Gluten free life.

 

For those of you who don’t know, I cook and bake Gluten Free, Dairy free. I’m not turning this blog into one of the many wonderful GF blogs, but rather just want to share a bit of my journey and put up a few of my gluten free creations.  This hasn’t been an easy journey and change, but I finally feel like a few aspects of it have “clicked”, which makes baking a delight once again.  We made the switch right after Thanksgiving, 2009.

Keith was dubious about going GF, but we were at the end of our rope. We had finally gotten a clear bill of health in terms of worms, parasites, and the like, but his body was still a wreck. A wonderful doctor here finally said he thought Keith had a second allergy other then dairy. So after trying to eliminate everything we thought it could be with no success, we finally eliminated all gluten.  After almost 2 years of gut issues, he was restored to a new “normal”. I was excited. I was teary. I felt everything that I had on the menu was now no longer safe!  I found it a daunting task at first, especially with the 4 remaining children in my home that already had developed a taste for wheat products.  There were many tears at the beginning (mine included), but with time, prayer, patience, and the right cookbooks, the switch to a GF lifestyle has almost become normal.  We also discovered at the beginning of this year that our son, Noah, also has wheat/soy allergies.  I am SO glad we had already made the GF switch (did I mention Keith’s and two of the boys have always been dairy free?) beforehand. Noah is now growing much faster then he has been in his first 5 years of life! I am thankful for modern medicine, for God’s wisdom, and for the many people that have given me input into gluten free living (Thanks Gretel!)

I am still anticipating years of improvement on my side,  but also am happy to say that most things I make can be compared to their wheat counterparts! My 3 other kids that have wheat from time to time don’t even ask what is or isn’t gluten free. I knew I’d finally hit the jackpot of pizza crust recipes when I made two of them, served them to my entire family (without a word that they were both gluten free!) and got the thumbs all from all members! Part of the reason why it’s taken me time to get a grip on baking GF is the products I can get locally are much different or don’t exist. Yup, no Fruitful Yield just down the road.  I’ve finally discovered sifting the local tapioca flour about 4 times turns it into a similar consistency as the tapioca starch in the US.  The sorghum flour I get here is also darker and heavier then the type in the US. My favorite GF flour uses sorghum, tapioca flour and corn starch.  For those of you who want recipes, ask! 

So, here are a few pictures from last weekend’s baking. Donuts! I decided a new fun tradition would be to make donuts for Good Friday. There was something fun about the empty middle that reminded me of the empty tomb.

The texture is sticky, but worth the patience.

If you work with gluten free dough, these silicon mats save you the effort and expense of parchment paper usually required to keep the dough from sticking.

I’ve made donuts before and have to say, a candy thermometer is a MUST. If your oil is too hot, they brown too fast and have gooey middles.

Little fluffy goodness! Drooling yet? Yup, gluten free, dairy free, soy free donuts! 

My next gluten free baking adventure entailed making my mom’s Easter kolachi.  Now, this was my 4th attempt at making it without wheat products. My Christmas batch came out good, but this was better yet.  It’s still not perfected, but it will get there one of these days! Keith was in GF Kolachi heaven. Little does he know I still have one in the freezer for a rainy day! :)

 

I even made a few of them in little buns, which were soft and tender. I think this pic was before they were baked though.  Can you see how dark the dough is?

I have to say, I don’t put these up to get praise and glory –really. I give all the glory to our God and the Holy Spirit who has continued to put a passion in me to care for my family to the best of my ability.  All of these things might seem simple and frivolous, but to me they are a little bit of His work in me and through me. To God be the glory, great things HE has done!

