This could start simply or really complicated

no mercury

 

The short story:

The next step in my treatment of ongoing illness will be a “pre-tox” protocol before actual mercury chelation.  Methylmercury is chelated through the liver and gut; inorganic mercury is chelated through the kidneys.  Since I am hypersensitive to every approach attempted thus far, my doctor recommends beginning treatment with remedies to open up these elimination pathways before beginning chelation.  I’ll probably start with one of the five products recommended by Quicksilver Scientific:  the company that invented mercury speciation testing and this more targeted method of detoxification.

The long story:

After my doctor’s office losing my test results, my pleading with the company to email them directly to me, hand delivering the report to my doctor’s office in the middle of their move from one building to another, cancelling an appointment in favor of a personal phone call on Saturday, and fretting until getting that call with the results on Sunday night, a plan is now in place for me!  We will  need to progress slowly since EVERY TREATMENT I have attempted thus far has resulted in increased seizure attacks and convulsions.  It makes sense to attempt to open up the chelation pathways first for these two types of mercury since I rank very high in both forms.  It also makes sense for me to complete some additional testing of systemic metals to clarify the clinical picture and avoid further toxicity as we proceed.

So I began to research the initial products needed for this “pre-tox” protocol and lo and behold I take issue with four of them!  Three are homeopathic remedies from a very New Age German company that directly conflicts with my Christian world view.  I decided over twenty years ago not to use homeopathic remedies:  why do we need alchemy and weirdness for substances God created in this world for our health and well being?  I have never felt good on any of these products!  I need to pray about this for sure.  And the fifth substance in the pre-tox program is made with an ionic solution of marine plankton.  Does anyone recall that I got deathly ill with viral hepatitis at the beginning of this hell from cyanobacteria aka blue green algae?  Let’s hope that they are not the same thing?  Maybe one is a fish and the other is a plant?  I am frightfully aware of the negative consequences of any biotoxin in my weakened frame . . .

The one product NOT in question is IMD 30x.  While a homeopathic-like preparation, the main ingredient is a proprietary thiol-functionalized silica.  No problemmo.  I can even pronounce the ingredients!  Too bad the company states that it’s best taken with the green water stuff!  Sigh.  You know I’m just a little weary after 3 years, tens of thousands of dollars, prayers, submission, and getting up to struggle through another day until zapped into a painful place . . .

The end of this story for now:

I will pray about this.  I will consult with my husband.  I will talk to our compounding pharmacist about this (who gratefully is a God-fearing man).  I will call the manufacturer of the Quinton Isotonic Marine Plasma about the purity of its product and review their extensive website further.  Maybe I’ll be o.k. with two of the five products after all?  Then I’ll add another specific nutritional supplement before I begin the actual chelation process in about 3 months.  With ongoing experimentation of zeolite and activated charcoal plus ending all consumption of fish, I should be well on my way to a better place early next year.  Lord willing, that is!  JJ

Here we go again!
Here we go again!

 

A Bedtime Rue

rue herbKnown as the “herb of grace,” the rue is traditionally known for everything from dissipating flatulence to multiplying sperm.  How fitting for a tiny word often used in common English for an energetic little ditty on a stringed instrument too!

 

But at bedtime we need something a bit more serene and I’m feeling sleepy.  When needing to slow things down a bit even silence is a better salve for the soul.  To dwell in the hushed comfort of the One who knows me so well is just where I want to be this evening after a day that seemed to test everything of late.  So I will turn to the Lord and His Word in what I have heard called the ‘bedtime Psalm.”  Dwell with me awhile before His throne of grace and let our Heavenly Father’s heart speak to yours this day, this night.  I’ll seeya on the other side . . .  JJ

Psalm 121

A song of ascents.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.moon and stars

Homemade Happiness for Christmas

handmade forum flyer 2014

Access these tremendous handmade treasures by clicking on this link then the GREEN TYPEFACE.  You will be taken to a guide with direct links and discount coupons for all of the shops listed above.

http://s000.tinyupload.com/index.php?file_id=08725855950995209737

Thank you for your support of Trinity Jewelry by Design!  Just Julie

My Testimony: Salvation in a Laundrymat

Salvation in a Laundrymat The Testimony of Julie November 27, 2005

Originally published on http://www.fellowshipchurchonline.com/

*************************

table in a laundrymat

When the trials of life got me down

And my angst led to seeking and a new church

It was the outstretched arms of the laundrymat attendant

That led to a decision washing me clean, indeed.

 

That was 1988: I was single and a Christian man had just entered my life. My life was stuffed at the time with full time work in healthcare and graduate school. Dabbling in church attendance and regular Al Anon Adult Children of Alcoholics meetings were fueling a desire to learn more about God and the person of Jesus Christ. I had so many questions, so many unresolved hurts from my childhood. Sitting in the audience of a very large, non-denominational church brought tears and stirred something deep inside me. Something I hadn’t felt in years . . .

