A Big Splash

I guess that’s the goal of the serious writer. To make some sort of splash to get the attention of the lifeguards (readers, editors, agents) looking out over the crowded pool. Some “writers” will take any attention they can get, resorting to gimmicks or clichés, chasing after trends or getting themselves noticed by bad behavior. It rarely does anything but annoy people. The goal of the writer that has excellence on his mind will get up on the diving board and perform some amazing, beautiful dive to try to allow people to see his talent. Even then, the pool of writers in this time is so congested and loud that you can be at your most amazing and still get lost to the noise.

I’ve been looking through some of my dad’s articles and stories. It makes me feel close to him. I’m guilty that I didn’t always take the time to read them when he shared them on facebook or twitter. There is one I had never seen before. He used the analogy of swimming to compare his writing style with mine:

Swimming has never been very high on my list of things I enjoy doing. I am content to wade along the shore while others launch out into deeper waters. At my age, I am probably not going to change.

My three daughters all enjoy swimming. I remember once on a vacation in Colorado, they preferred diving into the motel swimming pool instead of enjoying a pleasant hike in the splendor of mountains and forests. Even one day when the high temperature was fifty-something!

My daughters are all grown now, with youngsters of their own that they and their husbands take on vacation trips. One daughter in particular does share something I do love to do with me. She is a writer. She has written countless short stories and articles and eight or nine novels. She has had a few things published, but nothing big-time yet. She is looking for her “big break.”

One of the things she is constantly doing is rewriting in order to satisfy the agent. This theme doesn’t work, the agent says, that dialog doesn’t sound natural, this character is not very well developed. I expect one of these days, something my daughter writes will click with the agent, and with an editor, and my daughter will have a successful book on the market.

Me? I approach this writing thing from a different perspective. I know that traditional publishing is still the primary way to reach a large audience and to bring an author to the attention of the market place. However, I have always been more independent in my efforts to gain an audience. I don’t write to please an agent or an editor. I write to please myself.

I am very happy when others choose to read what I have written, and to whisper sweet accolades in my ears, but I will write whether that happens or not. I have a long resume of works I have authored and self-published, on the web and in print. I have received some accolades for my work, which I greatly appreciate. But I have not made the New York Times best-selling list yet. Hey, I haven’t even made the Podunk City Times best-selling list yet.

But I keep writing anyway. At this point in time, my daughter has had less success than I, because I do have a small number of copies of books I self-published out there, where she as yet has none. I will be very happy when that changes for her.

In the ocean of published authors, I am content still to wade in the shallows along the shore, while my daughter continues to look for an opportunity to dive into the deeper waters. We will have to wait and see which one of us the Lord calls to make the bigger splash.

One sentence jumps out at me every time I read this. “I will be very happy when that changes for her.”

Not if. When.

My dad wasn’t one to give praise lavishly or where it was not warranted. He told the truth, even if we would have preferred gushy, proud father talk. If we had him as a teacher and we didn’t do well on a test or assignment, he wouldn’t give us a good grade, and he’d make sure we knew he knew we could do better. If we wanted to give up on something that he thought we should stick with, he would let us know that, even though he would support us and love us, he would be disappointed that we gave up. So knowing that my dad thinks I have a glimmer of hope in this hopeless race I’m relentlessly running toward that diving board, somehow that makes it worth the rejection and being ignored and overlooked. I’ll just keep trying, because dad would want me to if he were still here to tell me.

“Don’t give up,” he whispers through time and space from where he is to where I am. “Keep writing anyway. You’re doing it for both of us now. Let me see you do your best.”

So what if the whole pool is busy looking at something else? My dad’s watching me.

A Lesson in Grief

Up to 13 days ago, I had never known Grief like I'm acquainted with him now. I knew of him, I had felt his presence and I could sense him in the sadness I saw in other's faces, but 13 days ago he walked up to me and put his cold arm around my shoulders and settled in so we could get to know each other.

