Does Sugar Feed Cancer?

In the last week, I've tried my hardest to avoid sweets and refined sugar as much as possible. It's been a challenge but none the less very empowering to say NO to my self throughout the day. Also during the week, I've been doing a little research on sugar and it's effects on the human body. I found an article that explained the connection between sugar and cancer very well. Apparently, although sugar does not CAUSE cancer it does FEED CANCER. Here is an excerpt from the article:

Does Sugar Feed Cancer? "Does Sugar Feed Cancer." The simple answer is "Yes." Sugar feeds EVERY cell in the whole body. Every cell in you body uses glucose, a simple sugar, for energy. If we know that every cell in the body prefers or needs glucose (sugar) for energy, it is no surprise that "sugar feeds cancer." Just like other body cells, cancer cells use sugar for energy to grow and multiply. Remember, sugar doesn't 'feed' cancer any more than it 'feeds' other body cells. However, if you eat a lot of simple sugar on a regular basis, it raises body levels of certain hormones. These hormones include insulin, insulin-like growth factor, and other hormones that encourage cells to grow. These hormones are the problem, NOT the sugar. Research tells us that high levels of insulin and related hormones may increase cancer cell growth (1-6)!

I think most people acknowledge that sugar in excess is not a good thing to put in the human body if for no other reason than weight gain (my main issue). We recognize the effects on children when they've had too much. Folks that suffer from chronic migraines can attest to the negative effect of sugar on their condition. I can personally testify to my own lethargy and sleepiness after a Sunday afternoon meal that was full of large portion sizes and ended with "something containing choccolate".

However, as I've googled different word combinations involving sugar, I've run into quite a few commentaries on sugar and it's general weakening of the immune system. Specifically, I thought sugar's connection to cancer might be a little less known and worth posting about. Hope it helps someone!

Hello....My Name is Chrystal...

and I'm addicted to sugar.

I've been fighting an uphill/downhill battle with my diet and exercise since the holidays and it dawned on me yesterday that what's been occurring is more than meets the eye. It's been a slippery slope as it relates to my resolve. What had gotten so easy before the holidays has become increasingly more difficult to manage. My exercise is good but my diet is ALL OVER THE PLACE. My main problem. SUGAR....

I checked out addiction at www.dictionary.com and this is what I found for a definition: the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

Let's see...eating sugar is a habit. I always need something sweet to end a meal, even if it is only a mint. I hit lows and will eat healthy things like veggies, and protein to stave the specific hunger, but nothing besides an Oreo will do the trick. And let's be real. You can't just eat one. I'd gotten a $50 gift certificate to Starbucks for Christmas that has led me to believe that, since it was free, frequent drive-bys were OK. I would throw in the Milk Chocolate Graham Crackers just because.

What about "cessation causes severe trauma". Well, let's just say that I've detoxed before. The first couple of days is MADNESS. I'm crabby, I get headaches, and just overall feel like something isn't right. If I'm not loopy, that sounds like drug rehab. Truth be told, I've probably had my share of the shakes...

I've been fighting this Romans 7 battle for my whole life and I'm SO tired of it. Granted, I've been losing weight gradually but my true desire is not to be double-minded about my commitment to nutrition and health. Sugar makes me double-minded.

I can decide NOT to have any cake....until my sister orders some. So, my response?...I'll just have one bite. You know where that leads....TO DESTRUCTION!

I have self-control in more than a few areas of my life but when it comes to sugar, I'm just a basketcase.

I've been studying Romans in my BSF class and chapter 12 hit me like a ton of bricks.

Romans 12:1-2 (New International Version) On Living Sacrifices Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

My body doesn't belong to me.

Some people trash their bodies with alcohol, some with drugs, some with tobacco. Trashing with sugar (or overeating) does not put me in some higher class.

So...I'm a sugar addict. I'm probably a carb addict too but one thing at a time.

From what I understand, an addict always has to go through a period of withdrawal and once habit-free will always have to know their limitations. For the rest of their lives, they will have to choose to be addiction-free.

I'm committed to going 7 days without refined sugar. I might stretch it to 14 days and then to 21 but right now I can't think that far. I'm avoiding "sweets", allowing myself natural sweetener on occasion (honey in tea for example). No oreos, no ice cream, no brownies, no sweet tea, no candy bars, no chocolate chip cookies (Lord help me), no Starbucks, etc.. None of these things I'm consume everday now but the problem is that when I know I SHOULDN'T eat them. I STILL DO.

So no sugar...even if I burn 600 calories at the gym.

Anybody want to join me?

Do You Enjoy American Idol...

As I mentioned before, occasionally I will point to another blog that I think is worth a good read. My friend Grant writes a commentary every week after the American Idol Show that is usually right on and HILARIOUS. If you missed American Idol or if you just want a good chuckle or too. Check him out!