Listening

I have a confession to make. I love washing dishes. Well, let me rephrase that. I love washing them when I’m not exhausted and there aren’t a million of them to wash.  Otherwise, I love the smell, the satisfaction of another clean plate, the suds. I still remember the day when I came into my parents' kitchen and saw my Nana with her hands in those heavenly suds, suds that made my 7 year old mind spin. I had to ask. I had to know. What was her secret to such lovely, glorious suds?  She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and responded with an “It’s magic!”  The next time I saw her at the sink, I watched her from behind the corner and saw her sink overflowing with bubbles. I vowed I’d try that one day when I was a grownup. Ironing is another one. I love to iron. Same reasons, same feelings, same results. Clean, smooth clothing, and a nice result (unless the power goes out in the middle!). But I suppose the main reason I love both of these tasks is because it’s thoughtful work. I pray, I sing, I listen, I think, and sometimes I even attempt to wrestle with bigger issues.  Listening has been my biggest challenge as of late.

There are times that I wish working with people was as easy as hot water and soap, or could be smoothed out with a hot iron.  That's not how God works, especially as He's still smoothing me out! But there are times that I wish to myself: ‘Why don’t I have more education? Then I’d be able to understand this better or help better!’  But I am forced to cry out to God, to ask for His help and understanding, and to seek His wisdom. . Then, in the end, the praise and glory is for Him and I am drawn to worship Him, not myself nor my own understanding.

I love the picture presented in Galatians 5:25, “Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” I have been thinking and praying through this throughout the week. I love the thought that the Spirit who lives in me is always a step ahead of me, knowing where I need to go, wither I will trust and obey - or not. It’s comforting, especially when it comes to mentoring and training my children.  He’s like a father with a wide step, ahead, yet not beyond his grasp or voice.  He’s saying “Keep up, my child. I know the way, I have the words. Just keep in step and listen.”  I wish it was always this clear and simple.  Often it’s my pride that keeps me from walking in step or listening. 

Back to the bubbles.  I think I like them because I like the cleanliness, the freshness.  I’m thankful for His freshness, and His deep love expressed to me this week through His Word and His Spirit. His washing through the Word is such a gift! I am nothing without Him.

Updated Wish list (5/30/11)

This is for all who have asked while we were on home assignment for ideas for care packages! Here's your list! My mom has found that items mailed in a bubble envelope get here within 9-21 days. It is also cheaper to mail them that way. Don't believe the post office people that Priority Mail is quicker- it's the same as regular "air mail". Any box sent our way can take from 3 to 6 months to get here! So, better to send out a few bubble envelopes then to mail a box. Our mailing address is: Keith and Laura Beth McFarland C/O New Hope Uganda, P.O. Box 16, Luwero, Uganda, East Africa. There are also times a team can bring out items for us, so if you're hoping for that, please contact us and we can send you an address for doing so.

-CD's or DVD's of your favorite, recent music or movies! Kid/adult
-Kids books
-Play-dough
-Chocolate chips -Gheradelli's semi-sweet is dairy free
-Gluten free beef jerky!
-Gummy worms/bears
-M&M's -peanut or coconut OR Reeces' pieces
-Extracts -maple, coconut,raspberry, banana, mint (put in ziplock)
-Crystal Light -all flavors
-Granola bars (gluten free and regular)
-Fruit snacks
-Craisins
-Walnuts or Pecans
-Chocolate -both dark without milk and with milk
-Seasoning packets -Please please check ingredients for dairy and wheat! Both are not welcome!(put in a ziplock before mailing!
*Chili
*Taco (Ortega, Trader Joe's and Old El Paso are safe)
*A Taste of Thai -all kinds
*Shredded Pork (McCormicks SLOW cookers) A Favorite!
*Italian salad dressing

-Gluten free Oats, Potato starch, and tapioca flour! These can be mailed in a ziplock bag + a bubble envelope or with a team. These are VERY needed gluten free cooking/baking items!
-Gluten free brownie, cake, or bread mixes. Betty Crocker's new Gluten Free brownie mix is available at most supermarkets now and is fantastic!
-Barrettes/Bows
-Tea -an assortment of both herbal and regular (also ziplock them as the flavors can permeate other things)
-Coffee -reg or decaf! Decaf is no longer available in the country, so it's a hot item! We love Starbucks via too! We enjoy both Dunkin Donuts (inc. French Vanilla) and Startbucks.