The first person I loved who died was Grandpa Joe, who was not technically my grandpa but may as well have been. He had moved to Houston to be near his grandkids, so I had already lost him by the time he died, but I felt it.

The next one was my Grammy. She was 96, and I was in the room when she slipped away. That one hurt, too, but she had been sick and we knew she would leave us.

The next two, happening within two years of each other, were very painful. My grandma and grandpa, whom I was very close to, left this world and went to Jesus. But even though it hurt more than it ever had before, they were elderly and sick. Grandpa had cancer and Grandma had Alzheimer's. I knew at that point, they were better off whole and happy with the Lord. So I could accept the goodbyes.

In that time, my cousin and his wife lost a 7 month old baby boy. I was not the one that spent every day of those 7 months going back and forth from the hospital to home, but I loved my cousin and his wife and I acutely felt their sorrow. I always wondered what to say when people dealt with losses of that magnitude. What do you do for someone who has had their heart ripped out by unimaginable grief? In my contemplation of those things, I started to worry. I worried that someone I loved would be ripped away from me. I wondered how I would go on if I had to face that kind of loss. I forgot everything God had to say on the subject, such as his "peace that surpasses understanding" and his tender "precious in the sight of God is the death of his saints." I forgot that I wouldn't "grieve as those who have no hope." Without realizing what I had done, I had allowed worry to become a regular visitor in my brain. It happened over such a long period of time that I didn't even know it was happening.

13 days ago my husband's phone rang at 5 am. I got ready to take my mom to the hospital, because something was wrong with Dad. Minutes later, probably just before I turned into the driveway amid a collection of  flashing emergency vehicles and ran to the door of my parent's home, Jesus called my father to glory.

There had been no devastating illness. He had health challenges, but was in the care of a doctor who had said he was doing well only days before. He was no longer young, but he was not yet elderly. He worked part-time at our church, he had a writing ministry, he was a small group leader and a Sunday school teacher and did counseling. But one night after he finished posting on facebook and twitter, he went upstairs to bed, fell asleep, and woke up in the warm embrace of Jesus.

It still feels like a razor's edge to think about the moments that followed, and the days just after are quickly becoming an unbelievable fog. But there is one thing that hasn't started to fade away in some sort of self-preservation. One thing I won't ever forget or stop being grateful for. The thing that I never realized in all my worrying about grief and loss was that I wouldn't be doing it alone. And I haven't. We've had each other. The family that my parents wondered if they would ever have for 8 years of their marriage - well, we've multiplied.

We also haven't been left alone by our brothers and sisters in Christ. And that's what this post is about. I want to let you all know, because you've been asking, how to help someone who has dealt with unexpected and painful loss. Keep in mind, that what I found helpful may not necessarily be what someone else will appreciate. According to the Meyers Briggs Personality profile, I have the rarest personality type. So maybe I'm just weird. ;)

How You Can Help Someone Who's Grieving

1. It's okay to say the obvious. It's okay to tell us that you're sorry for our loss. It's okay to cry in front of us, it's okay to hug us tightly and say you're praying and you'll help in any way you can. That helps. It's a balm. What can be overwhelming is questions. How are we doing? How do we feel? What are we going to do now? In the first moments and days after such a loss, those can set off a kind of panic. There are so many decisions to be made, anyway, it's best not to ask too many questions about the future. That doesn't mean you shouldn't ask what happened. It helped me to process it to share what had happened that morning to those who have asked.

2. Joking is okay in moderation. This could just be our family, but some would probably be surprised by how much we laughed and joked those first few days. It is our family's way of coping. I think we all knew that it would be Dad's preference as well, so we didn't feel we were dishonoring him by keeping up the laughter and lighthearted sarcasm that marks most of our time together.

