passage

a blog without pictures, by c l beyer

owlhaven’s ethiopian feeding party 27.June.2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — clbeyer @ 4:06 pm

Ever since I heard of Ethiopia’s food crisis, I have wanted to help in some tangible way, and actually get food into the bellies of those who are malnourished.  I don’t know if you’re like me, but I have some suspicion of how much money given to large, government organizations actually goes to the people in need.

Yesterday, Mary at Owlhaven decided to help raise funds to feed some of the poorest people in Ethiopia.  Owlhaven is not an organization.  Instead, Mary is a mom of 10 children, some of whom have been adopted from Ethiopia.  Her sister is currently working in Ethiopia at a hospital.  In a recent blanket drive, Mary’s blog readers donated enough money to buy a washing machine for the hospital, along with hundreds of blankets to wrap new babies.  There was such a good response that additional money helped a doctor from Ethiopia continue her feeding program.

Food prices in Ethiopia are soaring right now.  In US dollars, prices are similar to those in the United States, yet an average Ethiopian worker may only make $1.50 per day.  It’s not hard to imagine how that puts many Ethiopians in desperate circumstances.

I know asking for money is bold, especially through a blogger you’ve never met.  Scan Mary’s blog for yourself — read her sister’s Ethiopia updates, see a picture of Dr. Mary (to whom your money will go).  I believe in the cause enough that I wanted to do as much as I could.

If you are interested in helping out, visit Owlhaven for instructions on how to give through Paypal and to see how the drive is doing so far.  The drive only lasts through this evening (Friday).

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

 

waffling: what should we eat? 25.June.2008

Filed under: family, food and eating well, prayer, social justice, sustainable living — clbeyer @ 3:46 pm

Questions and Turmoil

Did I just say yesterday that I was eating raw again?  Was it really just yesterday?  Well, my mind is spinning with questions now.  I never thought I would be in turmoil about the food I eat.  I never thought it could be a spiritual issue.

I am constantly astounded by how little humans are able to understand.  A thinking, soulful, researching species — and yet we can’t get a grasp on the perfect way to live, specifically the perfect way to eat!  God has included so many minute details in His creation, and even the digestion and functioning of our bodies are still mysterious even though we use the functions constantly.  Perhaps our ignorance, our trying and failing are enough to remind us that we are in a fallen world.

Is striving for perfection in diet worth the effort?  If sickness and death are unavoidable, we could just throw in the towel, eat a Big Mac and be done with it.  But if you’re a steward of your body and the earth like I am, you do the best you can.  You realize that if you are going to do all things as unto God, you must eat unto God.  And that’s how praying about my food (beyond “Thanks, God, for this meal.”) has become a new habit in my life.

I have prayed over too many meals, knowing I made a poor food choice, when I simply could not put my heart into the prayer.  “Bless this food, Lord.  Help it to nourish…  But how?  Huh.  Uh, bless it anyway.  Thanks… I guess.  Amen.”  But now I find myself pleading that I will make the right food choices — ones that will honor God.  At the same time, I never want to lose my thankfulness for a bowl of rice and beans.  I don’t want to go to Ethiopia and shun the food because it will wreak havoc with my raw vegan stomach.  I don’t want to become so stringent in my food choices that I cannot enjoy a meal with family, a meal with friends. 

Do you see my struggle?  Are balance and contentment possible?

 

Eating Raw: Have I Been Duped?

Brooke at the blog. is trying to eat raw this week, and I praised her for embracing such a healthful diet.  In starting my own raw diet, I had dismissed the counter-arguments to raw foodism on Wikipedia because I found the arguments for eating raw so much more compelling.  But Dan commented on Brooke’s post:

“Most of the claims [for the benefits of a raw diet] confuse me! Enzymes get destroyed by all the acid and proteases in the stomach, and so partially destroying them through cooking should actually aid in digestion. And I don’t see any way that uncooked food would cleanse the bloodstream or eliminate toxins. Have you heard how any of these things are suppose to work? I’ve heard a lot about ‘raw foods’ but none of the claims seem to make sense.”

Hmmm.  I sense that I am a person easily persuaded.  And I thank Dan for reminding me of that.  I don’t understand his digestive jargon either, but he at least convinced me to do more research.

