Berry Coconut Ice Cream

I have a song stuck in my head. It's basically the word "summer" over and over again, and I love it.

Hottest week of the year? I love it.

Swimming laps every chance I get? I love it.

Summer squash with every meal? I love it.

Sunlit dinners on date night? I love it.

Don't you dare say the F words in front of me (fall, football, you know). It's still summer, in case the weather forecast hasn't reminded you. It's finally supposed to hit triple digits today! For the first time in far too long.

And what would summer be without ice cream? I'm not usually a fan of ice cream. I'd rather chew my desserts. However, if you can't enjoy ice cream on the hottest day of summer, when can you? I've been on a berry kick this summer, as our grocery bill can attest. We sacrificed the last of our local blueberries for this batch of ice cream. Worth it.

Berry Coconut Ice Cream
makes 6 generous servings

{ put the bowl of the ice cream maker in the freezer 24 hours prior to making ice cream }

2 (13.6oz) cans full-fat coconut milk
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup strawberry jam
generous 1/2 cup chopped fresh or thawed berries (we used strawberries and blueberries)

1. Whisk the coconut milk and sugar in a pot over medium heat.

2. Bring to a boil for 2 minutes, whisking frequently as it heats.

3. Pour mixture into a heat-safe bowl.

4. Refrigerate until fully chilled, stirring occasionally to accelerate the chilling (this took us about 1 hour).

5. Pour the chilled mixture into the ice cream maker and turn on.

6. When the ice cream starts to freeze, but is still moving smoothly (about 20 minutes in) add the strawberry jam.

7. Continue letting the machine mix. At 45 minutes, pour the berries in.

8. Continue to mix for a total of 1 hour. At this point, you can enjoy it soft-serve style, or you can scoop it into a freezer-safe dish, cover tightly, and allow it to freeze completely. Either way, it's delicious. We found that the flavor was more coconut-heavy the first day, and more berry-flavored after a night in the freezer.

It's summer! Eat it up. 

Just Six Jam Cookies

Necessity is the mother of invention, right? We've had to be pretty strict with our grocery budget lately, so the day before payday is often quite... creative. Yesterday I found myself hungry after getting back from the gym, but I didn't have any quick snacks available. Cookies were inevitable, but I didn't have my normal cookie ingredients.

I did, however, have some teff flour my mom gave me last time I was at home, and some plum jam my grandma made recently. Thus, jam cookies were inevitable. The teff flour gives these a rich brown color and hearty base, and the jam lends some end-of-summer sweetness to each bite.

Worth noting: I've been making lots of small batches of cookies lately. If you do try to multiply the recipe by 4 for a larger crowd, let me know how it works!

Jam Cookies
makes just 6 cookies

1/2 cup teff flour
1 Tbs powdered sugar
2 Tbs brown sugar
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/8 tsp salt

2 Tbs coconut oil, melted
1 Tbs ground flax + 3 Tbs water
1 Tbs milk of choice




roughly 1/4 cup fruit jam or jelly of choice


1.) Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and line a pan with parchment paper or prepare with cooking spray.

2.) Mix the flax and water together and set aside for several minutes to gel into a "flax egg."

3.) In a small bowl, combine the flour, sugars, baking soda, and salt.

4.) Add the coconut oil, flax egg, and milk. Stir well.

5.) Form into six balls of dough and place on cookie sheet. Indent each ball of dough and fill with approximately 1 tsp jam.

6.) Bake for 9-11 minutes and allow to cool before removing from pan.

On Rest, or Lack Thereof

A quote I think of often comes from Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love. She's talking about Americans when she says, "Of course, we all inevitably work too hard, then we get burned out and have to spend the whole weekend in our pajamas, eating cereal straight out of the box and staring at the TV in a mild coma (which is the opposite of working, yes, but not exactly the same thing as pleasure)."

I keep thinking, the opposite of working, yes, but not exactly the same thing as rest.

A while back, I remember panicking any time I thought about the fact that I was a full-on grown-up. I kept thinking that life was going to drone on and on and I was going to be overworked and unhappy and not have more than a week off at a time for the rest of my days on earth. That thought restricted my breathing, gave me tunnel vision, and caused heart palpitations as a cloud of doom would settle over me and throw me into a long chain of all-or-nothing, black-and-white internal dialogue.

(Welcome to the life of an overly-analytic introvert who trends toward anxiety and the need for control... and run-on sentences. My husband is a lucky man.)