3. Remind us of the ways he blessed you. I found the best thing about the visitation and the memorial service was hearing all the ways my dad ministered to people that I hadn't even realized he was doing. Seeing students of his from years before with tears in their eyes, seeing his dentist standing in front of his casket and shedding tears at his loss, seeing familiar faces and knowing that they were also going to miss him was helpful.

4. Help with the practical. We didn't know to ask for it, but people showered food on us the first few days. Having food available and not worrying about feeding our children was such a help. There were some who went above and beyond all reason in bringing meal after meal that would feed all of us plus friends and family that arrived on Friday and Saturday. That was a big help, and I'm glad that others felt motivated to bless us in those ways. We also had no idea what we were going to do with 11 children between the ages of 2-10 for 4 hours in the funeral home. People volunteered to entertain them in the lounge of the funeral home, bringing crafts and movies and even taking on the children that came with the crowds of people that were there to say goodbye to my dad that Friday. We can never thank those generous, cheerful souls enough for that very needed service that again, we didn't know to ask for. If I had been worried about what my 3 year old was destroying the entire time we were there, I wouldn't have been able to focus on the people that came and the reason we were there, and that would have made it much more difficult. The cards we received were also a comfort and a blessing.

5. Remind us of what he would say if he were here, and what he did say when he was. One of the biggest comforts to me is remembering my dad's attitude and beliefs about death. He wasn't afraid of it. He was looking forward to it. And I know that if Jesus came into his bedroom that morning and gave him the option of coming home or staying here, he would have chosen Jesus in a heartbeat. So would I, after all. My dad was always very matter-of-fact about his death. And I've been able to hear his voice in my head when I start to despair or say it's not fair or he was too young. There's not a shadow of doubt in my mind that he would disagree vehemently with all of those arguments, and say that the way Jesus chose to call him home was the best scenario and he doesn't have a single regret about it. From his perspective, it's all good. That helps to keep in mind.

How Can You Be Prepared for Loss?

My last words of wisdom have to do with how I have been able to process the grief of losing my father, if anyone reading this ever has to face a similar experience, and let's face it, all of us will sooner or later. These are the things I have learned by personally facing the monster of grief and living to tell about it.

Death is not a natural occurrence. I know it's not what society wants us to believe. In their own way of coping, people have tried to suggest that death is natural and normal and part of the ways things should be. It's a lie. There's not a bit of truth to it and no part of the last 13 days have been natural or normal. Death is not the way it's supposed to be. Death goes against every fiber of our being. Our minds do not have the capacity to accept death, this is proven in the way we lose sleep, we have nightmares, we can't eat, we forget that the person is gone and look for them or expect them to walk around the corner at any minute. We weren't made for death. We CHOSE death by choosing to go against God. And he went all the way to the point of death himself, though it was as far from his character as you can get, and defeated it just so we would have a glimmer of promise to cling to when this unnatural and frightening reality comes to call.

Christ has defeated death. Not he will defeat it, he HAS defeated it. I always accepted this as truth because it was what the Bible says, but now that it's the rope I'm holding on to for dear life, I know it's true. Now that a very big part of who I am is across that curtain and looking at us from the other side of it, there is no doubt in my mind that when I take my last breath and take that unknown journey to where my dad has gone, I'm going to look at Jesus and know that every last bit of promise in the Bible was absolutely true. I used to consider heaven a far off place, beyond the furthest reaches of space. Now that part of me is there, I've started to see that it's not only far beyond my imagination, it's all around, in and through us. It's as close as the Spirit of the Lord, Who lives inside me. It's more real than the things I can see or hear or touch or taste or smell. It's perfect, and unbreakable, and sure. I understand now what the verse means:  "To live is Christ, and to die is gain." Because of my parents, who told me that I needed to trust in Jesus' death and resurrection and ask him to forgive my sin and save me, I became a part of God's family when I was six. And he will never, ever, ever go back on that promise. I will be with him - and with my dad - for eternity.

