happy new year!

happy new year from THIS girl and her parents:) we look forward to seeing what 2015 has in store.

sometimes plans change

It is funny how our plans seem to change. Mine do anyway. I often have these great plans (at least in my mind they are) and then they turn out to be exactly that, my plans. Many times the path I think would be best for me is not what God has in store for me.

One of such plans was to get married (check) and then have children (still unchecked five years later). That seems simple enough. It seems to work that way for the majority of people. I don't think this was an unreasonable plan, it just wasn't our plan. I have shared about our journey through infertility here and here. In the latter post I reflected on how something needed to change. And something has. God has done amazing work on our hearts.

During our time of infertility God started preparing me for the possibility of expanding our family through adoption. After God and I wrestled with this for a while, and after spending much time in prayer and seeking counsel from others who have adopted, something changed in our hearts. After all the tears and prayers that went into our journey with infertility, God has filled our hearts with a deep and genuine excitement for adoption. Now we can't imagine not expanding our Carlson family through adoption. I am beyond grateful that both Michael and I have a desire to pursue adoption. In August we became certified to adopt (we are home study ready:)) and are excited to move forward.

Even though we are thrilled to expand our family through adoption, this road isn't easy. There are so many things we can't control. When exactly will we become parents? We don't have the luxury of a nine month warning. We could get the baby's room ready now, but then does it become a reminder of what we don't have? Or will it be a joyful reminder of what to expect? We can't control the expectant mother. We can't control how she lives her life while pregnant. All we can do is pray. Pray she will make good choices and most of all pray the baby will be protected. We had to apply to be parents. And now we are at the mercy of the expectant mother's choosing. We can be chosen only for the expectant mom to change her mind.

Talk about a roller coaster of emotions. Infertility brought many emotions, but adoption brings so many more. Oh, and then there is the enormous cost of bringing our baby home. Of course no cost can compare to our wonderful Carlson baby, but the truth is, without help we can't afford to make this wonderful Carlson baby a reality.

This uncertainty has forced us to lean and trust on God. Already this process has made our faith in God stronger. We have to trust that God is in control and that He is all-knowing. This process has also made our marriage stronger. It has forced us to communicate our desires and concerns in
an even deeper way. It has forced us to lean on each other in moments that are completely out of our control. We have already had to lean on our community and many have invested and supported us through this journey already. For this I am beyond grateful. Even though we may have a long way to go still - this journey has already been such a testament to how important it is to be part of a loving and supportive community.

I was talking to a friend a while ago who reminded me of the incredible privilege it is to adopt. Even if it is not an easy road, God has entrusted us to look after this child. To care for His child. To be part of His plan. To partake in His mission. What an honor that He would entrust me. Me! That He considers me worthy despite being unworthy of this.

We are so grateful to be headed toward adoption, but we know this is not something we can do on our own. So if you would like to be a part of this journey, here are some ways you could join us:

1. PRAY. Please pray for God’s continued guidance, financial provision, and protection for our future baby.

2. BUY A SHIRT. Ten dollars from every shirt you buy will go toward our adoption  https://www.bonfirefunds.com/carlson-adoption-fund

3. MAKE A TAX-DEDUCTIBLE DONATION. If you would like to make a tax-deductible donation, please go to https://www.adopttogether.org/carlsonadoption


If you have any questions or are interested in helping us in other ways, please feel free to contact us at ourcarlsonadoption@gmail.com

farfar

A year ago my farfar passed away. As I reflected last year, since his death was unexpected and we live so far away, it still seems strange that he is gone. Like it still hasn't fully sunk in. I miss him. There have been so many times I wanted to pick up the phone/skype to catch up on life. To share with him the good times and ask for prayer for the hard times. Recently I was looking through old photos on my computer and was reminded of how many important events in my life, such as my graduation and wedding, that he was able to attend despite living in another country. I felt important to him as he was to me. He was a good farfar and I am thankful for the time we had together.

white-knuckling hope

Here we are at three years. I can't believe it has been three years! It often feels like that, but that is a really long time to have tried to get pregnant with no "success." Trying to have a baby has now become part of everyday life. In some ways it has become easier, in some ways not. You go through the motions being acutely aware of every little detail of what your body is doing on every day of the month and some times every hour of the day. Some people say just don't think about it or relax or take a vacation and it will happen. First of all, don't ever say that. You saying that gives me stress, so if you are suggesting that I need to have less stress about the whole thing, refrain from saying that. The thing is, despite the acute awareness, I am relaxed about it. It's just part of the routine such as buying groceries on Wednesdays because it is double coupon day .... I mean, I am not uptight about that, and neither am I unrelaxed about the monthly process of trying to get pregnant. I just can't be after three years. But of course that doesn't mean I don't have a deep desire for it to happen.