Now I'm at the tail end* of eight weeks off of work. Eight weeks! Longer than I ever foresaw being off work. And under the circumstances, it was about 4 weeks longer than I'd hoped. It was restful, kind of. Not as I restful as I hoped it would be. Not as restful as other people hoped it would be.

I can see it in the eyes of the same friends who encouraged me to take a break in the first place when they ask, "Are you rested now?" All I hear is, "You're so lucky you caught a break. You'd better be grateful. Rest, gosh darn it!" And as usual, the perceived pressure to be or feel a certain way has had the opposite effect. Kind of like when people tell you to Enjoy. This. Time. (Be it high school, college, being married with no kids, having little ones at home, etc etc. We're always looking toward the next thing anyway.)  

You'll never get this chance again. You're gonna miss this. Carpe diem. You're only as happy as you make up your mind to be. Cue panic attack. Those kinds of thoughts are threatening to me. I just can't grasp timelessness this side of heaven.

I know that my loved ones have had their hearts in the right place. All they saw this winter was a haggard girl who cried all the time and carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. So they rightly, stubbornly encouraged me, Let go. Lay it down.

They said, I'm so excited to see what God does with this time!

I thought, Me too. God owes me.



*CRINGE*



And when the dream job with the dream salary didn't fall into my lap when I held my hands up in surrender? When our drastically smaller bank account ran dry? The sand drained to the bottom of the hourglass and there stood my idol, brazenly exposed: myself.

My self-perception, my self-worth, my priorities, me, me, me.

So this is me saying, Huh. I didn't handle this time well at all. Which can really be said of most things that have happened in the last 12 months. I put my hope in a new job. And it was awful. So I put my hope into working harder, and it failed me. Then I put my hope in rest and restoration. But I expected it to find me, and I didn't seek it with my whole heart. By now, I'm bored out of my ever-loving mind and catch myself thinking if I had just the right job to keep me busy and interested but not overwhelmed and overworked, well, that would just be great.

I wish I could snap some sense into myself sometimes.

But don't we all need to be reminded of this? As Thomas Watson says, "'Til sin be bitter, Christ will not be sweet!" When I find myself just plain bitter, sweet is the relief I find in the arms of Christ, who is willing to shoulder my burdens and give me rest.

Taste and see that the Lord is good;

blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Fear the Lord, you his holy people,

for those who fear him lack nothing.

The lions may brow weak and hungry,

but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

Come, my children, listen to me:

I will teach you the fear of the Lord.

Whoever of you loves life

and desires to see many good good days,

keep your tongue from evil

and your lips from telling lies.

Turn from evil and do good;

seek peace and pursue it.

{Psalm 34:8-14}

Yes, my soul, find rest in God'

my hope comes from him [...]

Trust in him at all times, you people;

pour out your hearts to him,

for God is our refuge.

{Psalm 62: 5-8}

*I start a new job tomorrow! Back in the NICU! At a new-to-me hospital way the heck across town. I'm so scared but also so excited to be back with the babies.

Hearty Blueberry Muffins

We went blueberry picking with friends this weekend and came home with four pounds of fresh berries! After making these muffins, I'm wishing we'd gotten twice that amount.

Ross and I used to treat ourselves to Betty Crocker blueberry muffins before I went gluten-free. You know, that boxed mix that uses canned blueberries but makes fluffy muffins sweet enough to eat for dessert.

I considered buying a gluten-free muffin mix at the store and adding blueberries to try to emulate that, but between the starch and the sugar they use in most mixes, I wasn't too keen on it. I decided to make some healthy muffins from scratch, based off of this recipe, and I'm so glad I did!

The fresh blueberries in each bite are juicy and slightly tart (so much better than frozen), and perfectly complimented by the hearty whole grain flours. This is not your typical fluffy, sugary muffin. But it's complex, fresh, and it'll keep you full for hours.

Hearty Blueberry Muffins 
makes 12-16 muffins

1 cup brown rice flour
3/4 cup buckwheat or teff flour (I personally think the teff flour is a bit sweeter)
1/2 cup almond meal
2-3 Tbs brown sugar
2 1/2 Tbs ground flax seeds
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 large eggs
1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce
7-8 Tbs unsweetened almond milk (or milk of choice)
1/4 cup honey, warmed slightly so it's easier to stir
2 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 cup coconut oil, melted
1 1/4 cup blueberries (I bet they'd also be great with fresh peaches or strawberries, too)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees and place liners in a muffin pan.

