It’s been a pleasure doing this study with you! And no matter how hard I try… I can’t get the video thumbnail to select a different photo. So just enjoy making fun of me behind my back… that’s why I do what I do!
I still remember the moment we fell in love with this place… the front porch hanging low under the shade trees… the tiny fireplace nestled inside the big living room… the sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows, dancing on the walls.
We knew this was home, and we knew this is where we would have our children. That’s what we hoped… though neither of us dared breathe those words out loud.
Eight months later we discovered our miracle was on the way. We carried her through that door and I watched as you walked her around the giant living room with the tiny fireplace, telling her this was her home, where she would always be warm… and safe… and wanted.
We paced the wide, wooden floors for months, hushing, quieting, singing. Eventually the pacing gave way to the sound of two tiny feet; first a slow start and then a sprint of thump, thump, thumps…the most beautiful noise we had ever heard.
We will be leaving this place, the place we love, in just a few weeks.
The low front porch where we first carried her, the fireplace where we sat with her, the light-filled kitchen where every new day brought hope that there would be another Miracle.
We grieve as we say goodbye to this place; our little Miracle is unsettled at the boxes piled on every side of the living room.
I hear myself whisper in her ear as I pace, our arms are your home… and here you will always be warm… and safe… and wanted…
And I find comfort.
Follow along with us! Welcome to week one of the Bare Naked Truth Study.
We’ll be looking at chapters 1-2 this week.
I’ve been on the Paleo diet for nine weeks now, and apparently the word “Paleo” is Greek for “personality transplant”.
I never knew that inside of me was a repressed runner. Also, a morning person.
In addition, “paleo” has a second meaning: “Eat only items that taste like poop”.
Basically, if the “food” (and I use that word loosely) has enough bacteria to make your colon grow legs and escape your body, by all means, consider eating it.
Fermented foods are especially encouraged. The recipe for fermentation is as follows:
Put water (from the creek in the back yard preferred, toilet optional*), veggies, and salt (according to taste) in a jar. Sit jar on counter for at least six weeks, or until the smell kills the dog.*
Once the fermentation is complete and you have partaken, you will either:
- Sleep for six days then wake up as Chuck Norris
- Go to the Emergency Room
- Run a marathon
In all seriousness, this diet has transformed my life. I went from a chronically fatigued mom to a woman whose toddler begs for “nigh nigh” before I’m ready to wrap up the day.
Hello: my name is Bekah, and I am not selling any diet products in this column. Unless the cabbage industry is secretly slipping money under the table for me to tell you that sauerkraut is an amazing fermented veggie you can make on your countertop…
*Do not follow this recipe. It is a joke.
Bekah Hamrick Martin is a writer who can be reached at www.facebook.com/bekahhamrickmartin, unless she’s seeing a psychologist for her personality transplant.
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I believe in the power of a good first impression. Which is why before I met my publisher’s publicist last week, I shaved my legs. And my upper lip. (This time I even left some eyebrow.)
Also, I bought a new dress, did my nails, and begged my two-year-old not to throw up on, perforate, or otherwise desecrate said new dress.
It was probably too much to ask.
Somehow, I made it to Orlando without one single dress-incident (other than the full-frontal pat-down, courtesy of TSA, thanks to embellishments on my outfit. Good to know they’re keeping the country safe from 98-pound women in maxi-dresses).
I had it all together. Until it was time to actually meet up with the publicist.
At which point I got lost in Universal Studios (turned out I wasn’t even in the park yet), pulled out my cell phone for directions to the meeting, and didn’t notice as my room key and park ticket floated to the ground.
Until I tried to get through the park gate.
Did I mention it was raining?
Nothing like calling your pregnant publicist to come rescue you in a torrential downpour because you have no money and you’ve lost the only belongings she’s asked you to keep track of the entire weekend.
(I cannot make this stuff up.)
I still believe in the power of a good first impression.
I also believe in grace.
So if you’re reading this, dear publicist friend, I thank you for my second chance. Also, thank you for noticing that 98-pound women in maxi-dresses really can take the world by storm.
And if you have any doubts about the truth of that last statement, just consult TSA.
Bekah Hamrick Martin is a writer who can be reached at www.facebook.com/bekahhamrickmartin, unless she’s still detained at
Two years ago, I was forming a lifelong friendship with my anesthesiologist.
Okay… we haven’t spoken since that day, but I would still hug him if I could.
A few hours later I stared at our Tiny Human in total disbelief that she was ours.
What did this mean for the future?
More importantly… would we ever sleep again?
The answer was no.
We were quickly introduced to the magic of the witching hour. And sleeping in the car seat (her, not us).
We were so terrified that her head would fall forward and she’d cut off her windpipe that we took turns staying up just so we could watch her breathe. (The acid reflux was so bad she couldn’t sleep lying down.)
We’ve come a long way in two years.
(If God chooses to give us another Tiny Human, we are prepared with all the gear we could ever want to survive the first four months, even with acid reflux.)
If Zoey never gets a sibling… we are prepared to help one Mama be very happy with all the gear she could want to survive the first four months.
Either way, this face is more than enough to keep us delighted. She is our celebration. Our miracle. And the reason I am currently rail thin (from chasing after her busy little body).
Just so y’all know… if you dump salt on the solid cherry dining room table… and put a piece of paper on top of that salt and rub… it acts as sandpaper.
Don’t ask how I know that.
Happy 2nd Birthday, Beautiful, Daring, Adventerous Girl.
This past weekend I became a minion, rescued a princess, and lived through an earthquake. Yup… I went to Universal Studios in Orlando.
While I had a chance to play, I also had a chance to work. Thanks to my publisher, I was able to share my book and meet some really amazing people who were also visiting the studio.
These men and women are true heroes of this generation, and they are called… church youth leaders.
If you haven’t met these folks, they undergo more real transformations in a day then the tens of fake ones Universal Studios put me through in an hour. Youth workers wear every hat imaginable:
Counselors, friends, caregivers… they are available day and night; they help walk kids safely to the other side of drug abuse, family conflicts, every imaginable inch of teen angst…
And I was honored to be able to stand in front of these folks and tell them my story. I was humbled that they listened. And even more humbled that they did not stretch forth their wands and turn me into a minion.
Because from what I can tell, these people… called youth leaders… they have magical powers.
How else could you explain their ability to keep up with thousands of kids in an amusement park?