I read a good article on fertility the other day. While our story isn't the same, the author captured some feelings regarding hope well.

Infertility is a brutal cycle that steps on hands gripping hope. The cycle begins each month with hope only to be followed by disappointment. 

At any point in this cycle you are constantly reminded of what you cannot do by running into countless pregnant women in the grocery story, at church, or at the gym.

Church is a good place to find support, but it isn’t always a tower of refuge. The American church is one place in our culture where marriage and kids is an expectation.... Young married’s are bombarded about when they will start having kids, as if their marriage doesn’t really matter until a child validates it.

Around church, having kids is talked about as if it is like scheduling a tune-up for your car. “Isn’t it time the two of you start having kids?” is one of the most painful questions a couple dealing with infertility can hear. Because thats exactly how they feel! It is time for them to start having kids. They’ve been hoping and praying and wanting and waiting for a long time for God to respond to their request. So yes, it is time, but no, kids don’t show up on a time table.

- See more at: http://natepyle.com/the-disgrace-of-infertility/#sthash.4I9zghDo.dpuf


It is difficult to hear people talk about when they are going to have children (a conversation I participated in before I realized how out of our control this process really is). As if it is simply a decision. The thing is, I don't think most people really really understand everything that has to happen in order for them to get pregnant .... knowing this, it is actually incredible that anyone gets pregnant. Our journey has forced us at a very deep level to understand the incredible miracle a child is, at a level we wouldn't have otherwise. Having our own children is not a right, not something we are promised, but rather it is an incredible gift that some are fortunate to receive.

I shared about our struggle publicly on this blog for the first time last year. And now as we have begun year four I am at a crossroads. Something needs to change. As I talk to different doctors and such I find myself feeling a sense of shame as I answer their question of how long we have been trying - three years. Like it is somehow my fault, that I did something wrong. I am exhausted from fighting to hold on to hope. Hope is starting to slip away. I want to keep holding on to it, but I just don't know if I can.

We are praying about what next steps God has for us. I know God loves us and wants the best for us. Our prayer is that His will be done, and in His timing. He knows more than we do and we are going to trust Him with whatever path we end up taking. Even though I often feel like I am white-knuckling hope, I feel a sense of comfort and trust in what God's plan ultimately is. For that, I am thankful.

wordless wednesday

 

cousins

 

 

in the midst of mourning the loss of my farfar, it was nice to hang out with my cousins to reflect on what has happened and spend time eating yummy food and laughing together.

saying goodbye

 My farfar's funeral was difficult, but good. It was a wonderful goodbye to a wonderful farfar. The sanctuary was packed with people who had been touched by my farfar's life and who loved him. It was a special time of remembering a wonderful man and of reflecting on the one in who he put his trust.

  

 

 

miss you farfar

1981

2012

 

The loss of my farfar is difficult on several levels.

I don't think it has fully sunk in that he is gone. Even when I saw his body I kept thinking he would wake up. He just looked asleep. While we were in Denmark I kept thinking he was on vacation and would come back soon. Death is a weird and surreal thing. It is so final here on earth as we know it. My farfar lived a full life until the very end. Serving his Lord. Exactly how we all wish to end our life, without prolonged suffering. I am thankful that he didn't have to suffer long. I think part of the difficulty of truly understanding his passing, is that he was seemingly healthy given his age of 84 up until his death. And then all of the sudden it was the end. It is like my brain is not allowing me to understand how this healthy man didn't have more years in him. I am thankful for the years I had with him. As his oldest grandchild, he always made me feel important and made sure to show how much he loved me. Despite living so far away from him much of my life, I have great memories of our time together and am thankful for visits and Skype.

 

Another difficult aspect of his passing, is what he represented. As my last living grandparent, he served the role of grandparents. He represented that generation. As a child we have parents and grandparents (and some have great grandparents). It is weird when all of a sudden one of those layers disappears especially when that is all you have known for 33 years. It makes you more vulnerable in a way. It is like a layer of protection from this world has been ripped away. It is weird to think about my parents now representing the oldest layer. When both of my mother's parents had passed away she said that even though she was an adult with her own children she felt like an orphan in some ways. I probably don't feel exactly like that, but in some ways I believe I do.