Back to Vibrant Livin’

 

Packing, sorting, packing, sorting, flying, crying, leaving, arriving –it’s all a part of a missionary life. When we landed in Uganda after being away for 7 months, I noticed Noah had a grumpy look on his face.  When I prodded him for his explanation, this was his answer: “Mama, why did we ever have to leave?” “Leave where Noah? (thinking he was going to say the USA) “Uganda”.  I tried my best to answer his “complaint” with my tired mind, but I had to think about it for days to come.  This child loves his Ugandan home, and to him all he could do when we finally arrived was ask the question, “WHY would you ever make me leave?”  We slept that first night in Entebbe, hearing people blow off fireworks and celebrate the beginning of 2011. When we woke the next morning, rain was falling. Now, this was Jan 1, the heart of rainy season.  Rain - it cleanses, purifies, heals, and brings growth.  All I could do as I took my first deep breath of the divine scent of rain hitting a dry and groaning land was smile.  Smile at God’s providential blessing.  For the next few days, each morning was vibrant.  I’d wake and hear the birds singing and sing with them. As I’d peak my head out the window and see the sun making it’s way into the sky, standing strong with deep shades of violet and auburn, my heart would swell with pride in the God I serve.  Oh, and all the greetings! All the hugs, the comments, the “we missed you so much!” choruses! Nothing is like knowing you’re where you’re suppose to be and that you’ve arrived home.  All my senses were touched by my God and in this I rejoice!

Sometimes I wish it was always this easy. To wake up, hear the birds singing and smile. Simile at the fact that you ‘hear’ them, rather then loathe them, or can’t hear them at all. The celebration of life and His creation is what I speak of.  To see life as vibrant, exuberant, vivacious.  Why can’t each day be like this? I will be honest, the vibrance  of life here also had it’s negative effects on my mind and heart. To already be told I wasn’t parenting right, the strong smells (that aren’t pretty…), the cultural frustrations of communication with people that might not just understand what you meant, a thing or two that is brand new ruined already, etc.  These were vibrant feelings and situations as well, just not the kind I like to feel over and over.  It’s in these little things that I face a choice.  The choice to turn my face like flint to the wind and say “Lord, your arm is never to short for me and Your grace is enough to give me grace for others today…” Or to complain, and miss out on the beauty I’ve returned to.   Really Laura, what do you choose? There’s so much joy in this path of serving Him in Uganda, that it’s quite miserable to chose the latter. Miserable to focus on myself, on material possessions, on well-intended comments.  Have you faced a decision such as this?  One where you knew what was best, but can easily be distracted by small, negative, fleshy things that rob your heart of worship?

He is worthy of all our worship! Today I choose to rejoice in Him. Now a few pics to show off last night’s cultural celebration! We had a big dinner, made by the people of the western part of Uganda! It was amazing, full of rules how how you should and shouldn’t eat, sit, talk, wear, etc! The kids did pretty well with eating on the mat and with their fingers. Keith, lucky dog, got a stool to sit on along with all the men!

Here’s our western cultural night, all on the mat before the meal.

Ellie was warming up to Shalom

An attempted family pic. Notice Keith’s stool? We have make-shift attire.

 Here’s the ‘real deal’. This is Ronnie. I taught him the phrase, “get up.” I told him “We’d say in our culture, ‘I like your get up!”

Faith like a child

I know this blog is going to be about life and thoughts of mine of life in Uganda, but I'm in the States and my brain and heart have not been put on hold. I've been struck by something simple that has turned into a life lesson, which I'm attempting to make applicable for you. Bear with me on this.