Say what you need to say today. I wish someone had told me March 4th that I wouldn't want my last words to my dad to be a sarcastic quip on facebook. In fact, I felt a kind of uncomfortable prodding to tell my dad what he meant to me for years before he died. But I was afraid to. I was afraid I would make him uncomfortable, because we didn't generally do the lovey-dovey emotional stuff. Mostly, it was just because he and I were so much alike that we got awkward in each other's presence. But now I regret I didn't get over it and say - or write - what he meant to me. Make sure he knew I was proud of him, I wanted to be like him, and I loved him. I have no doubt he knew anyway, since we were so much alike. I have no doubt he could read between the lines and figure it out, just like I could do with him. But I wish I'd taken the time and courage to say it before he went away. I'm hopeful that Jesus has delivered my messages now.

And this completes yet another installment of Parsons girls "writing it out" as my sister says. There may be more. But thank you for allowing us to express ourselves this way, and reading and appreciating it on our dad's behalf. This is the way he would want us to honor him. Those who knew him know it's true.

A Goodbye

Dear Dad,

I keep thinking of everything I want to say. Your face is there, your easy-going smile that is almost but not quite a smirk. The way you raise your eyebrows when I say something as you think about your answer or you’re about to make a smart remark. I keep hearing your voice in my head, reminding me of all the things you would say if you were here watching us, which you well may be, considering the Bible says we have a “great cloud of witnesses” watching our race home.

I’ve been thinking for a few years that I needed to say some things to you. I was afraid because our family doesn’t get emotional. We’re open and honest and funny, but we don’t do mushy, and I was trying to think of a way to say the things without being mushy.

I want you to know I’ve always been very proud of you. How many people can say they have a dad who never once in their entire life raised his voice to them? You have a peaceful, optimistic and methodic approach to life that has been a tether to my natural tendency to fly off into outer space. There was a time in my life I wished you would say the things I wanted to hear, but when I learned to listen in the ways that you communicate, I found out you were basically shouting them. There is no doubt in my mind that you loved me, that you delighted in me, that you were proud of me.

Some of my favorite things from my childhood are remembering the ways you tried to make life interesting and fun. I still pause whenever I catch the scent of the glue you used for your train models or the electric photographic smell of your slides when you were giving us a slide show. You didn’t have great amounts of money, but you did your best to take us on epic trips that we would remember forever. (And I remember them, even if I was a brat at the time.) You were a tease, you were stubborn, you were the kind of father who had perfected the art of sarcasm to a point where instead of hearing insult we heard you saying you loved us. You taught us that humor and wit were essential to life. You taught us to value music in virtually any form it came. You taught us to see the beauty and value in words. In poetry, in music, in fiction and nonfiction and so many other ways.

More importantly, you taught us the essentials of living a life that is pleasing to Christ. You taught us to be every bit and more concerned with Biblical accuracy as we were about grammar. You taught us not to give up on people when they were difficult or suffering or lost. You taught us to do everything for God’s glory, not our own agenda, even if it meant being humble or not getting what we wanted.  You showed us how to be teachable. You were always changing, always growing in your understanding of the Word. You didn’t get stuck in ruts that held you back or made you ineffectual. You were always open, always sharing what you learned with others and helping them to see God’s truth. You weren’t afraid of speaking the truth when others didn’t want to hear it but needed to.

I don’t want you to be gone yet. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to stop seeing my children sitting with you in church, leaning their head on your shoulder. I wasn’t ready to stop seeing you like everything I said on facebook. I wasn’t ready to pass by your study and not see you there in your chair, feverishly writing and recording and preserving everything you had in you, everything you wanted to leave as a legacy for us and for your grandchildren. I wasn’t ready to stop watching you love mom and be her best friend and protector and the love of her life. I wasn’t ready to stop walking down the hall and see you in your Sunday School class waiting to start teaching. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

We won’t forget, Dad. We won’t forget the things that were important to you. We won’t forget to consider the people that have come before us, we won’t forget your story. Because I understand now why it was so important to you to share it. You didn’t want people to look at you, you wanted them to see how much Christ had done for you. He’s the focus. He’s your focus. And Jesus is who you wanted us to be focused on, more than any dream or ambition. You and I have quite a few of those. Thank you for teaching me how to be patient and wait for God’s time and leading. Thank you for passing on to me your love of words and stories and everything beautiful in this life. I will treasure and nurture those gifts and make sure that Jesus is always in charge of how they are used.