 

No matter which difficult layer the death of my farfar touches on, I am sad. I am sad for my loss. I am comforted to know that he loved God and is now with Him. But in the meantime his loss brings tears. My heart aches. I ache for my dad and his incredible loss. I ache for our family.

Death is difficult.

I miss you farfar.

last thursday

it stills feels incredibly surreal that i attended my farfar's funeral last thursday.
i am so grateful that we were able to travel to denmark to be part of this day and to spend time with family mourning the loss.

with this sudden death and trip to denmark i have not had time to blog. i hope to resume blogging in the week to come reflecting on the life of my farfar and the new reality of him being gone.

i miss him and i don't think i truly understand he is no longer with us.
i am so grateful for my family and this past week.

happy 2nd birthday anders

 

happy birthday anders. i can't believe you are already 2 years old!
this sweet birthday boy is full of life and energy.
i love how he lights up when he sees us on skype and how he engages us in both danish and english.
what a cutie.

anders, i am so happy that you had a chance to meet and love farfar/olde.
hopefully one day you will be able to tell your cousins all about him.

love you and happy birthday.

wordless wednesday

 

in loving memory of my farmor whose birthday would have been today and in prayer for my farfar who is very sick in the hospital

the unexpected and difficult things in life

There are many things in life you just expect will happen. As you enter adulthood you just expect to get married, to have children, to stay healthy, to.... and the list goes on. At least you expect it for yourself.

The thing is ... we aren't promised those things. As much as we would like to think so, we aren't.

I was blessed to get married just before my 30th birthday to an amazing man. Again, later than I had expected.

When we decided to have children, we assumed that we would have them soon after making the decision. I mean, both sides of our lovely family are super fertile - we currently have 6 nieces and nephews with two more on the way... all from three siblings who are younger than me.

 

 

But the fact is, it has now been over two years of trying to get pregnant.

 

 

This has been an extremely difficult journey. It started as a secret journey. I wasn't ready for a very long time to talk about it openly and to share it with others. I am not sure why exactly. I just wasn't ready. It didn't feel safe to share.

 

People often have a tendency to want to make things better. They want to smooth over a difficult situation/topic. They want to fix it. I am not saying that I am above this. I am guilty of this as well. But one thing I have learned when it comes to sensitive issues (such as trying to get pregnant), it is best to just listen. You don't need to fix it. You can't.

So here is some advice, if someone shares that they are unable to have children, if you feel like you need to say something - say I am sorry to hear that. That must be difficult. AND STOP THERE. REFRAIN FROM SAYING ANYTHING ELSE. If you must say something else and if you believe the following words, you can say something like - I really pray/hope it happens, I believe you would make a great mother. Hearing that you know someone who waited five years and then got pregnant ... isn't helpful. Telling me that I need to change my diet ... isn't helpful (after trying for several years, believe me we have tried it). Telling me that if we adopt, we will probably have our own biological child soon after ... isn't helpful (And really? Did God tell you something you should tell me? Because I know plenty of people where that hasn't been the case). Well you get the point.

 

After two years, these comments don't hurt as much anymore. I have learned to just smile and move on. But I thought it might be helpful insight as I don't think I was aware of the hurt that could be inflicted by the small things we say in trying to fix a problem.

 

I am now much more vocal about our pregnancy struggle (hence making it even more public by writing this post). I figure that the more people who are praying for us the better. One of the most touching prayers I have heard about is from our almost two year old nephew Jonathan who prays uncle buck, auntie signe, baby, mamen. That just touches my heart.

 

It is still a roller coaster of course.  Some days are easier than others. But it has gotten easier in some ways. I remember early on when everyone who was married and of childbearing age at our church was pregnant or had just had a child during the same exact time we were supposed to be pregnant as well. Why were these people able to get pregnant when we weren't? Those were very dark months. Even though now that same question haunts me, I am able to still be sincerely happy for people who get pregnant (and please don't hesitate to tell us if you are - we want the chance to rejoice with you).

 

Getting pregnant and having a child is a miracle. One gift that I have been given if we are able to have our own children one day, is to understand much more intimately how much of a miracle it is. Not that I didn't know that before, but I feel like I now have a deeper understanding and appreciation of what an incredible miracle a child is.

 

I long for our own child. At the same time I am trusting. I am trusting in God's timing. He is all knowing. He knows more than we know. And there may be a reason we are not pregnant or may never get pregnant*. 

