraine, she lived through the Russian Revolution and, after immigrating to Canada, the great depression and both World Wars.

People are amazed about my mother-in-law, who is 93 and has more than 50 great-grandchildren . . . but, to put that into perspective, Mrs. Buhler has the same number of great-grandchildren plus 39 great-great grandchildren!

At 105 she was rejected at the nursing home because she was too fit.
And get this . . . when asked what her secret was, she credited it to exercise, homemade chicken noodle soup and cookies!

For some reason this makes me smile!
Go ahead . . . browse through the Mennonite Girls Can Cook blog with no guilt.

Getting Crowned

It was early afternoon when I was escorted into a room with a chair that looked deceivingly comfortable. The fact was that, if I’d been left alone, I could have had a nap but it was not to be. A paper bib was promptly clipped onto my shirt and then a needle inserted into my gums, to begin the process.

I hear from others that it’s the drilling that gets to them, but for me it’s the curvy trays with the goopy stuff that you sink your teeth into. I don’t know why, but I’d almost forgotten that this was what I was in for on this day. . . maybe it’s called selective memory. Several trays were done, while I was trying to tell myself to keep breathing. A sigh of relief escaped once the impressions were set and the inside of my mouth did not come out along with them. I thought of asking them to save the impressions for future work, but maturely decided against it.

Once my lip and jaw were nice and numb, the young dentist slid into his seat on my right again . . . looking rather much like a miner with his headgear. When did they start this? Another bright light from above was also directed onto my face. While he drilled and the pretty assistant looked on with her little suction hose, I had time to wonder about things not really befitting of a queen to be. Things such as, if my nose was clean or if my brows needed tweezing. And then suddenly . . . you guessed it, more impressions . . . this time for the temporary crown. I didn’t quite get this, but kept my mouth open as told.

So now my temporary crown is on, looking quite nice for being temporary, and I’m awaiting my real crown. What I'm happy about is that, at the next appointment, there will be no more trays.

Continuation on a Healthy Lifestyle

photo credit: Kellogg's advertisement

Well, I got myself into this and now, to be honest, I've been tossing thoughts around and wondering . . . who am I to say anything significant about diets or exercise? The only thing I can do is repeat things we all think are true, things I may have read somewhere and things that seem to work for me. But I’m not everyone else and have no idea how hard some have worked to get into shape . . . I take my hat off to you. To those who have tried everything . . . all I can say is . . . you are a winner if you can 'maintain' and I believe that the first point can be a significant help in that.


1. Keep making small changes. Choose one and add another when it becomes a lifestyle. Someday you will look back and realize you've made choices all along the way and feel good about them. Some suggestions: Eat breakfast. Walk the kids to school or go for a quick 20 minute walk at lunch. If you have to snack, eat fruit, a few nuts or a small piece of cheese. Avoid putting potato chips in your grocery cart. Choose the stairs over the escalator. Choose family/date activities such a bike riding, bowling or hiking. Take sodas drinks out of your diet.

2. Eat out as little as possible. Help those around you eat healthy by planning and preparing tasty homemade foods for mealtimes, so that everyone is satisfied and mealtimes are a time everyone looks forward to. Shop for cereals that have fiber and reduce the sweetness gradually. Use eggs, cheese, fish or peanut butter on sandwiches more often than processed meats. Use a variety of lean cut meats, chicken and fish, as well as several vegetable options to fill the plate. Let your kids see that you enjoy all kinds of vegetables. You may not have liked the yam casserole your aunt made, but maybe you’d like them roasted with Italian seasonings. Try different options to learn how to enjoy good food.

3. Exercise. You knew I’d say it. I’m not a gym person either. For some of us exercise is especially difficult to stick to when we try to do it alone. So ask a friend to go with you and choose an activity that works for you. I can’t believe I have a friend who has walked with me for over 20 years now. I wake up on a cold, windy, rainy day and know that if it were not for the fact that she is waiting for me I would not get up but, in the end, I’m always glad I did. Some options are: speed walking, swimming laps after the kids are in bed, going for a 20 minute run, meeting a friend at curves for half an hour or running a Pilates video workout in your own family room. It’s interesting that the notion to exercise makes us feel tired at first, but in the end it gives us more energy.

4. Whatever your weakness, be it desserts, sweet breads, candy, chocolate or ice cream – enjoy it, but in moderation. It would drive me crazy if someone told me I could never have dessert, but just knowing I ‘can’ have some on a somewhat regular basis, helps me not to crave it. Sometimes it’s as easy as having half a serving, one scoop of ice cream rather than two or making my favorite drink a tall-skinny-half-sweet

5. Get rid of over-sized clothes. Don’t keep them as a back door and don’t wear them around the house on a lazy day.

6. Give thanks to God for food and nature to enjoy.

Thoughts on Diets and Healthy Lifestyle Choices

I’ve probably thought more about weight this year than ever before. It would seem that several aspects of working on a cookbook have played a major role in this mind game. Maybe that's all it is, a mind game, but I have become more aware of a certain bulge as I sit here and key in the recipes. Eating waffles with vanilla custard for breakfast and then again for lunch, because the first pictures did not turn out to my satisfaction, was just one of those things you do for the cause.

In reality it's not just the cookbook, but a number of things that have kept me from serious dieting. When I think about it, there just never is a good time to diet and there will always be an excuse to be gaining weight. Just when the freshman 20 are gone, the babies start coming every few years. Some busy active years in-between may help, but soon you’re where I am now . . . where they say, “Well, you’re at that age.”

I have observed the obsession on diets to the point where girls do not know when to stop. I just look on with sadness and my heart breaks for them. Fashion magazines display undernourished models and almost every magazine at the grocery check stand screams out some form of diet. And now, even I am writing about it! This is because I often don’t see good results in any of this.

So I’ve thrown dieting out the window. I’ve never really said it, but I think dieting is a trap that, for most of us, only gives temporary results and much frustration. Believing this, I have to practice what I preach and share what may be a long-term alternative.

Now I want to be careful. I do not want to be flippant, nor assume that this is easy for everyone. I’m talking very generally, because I don’t want to take other health concerns or genetics for granted. However, in general, I think we can all agree that healthy eating and exercise are the best way to get into shape and keep in shape. It’s kind of freeing.

Being in shape is different for everyone. It’s about knowing your body, learning to enjoy the right foods and routines for you – and being content. It is better to maintain a happy medium than to continually go up and down. I have seen that two people of the same height can be 20 lbs apart and both be at their ideal weight.

So what could healthy eating and exercise look like? I perused through an article a while back that had some thoughts that made me say, “Yes, that works.” So, before this gets too long, I think in my next post I will share some practical ideas on this subject.