Goodbye, Dad. I love you.

 

The Two Best Things about New York City

So I had this little dream come true last week.

My husband and two older kids got to visit New York City for four days. And everything they say was true. It was completely, ridiculously expensive. It was crowded and smelly and overwhelming and in-your-face. And those things being validated, you would think I would say I didn't care for it. I'm claustrophobic, I have a larger area of personal space than the average person, I'm sensitive to noise, smell and lights.

I loved it. I found meaning in every moment, and I can't wait to go back someday. I found that part of my heart had been residing there and in visiting I found a part of myself I'd always been missing.

It sounds a little weird, I know. But if I learned anything in New York, I learned it's okay to be weird, as long as I'm being myself.

Two best things about NYC:

1. People watching.

             The most wonderful thing about NYC is the people. There is no shortage. They are packed shoulder to shoulder almost anywhere you go. They are from everywhere in the world. They are interesting to watch, whether they are homeless or tourists or locals or aliens from Pluto. I didn't see a single person who didn't fascinate me. On the subway. Walking in the streets. Sitting in the parks.

              The thing I think I enjoyed the most about the people, especially the locals, was their openness. They didn't try to hide who they were. If they were sitting on the subway they didn't politely cross their legs and fold their hands in their lap with a vacant smile. They would sleep. They would listen to their music. Passionately - as in singing along with all the feeling they could muster. They would laugh at their texts. They would read - textbooks, novels, newspapers. They would make quite a show of expertly not holding on to the poles and still managing to stay upright while us tourists held on for dear life. If they were in the park, they would perform. They would pull out their Michael Jackson moves or their puppets or their saxophone or their grand piano or just stand in spot with great acoustics and sing opera. Some were amazing talents, some were enjoyable to listen to and some kind of hurt the ears a little bit. But whatever they had on their heart to share, they weren't shy about getting up and sharing it. 

              And yet for all their showing off, I have never met such friendly people. We hardly ever had to ask for directions, and not because we weren't usually lost. Because locals would see the panic on our faces and approach us to see how they could help. 

              They taught me a lot about my "limits." They taught me I could stand in a packed subway car stacked up against them and be cool about it. No need to freak out or feel overwhelmed. They taught me that when walking back to the PATH station near the World Trade Center after dark, if one hears continuous booms from the other side of the island that cannot be explained, one doesn't freak out. One carries on with one's business unless directed otherwise. They taught me that I could be exposed to noise, lights, smells and be okay. I didn't have to get a migraine. I didn't have to be overwhelmed and wish I was alone in a spacious field. I could do more than I thought I could.

              

2. The places.

I think you get the point.

Let them Speak

I have been writing, writing, writing. Which makes me happy, happy, happy. I am in the terrifying position of having a completed, rewritten several times and polished historical romance that I can do nothing else with besides send to agents for the time being. So I have been. I'm up to five agents queried, so you can see I mean business. I'm 8 rejections short of J.K. Rowling's 12 rejections for Harry Potter, so that tells you I have a long way to go.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying the rewrite to the sequel. In the previous book, the protagonist was of similar personality to me. It was somewhat easy to write from her perspective, because anything she might say or think, I might say or think as well. I've been realizing this time that my main character is very different from me, which has caused me to have to flex my writing muscles.

I had come to a "blah" section of writing where I didn't feel that undercurrent of overwhelming emotion I like to feel as I'm writing a story. I came to the conclusion it was because I have been letting my voice sneak in, causing my character to go silent.