I know that some of you are waiting patiently for The Story - Part IV. It's coming I promise. In the meantime if you haven't read the story, start with Part I. Trying to get things in order around the old household - first things first right? :) ...well...at least that's what I keep telling myself to stay away from the old laptop :)

A Story - Part III

For Part I of this story, CLICK HERE; For Part II of this story, CLICK HERE

Let us call the young black woman Olivia. I do not know her name. No one living today does.

For many days and nights after the captain's death, Olivia sat in the chair by the window, looking out on her children as they played. The young mother's housework did not get done, her chores went unattended to. Her mind was filled with a plethora of thoughts. Her face reflected the heaviness consuming her insides, and her shoulders conveyed the burden she felt.

These days and nights were a stark contrast to Olivia's normal disposition. She had always been characterized by a light and cheerful spirit, welcoming anyone into her life that happened to cross her path. She smiled...much of the time. Accepting her lot in life, this mother of small children proved to be made from the stuff women of old are rumored to made of - hard working, resourceful, and multi-talented. She had no choice. Married to a man who came and went as he pleased, Olivia learned early on in her marriage that if she would enjoy her life in the least, she would have to make it enjoyable. Gone were the expectations of happily ever after she had brought with her into her union years ago. They had all been replaced by willpower, a refusal to give up, and smiles....lots of smiles.

From the moment she laid eyes on her first born, her mind was made up. Her children deserved her smiles regardless of the situation they had been born into or the cares their mother carried. And smile she did. Through day after day of work born alone she smiled. Through week after week of her husband's absence she sat on the grass with her children in and around her lap, laughing and playing as if she was one of them. Through month after month of not having enough money, enough compansionship, or enough love, she fixed her eyes on the beauty of life that she intentionally looked for and successfully created.

Her house was simple, welcoming, and serene. The climate of this coastal town led it's inhabitants to lean towards a heavy usage of light colored furnishing and decor. Olivia's home was no different. Cream colored draperies hung at every window and framed simple rooms that held many wicker items. The walls were white as were the shutters that stayed open most of the time. The smell of home greeted any visitor because Olivia always had something on the stove cooking. If it wasn't food, it would be orange peels, apple skins, cinnamon sticks or the like. She let nothing go to waste. Olivia took pride in her home. It was always clean. She brought the beauty of the outdoors inside. Flowers grew wildly in abundance around the town and Olivia always stopped and picked a few to add color within her walls. Walking into her home was like walking into a peace of heaven.

Olivia made her own heaven. Amidst her husband's indiscretions, inconsistent employment, and addictions, money was scarce. This industrious woman made it a practice to take in ironing, sewing, and other people's children to make ends meet. She kept a garden and sold it's wares. She took cleaning jobs, bringing her children along if necessary. They were well behaved and caused her no trouble. She even ran errands occasionally. She had no buggy, no horse, no means of transportation other than her own two feet. Despite the cards dealt to her, she greatly rose above her circumstances, thus earning the respect of her community in spite of her shameful situation. In a town where the plight of a woman, a black woman, held no real thought in the mind of most whites, this woman not only earned respect but also earned compassion. People went out of their way to support her with their patronage.

When Olivia was not working, her favorite place to sit was at her window, watching her children play, her smile visible to any passerby.

Now, this same window framed a sad face, a grieved face, a face that could not be made to smile. The eyes spoke of defeat and depression. Olivia looked out of the window watching the children play but her mind was not focused on the sight in front of her. Her thoughts took her to a day, more than a year before, when, sitting at her window, she happened to noticed a man, dressed in uniform, walking along her street.

You see, it was also through this very window that the distinguished captain first saw this unbelievable woman and took notice of that warm, inviting smile.

Read Part IV

Pathways

In life there are pathways, paths that lead us where we want to go and paths that lead us away from where we desire to end up. There are roads that are smooth, roads that are rocky, roads that are slippery, and roads that would keep us stuck. I've personally traveled along paths that were very painful and some paths that brought me so much joy I felt I would burst. Every now and then I've traveled a walkway that lasted only for a brief moment and some others that flat out exhausted me because they seemingly had no end. There have been paths lined with beauty and some lined with sights I hope to never to see again. I've trodden along trails that have taken me to dead ends and been privileged to travel some that have led me to places I could have never imagined.

What have I learned?

The only way to live life is to choose a path and follow it. Sometimes, we don't know what our paths hold - in fact, most times we have no idea what our journeys will bring. The only thing I do know for sure is that our paths only truly bear meaning when they are traveled.

I can gaze at a path all I want from a distance, but it is only when I choose to walk a path, to take in all the sights and sounds, to experience the journey step by step, stride by stride, - it is only then that I experience my life in it's entirety.