My children...At times, I am totally tuned in, engrossed in their language, their skills their abilities, their humor. Then there are those times I'm tired, distracted, busy, or focused on "greater" things. I can miss out on their little hearts, bleeding through words. Yesterday,I felt God tug on my heart through the example given through my son Isaiah. Isaiah sang a song all day -he never grew weary of it. Over and over, passionate words came from his lips, bringing a smile to my heart. During the school hours, the older boys started complaining, "Mama, Isaiah WON'T stop singing!" It was difficult to tell him he needed to be quiet, lest he frustrate his brothers. But it didn't stop then. He sang it over and over and over, all the way to bed that night. When I was doing the dishes, thinking through the day of parenting without Keith around, I heard Isaiah's little voice once again. These are the words he sang (and is still singing) with reckless abandon:
My God is so BIG
So Strong and so MIGHTY
There's nothing my God can not do FOR YOU!
As I stood there with studs up to my elbows, I felt God say to me, "Do you hear him sing with love and passion?" I replied, "Yes God. I hear him." He then nudged me in the direction of remembering and thinking about Jesus' words to his disciples to have faith (Mark 11, Luke 16:6) in Him. If only they could have faith as tiny as a mustard seed, they would see wonders. I decided to take this a little farther and was scanning through verses on faith throughout the Gospels. I was struck with the realization that Jesus' interacts continually with either faithful or faithless hearts. "You of little faith" or "Your faith has healed you!" Obviously, Jesus sees my heart of faithfulness or faithlessness. He knows when we're singing it like we believe it, or singing it because we have to, or singing it because everyone expects us to. I really think Isaiah is singing it with faith, like he believes it. This isn't a mistake. Perhaps God put the song on his lips for so long, until I finally got the memo.
I don't think I'm the only one that is still in love with Jars of Clay's oldie "Faith like a Child". I re-read through the lyrics and love how they tie into my thoughts. Here they are for a further reflection. Enjoy -and may your eyes be lifted up like mine to believe and sing like you mean it throughout each and every day of our lives -through the faith of a child.

Dear God, surround me as I speak,
the bridges that I walk across are weak
Frustrations fill the void that I can't solely bear
Dear God, don't let me fall apart,
you've held me close to you
I have turned away and searched for answers I can't understand

Sometimes, when I feel miles away
and my eyes can't see your face
I wonder if I've grown to lose the recklessness
I walked in light of you

Chorus: They say that I can move the mountains
And send them crashing to the sea
They say that I can walk on water
with faith like a child

They say that love can heal the broken
They say that hope can make you see
They say that faith can find a Savior
If you would follow and believe
with faith like a child

A New Leaf

So, I'm new to the blogging world.. Life is busy. I'm a mom, I home school (for now), I cook, I clean, I love. Sound familiar? Yet I have had this constant tug at my heart to write and write it for others to read. It's an old passion, rekindled by my love for His Word and His love to communicate with me. It's been swirling in my heart for quite some time, but I haven't made it a reality until now. Over a year ago, this deep urge to write pounded at my very soul. I had laid down most writing from my college and early missionary days, except for my occasional and sporadic journal entries. Until that one day... I was at a birth and a burial all within twelve hours, feeling all the senses of my heart pricked as I celebrated and mourned. As I stood around that dusty grave, packed up against at least one hundred sweaty bodies all trying to get a peak at the coffin, I kept hearing a voice in my head "go home and write..go write...you must write." The urgency was clear, and I would have been disobedient had I not written. So below is that story which re-birthed in me the joy of obeying the sacred act of pen and paper, or better yet, obeying His voice. For those of you who have read it already, enjoy re-reading it, or wait until the next installment of "savoring the little things of life in Uganda".

