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Most toothpastes  contain sodium laurel sulfate. Did you know that? At this point in my ‘journey’ to natural products, I wasn’t surprised. :) Toothpastes also contain fluoride, which was at one time touted as a preventative to tooth decay. It is now banned from being added to the water in at least 9 countries. Questionable ingredients to be sure.

Natural toothpastes can be pretty costly – $4-5 dollars a tube or more. For a while, I tried brushing my teeth with straight baking soda. While I was fine with it, it was a bit odd and left a strange taste in my mouth. I recently found this recipe for toothsoap on several different sites, so I decided to give it a try.

1/2 cup coconut oil (liquified – so set it out in a warm area or warm it in the microwave)
2 Tbsp. castile soap
10 drops of essentail oil (peppermint, spearmint, cinnamon, orange…whatever you want really!)
Shake ingredients in a new pump soap dispenser and you are ready to go!

My thoughts: I loved it! The castile soap gives it the foaming action, coconut oil is antiseptic and antibacterial, and the essential oils makes it taste minty, something I missed when brushing with baking soda. I did end up adding more essential oil because I like a strong mint flavor and even at 10 drops, it wasn’t quite enough.

Another thing I have tried and really enjoyed is tooth chips. These are great, especially when traveling, but for everyday use, I think I will stick with the more economical toothsoap. I can’t wait to experiment with more flavors!

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There also seems to be a great benefit to using coconut oil as a mouth product. I haven’t done much research on this in particular, so I can only tell you what I’ve been told by others and my own experiences. A friend mentioned to me that she at times had trouble with an old root canal. She started swishing her mouth with coconut oil once a day and while it took a bit to get over the feeling of ‘oil in your mouth,’ she couldn’t believe the difference. I had a root canal done about two years ago, but sometimes that area bothers me and I can ‘feel’ it. I mixed coconut oil and baking soda to use as a paste, and while it really tasted nasty at first, I stuck it out and soon got used to it. After three weeks of using that, I switched to something else, and within a week was experiencing the tooth pain again. I plan on doing more research on this…there are lots of other things I could talk about, but I’m not sure of my facts, so I’ll wait for now. :)

Monday Fingers

Monday is incapable of being its own person. It’s not like Sunday starting the week with a flurry of activities and a whole day spent in church. It’s not Saturday with tasks to do around the house and no schedule to speak of. It’s not even Wednesday or Thursday, in the middle of the week with free afternoons for coffee with friends. It’s…Monday.

There are a lot of fingers that stick into Monday, making it reluctant to stand up on its own.

There are the fingers of Last Week, remnants of things yet to be done. Projects to be wrapped up, people to be checked on, messes to be cleaned.

Sunday pushes a tentative pinky finger into Monday. What was learned and commited to on Sunday must be implemented on Monday in order to become a part of the rest of life.

The fingers of Next Week also poke and prod, making Monday consider all that is to come and what must be prepared for. Monday is always full of preparation and plans, drawing up the blueprint for what comes next.

What would we do without Monday? We would have no transition day between Last Week and Next Week. No other day is content to allow so many fingers to grasp at its time, and no other day is so despised for it. Poor, overlooked Monday.

I Love Him

I posted this about 3 years ago, but every time we sing this song in church, I think of these events. They are forever impressed upon my heart – something I will never forget. We sang it again this morning, and I thought it might be nice to ‘resurrect’ this post for today, a hot Sunday in June. :)
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The air was stifled inside the old tent and the children were beginning to get fussy, although we hadn’t even started. After a whole week of meeting in this place, the grass was packed down and muddy places appeared after the previous night’s rain. The chairs were no longer placed in ramrod-straight rows, and though I thought them uncomfortable at the beginning of the week, they were now almost unbearable. The sun dropped beyond the horizon, and with the darkness the mosquitoes began to congregate in large hoards. Candles were lit around the perimeter, yet the pesky bugs still managed to sneak in and discover spots of bare skin to sink their nose into. People slowly trickled into the circle of light with the sound of the piano prelude.