 

 

To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring. This is generally expressed with a sigh of sadness, but it should be an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. The Utmost for His Highest

 

I feel like I can rest in that this year. God has given me peace (not to be confused with happiness) about the situation. This is a time to trust and to be open to what God's plans are for our lives even if they are unexpected and difficult.

 

 

*I hope that you don't read this post as a cry for help or advice but rather something that I chose to share with you about my life. We have some idea of why we aren't getting pregnant. We don't mind sharing with you in person if you want to know. And I know me being sick isn't helping the situation, but note I haven't been sick for two years...

 



six eggs

 

Antony's birthday was this month. We were so blessed to see him again last year. I wrote about sponsoring Antony a while ago and now it is Michael's turn to reflect on how his first experience was meeting Antony....

By Michael, my wonderful husband

 

“How was your trip to Africa?” “Did it change you?” “What did you get out of it?” These were common questions last summer, having just returned from a mission trip to Kenya. And since I’m the pastor who not only attempted to lead the trip but who is also responsible for our church’s Global Initiatives, they are understandable questions.

But before I reflect, I have a confession to make: this was my first mission trip. As a very “churched” individual who is now a pastor, I somehow managed to avoid them. (I think I was the only kid in my youth group who missed out on the obligatory “Mexico mission trip.”)  And while I don’t think my avoidance was intentional, I do admit that over the years I’ve developed a subtle skepticism toward the traditional, short-term, over-seas mission trip. Instead of sending a team, I reasoned, why not donate the thousands of dollars you would have spent on plane tickets, food, lodging, etc. directly toward helping the impoverished people group you’re going to serve? Plus, who are we to think that we can ride into a culture-not-our-own and fix their problems? Doesn’t the very idea of a foreign mission trip smack of western arrogance? And what about the domestic mission God is calling each of us to live out in our own communities and neighborhoods every day? Poverty (both material and spiritual) is not solely a problem in developing countries but stateside as well, right? These are good questions, worth asking in any serious discussion regarding mission trips. However, as a former short-term-mission-trip skeptic, I’m now a believer.

This is not the place to write a comprehensive  reflection of our entire trip. So I won’t try. Instead, I’d like to introduce you to a timid, ten-ish-year-old Kenyan boy. At a young age, this boy lost both of his parents to HIV/AIDS and therefore lives with his twin brother, older sister, and grandmother. His name is Antony, and if I’ve talked to you about our trip, I’ve probably mentioned him. My incredible wife has been sponsoring Antony through Food for the Hungry for the better part of seven years and has even visited him during two of her previous three trips to Kenya. But now it was my turn.

After a dusty drive down a rocky road and a brief walk through a dirt field, we arrived at their property. A quick glance around revealed a perimeter of trees and brush, a rocky ground, and three or four shack-like buildings – each roughly the size of a toolshed. Our team was promptly greeted by Antony’s spunky grandmother who remembered my wife, Signe, very well. Overcome by emotion, with hands raised, she praised God, over and over again. Through a translator, she then expressed that she was worried Signe had forgotten about Antony since it had been so long since her last visit. Once Signe explained that she had gotten married, the spunky grandmother responded with words and a look of understanding. Peter, our translator, turned toward us, “She said, Oh, you’re starting a family?! I understand now.”

Peter then put his hand on Antony’s shoulder and brought him near to us. It was obvious he recognized Signe, but his quiet and subdued demeanor remained unbroken until we began to hand him our gifts – he cracked a small smile, but still no words. We had given him a frisbee, a notepad, some colored pencils, a pencil-sharpener, and a blanket. I wonder what he’s thinking, I asked myself. Is he excited? Nervous? Scared? Happy? Embarrassed? It was hard to tell, and I was almost a little frustrated that he wasn’t saying anything. My thoughts were interrupted when I suddenly realized he was gone. He was in front of us a second ago, but no more. Where did he go? I thought to myself, still wondering how he was feeling, still wishing he would say something. Suddenly, there he was again standing right in front of us. In his hand was a clear, plastic bag filled with six eggs, which he extended toward us. Then I understood. Antony didn’t need to say anything. In fact, words would have failed in this moment. This profound act of gratitude said it all. And it broke me.