We live together, we die together…
Very early this morning I woke, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes to see the time stamp on my cell phone as I stumbled into the bathroom. Those early morning trips are regular these days. The time read 3:43am. I noticed I had 2 missed calls and a text that read “In Luwero”. My brain registered that my friends, the Vogt’s, were traveling back to the village at rapid speed to make it to the hospital in time for their baby’s arrival! My heart beat raced as I fully woke up to the realization of what was happening. They had spent the night near the airport in anticipation of Rebecca’s mom’s arrival this morning. Little did they know their little girl wouldn’t be waiting around for Grandma’s arrival. She wanted to be first and make her entrance rather grandiose for her parents. Chris made it back here in record time –just in time to carry Rebecca into the hospital that was without power, and let her push under cell phone light so the doctor could catch the baby! My friend Alair and I made it to the hospital just moments behind them, but moments AFTER her arrival! We were shocked, excited, and full of joy as we beheld little Naomi Sanyu just minutes after her birth. Naomi means “pleasant” and Sanyu is Luganda for “Joy”. She already is pleasant and bringing great joy to her family. But I cannot leave out that babies are a community event here in Africa. We have had to keep the community “at bay” so to speak in order to let the Vogt’s get a few winks. But not for long, as we are born into this African community, breathing the same air of life, celebrating the gift God brings through children. Children are celebrated here. Much more then the western culture celebrates children and the gift of life. It’s refreshing, even though it’s wearying for the family that has just welcomed a child into their home. Thus we let them celebrate, and in comes the guests, all wishing to hold the new one, bless with a few shillings, and pray over your baby. It’s a joyous occasion.
Not long after I returned from the hospital, I remembered that I was to attend a burial today. A good friend of ours (who works for me in our house on a daily basis), Fiona, had lost her final sister to AIDS. We had been praying for her over the last two weeks, celebrating when she had small improvements, hoping for the best. But alas, Jesus took her. Noah asked me this morning, “Mama, why did Auntie Fiona’s sister have to die?” I replied, “Because Jesus decided to…just like he decided Naomi would come into this world today.”
As we took that bumpy road out to Wabetunda I tried to talk away the impending community event to a pretty quiet Keith. The car tossed me back and forth, just like the shifting thoughts racing through my brain. I had come from the hospital, rejoicing in a healthy baby girl’s arrival to the village, full of people shouting “Muzungu” and traveling the same dusty road to the same sad occasion. What is this world we live in? The one we live in, the one we die in. When we arrived, we were surrounded by hundreds of people, pressing in to listen to the sermon and see the plain wood coffin. A small fire smoldered next to us, whispering of the hours that had been spent awake throughout the night. The community had stayed awake with the family to grieve together, not leaving them in their pain to weep alone. Bright scarves and wraps covered woman’s bodies and a florescent orange tarp held up by banana trees attempted to keep the cloudy sky from pouring threatening rain on their faces. A man preached the Gospel with passion –at least from what I could tell in my feble Luganda. An old woman, fondly known as Mama Minanee, sat next to the coffin. Her wooden face told of grief beyond my grasp. She had buried 7 children in her lifetime with only one remaining. Why must she bear this pain again, I wondered. A child started to weep. He wept with deep seated grief, and as the words “Mama” poured from his mouth, I felt my heart was near breaking. Mama? The words I hear each and every day from my three sons. This same title, this relationship was torn from this small boy, leaving him as a mulekwa (orphan). There were 4 that she left behind as the dirt covered her coffin, all who will become children raised by the community they live in. No longer will they have someone to call mama, but rather they will become a part of the hundreds that surround them, who bear similar scars, can tell similar stories. We live together, we die together.
As we stood at the grave, beating off hundreds of bugs who were angry we had invaded their garden, I was struck by the simplicity and complexity of the life God creates. As my little one kicked around in my womb, my thoughts were taken back three years ago. This was the same land we had gathered on to bury Fiona’s still born baby. And now, she holds her beautiful little Joshua. Yet here we were again, in the same African soil, crying, singing, and wondering what the God of the universe was up to. As I held my friend and cried with her, I knew one thing for certain. We live together, we die together, but we do not do so without hope. Keith has been teaching the boys through the book of Job just this last week. What have I learned? To bless the name of the Lord, no matter how it feels or what it looks like. And to be thankful for the African community that celebrates life around me, and grieves the loss of life with me. Blessed be the name of the Lord. Selah.