Be Still My Heart: Gluten-Free, Low-Carb, Choc-Peppermint Cookies

One of the hardest things about being celiac and diabetic is that most gluten-free products are made with rice, corn, potato, or other such high-carb flour. And for those who struggle with insulin resistance, our food options become even more limited.

Recently I have gone on a manic search for something to satisfy my sweet tooth without endangering my well-being. And my experiments have finally paid off, for I have discovered one of the most beautiful things in the world—a gluten-free AND low-carb cookie that tastes absolutely AMAZING.

I used a plain, grain-free cookie recipe from Dr. Pompa’s book, “The Cellular Healing Diet,” and tweaked it in order to get this delicious result: Double Chocolate Peppermint Cookies.

Ingredients

• 2 cups almond flour
• 3 Tablespoons coconut flour
• 1/2 cup raw cacao powder
• 1/4 teaspoon sea salt
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 10 Tablespoons butter
• 1/4 cup  xylitol
• 1 teaspoon stevia
• 2 teaspoons peppermint extract
• 1 Tablespoon grapeseed oil
• 1/2 cup chocolate chips (a good quality brand from Whole Foods—less processed sugar = less carbs)

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Mix the almond flour, coconut flour, cacao powder, sea salt, and baking soda in a large bowl.
3. Melt the butter with stevia and xylitol.
4. Mix grapeseed oil and peppermint extract with melted butter.
5. Stir wet ingredients into the dry.
6. Mix in the chocolate chips.
7. Form 1-inch balls and press onto a baking sheet lined with parchment.
8. Bake at 350 degrees for 7-8 minutes.

 

Don’t they look yummy?! (Okay, I’m not the best food photographer.) If you end up making 40 cookies, one is about 4 grams of carbohydrates. 4! A gluten-free cookie from the store of similar size runs about 18 grams. And I don’t know if this is personal preference or because of the ingredients, but I find these taste best refrigerated as opposed to fresh out of the oven or room temperature. Cold seems to bring the flavors out more. So there you have it. Happy baking!

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Writing the Pain I Know

Based on my social media persona, you all probably know me as a writer whose imagination is way more interesting than her everyday life, a person who loves cats and books, and can be funny (on occasion).

What you probably don’t know is behind this computer screen, every single day is a battle with my health. I’m a Type 1 diabetic, but my cells have stopped processing insulin properly. This leads to high blood sugars and stress on the organs. So three months ago I reduced my diet to protein and produce. I was already celiac and couldn’t have wheat gluten, but now all grains, including rice and corn are off the list. I have allergies 24/7, 365 days a year, and the only reason I drink coffee is to keep the migraines at bay—which works most days.

Recently I found out I’ve got heavy metal toxins preventing any form of true healing from happening. That means detox, but if you’ve ever quit giving your body something it’s used to, you’ve probably experienced that things get worse before they get better. Your body doesn’t function very well holding all those toxins tightly in its cells, but when you detox, the floodgates open and all those nasty things are allowed to wreak havoc on your entire system. The plan my doctor lined up will take months, and I must confess that seeing the other side of this path is like looking down a road covered in blinding thick fog—with rattlesnakes in the bushes; I can’t see how far away the end is—or if there is one.

Last October (wow, almost a year ago!) I posted about outliving my expiration date. I’ve made a lot of lifestyle changes since then. I’ve been gluten free for over a year now, something I never thought I could do (or would). I’ve eliminated 99% of sugar, including artificial sweeteners, from my diet—no more cookies, candy, or ice cream. I say 99% because lots of grocery items have some form of sugar, like some canned beans!

The process of making these changes has been brutal, and the most discouraging thing of all is they haven’t made me feel better. With my doctor’s current plan, he hopes I’ll start feeling better in a month. And then we’ll keep going with the regimen for as long as it takes. Can you imagine thinking of recovery time in months or over a year? It’s daunting.

People have asked if I would ever write a character with diabetes or similar health issues, and the answer in the past has always been ‘no.’ When I write, I’d rather spend time with someone who isn’t held back by such weaknesses and inconveniences. One of the reasons I write is to pretend, just for a little, that I can go and do and be someone else.

However, with my current struggles and the frustration, that’s changed. I started a new book and this time my character has just as many health problems as me. Of course, I’m throwing in supernatural stuff as well. 😉 This character will face weakness and learn to find different kinds of strength. Because even though the days are hard and sometimes I feel so discouraged as to cry (or say “screw it all, I want the cookie!”), I keep going. I keep living and doing what I love. Writing this book started out as a therapeutic venture, but I hope the final product will be something worth sharing with you all.

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In the meantime, watch for the release of Earth Tones, Elemental Magic 3 coming October 20th! Check out the book trailer and stay tuned for the cover reveal next Wednesday!

