Friday, March 29, 2013

Good Friday

Good Friday has never seemed like a fitting name to me. I get what is good about the crucifixion: God taking on my sin so I can be redeemed; having the Savior seek a relationship with me by walking this Earth in perfection and dying for me; the Resurrection to come and much more.  I get it.  Good Friday as a title is still a hard sale for me though. What about “Mixed Emotions Friday” or “Kind of Crushing but I Know it’s Okay” Friday?

Good Friday tends to wreck me.  I can’t explain it better than that.  I function, but I feel completely wrecked and ready to cry and just achy all over.

This year, we're waiting until we arrive in Athens to cover the crucifixion with the kids. We made three crosses out of twigs and string this morning and plan to set them up in the backyard at my grandmother's house and read about what Jesus did for us and why He did it and what it means. The kids are familiar with this story; Dennis and I have heard it a million times, but it never gets old.  It’s never less amazing.  I think for me it might actually get sadder and more incredible every year.

I usually fast on Good Friday, but fasting from all food while carrying two kids in utero would lead to me passing out.  This year I am fasting from certain types of sugar (fruit is okay, cupcakes are not for today).

Anything we do is such a small sacrifice. The ultimate sacrifice has been made and my debt paid. For that, it is a Good Friday.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

The Last Gluten-Free Supper

Recap: We have a map! I’m not sure who’s more excited, the kids or us.  D and I spent at least 15 minutes just staring at it saying things like, “So, Canada, bigger than I thought.  Russia could swallow everything! Who wants to live on those islands way up north of Europe?  Wouldn’t you die from freezing if you touched the water?” Really, we are going to use it to pray. And we have seen a map before.

Since the focus this week is Easter, I’ll save the little things for next week.

Last night when I was off from work we had our traditional Last Supper and feet washing with the kids. It was a night early, but that didn’t seem to bother anyone.

When I say traditional, let me clarify: we ate bits of gluten-free hot dog bun and drank water. We read the part from the kids’ Easter Bible about why we celebrate the Last Supper, and they begged for more than one bite of bread.

After we ate, Dennis and I washed Sammy and Wren’s feet.  A pastor I knew once said if you truly want to serve someone, wash their feet.  I think that’s true, and I think that’s why when D and I wash each other’s feet tonight we will both say things like “You don’t have to” or “I hope my feet aren’t too gross”.  It feels very personal, extremely intimate, and the person receiving the feet washing usually feels a bit uncomfortable about being served this way.

My kids were completely fine with having their feet washed.  They laughed; they relaxed; Sammy eventually attempted to drink the feet washing water.  They came to the experience like kids: grateful for the gift, unwilling to refuse an offer of grace and service.  They accept what Christ did for them, the grace He offers, what their parents do for them.  They let others have the joy of offering.  They make things simple in so many ways.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Wren’s First Lesson on Death, Easter, and Pain

Wren became obsessed with death early, maybe age 2 or 3.  She started asking us when she could die. Dennis and I were a bit concerned at first until she explained she wanted to die so she could hang out with Jesus.  That made more sense, so we explained that God put us here to help other people and do His work before we go be with Him.

What was more startling was about a month ago when Wren said she didn’t want to die anymore.  Or more accurately, she wanted to die, but there was a fear about it that hadn’t been there before.  She was talking to Dennis about this, and it finally came down to the “owies”.  She didn’t want to get the “owies”.

I was working this particular night, so Dennis continued to gently question Wren until he discovered the source of the fear of “owies”: crucifixion.  Wren has been a very lucky child in the sense that she has never lost a super close relative to death.  Her only depiction of death was from her Easter Bible for Me which she started having read to her at age one or two.  That depiction of death is Jesus, on the cross, being crucified. “Owies” might not be sufficient to cover it.  Wren had no idea you could die in bed at 97 quietly with no nails in your hands or feet.

Several points stuck out and impressed me about this whole exchange when I heard about it later.  First of all, Dennis didn’t take the easy route.  I think it’s tempting to tell kids that nothing bad can happen to them and nothing bad will happen to people they love because that’s an easy, child-friendly message that even adults want to believe.  But he was honest; he said crucifixion wasn’t the only way to die, but that we don’t know how we’ll die before we meet Jesus.  Dennis explained to her that as a Christian, it’s pointless to worry about the death part because no matter how it occurs, you get to see Jesus.  Wren was 100% okay with this answer, probably because it’s true and because kids can smell lies and distinguish truth better than they’re given credit for.