We were all tired, but it had been a wonderful week. The food was great, the singing was better, and the preaching had been the obvious highlight. Now it was time for the last service, and I silently wondered if this service could be any better than the others. I was thoroughly enjoying myself at the the camp meeting – Southern style. We have camp meetings up north, but it’s just not the same. Northerners are too reserved and stoic. This camp meeting was filled with shouting, amening, hand raising, hankie waving, and even a little jumping and running.

We sang the songs with gusto, singing about Heaven and glorifying God. A sprightly little old man stepped forward, spoke briefly to the songleader, then took his place behind the pulpit. “Brethren, we need God to meet with us tonight. Let’s sing this next song to Him.” The songleader told the number, the pianist plunked out the introduction, and we started the first verse.

Gone from my heart the world and all its charm;
Gone are my sins and all that would alarm;
Gone evermore, and by His grace I know
The precious blood of Jesus cleanses white as snow.

Everyone set their book down, the pianist stopped playing, and a pause pregnant with meaning settled across the tent. One by one, the people cupped their hands around their mouths and turned their faces expectantly upward. Quietly they started singing, growing with intensity, until the prayer whispered in their hearts was bellowing across the nearby corn fields.

I love You, I love You, because You first loved me,
And purchased my salvation on Calv’ry’s tree.

As a 12-year old, I was a little self-conscious. I felt a little dumb, singing this way, so I dropped my gaze and tried to look around me. I couldn’t look to the sides very well without being noticeable, so I looked at the little white-haired man on the platform. It was obvious that this was the expression of his heart. He could hardly keep his hands on his face, so badly did he want to raise them in praise. Tears coursed down his cheeks and he shouted more than sang the words.

Once again the pianist started playing, and everyone picked up their books for the last verse.


Once I was bound, but now I am set free;
Once I was blind, but now the light I see;
Once I was dead, but now in Christ I live,
To tell the world the peace that He alone can give.

The same reaction was given at the chorus again, and this time I sang it to my God. My eyes were raised toward the arched ceiling of that old tent, but it wasn’t the seams and the beams that I was gazing upon. No longer did I feel self-consciousness, but only thankfulfulness that a God such as ours would love me so.

The song ended with a hushed whisper and all around me I heard sniffles. “Now,” said the man softly, brushing away his tears, “We are ready to meet with God.” He began to preach, and we certainly met with God that night!

“I Love Him” was Bro. Duane Rutherford’s favorite song, as was evident by the way he always sang it. Every time I now sing that song, I can remember the tears coursing down his weather-beaten face and I pray that my life can be as devoted to our God as his was. Today, he has no need to cup his hands and sing to God past the ceiling of tents or church buildings, because he is already there in the Gloryland, worshipping before the throne of the God he loves so much.

Okay, I apologize in advance for this subject. It seems a bit uncouth to be talking about, BUT we all need to wear deodorant and it’s a big change that I’ve made in going natural with it. (Meaning that I make my own, not that I go au natural - just to clarify!)

So this was one of those areas where I was stumped on how to go natural. I never realized how much I need deodorant until I lived in Africa and then later in Thailand. Whether it was the heat, the humidity, the activeness, or the lack of deodorant on those around me, I quickly became very sensitive to this issue and vowed to myself I would never be one of ‘those people’ (meaning someone who smelled and didn’t even realize it).