I’m putting together a blog tour for the release with dates in November, and if anyone would like to participate, let me know! You can check out the tour schedule’s page on the right.

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I hope you enjoyed your visit and come back for more!  You can subscribe using RSS, Twitter, or Facebook.  And if you want to ensure you don’t miss any new releases, you can sign up for the newsletter!

Missing the Miracle

In January of 2007, I answered an inner calling to travel to Spokane, Washington.  I’m not a spontaneous person, but something tugged at me with a strength and allure I could not deny–hope.

One of my friends from college lived up there and told me about the Healing Rooms.  It was a place people came from all over to seek and find healing prayer.  I’ve had health problems my entire life.  Even with advances in technology, my diabetes was severe, and the very modern day conveniences that made controlling it easier often caused me great pain.  I had only been diagnosed with celiac three years before and was still in denial.  On top of that, I had been struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts for the past fourteen years.

So I bought a plane ticket, even though I hate to fly and dislike travel, not to mention it was freezing cold in a place that saw heavy snowfall.  (While there, I learned that snow is only pretty after the first fall.  Then it becomes brown slush.)  I was a senior in college, and was spending my cherished winter break chasing hope.

My friend took me to visit the Healing Rooms.  It was like a free clinic, in a way.  First come, first serve.  There were several rooms where volunteers gathered in numbers of two or three to meet with people and pray over them.  They praised a high success rate, and even local hospitals invited them to come down and pray with patients.  I didn’t go in that first day.  We looked around, picked up a few pamphlets and a book, and went home where we dove into the Bible, examining the verses and passages their faith was based on.  We even visited some local pastors to discuss the matter with them.

And you know what?  I found no flaw in their beliefs.

I went back to the Healing Rooms and asked for prayer that God would cure me of my diabetes and gluten allergy.  Before they prayed, one of the men stepped forward and said he sensed there was something else I needed healing from–my depression.  I had forgotten about it, believing that if my physical troubles were over, that would follow.  They laid hands on me and prayed for healing, calling upon the promises in the Bible and the promise of life in Christ.

And I believed.

Then came the tricky part: when would I experience my full healing?  For the next couple days, my diabetes got markedly better.  I started decreasing my medication without consequence.  But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.  Still, I held on to this hope that God would heal me of my afflictions.

Hope turned to disappointment, to anger.

Before you come to the conclusion that God doesn’t exist or miracles don’t happen, let me say that in my anger and hurt, I missed the miracle.  I am sad to say that it took me a whole year before I realized that God indeed had healed something very important–my depression.  Since that day, I have not had one day lost to despair, one suicidal thought.  God may not have healed me the way I wanted, but He did heal the thing that was preventing me from having a relationship with Him.

I still believe God will heal me of the other stuff someday, though whether it be in this life or in the next, that is up to Him.  I realized the wrongness in my prayers those years ago.  God is not a genie for us to call upon when we want something.  Answering my prayer the *way* I wanted would not have brought Him glory.  Even today, in this new year, not knowing how I will pay for my medical supplies without insurance, deeply desiring miraculous healing so life would be easier, I know that it would not teach me faith the way God wants to.

Stripped of everything I have ever depended on, I am left with only Him.  There is a profound peace to be had living in full dependence on God.  It is something I am only beginning to glimpse and understand, as fear still gnaws at me.  And while the road may be harder, if God were to grant me a healing modern medicine can’t explain, I would miss another, greater miracle–learning to live in and love God’s everyday provision.

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Phoenix Feather is on sale now for $.99 on Amazon!

The feather and who it represents is both a catalyst for darkness and destruction, and the vessel of love and hope.  In a world full of joy and sorrow, love and misery, this agent is a light seeking a balance between two inevitable realities in a sinful world, and is ultimately the final hope for something better.

Sowing Seeds in the Soul

When I was seven-years-old, a doctor told me I probably wouldn’t live to be eighteen.

I don’t know why he told me that.  Sure, my diabetes was severe, but not untreatable.  I do know his prognosis had a profound effect on me.  I’ve had a lot of health issues, and the idea of getting well has been like an unattainable dream.  In my mind, it’s an even further stretch than becoming published.  Because of this fatalistic mentality, I’ve never really taken my health seriously.  I’ve been allergic to gluten for eight years; I’ve only recently been 100% gluten free for almost three months.  I know exercise is vitally important, but every exercise regimen I have ever started hasn’t lasted a week.  It’s hard to care about your long-term health when subconsciously you don’t expect to ever get there.

I didn’t recognize the power of those few words until many years later.  Now I can look back and see how my subconscious sabotages can be traced back to that one moment that is burned into my memory.  I can’t remember anything else about that day, not even what the doctor looked like, just those words echoing in my mind.

