On supporting local economy

farmer's market

I’m passionate about supporting one’s local economy, in particular local farmers and artisans, but sometimes prohibitive prices make it difficult. Read more in my latest Mother Earth News post:

“When it’s possible and our finances allow, I’m usually willing to pay more for a locally made or grown product of superior quality. How much more? I’d say about 20% above what I’d pay in a chain store for a similar product of comparable quality. This, when I see a justifiable reason for the higher price – such as extra input of time, care or cost of materials.”

I’d say it goes both ways: customers ought to be willing to pay a little more, and farmers/artisans charge a little less, for this to work. I really struggle with myself when I find myself forced to support a large chain store rather than a small local business due to financial constraints.

Finding family

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I have shared this special adoption story some years back, and am inspired to re-visit it today.

Matanya (not a real name) was born with Treacher Collins syndrome, a rare genetic disorder which caused him to have severe facial deformities and feeding problems. His parents, who didn’t feel capable of raising such a child, made the decision to leave him in the hospital. It must be noted that despite multiple ultrasound scans during the pregnancy, his condition was somehow missed – praise the Lord for this miracle, for otherwise he would probably have been aborted.

Batsheva, who worked in aforementioned hospital as a midwife, was moved by the fate of the little baby who spent week after week in the hospital nursery. Despite the many efforts of the staff to make him as comfortable as possible, he seemed detached, didn’t make eye contact and didn’t smile. Batsheva started visiting the baby and felt terrible every time she went home, leaving him behind. She realized that for a child like this, the only chance to ever have a normal life is to be raised in a supportive and loving family.

Eventually, Batsheva and her husband Shlomo decided to adopt the baby. They had eight children at the time, ranging in ages from 15 to 3, and the older children were involved in the decision. They took Matanya into their home and gave him a family.

“We got eight wonderful gifts from the Lord, healthy and whole” says Batsheva (translation mine). “It was precisely out of that feeling of fulfillment and thankfulness that we felt the need to give back to our Creator by taking care of a soul that was not ours. We felt we can give this child a place in our family. And B”H, the Almighty guided us hand in hand throughout the way.”

“I will never forget how I slowly picked him up and held him for a long time, and he, a tiny four-month-old baby, put his head on my shoulder and fell asleep. It was like he said, ‘I finally found Mommy.’ We all cried from emotion.”

I cried from emotion too, as I read this article. Praise God for such kind and generous souls who gave hope and comfort when it seemed there was none to be had. Truly He sets the solitary in families.

“Just a few hours of being in a warm home made our Matanya smile and look us straight in the eye. It’s amazing how he immediately felt he belongs with us.”

Matanya since went through multiple surgeries which have improved his condition, and will have to go through more as he gets older. He will never look “normal” but otherwise his prospects are good and he is a happy and intelligent child.

Batsheva keeps in touch with Matanya’s biological parents, and tries to be as merciful as possible when relating to their decision of leaving him in the hospital. Matanya was told that he was adopted. “I told him how we walked into he nursery and immediately fell in love with him and chose him of all babies. I said to him he belongs with us for good.”

The trouble with “measuring up”

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A huge stumbling block in the path of people who wish to simplify and live a quiet, slow and purposeful life, is being part of a social circle who all have bigger houses, more possessions, fancier gadgets, who take trips abroad every year, etc, etc.

An important thing to remember when you say to yourself, “how come they are able to afford it?!” is that you don’t really know whether they can. You don’t really know what goes on behind the closed doors of people’s homes, or in their bank accounts. Perhaps these people are living way beyond their means. Perhaps they are in debt. Or perhaps they afford their super-fancy, extra-packed lifestyle by maintaining two careers which leave hardly any family time at all.

And if you are a mother who stays home with her children, some people might deliberately or accidentally make you feel inferior, or this feeling might come across on its own when you’re reading about someone who “successfully” combined a career and family. And again, the true price of what it all entailed is seldom brought up.

Or perhaps you just walk into someone’s house and lament how this lady has it all together while you don’t, and seemingly never will, and forget that no one has our unique set of strengths, weaknesses, experience and family situation. I’m not saying we shouldn’t learn from one another. But this learning should be a thing of strength and growth, not just useless comparison that leads us to feel debilitating inferiority.

Maybe, when you were growing up, there was a child of your parents’ friends, or perhaps a cousin who was so much more accomplished than you, who spoke German and French and played the violin, and could do all the things you could never even dream of doing. Perhaps your parents spent your entire childhood and adolescence unfavorably comparing you with that “role model”, until you felt about that unfortunate unsuspecting child the same way Emma Woodhouse felt about Jane Fairfax – an almost unconscious grudge that is as unjustified as it is difficult to overcome.

G-d made us unique. He wants and expects us to improve, but not by striving to become the image of somebody else. His boundaries are wide enough so that within them, we can freely be just what we are.