It's easy to do. I tend to think my opinions and preferences are the best ones. I disagree with some of hers. And I don't always understand why she does the things she does. But to tell her story, based on Jesus' story of the Prodigal Son, I have to let her make some major mistakes. I have to allow her to dig herself into a pretty deep pit, or the point of the story and the message Jesus had for the wanderers will not be as clear.

It takes effort to write something that you don't believe. To put words in her mouth that I don't approve of. What if someone reading it thinks I feel that way?

But writing means letting go of my voice. Getting the author out of the way and letting the story come through. And the more I make a concerted effort to let her be herself, the deeper the story becomes.

So my advice to any other writers who feel like they just aren't getting below the surface with their characters - Let them speak. Don't talk over them. Shut up, even if you don't agree with them. It may be that they have something to teach us.

Thoughts? Leave a comment.

Angels and Demons and Answers

"Why would God care about me? I'm just a normal guy."

It's an excellent question. With an amazing answer. Unfortunately, Dean Winchester of the series "Supernatural" has yet to receive a satisfactory response to this question and many, many others.

I've been watching the show on Netflix. Don't go skipping off to the TV and put it on for the family. It's most definitely not for everyone. There's a lot of blood and guts, a lot of scary monsters, and brothers Dean and Sam are a bit rough with the language and innuendo at times. I also can't say that I approve of the CW inserting a scantily clad young female into just about every episode, either. But the reason I keep watching is for the deeper storyline. The depth of two young men who have suffered unimaginable losses and have no solid ground to stand on. They are at heart searching for a purpose. A reason for all the madness they are surrounded by. No matter how futile their attempts might seem, they continue to fight with all of their gathered strength against the continuous forces of evil. If they can save a life, then it doesn't matter that the quest has consumed any hope they have a normal life.

I started watching it because I've always liked the edgier, scary story. My sisters and I grew up watching scary movies and we had every episode of The X-Files memorized. More recently I enjoyed Fringe, and when that show had run its course I was searching for a replacement. Supernatural has filled that void.

But I don't think I've ever been more frustrated while taking a journey with characters. Sam and Dean were naturally brought to the point of asking the hardest questions. Why me? Am I cursed? Why is there such horrible evil in this world if there is a God who cares? And why would he care about me? I'm not perfect or strong, and I've been tainted by all the evil I fight. Amid all the beliefs of all the religions of the world, what is the truth? Can angels be trusted? Can God be trusted? Can I be saved?

These are the things Sam and Dean have been saying mid season 4. And my heart just keeps crying out, wanting to be heard. Wanting to will the truth onto the screen, into the script, to be a natural part of the story. Where they hit the nail on the head in Biblical truth, I applaud. Where they take liberties and go too far, cross the line and try to discount the most trustworthy Book ever written, I cringe. But when they ask these questions, I don't just hear two brothers on a television show.

I hear the hearts of our cynical, weary, proud society. I hear the voices of the masses, looking at all we have accomplished and all we possess and knowing that it isn't enough. It doesn't fill our need. It can't ever bring us the peace and happiness we all desperately want.

There's an easy answer to Sam and Dean's questions. When we look at the evil, when we stare hard into all the nasty effects that sin has brought to our groaning world, we can't see the truth. We can't see the light there. We can't just say there is a God and have hope. God is as scary to a sinner as the demons that try to destroy our lives. He's just as unreachable as the stars. There's only one bridge, one amazing and beautiful answer to the most horrifying realizations a human can have. And it can all be said in one word.

Jesus.

Without Jesus, without God-become-man-become-sin on a cross of death, without that man rising again in power and defeating hell and Satan and all the forces of evil, we'd be in a state of hopelessness. But as soon as you look into the loving, all-consuming brightness of the Savior's face, you understand. You know there's nothing left here that is stronger than the hold he has on your soul. You know there's nothing more powerful than a love that gave everything, and went to hell and back to set you free from the sin-cursed world.