I grew up attending a local church, complete with first communions, baptisms, lighting candles, going to the confessional, and the like. As a teenager and in college, I attended other churches of the same denomination and the routine, the rituals, were pretty much the same. But where was God? I could sense Him sometimes on Sunday mornings and in one particular baptismal service for my Godchild, Tommy. Why wasn’t He helping our family on the other days of the week?

My family life was in shambles. My father developed a mental illness and left our home when I was 9 years old. I would later understand that his struggle to overcome his mental illness exposed me and my brothers to sorrows beyond belief. There were inappropriate experiences with other adults as well.

We struggled to survive. My mom went back to work to support us and a few people tried to help where they could. The weekly allowances, ice cream from the Good Humor truck, books from the South Elementary School Book Club, and chocolate milk for lunch ended. My mom struggled in her identity as a single mom. The church fell short in meeting her needs, our needs and we were shamed by others. Some of the neighborhood boys weren’t allowed to play with my brothers. I felt rejected too. We kids fought a lot. And God bless the babysitters who risked losing their sanity by coming to our house!

My brothers, in time, would turn to alcohol or drugs to endure life. Both would eventually spend time in jail and never quite make it in the work world. Neither one married. One died of alcoholism and the other is devoting himself to care for our mom. Amazing! By the grace of God, I was given different responsibilities and opportunities.

A neighbor introduced me to the Warren Jayteens, the teen group of the Warren Jaycees (in our city just outside of Detroit, Michigan). That was the first of many new interests, part time jobs, and classical guitar lessons, and the list goes on. I became a “human doing” instead of a “human being.” My worth came from my activities, my accomplishments. And on the outside, I excelled.

Inside, I was hurting. I sought comfort in dating relationships and dabbled in alcohol and marijuana. My tolerance to alcohol increased. The partying continued when I moved to Illinois after college to start my first job in healthcare. I would later see that my profession was a gift from God. He gave me the insight to pursue a profession in which I would teach others the skill of adapting to any circumstance. I personally benefited from this as I entered graduate school, found Al Anon Adult Children of Alcoholics, changed jobs, moved a few times, and met a Christian man.

That dear man helped me with my many questions about God and the Bible. The witness of his upbringing in a Christian home spoke volumes of what it really looked like to grow up in a stable environment. His father was a leader in his childhood church. The witness of Craig’s life and of his family, showed me more of what it was like to have good clean fun and led to a decision for Christ.

On our third date, he brought me to a very large, non-denominational church. There were 4,000 people at each service! I thought it was a cult! I was wrong. My soul got fed for the first time. Some months later, a laundry mat attendant sensed my needs, my readiness, and witnessed to me. I will never forget that day. I can still see her face. She had so much love in her eyes. That night, alone in my apartment, I prayed to have Jesus come into my life. I repented of the mistakes of my past. I was truly washed clean by the blood of Jesus.

Two years later in 1991, Craig and I were married in that large, non-denominational church. We worshipped there five years. I grew in my understanding of the Christian life. I tried to be a “good Christian” wife and fell short a bit. My walk with the Lord would really begin several years later when Craig led us to a smaller Bible church. It was there that I began to unravel the part of the pain of my childhood that had created a barrier to developing an intimate relationship with the person of Jesus Christ. More tears. More healing. And a faithful man to walk with me. Very cool.

Things changed March 4, 2003. Our marriage had endured several trials and disappointments by then. Craig’s father had died, I was injured in an auto accident with lingering effects, Craig was laid off twice, we lost the court case related to the accident, and my work-related injuries created financial and emotional hardships for both of us. I always returned to work after a setback. I adapted. Craig pursued a new career direction as well in aviation and we felt the Lord’s blessing and provision. Then he had to stop suddenly and was never quite the same after that. He began to withdraw from me. At the same time, he threw himself into church service and became a Deacon. I tried to start a second business and return to work in healthcare. God had other plans.

On the morning of March 4, 2003, I prayed a desperate prayer for the Lord to intervene in my life. Intervene he did! That night I received a phone call and learned that my husband had been in an affair for about a year. I asked Craig to leave for awhile that night and he did. He never came back.

Standing in my living room, very late at night, very alone, I was in shock. I knew my life was about to change but had no idea how it would. A verse came to me from Jeremiah 29:11:

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (NIV)

That verse would come back to me again and again at key times over the next three years – at times when no other words could possibly sustain me or give me hope. Like the night of the fire . . .