It actually wasn’t until I was back at our guesthouse that this experience began to sink in – in the shower of all places. Those six eggs, which would have cost us less than two dollars at home, were probably his family’s meal for the following day. But that didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was demonstrating his gratitude by giving us this gift – a gift of tremendous value to him and his family. As I literally washed the dirt out of my hair and off of my face and arms, I realized that while I would go to bed clean, well-fed, and confident that my basic needs would be met the next day, Antony, his brother, and the hundreds of other children in the community would probably go to bed dirty, hungry, and unsure of tomorrow’s provisions. And that’s when I started crying. It was a moment of realization that I will unabashedly attribute to God. I didn’t hear an audible voice – I never have; but the ears of my heart heard it loud and clear. If I had to put it into words, it was as if God was saying, “Michael, this overwhelming sense of brokenness in your heart right now is called love. This is a gift from me and is only a tiny, tiny portion – only as much as you can handle – of the love that I feel for Antony and these children. Remember this.”

God loves the poor. He just does. And shame on me for forgetting that. Shame on me for complaining about stupid things that only a comfortable American would complain about (like there being nothing good on TV or a barista getting my drink order wrong). Shame on me for not loving the poor. And no, this is not a rhetorically savvy way of saying to whomever may be reading this, Shame on you! This is my journey and I pray I continue to be changed as I walk it.

So how was my trip to Africa? Good. Did it change me? Yes. What did I get out of it? Six eggs.

another year

 

I had a great birthday last week. I had a great day of free meals and hanging out with my husband and friends. I like birthdays ... sometimes though it can bum me out to think about my age and the dreams of what I thought I would have accomplished by the new age etc. But I thoroughly enjoyed this birthday. I am full of excitement and hope for what is to come. I have no idea what that means, but I look forward to seeing the new year unfold. Despite trying times of sickness and deep desires going unrealized (which I may write more about later),  I am also blessed. And I am thankful. I am so in awe of an awesome God who loves me. A God that is all knowing and is perfect in wisdom. My prayer for this year is contentment and joy despite circumstances. He is in control and I want to rest in that.

Here I come 2013 - full of anticipation for what the new year might hold.

 

can you say dusty?

No, we do not have awesome tans - this is dirt. Njuruta dirt to be exact. Njurta, Kenya is very windy and with that very dusty. Mix that with some rain (praise the Lord for rain!!!) and this is what you get. We realized how incredibly blessed we are on days like this. We were able to return to our guesthouse and take a shower. The people in Njuruta do not have this luxury. It really helps put things into perspective. It is good to take time and think about the blessings we have and realize how much we take for granted.

one year ago

One year ago today I took a pill that would change my life.

I still can't believe it has been a year. But then again I can. What a roller coaster.

Almost two months prior to this day I had been dealing with much sickness including reactions to some antibiotics, but I had no idea what I was in for. I had no idea that a year later I would still be dealing with the effect of those pills.

After taking the antibiotic for a couple of days I woke up feeling like I had shin splints. I continued to wake up feeling like I had run a marathon. The problem was - I hadn't. I hadn't even worked out in a month. I had no idea what was going on. Maybe I had worn the wrong shoes? I didn't want to overreact thinking maybe it was the antibiotics that had caused this. I felt like I had been such a complainer and that my doctors were probably tired of talking to me. Five days after I started taking the drug, and after my legs had gotten so weak I had trouble walking, I decided to call the doctor after reading the antibiotic could in very rare cases affect the tendons in your legs/feet/knees. I told the doctor that he didn't have to call me back if he felt like I was overreacting. Within an hour he called me back. He told me to come in right away. The pills had weakened my tendons and I had to stop taking them for fear my tendons would snap spontaneously. WHAT???? I was told that I should be better within a couple of weeks (going on 52 weeks right now, hmmmm.)

That night and the days to come I was unable to walk on my own. Michael had to carry me around. In the months to come I had to work alot from home since my legs could only handle driving a couple of times a week at best. I walked slower than an elderly woman in her 90s. If I had to walk more than a few yards I had to have assistance. WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO ME?

It goes without saying that after a couple of weeks I was not better - at all.  The doctor then hoped that within a couple of months I would be back to normal. Uhm no. After that I started going to a physical therapist for my feet. After six months of not bending my knees I also started going to physical therapy for my knees.

Without going into much detail, during this time I also got diagnosed with Interstitial Cystitis which was caused by my initial sickness that required the antibiotics in the first place. This also required many painful tests and treatments.

It felt like my body. was. shutting. down.

In the midst of this, as I reflected on my sickness in other posts (here, here, here, and here), I clung on to hope. If I had known the recovery would be so long, I am not sure what my state of mind would have been. Not knowing is sometimes better. I do have hope still. I know that it may take another year to get better (or longer), but in the big scheme of the rest of my life, a couple of years is better. I don't like thinking about having to deal with this for the rest of my life. I will reflect on that in a year if I am not better.