 

Nourishing the Body

In the article “Myths and Truths about Vegetarianism,”  Dr. Stephen Byrnes discusses many claims made by vegetarians.  He argues that many of the studies done on vegetarian groups, in which health was linked to the absence of meat in diets, did not take all factors into account.  For instance, while Seventh Day Adventists may have fewer cases of cancer and simultaneously eat only vegetarian foods, they also do not smoke, a lifestyle choice that may have more far-reaching effects than the decision to eat meat or no meat.

While Byrnes’s discussions are not necessarily addressing a specifically raw diet, he helped me appreciate a more moderate view of eating.  Tom Billings’s comparison of the idealism and realism behind a raw diet hardly seems like a well-researched approach to the issue, but it did make me see my own gullibility.  I went to bed last night, totally overwhelmed with the conflicting information but still wanting to nourish my body in a way that glorifies God.

I am in no way saying my raw diet or anyone else’s raw diet isn’t wonderfully good for their health, but it is not a cure for all ills.  I have enjoyed the benefits of eating raw.  My energy levels have caused me to enjoy my life so much more.  But I am also concerned about being underweight.  I have already lost so much weight since my pregnancy that I can take off a couple pairs of my pants without even unbuttoning them.  And when I stray from the diet, the effects of fatigue can be disheartening, drenching me with guilt.

The main thrust of Byrnes’s article, which I will explore in more detail, is that meat and animal products provide specific nutrients like DHA, protein, and Vitamins A, B12, and D, that cannot be easily absorbed and effectively used by the body when eating only a plant-based diet.  Instead of blaming the beef and butter for our chronically diseased society, Byrnes says that “what has…risen precipitously [in the last few decades] is consumption of margarine and other food products containing trans-fatty acids, lifeless, packaged ‘foods’, processed vegetable oils, carbohydrates and refined sugar.”

 

The Morality of Meat

Byrnes further argues that if abstaining from meat-eating is strictly an environmental, land-use issue, one should take into account the benefits that organic animal waste has on the land.  If animals are farmed on pasture that is not prime cropland, it can easily be considered a wise use of the earth’s space.

Byrnes does not condone senselessly gorging on meat, but instead brings to mind the Native American attitude toward killing animals:

“When Native Americans killed a game animal for food, they would routinely offer a prayer of thanks to the animal’s spirit for giving its life so that they could live. In our world, life feeds off life. Destruction is always balanced with generation. This is a good thing: unchecked, the life force becomes cancerous. If animal food consumption is viewed in this manner, it is hardly murder, but sacrifice. Modern peoples would do well to remember this.”

And then I think to myself: raw veganism sounds like such a pure, perfect diet, but even Jesus — perfect Jesus — ate fish.

 

A Beautiful Balance

The argument that intrigues me most is this:

“[C]ommercial farming of livestock results in an unhealthy food product, whether that product be meat, milk, butter, cream or eggs. Our ancestors did not consume such substandard foodstuffs, and neither should we.

“It is possible to raise animals humanely. This is why organic, preferably Biodynamic, farming is to be encouraged: it is cleaner and more efficient, and produces healthier animals and foodstuffs from those animals. Each person should make every effort, then, to purchase organically raised livestock (and plant foods). Not only does this better support our bodies, as organic foods are more nutrient-dense and are free from hormone and pesticide residues, but this also supports smaller farms and is therefore better for the economy.”

So, is it really that easy?  Or should I say, does it have to be that hard?  Was Barbara Kingsolver right on track in her quest to eat locally for a year (please read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life)?

It seems that the food issue — what should we eat? — comes down to our care of God’s creation, both our own bodies and the land.  Has our laziness been the catalyst of our health problems?  We depend on food in the grocery stores, and think little about where it has come from, or how early it has been picked from the tree.  In so doing, we depend on transportation to get the food to the store, and we exchange nutritional value for convenience.  Speaking of convenience, so-called convenience foods are often highly processed; if we gave them up, how many nutrients would we gain?

What Byrnes is calling for is not the end of vegetarianism (as he says, “there is no one diet that will work for every person”) but a diet of living, whole, local, and organic foods.  For me, I think that means I can continue to eat yogurt and eggs without guilt.  Although I have been avoiding meat for most meals, I can include them if I trust their source.  But I also think I can include lots and lots of fresh, organic fruits and vegetables.  (But maybe I can decrease my consumption of my beloved bananas, shipped all the way from Guatemala.)  I have felt the impact of raw produce enough that I believe it should not be a mere supplement to meat. 