The next part has taken on more meaning for me daily as I think about it.  Wren said she was scared to die; she didn’t say she wouldn’t.  This is pretty huge for my kid.  She is mellow right up until she’s not, and if she decides not to do something, die or otherwise, there will be a fight.  At the least there will be a lot of complaining and digging in of the heels about why she doesn’t want to do it and won’t.  All she expressed was a fear of the pain of death; her overwhelming desire to see Jesus still ruled over the "owies" and conquered her fear, even before she knew crucifixion wasn’t the only option. She still had the desire and was willing to overcome in the name of Christ.  Jesus means that much to her.

I’m humbled and a bit ashamed to say I’m not sure I possess the faith of my daughter. I’m not scared of death, but do I daily die to myself to live for Christ?  What does that look like?  What kind of scary, uncomfortable activities does that involve? And does Jesus mean enough to me to go through whatever being crucified with Christ means on a daily basis?

I know the answer to the last question is yes. Jesus does mean that much to me. But I’m feeling in uncharted territory again for my life as I try to comprehend the reality of discipleship, taking up my cross, putting Jesus before everything. The reality that so much of the glaring obviousness of the New Testament has hidden in plain sight from me because I have so easily traded it in for the watered down, tame version that fits in with the American dream of comfort, consumerism, and self is painful. And it’s a good kind of pain in a way because it’s led me to constant prayer about what my daily death is supposed to look like and how to keep the passion for Christ alive in our kids so they will know how to not live for themselves but for the Lord. It’s only through this that we gain a life worth living, the life He died for us to have.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Palm Sunday

Celebrating the arrival of Jesus


NIV Study Bible or any translation of the Bible you prefer, Matthew 21: 1-11
Easter Bible for Me

Leaves from outside
A stick horse(mule)
A Daddy willing to play Jesus

We started our Palm Sunday study tonight with the kids.  After reading about Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem, we decided to let the kids help reenact this part of the story.  They were insanely excited, and the enthusiasm was evident as they played the crowd welcoming the King of Kings.  

Yes, that is the mule/stick horse and Dennis
Wren waving "palm leaves" or whatever leaves were in the tree from our back yard.

I am amazed how much Wren remembers from last year and how Sammy was screaming “Hosanna” at the top of his lungs.  I hope they look forward to this every year and that the meaning deepens for them each time they hear the story.  I have to say they already seem to understand how exciting Jesus’ entrance was from their reaction to Dennis as Jesus.  They swarmed him and wouldn’t let him take off the beard.  They were overjoyed, overwhelmed, and couldn’t get enough.  They approached D as if they truly thought he was Jesus, as little children who understand His glory in a way I often forget.

Friday, March 22, 2013

Easter Plans

Distanced from the commercialism of Christmas, at least a little ways from the heart of cold/flu/sick season, Easter has become my new favorite holiday. There are other reasons as well, and I am going to explore those this week.

Usually during Holy Week I dodge the internet to focus on other things, but this year I want to document for the kids the traditions we’ve started for this time of year, and I’m using the blog to do that.

I did not always have a love affair with Easter. It always struck me as a difficult holiday due to the Crucifixion. I understood why it happened and was necessary, but I found it hard to see through the suffering and somehow celebrate. I was one of those people who, even though I knew the Resurrection was coming, could not make it past my mourning over Good Friday to enjoy it.

Even as the words of my Russian Lit teacher, “you must go through the fire to be stronger on the other side” (and that’s the gist of Russian lit for those of you who missed the class. Lots of suffering, some redemption, fire abounding) rang through my ears I still never became a fan of fire growth. Or burning growth. Or growth that involved pain. My personal philosophy on suffering was dodge it.

I still don’t pray to suffer, though I pray to hurt for those who do. I have advanced to a place where I pray that when I do suffer, because it’s always coming in this life, that I will find a way to glorify God in it. My philosophy on suffering has changed from dodge it to learn from it when you have to go through it. Have something positive come out of it for Christ. This change in view and some time in the fire myself have helped me appreciate Easter for what it is and where it puts me spiritually every year.