Image: lovely oil painting by Trent Gudmundsen 

Summer fun

The house is full of cardboard boxes, and all our stuff is nearly packed, except for a few last minute essentials. To celebrate this, we went away to spend a few days with my mom.

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A little boy on his first bike. It was a birthday present, and it’s blue – Israel’s favorite color.

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He was so happy and proud of himself. This was the first time he really experienced the freedom of having a pair of wheels, and he just wouldn’t get off. He rode like the wind!

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Dancing and splashing in the fountain.

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They had so much fun!

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Building a fort with blankets and pillows. The kids stayed in this cave for hours, and performed the most delightful puppet shows.

On the other side of the door

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Have you ever had to climb into your house through a bathroom window? I had this unforgettable experience a few years back, when my two older girls were a toddler and a baby.

Around midday, the girls and I were returning home from a play-date visit in a friend’s house, tired out and ready for lunch, story time and a nap. I opened the door, let Shira in, and lingered outside with Tehilla to give the chickens some fresh water.

Just as I had my back turned to the door, I heard an ominous click of the door locking from inside.T ehilla and I were out and Shira was in the house on her own, and there was a locked door in between.

I tried to get Shira to unlock the door, but the lock was stuck. All the windows were locked from inside too (for safety reasons) and I couldn’t quite get her to understand how to open them. Once it dawned on us that we’re separated by a locked door, we both got quite panicky. I heard Shira crying inside and could do nothing – I felt so helpless, my husband had a key but he was at least an hour and a half away.

I called a friend who lived nearby, more for moral support than anything else, and she dashed right over to try and get us to calm down, and to coax Shira to give the key another try from inside. In the meantime, I made a last desperate check of all the windows and discovered – hurray! – that the shower window is unlocked.

Problem is, it’s a small window that opens only halfway, and it’s right near the ceiling. In a stroke of uncharacteristic technical brilliance, I managed to remove the glass panes, which left a square right below the ceiling, large enough for a rather thin person to climb through (I’m proud to say I was even able to replace the panes later, in correct order).

I found a ladder behind the garden shed, took one of the plastic garden chairs and slipped it through the window into the shower stall so that I would be able to step on it once I swing my feet through the window. I then realized there’s no way I’m going to be able to do this in my long denim skirt. Sincerely hoping no one can see this, I slipped out of my skirt, immensely thankful that at least I was wearing long pants underneath. I then climbed to the top of the ladder, swung one foot over the window, then another (in an acrobatic fit I had no idea I was capable of), then I climbed down to the plastic chair – and yes! I was in!

I hurried to my frightened child, comforted her while telling her never, never, never to mess about with the lock again, and swung open the front door, admitting my friend together with her little ones and Tehilla, who was sitting in her stroller all the while, enjoying all the attention and oblivious to anything exciting going on. With a deep sigh of worn-out travellers, my friend and I settled on the couch and sofa to nurse our babies. Finally, rest was at hand.

Later, when I was at leisure to think it all through, it occurred to me how this whole situation illustrates something bigger – the feeling of helplessness, the frustration, the fear; separation from our dearest ones; knowledge of being very close to something precious – so close, yet unable to reach it. And finally, the miraculous discovery of a way to get to it – doing things you didn’t think you could do, climbing up a steep ladder, a dangerous squeezing through a narrow gate, and finding yourself, finally, at the peaceful place your heart so desired – your home.

The countdown

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I have shared this little video of some of our potted plants which, like me, are waiting to be moved to more permanent soil.

The countdown to our house move is now past the one month mark, and about 90% of our things are currently in boxes, making the place a maze of cardboard. I can’t wait to get to the new house so I can unpack and rearrange it all.

It’s exhausting, but also oddly addictive – once you start packing, you can’t stop filling those boxes. Please wish us luck as we go through this process once again… and, oh, also wish us many peaceful years at our new home. I really don’t feel like doing this again anytime soon.

 

Unclogging Drains

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You know those times when you’re washing dishes and the water drains just a little bit slowly in the sink, and you’re trying to deny it and say, “oh, it’s probably nothing”? Well, don’t do that, because you might just find yourself with a fully clogged drain before you know it! Treat the problem while it’s manageable.

Read more in my latest Mother Earth News post:

“The simplest and most obvious thing is prevention: try not to let your drains get mucky in the first place. Clean plates thoroughly before placing them in the sink, especially plates with lots of fatty/oily residue, and try to catch hair and other gunk before it slides down your bathroom drain.”

On a more serious note, my thoughts right now are with Bruce and Carol McElmurray, who have fled from wildfires in their area in Southern Colorado and left their beloved mountain cabin behind. Bruce and Carol and their dogs are safe, but they might never return to their home. I’m crossing my fingers and hoping for a miracle. I’m sure they will appreciate your prayers.