But I think it’s safe to say I’m not a raw vegan, or even a raw foodist anymore.  For now, I’d like to be known as a whole foodist, a local-as-often-as-possible foodist, an organic foodist, a grateful foodist.

 

The Price of Beauty

However, I don’t think I have to explain how 100% nourishing food would break our budget right now.  I dearly love my local farmer’s market, but it comes with a hefty price tag.

Is the only other option to do the work ourselves, to either become a farmer, or to start a first-hand relationship with one?  Community-supported agriculture requires the people who eat the produce to help with weeding and picking, to get their hands dirty.  To put an end to chemically-treated vegetables and factory-farmed meat means we have to stop supporting those industries.  Maybe that means adjusting our budgets to include the best food; maybe it means growing our own gardens and raising our own animals.  We must start a movement to get things to changed if we really want healthier food options for future generations.  And if that means breaking a sweat, if it means getting our hands dirty, I hope you’ll agree that it’s worth it.

But in the end, it’s still a journey.  We still ask questions, repent of our past, seeking contentment and displaying gratitude with every bite we eat.

 

on motherhood and joy 24.June.2008

Filed under: family, food and eating well, international adoption, motherhood — clbeyer @ 12:40 pm

I long for the moment when we are matched with our adoptive child, and the day when we bring our Ethiopian baby home to be part of our family.  I anticipate both great pain and unbounded joy in our relationship with our next child.  Motherhood calls me, and I yearn for it.

And then, someday, after our adoption is complete, I hope to be pregnant again.  I know the deep and full emotions that pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding create within me, and I desire those luxurious gifts at least one more time.

I read Crunchy Domestic Goddess’s home birth story yesterday.  Her story challenges me to consider home birthing if I experience pregnancy again.  There is a new and controversial documentary produced by Ricki Lake called The Business of Being Born.  (If you happen to have a Netflix subscription, you can watch the movie instantly online.)  After watching the movie a couple months ago, I realized for the first time (though I’m ashamed to admit my ignorance), that home birthing is actually a safe and beautiful birthing option for women.  I imagine a quiet and darkened room with the people I love and trust.  I have no fear of hospitals or doctors, but if I can deliver a baby at home with the expert and caring coaching of an experienced midwife and perhaps My Sister the Doula, maybe my next childbirth experience can be seen more as a celebration of life than as a medical emergency.

Oh, I have so much to look forward to!  In recent months, I find God teaching me to be a thankful person.  I am in awe of how He has fashioned me as a woman and as a mother.

I came across Psalm 139 again last week, and it causes me to exult in the love God has for humankind:

“For you created my inmost being;
You knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!

(Psalm 139.13-17, NIV)

When I am thankful, and at peace in my heart, I can live with purpose as a mother.  The anger that bares its fierce head when Isaiah tries my patience can melt more quickly; I don’t have to be a slave to it.

And when I am thankful, each of my actions seems to be an exercise of devotion — even writing, even eating.  After a rough week of eating some unhealthy foods, I am returning to my diet of whole and raw foods, this time with more concentration on fruits.  Aren’t fruits just delightful?  I wonder what this diet will mean for my future if I would get pregnant, but I imagine I will have plenty of time to do research on how to best nourish my baby.

I anticipate years of time to learn the beauties of life as a mother.  But if something happens, if it were all taken away, I truly believe that this brief season of watching life grow — and being an instrument of that growth — has been enough of a gift for me to be eternally thankful.

 

isaiah: love 23.June.2008

Filed under: motherhood, prayer — clbeyer @ 10:25 pm

His soft, sweaty flesh is pasted across my arms as we huddle in the dark corner of his room.  I’m not supposed to rock him to sleep anymore, am I?

In the daytime, he ambles over to kiss me (or lick me, if he’s feeling ornery).  He points a dirty fingernail at my forehead and says “eyebrow” for the very first time.  With puzzle pieces strewn over the carpet, I watch my boy (my boy!  I have a little boy!), and I keep being amazed.  He learns and he dances and he says words and gives hugs, and yes, he throws tantrums, too.