Let’s just say that major changes occurred in rapid-fire succession from that day forward. (Riddle: What day of the year is a command? Answer: March “fourth.” Geez!)

My grandmother died. I refinanced our home. My brother died. The divorce process became eminent. I sold my home. I moved. I lost my job due to an injury. I was promoted in my home business. I moved again. I got a temporary job then a permanent position. My mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. The divorce was final at Christmastime. Geez! I was in a fire. I moved twice to temporary housing. I moved to a beautiful condo where I now reside. The healing work has begun, from the inside out!

Whew! I thank the Lord for walking with me and for bringing the Army of Believers who have been there, led me, and carried me on this journey to today. It takes an Army and an unshakable faith in Christ to rise from the trials of life victorious. I pray daily for Craig’s repentance and return to the Lord. And I do know this: the choices we make each day determine where we ultimately land in our walk with the Lord, our walk through the days of our lives. Since my prayer has always been for my own sorrows not to be wasted, I remember to seek the face of Jesus each day, especially when the mud flies. I pray that Craig will too. He has incredible gifts of teaching, of reasoning, of physical health, and of loving. May these be used for God’s glory soon.

As for me, I’m called to do what I can with what I have, where I am. (At the time of this writing in 2005, I’d) just had a “Thanksgiving” party to thank all the people that helped me; the evening was wonderful! I pray that the Lord continues to restore me. Through this process, my purpose has become clear: to build something of significance that blesses other people. Gee, that’s what I’ve always wanted in my heart before I could put the words together! To know this purpose is the intervention I prayed for March 4, 2003. I am closer to this dream now more than ever before. And it came this way. This way? Yes, it came this way.

And since this has proven to be true in my life I must say that I really wouldn’t want it any other way!

Thanks.  Just Julie

***************************

ADDENDUM:  It is now 9 years later when I have come across my testimony in an old computer file.  I am amazed at all the Lord has walked with me through!  My mother passed away in March of 2007 and I married my intended beloved, Steve, in November later that year.  I moved to Indiana to marry Steve, to slow things down, to rediscover so many rich outdoor activities, and to enjoy a loving relationship with Steve like none I had ever experienced before.  Even a serious personal illness, my brother’s stroke, and a medical leave from a lifelong profession that I love could not deter the love I experience from my Jesus and my Stevers.  After all:  life goes on.  I am exceedingly grateful that the Lord never changes.  I am exceedingly grateful for so much!

DSCF9784

The most important element in all of this, in all of my life, is my personal relationship with Jesus Christ.  Thank you Jesus.

That is all.  JJ

A Bed, A Barn, and A Barefoot Woman

When selecting a mattress, one must decide some key factors before heading out to the store:

  1. What size do you need:  twin, full, queen, king, or California king?
  2. How much are you willing to spend?
  3. Do you need a box spring or will the mattress still be comfortable alone if it is to be placed upon a platform bed?
  4. Do you want the comfort of memory foam?  Spring coils?  Pillow top?  Or a combination of the these three?
  5. Will having a 2-sided mattress be important to you and the life of your mattress or do you desire maximum comfort in one-sided layers without the option of flipping it periodically?
  6. How thick of a mattress will work in your sleeping area?  Too high of a bed can cause accidents and require a step stool for the vertically challenged among us.
  7. How long is the warranty?
  8. Will you get a better deal all around if you buy locally from a barefoot woman?womans feet

Whaat?  Did I lose you with number 8?  I don’t really see why because after all, that was a HUGE factor in my purchase of a mattress on Friday!  Well, I didn’t think it would be a big factor until a most unusual circumstance arose.  Allow me to elaborate . . .

I asked some friends on Facebook for a suggestion of a place to purchase a relatively inexpensive queen-sized mattress.  Some additional factors due to my allergy sensitivities were:  minimal outgassing odors from synthetic materials, latex-free construction, plus the overall weight must be reasonable.  I had found a manufacturer in a city about 1 1/2 hours away who offered custom mattresses and was prepared to make a road trip to check it out while carting our old queen mattress in the bed of my truck.  Then when an acquaintance suggested a local business owner “at the corner of Hurshtown Rd. and Boger Rd.” who had provided her family with a great product and price point not too long ago, I decided to check it out.

The problem with this scenario unfolded quickly:  the streets intersected somewhere in the middle of no where by two smallish towns and in the heart of Amish country.  The phone number that she gave me didn’t work and she was unavailable on Facebook Messenger to clarify it.  Of course I didn’t have her cell number with me!  If the place was an Amish business then it could be possible that they would not be in the phone book or have a website.  Both proved to be true.  Yet the possibility was still intriguing  to me.  We have had local Amish craftsman build a cabinet for our bathroom, weld a custom seamless curtain rod for inside our bay window in our kitchen, and create two gorgeous custom trellises for our flagstone patio.  The experiences were fun for me to design and the finished products were excellent at fair pricing.  So to embark on an unknown adventure to find the right Amish-quality mattress was very appealing to me.  I decided to go for it!

