We love Naan. We enjoy it with hummus as a snack. The base for creating our own personal pizzas. With a spicy dish. Anything. Its just that good. It is a little pricy normally and getting harder to find in the stores so I thought I'd try and make it at home. I was cautiously optimistic and it ended up turning out well. Naan feels like comfort and transports me right back to a meal we had in disney a few years ago at Saana. Enjoy!


My favorite coffee creamers are also getting harder to find in stock. I love creme brûlée anything and the flavor in coffee tastes almost as decadent as the real dessert. So here's an at home version minus all of the preserving chemicals. I used real whole milk products for mine.




Sports drinks can also be expensive and getting increasingly harder to find. I've been making this recipe for about 4 years now after my chiropractor suggested that I try it in an effort to and rehydrate the cushioning between my spinal vertebrate. Now we use it for so much more including when we're sick or just in need of some extra hydration.




My girls are popsicle junkies! But again-- getting hard to find at times. These provide popsicles for them and immune boosting ingredients to make me feel good about their little bodies. I eased up on the ginger just a tiny bit for their palette but I still throw some in there because of the benefits. I've made it with fresh ginger and with ground-- both work well. I also bought my popsicle mold on amazon a few years ago. They are easy to find online and there are many mold options. We have the classic style 8 popsicle mold and get our popsicle sticks from the dollar store in the craft section.

Do you think that a text message can change a person’s life? Do you believe that the two-second chime that your phone makes with an incoming message can change the entire course of your life? I do because it happened to me. A seemingly random chain of events, sent straight from the Lord above, closed the door I was already halfway through and opened up my world up to something so much bigger. That text message, innocent and light-hearted, turned my perfectly round world upside down and straight on its head. Just seven small words. That was all. Signed. Sealed. Delivered. Strange right? Life can be that way sometimes. Strange and wonderful all rolled into one much deserving package.

When my sophomore English teacher passed out a blank piece of paper 18 years ago and asked our class to write where we could picture ourselves in ten years— I did not, on that blank piece of paper describe this picture. A farmer’s wife. A stay at home mom. I never dreamed of becoming one, it was never on my radar.  That girl was going to live in a city somewhere. She was going to wear fashionable clothing. She was going to go to brunch, lunch, and dinner with friends and socialize over fancy cocktails. She girl was going to collect material processions. She was going to be accomplished in her career. She was going to set the world on fire. She questioned the religion that she was raised on and she cared too much about what others' opinions were of herself. That girl had so much to learn about what really matters in life.

Thankfully that text message was delivered to my phone at just the right time. A lot of people over the years have told me they think that I'm the best thing that ever happened to my husband but that's because my struggles where much quieter. They where of a personal, spiritual nature. I saved him from a rambling lifestyle and he grounded me from the clouds and living an unfulfilling life of comparison.

You may find yourself in a comfortable place currently or maybe at a crossroads in life, so my hope is that as you follow along you may be able to relate to something I have to say. Maybe you have recently found yourself on a path that you hadn’t quite expected, not bad, just unexpected. It’s okay to be unsure. It’s okay to be afraid to jump in headfirst and leave what you thought you wanted behind. It’s also okay to let change happen, to shut the door you desperately want to walk through even though you know deep down that you need to close it. It’s okay to say yes. It’s okay to say no. It's ok to be still and listen for the answers. It’s even okay to let a text message change your life.

Not one day is the same, not one moment is the same. You can’t hold yourself to other standards. Not one person is made from the same mold. Your individuality makes you unique. The gifts you have been given are for a purpose and make you a blessing to others. You can’t live your life inside a false picture of reality. You have to wake up, plant your feet on the ground, thank Him for the mercy of another day and tell yourself “No one owes me anything today.” You already have everything you need. Your life, your sins, your future in the kingdom of heaven has already been bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus.

So, friends, I pray that if you feel moved to join me on this journey, as I navigate life as a wife, mother, daughter, and friend- that maybe we can help each other learn and grow on this voyage called life. Walk with me as I learn to navigate, embrace and overcome fear, anxiety and panic attacks. Rejoice with me as I continue to learn how to welcome the living water into these dry bones.