And then at nighttime, with his blankets up against his sticky cheeks, he falls asleep.  I kiss his head and tell him I love him one more time.  I pray for him to love God and love people and to develop patience and courage and wisdom.  And I shut the door, and he goes to sleep.

Well, except for tonight, when he had a little trouble settling down.  So many times, I have made him cry out his problems, not knowing if it was loneliness or fear or desire for just another ounce of milk that made him so unsettled.  He wasn’t sick tonight or in a strange place, but I went in to him anyway.  I held him against my breasts and watched his eyes close as his breathing became heavy.  His body is longer than it used to be.  He will not always be my little baby.

For now, I will touch each moment with a lingering hand.

 

wow 17.June.2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — clbeyer @ 2:10 pm

As I was blogging this afternoon, I received an email from my dear friends at Citi.  The subject reads: “Go on vacation with a CitiFinancial Loan.”

What a great idea.

 

release 17.June.2008

Filed under: family, homemaking, marriage, motherhood, social justice — clbeyer @ 1:59 pm

“The world cannot afford the American dream.” -Shane Claiborne, author of The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical

Today a woman named Lauren took a heavy crystal bowl off my front porch.  She left three pairs of shorts for Isaiah.  It was sheer Freecycling joy.  I didn’t know if I should give away my bowl.  It was a wedding present from my cousin, after all.  But then, I can’t remember using it… ever.  I tried to sell it on a couple garage sales, but there were no takers.

On Thursday, the Salvation Army truck will pull up to our house and take a box full of clothes.  I hope they go to people who will wear them, people who need them more than I do.  I want to tell you how few clothes hang in my closet now, but I still ask myself if there are too many when I read what John the Baptist said: “He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise” (Luke 3.11).  I have more than two coats.  I have at least five.

So I let my bowl go.  I let go of a lamp and a pair of shoes.  I let go of some dressy skirts.  I like the skirts, but I have other dressy things to wear.  I wonder to myself if I can go one year without buying clothes for myself.  I wonder if I would have the courage to wear my clothes until they wear out.  I want to learn to value the things I own.

Over the weekend, Isaiah broke my glasses.  I left them on the coffee table, and he brought them to me in two pieces, saying “da-tsuss?”  The look on his face said, “Uhh… what happened?”  I know normal American people go to get new glasses when old ones break.  And I probably will, too, because my husband thinks I should.  But my vision isn’t seriously impaired; it’s only a mild astigmatism.  I squint at the computer screen, and I can’t read faraway signs in the grocery store.  But I can get by.

I ask myself if my trying to get by with less brings glory to God, if that’s what He had in mind for our generation of Christ-followers.  I can prove to the world any day that I can survive without frivolities, but God didn’t ask me to gloat in simple living.  A thankful rich person may know God better than a proud pauper.

As I sorted through our clothes yesterday, I kept finding worn-out jeans — holes in the knees, a seat of the pants worn too thin.  Kyle’s grandma used to make quilts for her grandsons from the fabric of old jeans.  So I cut up the pants, hoping to do the same.  We have Kyle’s denim quilt already, but I told myself it would be nice to have one that fits the bed better.  We could decorate Isaiah’s room with cowboy decorations; it’d be swell.  There are moments I just want to be normal again, when I wish I could just stop worrying about whether I’m doing the right thing by the rest of the world.  But then I asked myself if I ought to make the quilt for someone else — maybe for the children benefited by Project Linus.  We have a quilt already, after all.  And if anyone has two quilts…

My pile of fabric taunts me from the top of the piano.

 

“subdivision” 17.June.2008

Filed under: poetry, politics, social justice — clbeyer @ 1:02 pm

 

Subdivision

a song by Ani DiFranco

 

White people are so scared of black people.
They bulldoze out to the country,
And put up houses on little loop-de-loop streets.
And while America gets its heart cut right out of its chest,
The Berlin Wall still runs down Main Street,
Separating east side from west.
And nothing is stirring, not even a mouse
In the boarded-up stores and the broken-down houses.
So they hang colorful banners off all the street lamps
Just to prove they got no manners,
No mercy, and no sense.

And I’m wondering what it will take
For my city to rise.
First we admit our mistakes,
Then we open our eyes.

The ghosts of old buildings are haunting parking lots
In the city of good neighbors that history forgot.

I remember the first time I saw someone
Lying on the cold street.
I thought, “I can’t just walk past here;
This can’t just be true.”
But I learned by example
To just keep moving my feet.
It’s amazing the things that we all learn to do.