There are many ingredients in regular off-the-shelf deodorant that are a little alarming. Aluminum is one of the biggest ones, found even in a lot of natural deodorants, which is quickly absorbed through the skin and accumulates in your body. Parabens & propylene glycol are two other questionable ingredients. If you want to know more, just start googling. :)

For me, the biggest thing came down to (again) an allergic reaction. (Best I can tell, it was either the fragrances added, or the propylene glycol…which I’m leaning more and more towards because of some other products which I’ve had similar results with.) Deodorant under my arms would cause my arms to break out in a rash of sorts, little red bumps and all that…aggravated when I would shave…and aggravated again when I would get sweaty. So it was like a vicious cycle from which I couldn’t break. I would shave (pain), apply deodorant (pain), and then later still sweat and (you guessed it) cause more pain. Strangest thing – I thought it was ‘normal’ to a degree, because I wasn’t about to stop shaving OR applying deodorant.

I tried a super-easy recipe which has worked wonderfully. It was given to me by my sis-in-law, who heard it from a friend (if I remember correctly). Since switching to this recipe, I have no more rashes and no more pain!!!

I combine in a small container:
1/2 part coconut oil
1/4 part baking soda
1/4 part cornstarch
3 or 4 drops of tea tree oil

Coconut oil is fabulous stuff. I know it is sometimes touted as the “cure-all,” but seriously…if you have the time, check it out. (In a later post, I’ll tell you more about how coconut oil has changed my life…er, my face at least!) I’ve read where some people use only coconut oil as their deodorant. It is antibacterial, antifungal, and soothing. I need the extra push of the baking soda, which also helps kill the bacteria (what smells when you sweat) and deodorizes. The cornstarch makes it a bit smoother to apply and not so caustic to leave on your skin. Tea tree oil is another antibacterial disinfectant and my favorite new thing to add to everything. :)

This deodorant won’t make you stop sweating like some commercial deodorants do. I’ve never liked the idea of clogging up my pores so they can’t do their job anyway. This deodorant will liquify and separate when left in a hot room. My attic is usually about 10 degrees hotter than it is outside, so in summer this can be a problem. After a few days of trying to mix and stir the deodorant before putting it on (and ending up with a very big mess!), I just moved it to the ground floor of the house where I take my shower and haven’t had any more problems with it. I just recently read where someone poured it in an old deodorant stick container and let it harden up…so I may try that next time I stir up a batch.

So do you make your own deodorant? Are you completely repulsed by that idea?

Part of Growing Up

Running through the dewy grass, little legs flying as fast as they could, I can remember finding myself at the edge of the yard, where the darkness of the wooded night met the warm circle of light spilling from the house. Determined to win, I pushed myself further than I had ever gone before. Removed from the familiar, I now entered the unknown – the dark, boding trees of the night air. Crouching low, I observed the scene before me and kept my silence.

Always before I had stayed in the circle of light, dancing in my nightgown, hair still dripping from the bath, and catching fireflies with many squeals of delight. Eating strawberries on the porch and watching my brothers play made me feel safe and untouchable. I was protected and part of the group, separate from the world that lurked beyond the shadows. This time I had pushed beyond and now sat, with a strange sense of independence on my shoulders. The feeling was a bit exhilarating and breath-catching, yet a strange knot still formed in the pit of my stomach and I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder.

I won the game. Cries soon came on the night air, beckoning me back. Such convincing need not take long to settle in, and my little legs took me flying back the way I had come. Back into the circle of light, back into the familiar, back into the place I felt secure. From there, the darkness seemed just a bit less formidable than before.

Part of growing up is experiencing that detachment over and over. With each new experience and growth lesson, we push past the familiar childhood bounds and into independence. From the first solo bike ride to the first solo car ride, from the first day of school to the first night home alone. It’s a part of life and it can’t be stopped, yet it leaves us with a feeling that is a bit exhilarating and still forms a knot in our stomach.

Sometimes I want to go back to that warm circle of light, where all was right in the world when I had my Strawberry Shortcake nightgown and the freedom to spin in the freshly-mown lawn. Sometimes I want to revert to those days of simplicity and worry-free complications. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m never going back. Sometimes I don’t want to be a grown-up.

The Classic Debate

It comes around every few weeks or so. To cut my hair, or to not cut my hair? To trim, to chop, to layer, to thin? To bang or not to bang? Or to leave it all for another day?