2. Add dry ingredients to a large bowl and mix well.

3. Whisk eggs, applesauce, milk, honey, and vanilla in a small bowl. Quickly stir in the coconut oil and add wet mixture to dry.

4. Stir mixture until just combined. Fold in blueberries.

5. Scoop into muffin liners, filling 3/4 of the way with batter.

6. Bake for 25-30 minutes

I hope you love them as much as we did!

Haiti

I didn't think this mission trip was really going to happen. I've paid deposits on a few trips in the past, and never been able to go. When our church announced a collaboration with the Haiti Orphan Project, I was interested. When my friend went to Haiti in May and it changed her outlook on life, I was intrigued. When they announced a trip in collaboration with the HOPE Medical Project this July, I already knew in my heart I was going to resign from my job and wouldn't have to beg for time off of work. I signed up for the trip.

It really didn't seem real and looking back, I was highly skeptical and not at all invested. I assumed that my plans would fall apart at the last minute, as they do. Today, Haiti is very real. And I'm so grateful.

The 7 of us traveling from Kansas City drove to St. Louis in two cars last Tuesday night. We slept for a few hours in an office building, woke up at 3am, and headed to the airport with 20 other people from St. Louis, Springfield, Illinois, and Pennsylvania. We spent Wednesday traveling: a plane flight to Miami, a plane flight to Port-au-Prince, and a bus ride to Gonaives. (I couldn't help but notice mountains on one side and the ocean on the other for parts of our drive, but it was a night-and-day difference from the Sea to Sky Highway a week prior).

We made the 3 1/2 hour bus ride to Gonaives to a soundtrack of Gospel music and Michael Jackson. Our bodyguard stood by the door the whole time, and our translator chatted and sang in the front. I was squished between 4 other people for most of the drive, and I was too focused on trying to avoid motion sickness to really look out the window. But I still saw plenty. Enough to know we certainly weren't in Kansas anymore.

The streets were crowded, often unpaved, and there was trash everywhere. Occasionally you would see the trash piled up and lit on fire-- who knows if all the material was actually safely flammable? As the acrid smoke filled my nostrils, the humidity and heat enveloped me, and the bus bounced endlessly, I found it hard to breathe. My throat was constricting and I wondered again what I had gotten myself into.

At one point, we stopped for water and I was so parched and hot and dusty and the water bottle was so cold and refreshing. Jesus' cry, I thirst! came to mind. I realized this trip was going to be more uncomfortable than I'd hoped. But I also knew that if I stretched out of my comfort zone, I'd be able to encounter Jesus in the needs of others, instead of serving my own. I started to pray, Lord, I can't do this. Would that you would increase and I would decrease if this is ever going to happen.

Just when I thought I couldn't handle the bus ride for one more minute, we arrived at the compound where we would be staying for the next 4 nights. Across the street from all the rusty corrugated metal-roofed shacks, half-completed foundations, goats, waste, chickens, and pigs, was a red gate. We entered and spilled out of the van into the huge enclosed yard. The accomodations were so much better than I expected. I was simultaneously grateful and guilty about it. But honestly, that respite was so welcome at the end of each long day.

There we had was running water (more or less), electricity (most of the time), and only 3 people to a bedroom. Of course, we still got some of the same warnings we would've gotten anywhere in Haiti: Be careful when you shower. Don't brush your teeth with tap water. Don't even think about drinking the tap water. Don't throw your toilet paper in the toilet. If it's yellow, let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down. Even in that walled compound, safety and comfort were a bit of an illusion, which was good to remember.

The water was always cold-ish, but I'm confident that I never would've wanted to take a warm shower anyway. All you did was rinse off the sweat, put on clean clothes, and start sweating again. The first few nights, I woke up thirsty every hour, but once I was re-hydrated and adjusted to the heat, I really didn't mind it as much. It was more than tolerable in the shade, although I'm not sure how long I would've lasted if I'd had to spend a full day in the sun. The high temps reached 95-100 degrees every day with at least 70% humidity.

After unpacking on Wednesday, we ate dinner, settled in, and debriefed. The group leader asked all 27 of us to introduce ourselves (check), what we did (?!?), and why we were here (?!?). I fumbled through it, but as I laid in bed that night I had to admit: This trip really just... happened. I don't know why I'm here. But I'm excited to find out. On Thursday, we headed to the Village de Vie orphanage after breakfast and spent the majority of the day there playing with kids and running the medical clinic and pharmacy. On Friday, we did much the same thing.