The world questions what it means to be a Christian; many Christians even debate among themselves what identifies us, what should identify us. There are many who have never been interested in the faith because of those they’ve met who are associated with it (maybe me); there are many who have been associated with it who have walked away. There are some who are convinced it is absolutely 100% related to politics but disagree how Jesus would vote. There are so many distractions, and that’s why I love Easter; Easter is who God is, what He did out of love for us, and what we’re supposed to do because of that. It goes back to basics, and the Gospel is very forward and pretty basic in message when it’s allowed to be. It’s Jesus in simplest, most beautiful terms.

We’ll start Palm Sunday and move forward from there reading through the story of Christ, participating in Holy Week traditions that are meaningful for us, and just seeing where the week leads. It’s a heavy week; it’s a week to remember God’s promises; it’s usually full of joy and weeping at our house, and that’s okay.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

My 10th Little Thing

Recap:  Most of what I needed for writing was collected in a folder in my email.  I have found three places to submit, and now I just have to do it.  Feel free to check in with me and make me accountable on this one!

Week 10:  Use a map

Let me just start by saying the map song on Dora the Explorer is the most uninspired, annoying tune on the planet.  “I’m a map, I’m a map, I’m a map, I’m a map, I’m a map.”  Really?  Someone got paid for that.  Low standards, that’s all I’m saying. (The really sad part of this is that sometimes when I’m loading the dishwasher I find myself singing the map song. Pregnancy brain has reduced me to this!)

Anyway, thanks to Dora and map’s uncreative, persistent song, my kids know what a map is. We’re actually going to start using one.

I’m not trying to create geography geniuses; we are going to use a map to pray, and this is just as much for mom as it is for the kids.

After I read Radical,  I logged on to the Radical project site here.  I’m following the Bible reading, we were already working on Bible study with the kids, but I have failed with a capital F on praying for the world.  Know why?  Because I am selfish and I have never been hungry, freezing, worried about experiencing sex trafficking, lived in a world where I never heard the word Jesus, had someone shoot at me on my way to church, etc.  I live comfy, cushy, every day, and I have become a spiritual slug.  I knew it had gotten bad when I couldn’t bring myself to just read a webpage about a country and pray for them every day.  Seriously, it’s not like I'm grabbing a shovel and digging a well.  I couldn’t take time out of my cushy life or time spent praying for myself to pray for other people.  Slug.  Sad, disgusting slug.

But I’m covered in grace, so I don’t have to wallow in my ugliness. With God’s help, I’m going to make some changes in myself and try to help the kids understand the importance and the privilege of praying for others. We’re going to reboot the praying for the world part of the project, and we’ll use the map to mark places we’re praying for as we learn about them.   Visuals help hold me accountable, and the kids might actually learn the names of locations of other countries, as well as what the people in those countries face.  Now, to find a map.  I will not be seeking Dora's help on this as she annoys me to no end. 

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Trying New Things Tuesday

Information I run into on a daily basis gives me ideas for projects, places, or new habits I want to try. The problem is, I always decide to do it later, then later I’m doing something else.

I am going to designate Tuesdays as Trying New Things Tuesday. Whether it’s a recipe, project, or organizational tool, my goal is to try something new every week so I can decide what I want to implement to make life easier and what doesn’t work. I'll blog about what we tried on Tuesday of every week.  This is not the same as the Little Things Resolutions because these are not planned, can be something I see at any time, and can usually be done in one shot as opposed to needing to be worked on over time. Some of them may be able to go in either category, but there are some distinguishing differences.  Trying new things should be more like experiments or tests that can be rated.

Here's one we tried last week. 


Okay, this is not the first time I’ve tried garlic.  We eat it all the time.  However, a friend from church recommended trying it raw as a natural remedy to help cure colds. My thought?  I like garlic.  Let’s do this!

Sammy and I both had the sniffles which seemed like the perfect time to experiment. I placed a fresh garlic clove in the food processor and waited for it to break into small pieces.  Here’s where the problems began: I can’t smell, so sometimes I forget inhaling is a whole different thing and that I can be affected by really major scents if my whole face swallows the odor.  Without thinking, I took the lid off the food processor, leaned over to make sure the garlic was completely processed and almost died.  I started coughing from inhaling the garlic, which led to me running to the living room (if I am ever running anywhere assume something is wrong, because I don’t run) with tears in my eyes.  That’s when I peed my pants. Coughing, running, and all the stress these activities put on my abdomen while carrying two children in utero led to me having to squat in the floor in front of my family and just commit to the pee, because I couldn’t move or do anything else. We’ll call the results of the first part of this experiment so-so because I don’t believe anything that leads to taking a shower due to wetting your own pants can be called fully successful.