Leaving it for another day may be the best option. At this moment, I want to chop it all off. (Long hair + hot day + humidity = FRUSTRATION!!!!)

A Camp Experience, II

I can’t share one camp experience without sharing another equally as thrilling, but it really isn’t a Part 2…more like Segment 2.

This particular campground we were using was not only infested with mice (in particular cabins), but had a large and beautiful lake, stocked with fish, canoes, kayaks, and paddle boats. We’ve always had swimming pools at our camps, but never boats. It was a new experience for many, and lots of fun for all involved, even those who tipped over (not me, by the way). Over a portion of this lake was a very long zip line, which started on one side of the lake about 3 stories up, and ended on the other side of the lake on the ground.

Split up into teams, we were making a game out of this zip line. In the water below the line were people in boats and every person who went on the zip line was given sponges soaked in water. For every person, boat, or oar you hit, your team would receive so many points. I decided to take a shot at it for my team, and as I was putting the harness on, one of my teammates explained why she wouldn’t be participating in this game. Apparently the year before, she had been on the zip line, landed wrong and twisted her ankle rather severely. So I made a mental note not to land wrong and skipped merrily on my way all the way around the lake where the tower was, the whole time with the harness awkwardly attached to me.

When my turn came, I scampered up the tower with my two sponges dripping with water, and was assisted at the top to climb the ladder (as if the tower wasn’t high enough). At this point, I caught a glimpse of exactly how high up I was and I felt a strange little quiver in my stomach and a shake in my knees. Determined to do this and ignoring the sudden impulse to run back down the stairs, I was then instructed to turn around backwards holding on only with my two hands (already full of dripping sponges) to two poles sticking up on either side of the ladder. I was then given my instructions for landing. My brain was not computing the instructions, however…it was simply screaming at me, You idiot! What are you doing?!?! You are going to die!!! I just argued back and said I was going to follow through, so brain, would you shut up already?

Somewhere in all this arguing with myself, I did catch a couple snatches of the landing instructions. Relax. You will automatically turn around backwards. When you hit the end, just stand. Let the line do it for you. If there was more to it than that, I certainly had no comprehension. I kept getting hung up on the relax part which he kept repeating, probably because my knuckles were turning white and my eyes were ready to pop out of my head.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let go. In my anxiousness to grab an instant hold of the rope, I just dropped the sponges and they barely made it into the lake, far from any of the boats underneath. Within seconds I was practically flying. My rope must have been twisted when it was hooked on, because I spun around in circles the entire length of the lake. I screamed the entire distance at the top of my lungs, and that even though my voice was already mostly gone. (It was really gone after that!)

When I came in for my landing, I did not automatically turn around backwards. Instead, I came in frontwards. I screamed at the man on the shore as I flew by him, What in the world am I doing?! because I really couldn’t remember if I had been given instructions on what to do if this happened. I’m not sure what I expected him to do about it, but in moments of desperation, you have little to no solid reasoning. A split second later, I plowed feet first into a huge pile of mulch, spraying dirt and sawdust everywhere…in my shoes, in my clothes, in my hair, and probably on everyone around me.

To say I was relieved to be on solid ground would be an understatement. If I didn’t have to stand there until I was unhooked from the line, I probably would have collapsed, because my legs felt like jelly. All around me everyone was laughing hysterically, and yet I was too because I was just so glad to be alive.

Even with all that, I would definitely do it again. It was the most terrifying and yet exhilarating experience I have ever had. Whether I would scream as much the second time around or not, I have no clue. We’ll have to see what happens next year…

:)

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More camp pics

A Camp Experience

Feeling tiny little steps across my head, I was woken from my dream. What I was dreaming of I don’t remember now, but I can assure you it was better than the reality I would soon realize. Is that a mouse? I thought in my state of half-consciousness. I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. Nothing.