I'd love to say it to every hurting heart in this world. I'd love to be able to say it to every hopeless being wandering helpless and alone. There is hope. There can be ultimate peace and joy in the face of life's hardest experiences. It only takes a seed of faith, and the humility to admit your hopeless condition. Jesus does everything else.

He is the answer.

"If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all - how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus who died - more than that, who was raised to life - is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall  trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? ... No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." - Romans 8:31-39

10 Easy Ways to Start Living a Natural Life

I started thinking about how I could live more naturally over ten years ago, when I began to realize how my body had been affected by our convenience and processed society. Ten years later, I'm still learning new things.

If you've had the thought that you'd like to change your life and your health by "going green" or "living naturally," but you don't know where to start, I'm here for you! I've put together the ten easiest ways I've found to start your journey toward a new kind of lifestyle.

If you're skeptical, hear me out. You don't have to try all ten today. You could try one a week, or one a month. The point is just to try something. We are afraid of things that aren't familiar, and the only way to conquer that fear is to do something new.

Once you've tried any of these things, you won't have a desire to go back. Some of them may cost you a little more than you are used to spending (usually pennies to a couple dollars,) but some of these ideas can save you a surprising amount of money. I'm providing links to my favorite recipes for your pinning convenience.

1. Stop buying any food that contains HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP. This is an easy one. All you have to do is check the ingredients of anything you're not sure about (cereals, bread, condiments, etc.) This ingredient does you absolutely no favors. It's for the convenience of companies, not for your health. Almost always there is a healthier alternative that may cost a little bit more sitting right next to it. Think about it this way, the extra money you spend to avoid this additive will be dollars you save NOT going to the doctor for all the diseases this ingredient will help along. If you like this idea and would like a few more things to watch out for, another great tip is don't buy anything that has ingredients you can't pronounce. (One exception to this rule - sometimes lists include the scientific names of vitamins and minerals that have been added, but they will usually put the more common name in parenthesis.) If you want to even take it a step further, try only eating and drinking only God-made foods. Once you detox from the chemicals and preservatives your body is addicted to, you won't want anything else. Promise!

2. Make your own LAUNDRY DETERGENT. Honestly, now that I have been making my own for years (and have saved literally hundreds of dollars) I can tell you that store bought detergent adds nothing to your life. It's expensive, full of things you don't need on your skin, and has harsh smells you won't miss. It doesn't even save you that much time, because making your own is so easy. I've made both liquid and dry, and I find that I prefer the dry method - it seems to work a little better and is a little easier to make. But both are very easy and are fine for HE washers. Here's what I'm using right now: http://bumblebeebags.blogspot.com/2012/01/20-minutes-and-20-dollars-for-years.html  One more tip: I always add white vinegar to my fabric softener compartment. Not only does it keep your clothes smelling fresh and clean, it keeps your washer in good shape as well, especially if you have the HE version that uses less water and can get stinky sometimes.

3.Make your own INSECT REPELLENT. I'm not talking about camping trips into the deep forest where scary bugs live, I'm talking about everyday play in the backyard or walks in the neighborhood. I've tried this recipe the past two summers and it has worked very well (and my kids get hives from mosquito bites, so it was important to me that it worked.) This recipe does call for some essential oils, and well... they're essential, so you will have to make an investment, but they last for a long time so don't sweat it too much. http://www.icanteachmychild.com/2011/06/make-it-natural-mosquito-spray/ One more thing: she gives a lot of different oil choices, but the ones I find work the best are Citronella, Peppermint, Lemongrass, Lavender and Tea Tree.