So, stage two. I have on dry undies and I make my way back to the food processor.  Now, I know what you’re thinking: she’ll be careful this time.  Uncooked garlic is pretty strong stuff, and she knows that now. Thanks for giving me so much credit, but that’s not how it went.  I decided to feed Sammy the garlic first because my kids eat powdered supplements dry and ask for more.  They aren’t really phased by much, and he was kitchen lurking and asking for whatever I was making. I gave Sammy a small spoonful of minced fresh garlic covered in olive oil on a tiny piece of gluten-free toast.  He tasted it.  Then the screaming started, the crying followed, and finally Sammy was attempting to lick anything he could to stop the burning engulfing his tongue.  I wanted to show him that this was really awesome, so I ate the garlic.  Then we were both screaming.  I grabbed water and, selfless woman that I am, offered Sammy some first. He absolutely refused to drink it because his trust in me as a human who would never cause him pain was gone.  He didn’t believe what was in the glass would help him.  That kid literally just licked his arm until the pain stopped.

What I did discover, despite the drama created by this experiment, was that my sinuses cleared up. So did Sammy’s, or maybe he just pretended they did so I wouldn’t ever give him garlic again. I actually took more garlic over the next couple of days and felt better. But the taste issues never went away regardless of what I paired it with.  Plus, my initial reaction makes me wonder if I’m part vampire.

Overall result: Successful, if wetting your pants is not a deal breaker.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Babysitting Fathers

As I get larger and discussions about the twins come up, one topic always leads to the same questions:  who will keep your kids when you go back to part-time work?

The same person who does now: D, my husband, the babies' daddy.

Responses range from:

He is going to keep four kids, alone?

You are going to leave him alone?

Who will help him?

He babysits?

Why aren't you hiring a real babysitter?

Wait, won't you have four when the babies get here? Men can keep four children?

Yes, D is an exceptional father and person in every way.  We co-parent, copartner, we are a team.  That's the best way I know how to put it.  There's nothing the man can't do, and in many cases such as loading the dishwasher, making meals look appealing, and teaching our children about the specifics of zombie hunting, he does much better than I could ever dream of.

So I am a bit confused as to why people are in shock that he will be keeping all four of our kids for a few hours on some days of the week.  He's a competent adult; he's their father; he's not a babysitter because I do not pay him to watch the kids he knocked me up with.  You shouldn't have to pay your spouse for that.

On the flip side, I'm a bit concerned that no one asks how I will feel about being alone with them almost every day for many hours while recovering from having them and shooting milk every which direction from my boobs. Great that everyone is confident in my abilities because I have lady parts, but seriously?  Is it only stressful for men?

I know men and women are different and that women, I assume, are supposed to be more capable in the nurturing department.  I guess I just find it offensive to the men who are out there pulling their weight in the parenting department when someone asks me if I wouldn’t feel better paying a random individual an hourly rate to watch the kids, the assumption being that this random individual would somehow prove more competent than my husband.  Though the one time Wren tried to nurse off of D while he was sleeping was not a success, he has everything else covered.

I do get to go home at least once a week and tell D how I have once again defended his honor against those who expect him to be a clueless, blubbering idiot who misplaces the children and feeds them dog food (not even the gluten-free kind!) anytime he is left unsupervised just because he does not possess a uterus.  I’m glad I can be his knight in shining armor that way.  I just really hope he doesn’t start asking to be paid for his child care services.  I can’t afford him.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

My 9th Little Thing

Recap: The time change actually fixed a large portion of my morning problems. The kids are sleeping in later meaning I can get up if I want to or just be awake in bed mentally preparing for the day before it starts. I am usually not a fan of switching the clocks just to mess with the sleep schedules of little people, but I’m very grateful for it this year. I have also made my bed every day, and Wren reminds me to open the blinds for “natural light” if I forget. Overall, this week felt successful.

