This is Wild-Haired Child #3 in our unkempt backyard this past spring. She loves wildflowers, as many young children do. They seem to naturally notice, appreciate and even get excited over what most adults consider weeds and a nuisance.
She reminds me to take a break from dirty socks, calendars, and the unrelenting world of social media to quietly marvel at ordinary, everyday miracles that so easily get lost in all the chores.
To observe the fuzz on the white spotted jumping spider and look long and closely enough to catch my reflection in it’s eyes – even if there’s still a little anxiety and disgust mingled in with the wonder.
To rejoice in the first buds of a tomato plant and feel genuine awe and gratitude when a new species of bird alights on our fencepost.
To stroke Child #3’s matted curls that she refuses to let me brush, tendrils that envelope her brilliant, inquisitive green eyes as she delights in the wildflowers we failed to mow in a neighborly manner.
There’s so much to be afraid of, angry and disappointed over in this world. But if we can find true thankfulness we can know hope, peace, and joy in the midst of all that hurts, like wildflowers sprinkling a neglected lawn. And if we learn to see the little things there is no shortage. EVER. Of blessings to be thankful for.
I’m not one to tell others what they should think or do.I am a relentless advocate of personal rights and responsibility.I make a point of encouraging people to critically evaluate information from different perspectives, form their own educated opinions and to make and own their decisions.It is doubtful that I will ever cease in that conviction and mission.
As an extension of what I just mentioned, when it comes to certain specific topics like childbirth and vaccination, I don’t often publicly share the full extent of my own well-developed views so as not to overly influence that important opinion-forming process in others.But I have written poetry most of my life and I have decided to share some of it at the risk of repelling those who disagree or don’t understand. These blog posts will be less doula-esque in that I will not attempt to simply share resources while projecting neutrality. I’ve seen too much now – too much medical bullying, suppression of safe and effective natural options, manipulated “science”, mangled flesh and tears.So at this point, through this particular outlet, I will share some controversial personal sentiments openly and unapologetically.It is still my penetrating belief that others have the right and responsibility to develop their own thoughts and beliefs for themselves.
I am convinced that many aspects of Western medicine have an important place in our world and that there are some outstanding doctors, nurses and other professionals out there.However, there is also a great deal of corruption and deception in this so-called “conventional” medical system that renders too many well-intended healthcare practitioners the unwitting accomplices of it’s crimes, and results in the needless harm and death of innumerable people.I see it regularly in many areas of medicine, perhaps most notably those related to vaccination and cancer treatment.The following words are born of righteous anger, passion and years of research and experiences. They are directed toward the nefarious individuals and systems that knowingly and repeatedly place profits ahead of people. Your reign of greed and ego-fueled carnage is unravelling.
by Cristina Howell
You monopolize wisdom, wielding scepter and crown, while your science is weak and your logic’s unsound.
You brandish credentials as the curtain frays thin, and your impotent dogma’s found lacking again.
Those who need to partake in your masquerade will. They’ll assault and defend or close their eyes and lie still.
But your illusions of intellectual supremacy fade as the truth rouses open our eyes. And finite and futile are your imminent days as the awakened rise up and dismantle your lies.
Don’t know what on earth I’m talking about? Maybe it’s time to do some digging of your own.
I struggle with body image sometimes, just like most women.
In my head I know that being healthy is what’s important – that if I am eating and moving and resting well, the physical manifestation of that is my personal “healthy,” and healthy is more important than skinny.
I don’t even like the word skinny. People are created in different shapes and sizes and women who are healthy can vary greatly in their outward appearances. For some naturally curvy women like myself, being “skinny” would reflect malnourishment and not health. For others who have exceptionally lean body types, the word can be hurled at them with disdain as somewhat of an accusation by women who are hurting and grappling with their own negative body images.
I have stretch marks from my earlier pregnancies that have aged over the years into silvery ribbons. My pregnancy in my thirties didn’t yield those scars, but skin that has been stretched more than usual and gathers in ruffles around my navel and lower abdomen. I have decided that my ideal weight is evolving as I mature into womanhood, and I am giving myself grace to grow into my life and be changed by the seasons I walk through.