4. Go ORGANIC. Not on everything. Some things aren't that important. But try going organic on milk, and on the "dirty dozen" fruits and veggies. List here: http://www.stonyfield.com/why-organic/12-best-fruits-and-veggies-buy-organic

5. Use all natural CLEANERS. I haven't looked back since I switched. Now I can clean without the inevitable migraine, and these ingredients clean just as well if not better than the store bought chemical stuff you're using. My go-to recipe for my basic kitchen and bathroom cleaner is this:

      > Fill a good sized spray bottle half full with water. Fill most of the rest with white vinegar (you can get huge containers of vinegar for next to nothing. I have one on every floor of the house.)
      > Add: (at this point I usually have some suds at the top of the container, so do the alcohol first) a tablespoon or two of rubbing alcohol, about a teaspoon of plain dawn dish soap, about 30-40 drops lemon oil, and 15 drops tea tree oil.

Another great cleaner I've found for tile and grout and every other sort of nasty you find in a bathroom inhabited by many children is this recipe... be prepared for amazing results! http://www.marthastewart.com/265635/tub-scrub (I use the peppermint oil, it smells great!)

Another cleaning tip - make your own furniture dusting spray. Works better, smells better, nice and cheap! http://www.themakeyourownzone.com/2011/02/homemade-furniture-dusting-spray.html

6. By now you're starting to feel daring, I can tell! Here's a challenge for you - make your own DEODORANT! I see that skeptical stare, but don't be a hater till you try it! It's true I have to put it on more frequently, and for super hot days when you're working in the garden you might need to revert back to the chemically stuff, but for most regular days (especially in cooler weather) this is all you'll need. And it was SO easy to make! I found everything I needed at Whole Foods, but you can always get it online as well. http://creatingnaturally.com/homemade-moisturizing-deodorant-that-works-and-goes-on-smoothly-make-it-yourself-monday/

7. You can also make your own SHAMPOO AND CONDITIONER. This was one thing I balked on for a long time before I tried. But I have found I like my hair better when I wash it this way. You need some Dr. Bronner's liquid castile soap (Whole Foods or Amazon.com) and some plain coconut milk. One part coconut milk, 2 parts castile soap - instant shampoo and body wash, and moisturizing to boot! Now comes the most disconcerting part - apple cider vinegar as conditioner. I promise you, you will NOT smell like vinegar for the rest of the day. Rinse it out well, and when it's dry it will smell clean and happy, not vinegary. I put mine in a little spritz bottle, but again, I have a huge bottle in the closet. Save money, better hair! What's to lose?

8. Instant FACIAL. Pour some honey in a bowl, add some cinnamon, nutmeg and lemon juice. This is great for toning your skin, for helping with acne issues, and the nutmeg also provides a vigorous scrub that will help  remove dead skin and leave you with a youthful glow. I always use grapeseed oil as a body lotion. It works great and is not greasy.

9. Easy great-smelling ROOM SPRAY. Fill a small spritz bottle (preferably dark) with water, and add about 40-80 drops of lavender. (I like mine strong.) There are countless other oils you can use, but this is a good basic spray for all your stale smelling rooms and sheets and couches. Other oils that work well as sprays are lemon, bergamot, ylang ylang (I always add some ylang ylang to my lavender spray, but be careful because a little goes a long way!) rosemary, rose, grapefruit or geranium. If you want a more decadent spray, try frankincense or myrrh, but be prepared to pay a little more. I have some of each that I spent a lot on, but they have lasted me a few years.

10. Dry your clothes outside on a CLOTHESLINE. Just tie some rope across a couple trees and lug out those sheets and blankets and towels. There is nothing like the smell of clothes dried in the sunshine all afternoon! A word of caution, don't try this with colored fabrics. The sun is quite good at bleaching!

Bonus: It's spring, why not make a vegetable garden? Good exercise and sunshine for you, great organic produce at a fraction of the cost! I have found tomatoes, peppers, onions, potatoes, oregano, basil, zucchini and parsley the easiest to grow, if you need a place to start.

There you go! If you already do all these, leave some advice or take it further in the comments. If you haven't tried some of these, what are you waiting for? Let me know how it goes!