Week 9: Submit writing

My husband is the perfect balance of everything. The man has a degree in accounting, can draw anything better than anyone I know, and he writes amazing literature that I beg to read. He’s good at math, art, literature, and he has taught my children about zombies, Chewbacca, and the story of David and Goliath. He’s well-rounded. It’d be easy to hate him if he also wasn’t so sweet and perfect. I’m not sure how I lucked out, but I’m not going to question it.

What I’ve noticed about his balanced brain is it also allows him to start and complete tasks without making excuses. He’s disciplined. He writes books, comics, follows through on projects. I claim to be a creative brain exploding type, which means I always have huge, amazing-to-me ideas, but I rarely follow through with the actual implementation once the passion runs out.

I have been meaning to submit articles, finish two novels I started, all that good stuff for some time. I’m not scared of my writing being rejected; I realized within the last month I’m way more afraid of not ever submitting or completing anything because that will be the true failure.

This week I am going to work on my creative exploding brain issue. I am going to find three places I would like to submit work, check out the deadlines, and then submit the work before the deadlines. I won’t be able to submit everything this week, but I will know of three places I want to submit to, and I’ll be breaking this task into parts. Hopefully that will leave me feeling less overwhelmed by the whole thing, which I think is what zaps my enthusiasm.

Monday, March 11, 2013

And Now He Has Hairy Arms and Hairy Legs: A Reflection on Seven Years of Marriage and Twin Pregnancy

The girls have totally confused all the doctors by positioning themselves exactly the same way, presenting differently than last time, and staying pretty close in size.  We will probably be assigning names when they emerge since they are already being tricksters.

They are tiny, just in the 5 and 12 percentile, and though I have gained my 24 pounds by 24 weeks (a little early and maybe a little more than 24 pounds) they are not expected to be very big.  That’s okay.

There is an 8% difference in their size on the percentile chart, though there is only an ounce difference in their weight.  Eight percent is considered way below the 25% the doctors worry about, so we are good. 

We lost the membrane for some time today, though we knew it was there.  I felt some sympathy for Ben, the sonographer who labeled them mono-mono for six weeks and scared us all to death.  That membrane is also a trickster. 

And in final thoughts, I told Wren Daddy married me seven years ago and she replied, “And now he has hairy arms and hairy legs.”  Apparently, that is the price of marriage.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Weekly Recap of Stomach Use

 Sammy used my stomach as the island of Sodor for all his trains. He sat them on top of my stomach and was very entertained to watch them roll off.

 The next day, Sammy grabbed his Little People school bus, threw in a bunch of unfortunate Little People and used my belly as “the big bumpy hill” where they all met their end trying to make a safe descent.

 Wren pretended to be Dr. McStuffins yesterday and used Legos to press my stomach and check on the babies. She and Sammy went to my OB appointment and heard the girls’ heartbeats yesterday, so she dopplered me Lego style. She also made me hold a Little People pig and cow in my left hand saying it would help. I don’t know what it was supposed to help, but I’m not as tired today.

In other news, I made my bed today and found the perfect Easter basket for the kids. I have accomplished so much, I can’t believe I’m not napping yet!

Thursday, March 7, 2013

My 8th Little Thing

Recap: I pelted everyone with the same 10 questions I have already asked and figured out I already have the information I need; I just have to make peace with it.  So I’ve added to this plan since it looks like it may be a bit more long term than a week:

• Pray about the c-section every day.

• Find ways to counteract negative effects of c-sections, especially on baby’s guts (probiotics, certain foods I can eat, etc.).

• Figure out a way I don’t have to be separated from my kids after the c-section if possible. This almost happened with Sammy, but he was taken to the nursery for breathing problems and to have his lungs suctioned. I think that is called foreshadowing since he ended up with pneumonia 10 days later.

• Know that I am probably not going to be 100% mellow about having another major surgery where my kids are affected. I am grateful this option is there, I know why I’m doing it, but I am probably not going to be able to not feel a bit of panic under the influence of drugs, drugs I was hoping to never have to receive. I’ve never even smoked a cigarette and once got kind of tripped out from Advil. Caffeine actual messes me up for days. I really have problems with drugs.  I will practice relaxation techniques and visualize when Asher and Eowyn get here to get through the actual getting them here.