I struggled deeply with all of the body changes that motherhood ushered in when I was only in my early twenties. I don’t dwell on it as much now and there are certainly times when I feel strong and empowered by the marks of my life’s journey; but I’d be lying if I denied that there are moments when I feel insufficient and wonder what it would be like if my skin was smoother or tighter or if I weighed what I did before I had children, especially when I see other women openly self-loath and do everything in their power to erase or alter what they consider to be their own imperfections. And sadly I have been that person who has complained about her body in front of other women, likely on some level reinforcing their own self consciousness and shame.
I want to overcome this for myself, for my daughters and my son and husband (it affects them too). I want to vanquish this, bone-deep in me, for the sake of a humanity obsessed with both the superficial esteem and the degradation that comprise the two-sided coin of our obsessive pursuit of perfection and our consequent objectification of our mothers, sisters, daughters and ourselves. I want to believe, with more than just my head, that I am good enough – that I am beautiful the way God made me, that life changes us inside and out and that that’s okay, even really good. I want my every cell to reverberate the truth that real health, and that includes peace with oneself, is more important than numbers on a scale and the unrealistic expectations of strangers.
When my third child was three days old I looked at her and then at my fresh postpartum self, and in a moment of profound love and revelation I was inspired to photograph her alongside the belly that carried her.
This is the body that enveloped her and the womb that swelled with love for her, the skin that’s silver scars whisper reminders of how I brought my older children earth-side, the marks that echo the story of my flesh and blood and entire intangible being growing and birthing all those beloved souls.
When I look at these photographs I cannot help but love my body.
It is frail in many ways because I am only human, but I was created with exquisite love and incredible purpose. And regardless of your story and whatever lies you find yourself tempted to believe, so were you.
Some families plan pregnancies and their bodies cooperate flawlessly. Others struggle for years to have children and the sadness, frustration and financial considerations that often go along with infertility can be burdensome and relentless. Then there are also mothers and families who find themselves having babies before they’re prepared and they may feel afraid, lost or even angry. Pain hurts regardless of the circumstances surrounding our unique situations and I think it’s good to know that whatever your story is, you are not alone.
Here is a bit about my own journey:
11 years ago I was 23 and overwhelmed with a mortgage, two naturally-conceived children, postpartum depression and a husband with a fresh vasectomy scar. 9 years ago, after I began to catch my breath with life and I’d learned to support the hormones that had sent me into a downward emotional spiral, I began to regret our decision to stop having babies.
I began to learn about adoption in the bible and in modern times, and of how the bible describes God adopting Gentiles and grafting them into his family through salvation. Moses was adopted and Exodus tells of his selfless, courageous birthmother as well as his compassionate adoptive mother. Jesus, was adopted by Joseph, who became his earthly father. Earthly adoption is not for everyone, but the story of earthly and spiritual adoption is woven throughout scripture and it’s beautiful.
One night, in what turned out to be a long season of yearning for more children, I dreamed that I found a baby near the woods in a carseat. She was cold and blueish, as if dead. I instinctively took her out of the carseat, unbuttoned my shirt and placed her skin to skin against my chest. Gradually she turned pink and warm. She was alive! And somehow I knew that she was mine. Though I did not entirely understand that dream or whether it was even much more than my rambling subconscious, I woke up with a powerful desire to adopt. Years later when I was still waiting and aching for a baby I made an “art journal” entry about the dream.
It was 2 years from the time I first began to desire more children that my husband agreed, and for a variety of reasons we decided it was best to adopt rather than pursue a vasectomy reversal. We wanted to be part of an open domestic adoption where we could love a child as well as his or her birth mother. We were honored to have the opportunity for a child to come into our family through the love and sacrifice of a birth mother who had decided that adoption was the best choice for her baby. And we waited. We waited for 3 years with an agency that we chose very carefully because it not only placed babies into adoptive families, but respected and genuinely cared for birth families as well. But the agency was small and the fact that we already had two children did not make us desirable in the eyes of the average birth mother.
