4th of july.

"if our country is worth dying for in time of war let us resolve that it is truly worth living for in time of peace." 

 --hamilton fish

mama said, they'll be weeks like this.

is your job hard? they ask. yes, but i love my job. but... there are weeks that are harder than others. much, much harder. 

we lost patients last week; quickly and somewhat unexpectedly (faster than we thought-- though our time is not god's time). i had spent 2 fridays ago (the week before one death) with the patient's wife, explaining to her that a bone scan, after a simple ankle fracture, had shown cancer throughout her husband's entire body. she was in shock, and went into immediate denial, saying he needed to get up! walk! get physical therapy! and he would be ok! he has to be ok! ...she was hysterical. in her bathroom, i sadly explained to her that he could no longer get up. it was safer he stay in bed, but that we would care for him, and for her. he died early last week. 

the same morning, i heard of the death of another patient that i had not received any word that he was "close" to death. this puzzled me. something wasn't right. the man was very careful about his care and medications; and, at my assessments, voiced that he was accepting of his prognosis until his time was done. when our nurse arrived at his home, there he was; there was a syringe; an empty bottle of morphine; and there was a note. at least 5 professionals, including myself, trained in risks and warnings, and experienced in all that entails never. saw. it. coming. i lost it. i screamed at myself I should have seen something. this is my job. this is not the first time i have been the last to see someone alive before such a tragedy, but it never, ever gets easier. it never becomes ok. it's never really understandable. just as natural death never gets easier. i consoled myself that my assessments and the paperwork were all right and consistent, and there were no signs. 

but beyond the paperwork, i thought, what was going on in this man's mind? was this his intention all along and we just were just pawns or enablers? what was his inner struggle that he couldn't wait to let go in the end? where did he place his hope? did he even have hope? what were his last thoughts when he woke up that morning? could anyone (on earth) have saved him? 

he had an inner battle raging that no one could understand. 

needless to say, i have fallen to my knees about this a lot recently. lord, this is more than i know what to do with my earthly knowledge, but i know you are in control. be with me and these souls that i watch leave this world. give me the knowledge, the insight, the compassion, the love. 

the words, of "unredeemed" have spoken to my heart recently. i love selah, by the way. a "life that gave up hope..." followed by the chorus of "life breaks and falls apart, but we know these are places where grace is soon to be so amazing. it may be unfulfilled. it may be unrestored. but when anything that's shattered is laid before the lord, just watch and see,  it will not be unredeemed." speechless.

happy thursday.

my nieces, elisa (4) and charlotte (2)
...but not for long, their birthdays are in august!

how can these faces not help you through to friday!?

xoxo glutie: mexican corn cakes.

oh hello, gluties, how i've missed you! i am still gluten, soy, and dairy free... going on 4 years. wow. i read an article recently from the GFG blog (one of my favorites) about how close we are to a celiac vaccine, and in our lifetime, may be able to eat gluten again. she, me and the article question: if you could eat gluten again, would you? i thought about it. about that awful feeling i get when i accidentally ingest gluten. the sickness. the hives. the vomit (sorry). the three day recovery. i don't want that. if a medicine could keep me from feeling that way... maybe. but again, after 4 years, i doubt i even have a taste for gluten anymore. before i had my celiac biopsy about 2 years ago, the doctor had me eat a lot of gluten and other allergens for 2 weeks before the test so that he could see the effects on my intestines. really. fun. test. ugh, i hated every thing. seriously. no real food tasted good at all. my answer to the constant question, "what food do you miss the most?" remains... nothing, truly. 


nevertheless, one of my favorite food groups, next to gf pasta, remains, mexican. i enjoy making my own mexican food because it never fails that i feel awful after eating at mexican restaurants (gluten? or margaritas??), but i also just like making mexican food. as does my husband enjoys eating it. the other night, i combined a slow-cooker recipe with a mexican "comfort food" recipe, and i present to you... mexican corn cakes! ole!


mexican stew in slow-cooker:


3-4 chicken breasts
1 jar of gf tomatillo green salsa
1 package of frozen peppers and onions (kroger's is awesome-- 3 peppers included)
1 can of corn
1 can of white beans or garbanzo beans (or your preference)
cumin
paprika
salt
pepper
garlic
lime juice
dash of cinnamon
coriander
oregano
thyme


incubate on low for 4-5 hours. stir occasionally, breaking up chicken as it cooks. 


corn cakes (like a pancake but with corn)
adapted from gluten free mommy recipe


2 cups yellow cornmeal, medium grain
1/2 cup brown rice flour
1 tablespoon sugar (more if you prefer sweeter corn cakes)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups lite coconut milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 large egg

heat oven to 200 degrees to keep corn cakes warm. 

in a large bowl, combine the cornmeal, rice flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. in a medium bowl, beat the coconut milk, water, oil and egg with a fork until blended. add to the cornmeal mixture and mix until lumps are gone.

spray griddle with non-stickness, and heat over medium heat. for each corn cake, the recipe recommends pouring about a 1/4 cup of the batter onto the griddle. i made my corn cakes slightly larger. cook for 2 to 3 minutes on each side, until brown. keep corn cakes warm in the oven.

plate 1 to 2 corn cakes with a ladle or so of mexican stew drooling over top. top with gf, soy free, cheese, and gf sour cream, if desired. think about it like a.... mexican biscuits and gravy!

what do i know?

i have a friend who just turned eighty-eight, 

and she just shared with me that she's afraid of dying. 

i sit here years from her experience and try to bring her comfort. 

i try to bring her comfort, 

but what do I know? 

what do i know?

she grew up singing about the glory land, 

and she would testify how jesus changed her life. 

it was easy to have faith when she was thirty-four, 

but now her friends are dying, and death is at her door.

 oh, and what do i know? really, what do i know?

 i don't know that there are harps in heaven, 

or the process for earning your wings. 

i don't know of bright lights at the ends of tunnels, 

or any of those things. 

she lost her husband after sixty years, 

and as he slipped away she still had things to say. 

death can be so inconvenient. 

you try to live and love. 

it comes and interrupts. 

and what do i know? 

what do i know? 

 i know to be absent from this body is to be present with the lord, 

and from what i know of him, that must be pretty good...

song by sara groves.

late 20's angst.

being in my "late 20's" in the roaring 20's seems much, much more fabulous. i mean, look at her. the hat. the pearls. the sultry look of a chic bad ass. the lace. the lips. it all looks so... fabulous. me, i do not feel fabulous in my "late 20's." i don't know why, but i just don't. i feel my body changing, redistributing, tireding. i think to myself, i just don't want to get old. i want to be 20. and fabulous. forever. 

juxtaposed to my brother. this is him on his 32nd birthday, riding around on his bike, in a "crown" made by my nieces, his sweet, loving daughters. he hasn't gotten "old" yet, obviously. i mean, he still plays video games, farts a lot, and thinks star wars is the greatest anything ever created. this is why i love him. 

 

it's no "roaring 20's fabulousness," but it's real and it's fun and it's surely not OLD.