This is my story. Or more like a new chapter in my story.

It’s natural for me to write about moments, events, special occasions. It feels normal for me to construct tributes that evoke emotions and depict everyday life in a storytelling manner. Words give my heart flight. They allow me to paint pictures and trigger emotions. Words have the power to breathe life into someone else’s soul while also having the power to destroy. They create community, give acceptance and have been one of my outlets over the past five years.

But, recently, the road I’ve been walking hasn’t been something that I thought I could bring myself to share. What would people think of me? What if they knew I didn’t have it all together? What if this? What if that? It wasn’t until a few people around me started urging me to take pen to paper and let others see inside. Encouraging me to show what hides beneath my skin. Because the road I’ve been walking isn’t one that I walk alone and others may resonate with my experience. It's not easy to crack open your heart and show it to the others.

Anxiety.

Panic attacks.

I never thought these words would be a part of my story. To me, anxiety was always something that somebody else dealt with. In my mind, I was too strong for anything like that to take hold of me. I’m strong, is what I would tell myself when I would hear someone else story. But I’m not. Not even a little bit. Because the enemy walked right into my life. He tried the front door, saw it was ajar, walked right in and made himself at home. For three months he tried to destroy and conquer. And after many trips to the emergency room certain I was having a heart attack, I finally received my wake up call. God was interrupting my life, the man upstairs was trying to get my attention. I learned the hard way that I couldn’t fight the enemy alone, but with Him at the reins, I could.

Because you are capable of doing something. Because you can do anything, it doesn’t mean you have to do everything. Read that again. That was me. I thought I had to do everything. Be everything. Perfect mom. Perfect wife. Perfect daughter. Perfect friend. Perfect homemaker. Perfect persona. Perfect perception. But, who was asking this of me? My kids? My husband? Strangers? Loved ones? God? No one. No one was asking this of myself but me. My girls don’t care if I’m put together and poised— they love me messy, they love me however they can get me. My husband doesn’t care if I’m Martha Stewart, he likes that I can cook but he never expects more than what I set on the table. If I was too tired and served hot dogs and Mac and Cheese every night he would still tell me that dinner was great.

So while I’m running around trying to be everything I missed the signs of anxiousness settling into my life. I wasn’t paying attention and fear crept into my subconscious. I became sidetracked and worry took over my thought process. As a mom, worry is natural. The bible says we're not supposed to worry, but we do. Even so— what if something happens to me? What if my kids are fine but I’m not... Who prepares you for that seed of doubt, for when it’s planted it takes off like meadow tea in the summertime. In what book do they talk about that kind of worry?

I remember, now, the exact moment the wheels came off this bus. I was monitoring myself at home for high blood pressure. They noticed it on the higher side at some various appointments after having our third baby. I was getting close to suffering a week-long headache. I’ve never been one to suffer headaches. I was on day 7 and it definitely did not feel normal. I called the family doctor that I rarely ever see to schedule an appointment. Before leaving I decided to check my blood pressure. I saw it was in the 160s over 90s- so naturally, I take it again and it rises to 180s over 100s. The next thing I knew my throat is closing, my body is shaking, my heart rate racing higher and higher. I felt like I’m going to pass out. I later came to find out that this was my very first panic attack. Over the next few weeks, I’m in and out of doctors' offices. I’m in the emergency room more times than I can count. With time I had all the tests. A full cardiac workup after an irregular EKG because of PVCs. An MRI of my brain because of the headaches, countless tubes of blood, and an overnight stay. Everything kept coming back normal. I became obsessed with finding answers to my questions. I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t drinking. I wasn’t sleeping. I was to the point of thinking that if I closed my eyes and went to sleep that my heart was going to stop and my husband was going to wake up next to me cold in our bed. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I shook that man awake in the middle of the night begging him to take me to the hospital because I thought something wasn’t right— I would wake up, unable to breathe, my heart wouldn’t stop racing, and everything was numb and tingling including my lips and face. He is a good man. He didn’t brush me off. He sat there, his eyes heavy with sleep holding me, rubbing my back and telling me that I was fine. I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t drive. I didn’t pick my daughter up from kindergarten. I spent my minutes, my seconds scared. I would over-analyze every single feeling. I was googling symptoms, thinking I had a blood clot, preparing myself to have a heart attack or stroke.