Then one day our social worker mentioned something called “embryo adoption”. When families do IVF (in vitro fertilization), usually because they have trouble conceiving naturally, they often have excess embryos after they’ve decided for whatever reason that their families are complete. These embryos can be frozen at slightly different times, but freezing usually occurs after the egg and sperm have been fertilized and the embryos have grown in a petri dish for 5 days. Every embryo is unique and genetically complete (besides epigenetic factors that will come into play in the womb and throughout life) and at 5 days post-conception they are generally known as blastocysts. When a family has extra frozen embryos their options are to discard them, donate them to science where they will be destroyed, freeze them indefinitely or allow/choose a family to adopt them. In embryo adoption the embryo is transferred into the adoptive mother’s womb and she is able to carry and give birth to her child.
I was astonished that such a thing was possible, and I remembered my dream from years earlier about the cold, blue baby that became warm and pink and mine when I tucked her into my shirt! After publishing a profile on an embryo adoption matching site, we were quickly contacted by several families. We found a family that was a great match and they actually saw the fact that we already had children as a benefit, since we were experienced as parents and the babies would have parents and siblings to love them! Several months later we adopted 3 embryos from them in an open adoption. I was able to do an unmedicated cycle with just the support of some supplements and we transferred (a procedure where they place the thawed embryo into the uterus) one embryo that was lost early on in a chemical pregnancy. Another died in the thawing process. The third embryo implanted, thrived and, after the shock wore off, I treasured that pregnancy like I never knew was possible before.
About a year after adopting the embryos, and after a total of 6 years of waiting, our daughter Rosemary Elizabeth was born. She recently turned 3 and she still takes my breath away. I am just so humbled and honored that that her genetic family chose us and that God allowed us to be her parents. We just could not love her more and we believe that her story is unique, special and to be celebrated. I could sob right where I sit just thinking about it all.
When Rosie was about 6 months old we started looking for more embryos to adopt. There is a large age gap between our genetically conceived kids and Rosie and it has been very important to us that she has a sibling close in age that comes to us through adoption, like she did. After a year of searching for another private embryo adoption match we were chosen to adopt 4 embryos from a wonderful family with whom we have another open adoption.After the first single embryo transfer I became pregnant and Noah Sage is now 8 months old.
We were prepared for some bonding challenges when we were pursuing infant adoption, but we have not experienced any with embryo adoption. It has actually been easier to bond with our younger two children initially, I imagine because we’d waited so long and worked so hard to get them, I wasn’t experiencing postpartum depression and were were just overall in a different place in life. We are currently in the process of placing our remaining embryos with two families who have become our friends and will also share in open adoptions.
Some of our children came to us in an unusual way. We are blessed beyond description to have these kids in our family and that we are able to stay connected with their genetic families – the souls who gave them their genetic heritage, did everything in their power to give them a chance at life and who love them endlessly. I am so incredibly thankful that I can tell our children where their eye colors came from, laugh at the resemblance of certain facial expressions (so far there’s a lot of “nature and nurture” influence here!) and most of all, see them assured in a unique way that they are cherished by all of the people who took part in their origins. There are many types of adoption arrangements out there from completely anonymous to every shade of semi-open and open. People cite various pros and cons for each option and it is a very personal choice. Adoption is not for everyone. Open adoption is not for everyone. But I am so glad that it’s part of our story. I do not feel threatened by or in competition with the families we are connected with through adoption. My husband and I are mom and dad.But I consider our kids’ genetic moms my sisters and their families our extended families. I just feel that we all have more love and support in our lives now, and my heart is radiant with joy and gratitude.
*Legally the process described above is considered “donation” rather than adoption, as governments tend not recognize the personhood of embryos in this context (though in others such as inheritance and certain violent crimes some seem to) and therefore generally it is legally deemed a transfer of property. I define it as very early adoption because to our family and to the families we have adopted from that’s what it is, even without a law to validate that for us. Thoughts and beliefs about when life begins, the motivations of families involved and other factors may influence whether a person distinguishes this process as adoption or donation.
To date, this is my favorite photograph. I took it as a senior in high school on a Nikon 35 mm SLR. These are the hands and feet of my late grandmother, Myra Lee Pullis.