I laid back on my pillow and began to settle in, wondering vaguely what time it could be. Someone’s alarm from across the room started to ring, and I heard stirring from beds around me. It must be near to 6 AM since everyone was starting to get up.

Just then I felt those same tiny steps again, this time sneaking across my shoulder. I was sure of it; there was no mistake this time! Again I sat up, this time flinging the blankets back in order to make a quick escape. At first, nothing…and then there it came, from the depths of my sleeping bag where it had been flung, the mouse went running for the nearest wall, which happened to be on the other side of my pillow.

Did I scream? No. Did I gasp? No. Did I jump? No. I did the first thing that popped into my mind, and that was to flick the mouse. Yes, I flicked it, I brushed it, I pushed it with a mighty spring of my fingers and flung that silly mouse as far from my bed as I could.

Then I sat there, still not fully awake and trying to comprehend what had just happened. I hadn’t dreamt it. It all happened so fast, in just a few seconds really, and all around me the other girls were going about their business, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

I said, There was a mouse in my bed, but no one heard me. I said it again, louder this time. From across the room, someone thought they misunderstood so I repeated it again. With each repetition, I realized more of what had happened and jumped out of bed to check for more unwanted visitors. I wasn’t planning on getting up at 6 that day, but there was no sleeping now.

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Camp went well, despite the furry visitors to our cabin. As is becoming more and more typical for me, I took a measly 5 pictures: one of me on the bus, and the rest of the beautiful lake on the campground where we stayed. So if you wish to see some pictures and you haven’t seen them yet, you’ll have to visit sites other than mine. :) Try here to see some of our craziness and here to get a summary of the messages. (And here to download and listen to the messages.)

Silent

I know I’ve been silent.

I’m off this week to teen camp, always a highlight of summer. Can you believe that the bus is leaving in six hours and I am already packed? There was a birthday party after church, then I headed off to the store to pick up a couple last-minute things, and home again to throw a bag together. It never takes long to pack once I get started, it is just taking the time to do it. I have a big bag this year. Some years I try to do a smaller bag of clothes, a bag of bathroom things, a bag of bedding, and a bag of my music. This year I opted for a huge bag that will fit it all in one. I’m cheating on some of the ‘natural’ stuff that I’ve been using, just because it is easier for camp to take the travel-size things. My skin won’t thank me for it, but I didn’t feel like taking a dozen bottles of homeade concoctions to leak all over my bag. Maybe next year. :)

So I bid you adieu. But as a way of offering an ‘olive branch’ because I know I’ve been neglecting you all, I offer you some links. Here’s some stuff I’ve found interesting over the past couple weeks:

1/10 acre of ground: 6,000 pounds of produce a year – Urban Homestead

Cute, cute, cute apartment – Small is the New Big

Scrumptious – Lemon Mint Granita

Lengthy Locks – New Dos

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me – Psalm 139

And now I’m off to catch a couple hours before the long week begins!

Promotion Sunday

Today was Promotion Sunday at church, the Sunday when all the kids move into the next grade of classes for Sunday school. This gets less exciting as you get older, but I think it is most exciting for the kids moving into “First Grade.” They not only move out of the nursery area to the elementary side with the ‘big kids,’ but they begin attending Children’s Church for the Sunday morning service – which is a very big deal around here. They also attend VBS in the summer, and a Wednesday evening “King’s Kids” when school starts again. Life is exciting in first grade!

My Sunday school class is the four and five year olds, which is the class right before first grade. So to say the excitement level was high this morning would be an understatement. :)  

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Seven of my kids moved up this year (one wasn’t there for the promotion ceremony). I am so proud of them and how much they have done the past two years. These were the little kids when I first took over the class, freshly moved up from the two and three year olds, and they have all made so much progress. They became my involved kids who memorized all the verses, sat nicely (most of the time), payed attention, etc.  It was a bittersweet day to see them move on to bigger and better things. :)

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