What pulled me out?
God.
My husband.
My kids.
My family.
My friends.
My community.
Prayers.
Medication.
My faith.

There was a moment when I realized that I needed to start taking control of my situation. I needed to give it up and give it to God. I needed to rest in his comfort and believe that he had a plan for me. His will would be done and I had no choice but to cast away the feelings of anxiety and fear. It didn’t own me. Fear isn’t who I am. Worry had no place in my heart and home. And then, after weeks of me tormenting myself, my husband asked me to consider trying a medicine that the doctors had suggested. I said no. I told him I was strong enough to do it on my own and I didn’t need ‘pills’ to do it for me. If I said yes then I would feel like a failure. But— one night I saw how exhausted he was. For a man that works so much it was the first time, I’d seen him have dark circles under his eyes. Eyes that were filled with worry. My kids would get nervous when I would get dressed or put on my shoes. They had gotten used to me leaving the house for the hospital.

One morning I took a good long look in the mirror and told myself I need to help me so I could help them. They didn’t need me perfect, they needed me healthy. So I agreed to a low dose of Zoloft. It took everything I had to stand at the counter and fill that prescription, I had to strip away all pride but I did it. I did it for me and I did it for them. And, guys, it gave me my life back. It took off that edge of anxiousness, it helped me wrestle with the enemy. It gave me the strength to join up with God and march into battle. And let me tell you, every morning I put on my suit of amour— most days I conquer and others are harder. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that even writing this wasn’t giving me some anxious feelings. But that’s the thing, I can recognize it now. I can see the signs. I can pull myself back and say ‘hold on, don’t go down that rabbit hole'. I can pray and find peace in scripture. I’m starting to pay attention to my newfound triggers. I’m healing.

Even still, a few weeks into starting medication and working on my fears I still felt ashamed that needed something to help me. It wasn’t until I shared a short but compassionate conversation with a family member, who happens to be a doctor that I started to change my mind. As we were talking about my journey and my healing—I leaned in a said in a low voice so no one could overhear me “I did start taking a low dose of Zoloft.” I'm certain they could feel the words laced with embarrassment, dripping with disappointment in myself. Because they replied “There’s nothing wrong with that. If you’re diabetic, you take insulin. If you can’t see, you get glasses. If you have asthma, you use an inhaler. There is no difference. So right now, your brain just needs a bit more serotonin than it’s making on its own right now. If it’s allowing you to sleep at night. Function during the day and have healthy interactions with your family then there is no shame in it.” I had never thought about it. I’m almost certain that God put this person in front of me at the right moment. It gave me peace. It stopped me from feeling like a failure.

While there were some truly scary moments there have also been so many blessings from the darkest moments. Connections with people I’ve never had connections with before. A level of spirituality that I hadn’t quite tapped into at that point. A kinship with other sufferers. More focus on prayer and the sheer power of it. My kids have seen me weak, on my knees and strong, fighting back. My husband helped to lead me through the fire and never released his grip on my hand. A community of people prayed for me. A few friends in the medical field that answered all my questions with love, grace, and practicality. Text messages chiming on my phone at just the right moment. Songs playing on the radio at just the right time.

He brought me to it and helped me walk through it.

If you’ve ever experienced this you’re not alone. If you’ve ever had to take medicine to get better you’re not alone. Anxiety can happen to anyone at any time. Panic attacks can come out of nowhere. You’re not weak. Do not feel ashamed.

This was my rescue story. My redemption chapter is in the making. God is our author, he holds the pen of life, he’s written the pages and he’s prepared to reveal them in his time. I’m learning to trust, learning to rest in his comfort and love.