We called her “Granny” and I have the sweetest memories of her and the pure and simple love that she lavished on me. I remember spending the night at her house and eating canned chicken soup for lunch (Granny did not care much for cooking) on old bronze and wood veneer TV trays, picking ripe blackberries on our neighborhood walks, and savoring the nectar of the honeysuckle that climbed the back of her chainlink fence. I remember curling up in her soft, thin lap in the evenings while she sank into in her cushy, brown, ribbed fabric recliner watching Wheel of Fortune and scratching my back, then bathing in rose scented bubble bath in her turquoise tub, and sleeping in her cozy full-sized bed with her and my little sister while a box fan whirred all night on a nearby dresser. She didn’t have a lot of money and our activities were rarely extravagant, but she cherished us and always made time for us. I will never forget that. Or her.
She thought I was a certified pistachio when I asked her to take her shoes off in my mom’s backyard so that I could photograph her hands and feet for art class. But this was not a novel sentiment for her to express or for me to inspire, and though I attempted to reason with her about the beauty that I saw in her aged appearance, she did not understand or require such explanations and proceeded to comply in trust and good humor.
But the beauty I see in this image still makes my heart ache.
I see wisdom and the marks of a long life granted to a sweet soul. I see the wear of grief, joy, worry, work, accomplishment…of life. I see skin stretched thin with toil, bones that protrude slightly in remembrance of all the long walks she’d liked to take, the heads full of curls she’d taken such pains to brush gently. Her blood vessels, swelling in reflection of their long use and faithful service to a woman who’d spent herself caring for others.
That is beauty. To love. To spend yourself loving God and people. To know and to see the gift in a life well-lived, however lengthy or brief it unfolds to be. And all the scars, wrinkles, imperfections and reflections of our journeys – to embrace that they represent the opportunity we’ve been given to live and to love at all.
It seems like there are constantly new sensationalist blog posts, videos and articles going viral online and igniting very real frenzies of fear, anger and disunity.This happens in politics, medicine and virtually any field of thought in which heated controversy tends to find it’s way and stamp out all reason and good will in favor of hysteria.
Most recently an embarrassingly unsubstantiated news article made it’s rounds, purporting that essential oils caused some negative reactions in children, the most significant of which (dilated pupils) has never been recorded as a side effect of the use or misuse of any essential oil. The evidence in support of the article’s claim was shamefully lacking. It was a textbook example of the reckless journalistic mistake of equating correlation to causation, but you would never know it for the times the link to the article was shared on social media or for the emotional uproar left in the wake of the story. There were certainly people who approached the information objectively but many simply reacted – instantly becoming afraid, angry, confused, and often never so much as questioning the evidence, lack of evidence or discussing whether or not the assertions made were even true. In fact the opposite occurred – many of those same individuals reposted the link, further spreading the groundless story and the madness. Some who seemed to share the article more sober-mindedly were perhaps attempting to use it as an opportunity to teach that essential oils should be used with wisdom, an honorable goal; however, fear is a monstrous teacher and inciting anger tends to fuel resentment and compel the receiver of the message to run to whatever conclusions can found at the opposite extreme.
Information is good and disagreement isn’t bad; it can even be beneficial. Respectful, openminded discussion gives us all a chance to share – to hear and to be heard, to learn and to grow regardless of whether or not we agree on a particular matter in the end. And we can share resources,discuss and even disagree with honor and grace.We can promote these principles in our social media and in-person communities and we can discourage the mania, disrespect and strife that make them unsafe and that actually cause people to become closed off and defensive rather than open to the ideas being shared. We can learn to recognize and reject “information” that can be more accurately defined as tabloid journalism, fear mongering or propaganda.
I am very emotional by nature myself, so keeping my composure and sticking to facts when discussing something that I feel strongly about is something that I have to make a continual and conscious effort to do – and apologize for my not-so-infrequent failures to do! I hope never to convey that I am “above” all of this. I care so very much about this topic and reference it so frequently partly because it is something that I wrestle with myself everyday.