On Saturday, we went to a different orphanage in the morning: a place about an hour away in a town called Desire (pronounced dez-uh-ray). There was no clinic there, just time with the kids. When we got back to Gonaives, we stopped at the Village de Vie orphanage to watch a soccer tournament, went to our compound for dinner, and then went back to the orphanage for a building dedication celebration. We ate dinner again, graciously served in their new building. The kids were all so clean and happy in front of their big bowls of food. After dinner, we had a dance party with the kids until they started to fall asleep in our arms.

On Sunday, we went to church (for several hours) and saw the kids and families and patients and pastors one last time. Then we drove away from Gonaives and headed to a "resort" near the ocean. I put "resort" in quotation marks because it was not really a tourist destination. Nothing akin to a tropical resort that Americans would bother visiting. It's mostly for wealthy locals and the occasional missionary team.

It felt a little silly taking a day to vacation after all we'd seen, but I came to realize it was a good way to ease back in. It gave us time and space to process before heading back to our own fast-paced lives. We splashed in the ocean and played beach volleyball and had AC in our rooms, but we were still strangers in a strange land. The water was mostly lukewarm and we definitely couldn't drink it, but the water pressure was better. The beds didn't have bedbugs, but the mattresses were quite hard. We were more comfortable, but still removed from technology and the thousands of distractions being home brings. It was so good for my spirit.

Monday morning, I watched the sun rise behind the mountains, dove into the waves one last time, and then we left. Refreshed for the long day of travel ahead. We spent quite a while at the Port-au-Prince airport due to a flight delay, got to Miami and spent our entire two-hour layover in customs, and finally stumbled, bleary-eyed but relieved, into the St. Louis airport at 10pm.

Ross surprised me there! I was supposed to drive my car and comrades back to KC that night, but Ross took a Greyhound to St. Louis and met us in the airport, ready to drive us back. I'm sure I looked completely bewildered when I saw him, but I was so grateful. Sure enough, at 2am, about an hour away from Kansas City, my eyelids started drooping and I started mumbling incoherent things. I'm so glad Ross was driving!

I eventually crawled into bed at 4am and slept like a rock.

This morning, my pillows were to squishy, the AC was too cold, and the internet was too overwhelming. But I can't deny that our one-bedroom apartment felt like a clean and spacious palace.

I chugged water straight from the tap and took a hot shower (because I was so cold). I think that in a few weeks, or maybe even a few days, I'll take these things for granted again. But I don't want to. I want to remember. I want to hold them with open hands and a grateful heart. So what do I do now that I've been to Haiti? Now that I can't deny that I live in relative prosperity while many others live in poverty? I can't help but think back to my answer that first night in Gonaives: I don't know, but I'm excited to find out.

Peak to Peak (Day 5)

Basically, our last day in Canada was really busy and I keep avoiding writing this post because the sheer number of pictures I took is overwhelming.

Here's the day in a nutshell:

My mom and I went to some free Lululemon yoga outdoors. It was fun!

Ross and I went on a mountain bike ride around Lost Lake. Thankfully, we didn't get lost. But we did find a fun photo-op at Proposal Corner! Thank you to the poor pedestrian who got roped into taking picutres...

I ate this flourless chocolate cake from Pure Bread that I'd saved from the day before. Come to find out, flourless chocolate cake is, like, a thing in western Canada. No wonder I still daydream about it!

Then we joined my parents for a Peak 2 Peak tour. We took several ski lifts from our hotel to the top of Blackomb Mountain, took the world's highest and longest gondola ride across the valley, and explored Whistler Mountain before taking a long lift back into Whistler.

(I lost my Nalgene off one of the lifts. Au revoir.)

Total photo overload, but this isn't even close to all of them! It was such a beautiful day to be outside.

Sandals and snow. Crazy! People were actually snowboarding up there!

My newfound fear of heights kept me away from cliff edges on the mountain, but the gondola was completely walled and windowed in, which was a little disappointing. Great view, though! Ross and I took a quick, gorgeous hike on the other side.

We reluctantly headed back down the mountain for dinner at a great local place I didn't get pictures of. Somehow we ended up at Pure Bread for dessert while the Vancouver Symphony played a free outdoor concert in downtown Whilster. Did I mention I could live here? A sweet ending to a sweet vacation!

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for letting us tag along!