Week 8: Figure out a better morning routine

I used to be a morning person.  Not so much anymore, and I think I’ve identified the problem: my morning starts on someone else’s clock taking care of someone else’s needs every day. There is no quiet emerging out of sleep.  There are four hands in my face begging for eggs.  It puts me in defensive mode, not grateful mode, right off the bat.

I would benefit from 15 or 20 minutes alone in the morning to pray, drink some water with lemon, stare out the window, load the dishwasher. The problem is, every time I attempt to get up when Dennis leaves for work, the kids sense it. Instead of it being quiet Mommy time, it ends up being everyone awake way too early and kind of cranky and tired by 10 am. Whether they are sleeping in our bed or in theirs, they know when I emerge.

I am still going to try to stealthy slide out of bed this week for a few quiet moments of sanity.  If all else fails, I’m going to try the following:

  • Convince the kids to let me grab a quick shower before breakfast. I am better if I am not around a hot stove half asleep, and water wakes me up.

  • Make my bed daily. The small act of completing this task makes me feel like I have done something amazing.

  • Open all the blinds. Natural light is good. It’s amazing how junky I feel when I forget to open the blinds.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Celiac Research

I’ve recently started following information from a University’s Celiac Center, and I am so grateful for the research they are doing and the information they are putting out there.  However, something I read before popped up in this Center’s information the other day, and I find it bothers me, a lot.  It’s the fact that time and money are being used to research a “cure” for Celiac. The thing is, there is a cure: don’t eat gluten. Of course, tons more effort goes into healing the damage that has already been done, but it’s still a cure. The idea that jumping into bed with a major pharmaceutical company so Celiacs can eat gluten, which has been found to be damaging for pretty much everyone in the world anyway, and then risk the long term effects of whatever the meds cause does not sound like a solution to me.  It doesn’t sound like progress.  Add to this that Celiac can be responsible for many other conditions requiring medication such as diabetes, cancer, thyroid disease, etc. If embracing a gluten-free diet heals the gut where 80% of the immune system is found, it stands to reason Celiac patients could possibly be taken off of medication for diseases caused by eating gluten, as well as avoid future health problems. Dealing with Celiac just the way it is dealt with now could help people STOP taking drugs for other diseases, and possibly not need to be put on more drugs in the future.  Why is this solution not good enough?  It's like Wren's pediatric GI said the day I thought I was going to get arrested for punching her: "Your kid got the best GI disease possible.  Good for her!  The cure is way simpler than most!  High five, Mom!"  I can appreciate that now. 

I’m no doctor, but I would like to humbly present my top three choices for where we should be putting funds and time for Celiac research:

1. Refractory Celiac: Read about it here. Basically, refractory Celiac does not go away on a gluten-free diet, and those with it can and do die from malabsorption, cancer (a specific type I cannot recall right now), and other complications of not being able to absorb food. There are treatments, but no cure. This stuff is scary. We thought Wren had refractory when she was still struggling on a gluten-free diet, but we found out she just had E.coli. It was a weird day when I was calling D at work and saying, “Thank God, D! She has E.coli! Woo hoo! Best day EVER!!!!” I don’t recommend you get E.coli, but it was a relief over refractory Celiac if that tells you anything.

2. Better diagnosis tools for Celiac: I have blogged about this here. Currently, an estimated 97% of people who have Celiac do not know it. The sad part is, some of those people may have been tested and given a negative result, so they aren’t doing anything about it. We need a better way to diagnosis this disease, and we need to educate doctors, especially those who specialize in one particular area of medicine, to see the red flags and look at the whole picture of a person’s body to see if they should be tested.

3. Ways to have naturopath and nutritionist care covered for Celiacs: Not sure how a Celiac Research Center can pull this off, but it would be awesome. True healing for Wren did not come without supplements, Asyra testing, and time spent with someone who knows how the whole body works and functions as a unit. And insurance covered zilch. And we couldn’t claim the supplements. But, have no doubt, I’m sure a pharmaceutical drug with questionable side effects would have been covered, no questions asked. And yes, bitter would be an accurate word to describe my feelings about this.

Maybe I am missing a big part of why this research is being done, but I can say as someone who lives in a house where we all have or are suspected to have Celiac, and where we all live with very strict gluten-free guidelines, the payoff is worth it. I don’t want my family dependent on prescription drugs. We’ll just stay away from gluten.