My GPS located the intersection of the two streets in a remote area as I had suspected:  right in the heart of Amish country along blacktop roads littered with smooshed and sun-dried horse manure.  No signs were in sight to point the way to Ruben’s Mattress Warehouse!  Ahead of me was a horse-drawn buggy carrying two ladies about to exit a homestead onto Boger Road.  I stopped and asked what I thought was a friendly question.  “Hi there!”  I said as the driver looked shocked, all bundled up in black in the front seat of a two-seater, that this gal originally from Chicago would stop to speak to her from her warm and comfortable king cab truck.  “Is there a mattress business around here?”

“I think there’s a guy who sells them across the street,” was her sheepish reply.  Really?  Don’t all Amish folks in this area know each other?  Aren’t they almost all related either directly or indirectly, through inbreeding or something like that?  There must be a family squabble going on so I confirmed where she was pointing to and motioned that she could exit out of her parking lot of a driveway in front of me.  She bowed her head slightly and proceeded out and down the road.  O.k.  Now for the second part of the adventure:  which barn is it? 

I pulled into the homestead across the street, facing Hurshtown Rd.  Having visited many Amish families when providing occupational therapy home care visits, I was a little familiar their culture.  They are a private people so you don’t just go up and knock on the front door of the house or wander around the barns looking for someone official-looking.  I decided to wait in my truck while trying to contact my friend again via my smartphone and hope someone noticed the sound of a truck driving up.  Shortly thereafter, the barefoot woman appeared.

I confirmed that this indeed was the mattress place, that no, I didn’t phone ahead because I had the wrong phone number, and yes, it was o.k. to drive around the first barn to the entrance and come inside to check out their inventory.  Ruben makes the mattress frames for the Wolfe bedding company in Indianapolis, a 2-hour drive south of Fort Wayne near where we live, and sells the completed mattresses locally.  Their customers are generally from the Amish community and a few folks in the area who find them in a regional courier or by word of mouth.  Well cool beans.  The barefoot woman was kind and showed me her wares in her navy pleated dress:  carefully pinned together with straight pins per the dress code of their bishop and accompanied by a pleated white head covering.  Her adorable granddaughters followed us around the barn as I laid on a few samples that fit my criteria.  One was perfect and I wrote her a check for nearly half of what a department store would charge.  Cool beans again!

The women of this community have always struck me as being particularly hardy.  This was proven true once again when the barefoot grandmother and her tiny daughter loaded the 80+ pound queen-sized beast into the bed of my truck with yours truly helping some too.  The gravel parking lot, 60 degree weather, and risk of a mattress crushing her feet if it slipped made no difference in the order of business completed that afternoon.  I tried to be an encouragement to the girls who had shared that their mom was sick, before I knew that she would be summoned to help with the loading, and suggested that they could pray for her mother to be healed.  Earlier I was amazed that there was no synthetic smell whatsoever to the mattress and offered a spontaneous exaltation of praise to the Lord who surely led me to this expertly crafted barn of sleep-heavenly treasures!  “Praise the Lord” I exclaimed.  Truly my Jesus was providing for my every need that afternoon and I remain exceedingly grateful.

The barefoot woman and the girls retreated back into the house surely to attend to other household duties.  I proceeded home with the mattress hanging out the back end of my truck, musing about the wackiness of yet another adventure here in my beloved home state of Indiana . . .

Most folks who live in the outskirts of Fort Wayne would think nothing of the kind of experience that I have described for you here.  But for me it is still a wondrous process of discovery when a simple purchase becomes an adventure into the back roads of the surrounding countryside, a window into the daily lives of another culture, receipt of a quality product made by local craftsmen, and another confirmation that I might have always been meant to drive a white pick up truck!  It’s fun to haul stuff yourself!

I am so glad that my Knight in Shining Aluminum (aka Steve), my intended beloved brought me here to his home State of Indiana from the bulging metropolis of Chicagoland seven years ago.  I am so grateful that my dad bequeathed my brother and I his Nissan Frontier king cab truck so that I might trade in my Hyundai Tucson for one of my own.  And I am so glad for the ability to slow down and smell the scented barely-marked road ways along the way:  something once foreign to me sitting in big city and suburban traffic not long ago.

So the next time you are seeking to purchase a new bed or mattress set, think about the barefoot woman in the barn.  You too might find a steal of a deal in addition to a great night of sleep!  You might also find fodder for the grist mill for having travelled off the beaten path.  I did and I am glad.  :JJ

Amish buggy