highs and lows

at my own farmer's market

my heirloom chinese "radish." humph.

last night at sunday dinner i suggested we play "high and low" a cute name i had recently heard from wordofwisdomliving for something we do occassionally at dinner (what was your favorite part of the day and what was your least favorite part of the day). we didn't make it all around the table last night. too busy scarfing down fajitas.

as we were leaving to come home i was in the car with the boys. davis had gotten in trouble right before we left and was declaring it "the worst day ever." sweet skyler was trying to point out all the good things about the day. "what about church?" he would ask. davis declared each of skyler's suggestions terrible. he said to me, "i couldn't even play the 'up and down' game. i didn't have any ups." it took me a minute to figure out that he meant "high and low." as tim came to the car i gave him the "listen" signal and we listened again to skyler and davis debate the terrible-ness of the day.

i have been thinking about the "highs and lows" of our nutrition transformation for weeks. perhaps it started with reading a blog about a mother who took a "100 days of real food" challenge. she chronicled her own "highs and lows." and i loved reading it because i related and part of me wished i had done the same. a certain video that hit such the sweet spot for me this week. i was at that moment of debate--wondering if it was all worth it, if i was doing the right thing and a friend sent this along. at one point while watching it i thought i might actually die--because i could not breathe. if you wonder what life looks like at home for us at times this would be it.

president uchtdorf's talk at women's conference was another sweet spot of my week. . ."these successes may seem tiny to you and they may go unnoticed by others but God notices them and they are not small to Him. . . our journey to perfection may be long but we can find wonder and delight, but we can find wonder and delight in even the tiniest of steps in that journey." "forget-me-not."

last week i attended a class on "pioneer yeast" in a beautiful backyard garden. i have been feeding my start, named sarah agnes prine, all week. i prepared the dough last night and woke up this morning to put it in pans and let it rise (hoping for warm bread before the kids leave for the bus). as i was shaping the loaves i thought of how impossible this would have once seemed for me. the entire thing would have been overwhelming and i perhaps would have been in tears. but i had made a goal, now it's been a few years, to bake my own bread. it was a bumpy road. i tried many recipes. i bought a wheat grinder (that broke more than once). i bought beautiful cast iron pans. my first loaves (that i made with wheat ground in a hand grinder) were bricks and the "flour" was no where near smooth. but it was warm and somewhat edible and i couldn't give up after my arms were sore from wheat grinding. . . as i looked around my kitchen i saw my "keifr" and my wheat sprouts and my tea kettle and my blender and essential oils and i've learned a lot this year.

have there been tears?

of course.

does skyler ask for candy at every house we visit?

yes.

will i forget the moment that davis found out there was BREAKFAST at school--and it was chocolate milk, go-gurts, and cold cereal and BEGGed for it even though we had watched jamie oliver's food revolution and forks over knives?

no.

did i give davis 1.50 to eat it?

yes.

every day?

no. just once.

did i worry a little bit that the toxic load of artifical flavors, dyes, and sugars might kill him.

will you think i'm crazy if i say yes?

do i worry that my kids will have some sort of emotional complex because they drink kale before school?

yes.

did skyler hug three cups of keifr smoothie to his chest yesterday?

yes.

have i cried over dinner?

yes.

has my family?

yes.

do i worry about the impact i have talking to my children about what is in their food?

yes.

have my children made other children cry when they have told them what is in their food?

yes.

have i not eaten things i have wanted to?

yes.

have i eaten things i have not wanted to?

a lot.

have i felt incredibly stupid and embarassed in social situations about my food choices?

yes.

do i feel judged?

yes.

have i felt empowered and inspired and uplifted with other moms making the same choices?

yes.

has my body felt awesome and have i seen some amazing miracles with my family and others, simply through food?

yes. yes. yes.

have i felt angry and frustrated about the amount of treats, candy and food coupons that come home from school?

yes.

have i felt every so grateful for the small stash of suckers the bishop and his sweet wife have for skyler, so he can stop by any time?

you bet.

have i felt like a "super massive failure" at times?

yes.

have i cried when davis snuck down past 11:00 to ask for a piece of my homemade bread?

almost.

several weeks ago i almost tore up a third of my garden. while everyone else seemed to be enjoying the harvest from their gardens, my radishes were thinner than twine. my tomato plants had not produced one juicy red fruit. my kale was small. and i had but one zucchini. yes, that is unheard of. i joked with my family that i had produced a $500 zucchinni. the cost of our garden boxes, composter, soil and seeds. all of that for a measly zucchini. i laughed about the size of my radishes and my brother asked me to take a picture (with something to show the scale). i think he thought that perhaps i was exaggerating.

i went to my garden and started to tear out tomato plants. i couldn't bear to look at my failure anymore, let alone waste my time watering it. i tore out one. i went for the second. and there i saw it. just one little lone fruit on the back of the plant.

and i decided not to give up.

but to re-double my efforts in the last weeks of the season. to fertilize twice a week, as my dad suggested. to water more deeply. to be patient.

and i got a few more zucchini. and kale. and tiny tomatoes and more chard (that tastes like dirt) that i know what do with. but i keep the chard around because it looks beautiful and its doing better than anything else out there.

and i look at those tiny yellow pear tomatoes and look at the calendar and say a little prayer and dance around them at midnight during the full moon, you know, just in case.

highs and lows.

and little steps.

and waiting for the harvest.

and you know what.

when i took out my loaves of bread. they were perfect. i sliced into one. i was home all alone. i placed it on a beautiful plate and sat down and took an expectant bite.

did i cry?

yes.

because it was so good.

and it worked.

the very first time.