As I thought about the one year mark and writing a post, I wanted to reflect on how far I have come.  This seemed easier to do before last week. This has been a very tough and painful time. Probably the worst in the last eight months. I thought I had come further. I thought I was on the upswing. Nowadays, I have good days and bad days, but rarely absolutely horrible days where improvement is hard to find. I was so hopeful to report amazing progress. What does this all mean? I don't know. All I can do is plug along and hope and pray it gets better. The good thing is that I can walk again. I am thankful for that. I feel like I now have a good doctor that at least is trying to figure out what is going on with my body. So that is a praise. I have an amazing husband who has served me so well in the last year. I am thankful for that. God is in control. My life may end up looking different than I had anticipated. I may never be able to do what I used to do. But that is how life goes. We are not promised a life without sickness and trouble. All we can control is how we deal with it and how we go on living out our life with our limitations. My limitations are small compared to so many others in this world. And many of them have such an amazing outlook on life. This encourages me and pushes me to not get stuck on focusing on my limitations, but rather what I can do with my life within my limits.

I look forward to seeing what this next year has in store.

wordless wednesday

maybe it is better not to know

One year ago today, little did I know, was the beginning of a much longer sickness journey than I would have ever expected. After being sick over the weekend, I remember going to the doctor for an unrelated thing - simply to get a referral for my ocular migraines. I still wasn't feeling well, but didn't want to cancel the appointment. There had been a major car accident right by my doctor's office minutes before I arrived so I was forced to park a ways away and had to walk in the heat with a police escort to get to my doctor's office. I am not sure why I was so insistent on not rescheduling my doctor's appointment. I ended up passing out in the doctor's office and had to stay there for a couple of hours before I was allowed to drive home. Little did I know, this was only the beginning of a sickness journey I am still walking through. 

I often times just want to know. Just want to know how long I am going to be sick. When and IF I am going to recover. I often believe it would make it easier. To know. On the other hand I do think it is a blessing that we don't know what the future holds. If I would have been told a year ago that in a year I would still be dealing with sickness and it would get much much worse in the month to come, I am not sure that would have been beneficial to my hope and resilience to keep plugging along and working on getting better. Not knowing the future has given me hope. Without this hope I am not sure I would keep pressing on day after day, month after month. I keep thinking it will get better, it has to. 

relaxing

Sometimes all you need is to get away with no agenda, but to just relax and enjoy good company. I am not by nature good at relaxing, but this past week it came really natural to me. I had such a great visit with my parents and got some good Anders (and of course brother and sister-in-law) time in as well. I felt the week was good for my soul and my healing. What a wonderful gift of a week it was.

facetiming with my wonderful husband wishing he was there as well

I absolutely love this face. What a cutie:)

 

milling mondays: back to basics

 

Over the last couple of years, and especially since I have been sick, we have made an increased commitment to eat more natural and organic. Even if you try to eat healthy you are still faced with eating tons of unnatural additives if you don't pay careful attention and read the labels to see the actual ingredients or if you aren't aware of the dirty dozen organic fruit/vegetables etc. With that comes the frustration of trying to find genuinely good and nutritious food, especially if you are on a budget. This has given me to a desire to go back to basics. Going back to basics takes work, but I am confident that it will be worth it.

 

So that being said, I have decided to start milling my own grains to make flour once I get a mill. I know, it sounds c.r.a.z.y. After all we live in the United States, in a western country,  and not some village in Africa. I initially thought my parents were a little crazy when they started milling their own flour. I thought they were a little too health conscious. BUT the more I have learned, I can see the great benefits. Since the nutrients in the grains start breaking down as soon as the wheat berries get milled, there is really NOTHING nutritious left in breads made with regular store bought flour (even if it is whole wheat). If anything good was ever in the flour it will no longer be in there given the shelf life of flour. Pre-milled flour goes rancid within a short time. This means that in order to retain all the nutrients from the grains it is best to mill the flour and use it as you make the bread. This also gives full control of what goes into the flour - no bleaching, coloring etc. Preserving more of the nutrients in the grains in turn puts more of the nutrients in our bodies so we can reap the health benefits. 

SO in an effort to try to ensure we eat bread and other baked goods with all its nutrients, I am going to go back to basics even if it sounds a little crazy and begin milling my own flour. 

If you are crazy like me and live in the Phoenix area let me know because I am about to order 50 pound bags of grains and would love to split it with someone.