I remember on my nineteenth birthday finally realizing that I had outlived my expiration date.  It was a great feeling, but it wasn’t strong enough to reverse the seed that had been planted and sown over the past ten years.  Our internal processing is filled with voices whispering at us.  The problem is, that after a while, those voices start to sound like our own, and we listen.  “Every time you solve one health problem, another pops up; why not just live with the curse you know?  You’ll never be healthy, so things like exercise and eating well won’t make a difference.  With your health record, you still probably won’t live that long.”

We need a gardener to come in and trim back the overgrown weeds to find the sapling underneath that never had a chance to properly grow.  Those weeds are often so entangled though, that it might be a painful process.  Sometimes the trimming can happen slowly, with other, loving seeds planted by other people.  Sometimes it happens quickly, with fire, something that rips to our roots and jars us from those habits.

Cleaning up the garden of our souls is never easy, though there is a Gardener who’s skilled and precise in His work so we are safe in His hands.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” ~Phillipians 4:13

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” ~Romans 12:2

But remember this–you had no control over the seeds that were planted in your heart, only on how you will shape your garden now.  Words are powerful.  They soothe hurts and cut deep.  Be aware of the words you sow.  You never know what you may be planting.

What seeds were planted in your heart by someone else?  Were they seeds that nourished your soul, or weeds that have held you down?  Do you fall into patterns based on those seeds?  If you were able to identify the source of some negative patterns, how did you uproot them?  I love hearing from you!

–I also have an announcement regarding Elemental Magic.  I want to apologize for the extended wait of its release.  It’s mid-October now, and while I had hoped to release it at the beginning of this month, there have been a few delays due to the cover art not being completed on time.  I’m very sorry that I couldn’t make the deadline I set for myself, but it is out of my control.  I hope to have news for you all soon, but I am still waiting on the cover art.–

The Guardian

It’s Move Me Monday.  Do you love amazing pet stories?  The kind where a pet’s love for its owner leads them to strange and sometimes miraculous acts of heroism?  Well I’ve got a personal one to share with you.  I wrote this article in college as part of a class assignment.  Part of the assignment was to query magazines for each article we wrote (talk about a scary class!).  Anyway, I Love Cats magazine decided to print it in 2006.  Here’s the story.

Mom awoke in the middle of the night to an unfamiliar noise: a loud meowing.  Until that moment, my longhaired cat, Ashley, had never made a sound—not a howl, not a hiss, not a mewl. We had assumed she was mute.

That night, however, my mother found Ashley pacing and yowling in the hallway.  My mom knew cats were smart–there had to be some reason silent Ashley was suddenly crying.  Worried, Mom came into my room where the cat usually slept.   She found me, her diabetic daughter, suffering from a severe drop in blood sugar, too weak to call for help.  Had Mom not checked on me, I might have had a seizure, slipped into a coma, or died.

I found Ashley through an ad in the Mercury News; a family had taken in a cat, not knowing it was pregnant.  Ashley was the shyest of the three kittens needing a home. I felt drawn to her, being shy myself.  Her fur was beautifully brindled: ash gray, wood tan, and cloud white.

Ashley loved freshly baked bread.  The sound of the can-opener didn’t do a thing for her, but the sweet aroma of bread in the bread machine did. Ashley was also the only cat I’ve ever seen who liked to play with water.  We couldn’t convince her that her water dish was strictly for drinking.  Spritzing her only encouraged these shenanigans.

Ashley never used her voice for herself—even when she was stepped on or accidentally locked in a closet—but she was my voice on multiple nights when my blood sugar dropped to dangerous levels, and I was either too weak to call out or too deep in sleep to wake.  She was an ordinary house cat, napping on pillows, lounging on the windowsill, and chasing flies through the house.  Nobody knew about her nighttime heroics unless I told them, and nobody will ever convince me that cats are useless, lazy pets.

In 2004, Ashley took her turn to fall asleep and didn’t wake up.  I still miss her, but my family will always remember her as the heroine who saved my life several times.  She was more than just a house pet, more than a child’s best friend.  Ashley was my guardian angel.

Losing a pet is always hard.  It took me several years before I could open my heart again.  As most of you probably know, I now have a beautiful tortie whom I absolutely adore.  With time comes healing, and the heart is big enough to make room for additions.

Do you have any amazing pet stories?  Have you lost a beloved pet?  How long did you wait before opening your heart and home again?  I love hearing from you!

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For the rest of September, everyone who leaves a comment will be entered into a drawing to win a free e-book copy of Elemental Magic when it releases.  Five winners will be selected.

Aileen Donovan wants nothing more than recognition as an elemental scientist by her supernatural community.  What better way to do that than to solve a mystery involving a power-hungry alchemist, hallucinogenic coral, and a homicidal sea dragon?  The hardest part will be working with Coast Guard officer Colin Benson—until the tides turn, and Aileen realizes that love and duty may not have to be mutually exclusive.