I encourage you to distance yourself as much as is reasonably possible from ANYTHING – resources (like articles and blog posts), groups, people, organizations, etc. that regularly promotes sensationalism, hostility and other ugly and toxic suppressors of intellect.Don’t “share” on social media the evidence-sparse, hype-heavy stories and support the ratings that irresponsible journalists and bloggers so desperately crave.Don’t participate in conversations at work where others speak hostilely or condescendingly of those with whom they disagree.There are some mean-spirited Face Book groups out there that do a great deal more harm than good spewing hatred and negativity about what they don’t believe rather than rationally presenting arguments and peacefully sharing what they do believe – consider removing yourself from those groups!Connect with those who value people more than making a point, being “right” or stirring the pot.
No matter what our opinions or how we differ it is kindness and reasonableness, not irrationality and disdain, that nourish atmospheres of teaching, learning, growth and true community.
I posted this on Facebook a year ago, when I was in the midst of our second appeal to Cigna (my husband’s insurance provider through work) to compensate for services which I was told in advance that we had coverage for:
“My husband fell off of a ladder and sprained his ankle while painting the house on Labor day. I called Cigna before we settled on a facility for emergency care. I tend to be fairly thorough in matters regarding finances and I asked 3 times if a specific location would be covered and what the cost would be. I was assured 3 times that everything would be taken care of with a nominal copay. Later, fine print revealed that services rendered by the location we’d chosen were not covered as I’d been told. The recorded call confirmed what I’d been told by the representative I’d taken the time to call and that I’d been given incorrect information. I explained that I found it unreasonable for a person to be expected to review fine print or to consult a lawyer under the sorts of circumstances that necessitate a trip to an emergency care facility, especially when a representative of the insurance company advises upfront that care will be covered. And I understand that the phone representative was mistaken and that we all make mistakes; however that advice is what motivated me to choose one facility over another. And under the circumstances, I think it’s reasonable for Cigna to own that mistake on behalf of their employee, honor what I was told and pay my bill as I was expecting.
We’ve also had bills we’ve submitted to Samaritan Ministries, a Health Sharing Organization that we use as an alternative to insurance for the rest of the family since adding us to my husband’s insurance would have cost around $1,000 per month. Two recent, substantial sets of medical expenses we’ve accrued are considered “unpublishable” as they are related to pre-existing conditions and have been submitted as “Special Prayer Needs” rather than in the usual way that needs are shared in this program. Pictured is the stack of over 40 cards that accompanied a comparably sized stack of checks sent over the last 3 weeks by Samaritan members – Christians who chose to give above and beyond the monthly shares they have committed to, in order that they might ease the burden of our otherwise unpublishable (“uncovered” would be the insurance term) medical bills.
In the first scenario described above I am arguing with a huge, lucrative company looking for loopholes to justify denying an arguably valid claim. In the second situation, strangers-made-family-through-faith are joyfully, generously and voluntarily pouring out love in the form of cards that are balm to the soul and money for our practical needs. The contrast here is hitting me on so many levels and I don’t think I can come out of this epiphany the same.”
Cigna never did pay that bill and I ended up submitting our expenses to Samaritan Ministries. All of the bills were shared by Samaritan members without so much as a grumble or likely a thought as to what loopholes might legally justify not doing so. In fact, we received cards and letters again, along with the checks! Those cards, once again, were filled with love and prayers that humbled and served as vehicles of healing to hearts wearied by the physical injury as well as by the apathy we’d received from the Insurance Industry.
I absolutely believe that businesses have a right to make money and that in itself is not wrong, in my opinion. I can also see that legally, Cigna had it’s pretext to deny our claim. However I did not and do not feel that our family was regarded as a unit of people with legitimate needs and rights that the company had any pledge to meet or to uphold. I do not feel that we were treated with integrity or compassion and I feel that the drive for profit was put over our family members as human beings. I can’t even say that we experienced regular, old fashioned, good customer service. Cigna satisfied the letter of their complexly written legal documents and yet missed the spirit of caring for the sick and wounded. Perhaps it’s naive to think that spirit was ever a motivating concept for the health insurance industry at large. In any case, our family has found another way in Samaritan Ministries and I don’t think that we’ll ever look back.
These are some thoughts I have in response to the idea that the energetic aspects of natural medicines like essential oils are “New Age,” anti-Christian, or even demonic.