So we’re led by denial like lambs to the slaughter,
Serving empires of style and carbonated sugar water.
And the old farm road’s a four-lane that leads to the mall,
And our dreams are all guillotines waiting to fall.

I’m wondering what it will take
For my country to rise.
First we admit our mistakes,
And then we open our eyes.
Or nature succumbs to one last dumb decision,
And America the beautiful
Is just one big subdivision.

 

and who is my neighbor? 16.June.2008

Filed under: church, family, missions and outreach — clbeyer @ 3:22 pm

I walk the streets outside my house.  They are dotted with strangers in cars.  The front doors of houses are usually silent and closed, window blinds drawn.  But the lawns are lush and green, telling me that there is life.  There must be.

Outside my window, in the vast expanse of my suburb, families live.  I live inside my house for more hours of the day than I live anywhere else.  And only yards away, living in their house, is another family I have never met.   

When we moved into the neighborhood, I baked extra Christmas goodies and hand-delivered them to the four houses adjacent to ours.  This was something I had wanted to do for years,  and I finally mustered up the courage.  My neighbors surprised me by not being scary, by not having a hood over their eyes, with a cold, lifeless hand extended to take their cookies.  No one slammed a door in my face.  All of them were friendly, you know?  With every neighbor, we had this thing called a conversation.  They were people.

But with the exception of one family, whose daughter we asked to come babysit for Isaiah two times, we have not had another conversation since then.  It has been almost six months.

Does that make your heart sink with emptiness as it does mine?

Why have we as Americans chosen to live in such an isolated and isolating manner, estranging ourselves from the people who live right next to us?  Mrs. Pivec at Golightly Place posted on a related topic last week.  I encourage you to read her post, including her comment in response to mine.

In America, it is no longer mind-boggling to travel to the other end of the country in a matter of hours.  We have this group of people called commuters – those who drive often insane distances to work every day.  In choosing a church, distance is hardly on the top of our list of deciding factors. 

When Kyle and I first moved to a new state, we drove over three hours to church every Sunday.  (Yes, that was one way.)  It drained us every week, but we were convinced that keeping denominational ties was worth it.  I told inquiring friends that some people in third-world countries no doubt walk more than three hours to a church on Sunday, so I surely shouldn’t count the drive a burden.  I love the people in that little church, and while I don’t suggest church seekers throw all scrutiny of doctrine to the wind, I do regret not having learned how to step out of my comfort zone a little sooner in life.  What opportunities for touching lives were right outside my very door, while I insisted upon handpicking the people I would like to get to know?

Maybe this is why I hate surburbia.  Maybe this is why I want to get away.  It is not just that the houses are void of character, but also that they are full of strangers.

But maybe the quickest way to get away from a stranger is to make him your friend.

 

hunger 11.June.2008

Mil? Isaiah says, and I fill his cup with more milk.  I forget to make him say please.

There is hunger.

Yesterday I raked myself over the coals for spending yet another fortune on groceries.  I hate the way it cuts into our budget, especially now that I’m on a raw diet.  I bemoaned the state of our nation and its rising grocery costs. 

There’s no food left in the village….  Aid agencies say there’s not enough food in the country.

And then on Renee’s blog, Steppin’ Heavenward, I learned of the food crisis that has entangled Ethiopia in its hateful clutches.  I watched the BBC news clip “Ethiopia faces food crisis.”  Shame flooded over me for thinking I have food troubles and a tight budget.  Shame on me.  Shame on me!

We barely eat once a day, and there are days we don’t eat at all.

Last night, one of the children died here, another the night before, two the night before that…. The sister believes we’re at the start of this crisis and not the end.

I realize it’s hard to care deeply about crises half a world away.  But if it’s the mother of your baby or your baby who may be starving for food at this very moment…

Oh, God…

 

watching rain 9.June.2008

Filed under: motherhood — clbeyer @ 4:33 pm

We sit in the front doorway, Isaiah not happy unless I’m right there with him.  The wide open door leads out to the rainstorm.  Freckles of water dot our faces.  Shivers crawl across my skin from the wind and moisture, but I welcome the chill.  I know that too soon I will melt with the summer heat.  I am happy that the splattering of raindrops drowns out the sounds of suburbia.