I have heard such concerns on and off, particularly from those who are partial to mainstream medicine and also members of the Christian community. I’ve had my own questions and concerns in my journey in natural health. What I often find at the root of these concerns or even accusations though, is not a Christian dilemma, but Americans’ sincere and well intended inabilities to distinguish the difference between what is considered biblical philosophy and language and what is simply Western philosophy and language – particularly such that pertains to Western medicine, which is rooted in the physical and almost exclusively utilizes modalities like drugs and surgery and which generally recognizes and manipulate outward, physical symptoms rather than considering things such as root causes of disease, particularly those causes which stem from emotional or energetic imbalances of various sorts.
There are, however, other philosophies and practices of medicine and life that differ from those which prevail in the West, and to deem all of those automatically as inferior or demonic or anti-biblical is misguided at best and arrogant at worst. Other ways of interpreting life, health, and practicing medicine which recognize the unseen and intangible forces (explained by quantum physical science and which are real and measurable forces and phenomena) are actually older, more effective at addressing many various health issues, still influential in many parts of the world, and are even the sorts of ideas which dominated biblical culture. Jesus himself was, of course, a man of Eastern background and influence.
Western medicine has shown to be extremely helpful in things like acute injuries, but is arguably quite lacking in other areas that involve chronic illness, both emotional and physical. There is also copious evidence of deep corruption in many aspects of the establishment and continued monopoly of this sort of medicine. In other words the “conventional,” mainstream or allopathic way of thinking and practicing medicine is relatively new, is steeped in corruption, and simply is not the only way of accomplishing healing. In fact, it could be well argued that it’s benefits, though significant in the aforementioned sorts of emergency scenarios, are also often exaggerated and it’s risks, minimized.
There are good questions out there which should be wrestled with by those who have concerns. And not everything in natural medicine is consistent with a biblical world view; but that is very much the case for pharmaceutical medicine as well. I encourage you, Christians, to think and pray for yourselves about all of it. Each of us is responsible before God for the choices that we make. In your journey, I urge you to remember that there are many perspectives, and that oftentimes our propensity to equate “Western” or “American” with biblical is, as I mentioned earlier, misguided at best and arrogant at worst.
Here’s an article by Matt Stone that goes into more detail about Christianity and Energy Medicine.
“And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”
Genesis 1:3 ESV
The bible says that light, vegetation, and life on earth was called into existence by the sound of God’s voice.
From a scientific perspective, we now understand that the material world is fundamentally comprised of energy vibrating at different frequencies—like sound.Our organs, the trees, the ground that we stand on—everything that we see is made of something that we cannot see and yet is the fiber from which visible creation is woven.In fact, if you were to look more and more closely at an atom under a microscope, at a given point it would seem to disappear because that atom is essentially composed of invisible energy and not of tangible matter.
This is not a “New Age,” anti-christian, or pseudo-scientific concept.It is the reality of our world.It’s the way everything was made and the manner in which life and matter is sustained.Again, a biblical perspective—In Acts 17, Paul explained to the Athenians that God does not reside in temples made by men and is not otherwise limited to the physical parameters that are so familiar to us.He goes on in verse 28 to say that, “In him we live and move and have our being,” that God is himself the unseen fabric that holds creation together.Whether you are inclined toward the biblical perspectives, the scientific, or both, these truths existed long before modern man recognized them.They prevail in spite of those who are not aware of or who refuse to acknowledge them.And as we are tempted to congratulate ourselves on what we do understand, we are (hopefully) continually humbled by the vastness of what we do not.
What does all this mean to us in terms of holistic wellness?It means a lot of things, many that we have only begun to fathom, some that have been embraced by holistic healers for millennia; and doubtlessly it means a great deal that we know virtually nothing about.For now I will say that both naturally occurring energies such as emotions, and man-manipulated energies, such as those used in wireless technologies, profoundly effect us everyday.
All scriptures are quoted from the English Standard Version of the bible
Promoting kindness and respect in the essential oil community at large has been on my on my heart in a big way for the past several months.As a doula, encouraging people to make their own informed decisions has always been important to me; and that principle is just as relevant in my YL business.
World renown essential oil expert, Robert Tisserand, asked me to write a blog post on these topics for him and it was published recently.