Lord help me not just be a hearer but a doer....

Help me not to be a gazer but a walker...

Keep me from standing on the precipice of my life...

Hold my hand and help me to leave footprints along the paths you lead me to...

Lord, help me to boldly walk the paths set before me...

Help me to live the life you have given me fully, completely, and abundantly through the power provided through the life of Jesus Christ living in me.



Lord, let me live my life in such a way...

with such endurance...
with such committment...
and with such vigor...

that when you tell me it's time to go home, to be with you forever...

I will be ready.

Sunday Afternoon Melodies

My aunt emailed me today and told me to watch this video. She said that my grandfather, "Two Daddy" as we affectionately call him, loves Wintley Phipps. Two Daddy is a pianist - church/jazz musician. I see why he loves this guy.

Enjoy this great music, perfect for a Sunday afternoon...

A Story - Part II

For Part I of this story, CLICK HERE

The word of the captain's death came as a sad surprise to most. One person, however, did not have a full blown moment of shock. His mother felt it. As many people who love deeply, she knew something was wrong before the local authorities darkened her doorsteps. She felt him, felt his presence, and she could pinpoint the exact moment that she sensed a void in the atmosphere of her heart.

She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, awaiting the impending news from the officer. As she watched his lips move, she listened with her heart - even as it simultaneously broke into a thousand little pieces.

Alone...alone...she was now all alone...

Her husband had left her long ago, and she had put her every waking moment thereafter providing, caring for, and loving her only son. He had made her so proud. What a successful man he had become, only to have his life wasted by a random accident at sea.

As she led the officer to the door, bid him goodnight, and closed the door, her thoughts turned to his funeral service. Who should come? Her mind flipped through the images of people they knew and the woman wondered who might even think it necessary to attend. They had lived a secluded life. Her efforts had been spent on raising her son. Fellowshipping with acquaintances and friends had no place in her life. His efforts each day culminated with the smile he saw on his mother's face at the beauty of his life and the success he worked hard to achieve. His mother needed fulfillment from no other.

So, she planned a small funeral. Beautiful flowers were chosen and a casket designed, all to hold her most precious possesion...the body of her beloved son.

The funeral was held in a small chapel near the sea. The church windows, plantation-like shutters comprised of old slatboard, parted horizontally, letting in the breeze. The doors were left open and the smells and the sounds of the market wafted in lingering in the air. The minister spoke softly, the waves roared in the distance, and tears fell silently onto the old woman's lap.

She wanted this moment, this farewell to last a long time so that she could revel in the memory of her son and not be chided for it as she assumed would be the case sometime in the days to come. The grief stricken woman planned two musical interludes into the program, just organ, that would give her the time and lengthen the inevitable. During the second interlude, she turned to look over her shoulder and see who had thought her son's life worthy of their presence to say goodbye.

She hadn't really invited anyone. Lost in her own grief, she called the necessary parties and decided to let the rumor mill work on its own. In attendance were only a few people who had known the mother and her son a very long time - people who'd known the captain as a small boy and watched him grow. Behind her to the right sat a favorite teacher, a close school friend, and the pastor who'd baptized him. They comprised about half of the total in attendance.

Over her left shoulder sat a couple of other acquaintances, but they went unnoticed. The only thing she could see was the black woman, head bowed, sitting sullenly on the back pew.

More coming soon...

Read Part III

Welcome to My Blog Party!

This post will be a "sticky post" at the top of my Blog until March 9th!
Scroll past it if you want to see other stuff I've written during the week!

Welcome to my blog party....and I'm Chrystal writing from deep in the heart of Texas. I'm married to one a giant of a man (inside and out) and I am the proud homeschooling mother of four!

The photo below is a year old but it will have to suffice for now :)

Inspiration is the main jist of this blog. Feel free to sample some of the lessons I've learned from parenting, cooking, motherhood, and my personal quiet time. Every now and again I may sneak in a thought or two on current events. My ramblings do run the gamut. I've talked about everything from my faith to my "falls".

I actually have two blogs, the other one being more for the ins and outs of my daily life. Motherhood is the main jist of that one. If you want to learn a little about me you can start with reading some of my posts from the daily life blog. Over there I talk a little about some weird things, weight gain and weight loss, homeschooling, recipes, and homemaking. If you check out the other blog, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the idea of combining the two. I write a little about a lot of different things. Visitors to my blog never know what they'll run into!

I blog because every other member of my family has a presence on the web for their line of work. Well, motherhood and growing people is my line of work, and I think that's worthy of web presence too! You can check out the links for my family members on the sidebar of my other blog.

OK...OK...The reason given above is just a smoke screen. Really and truly, I started my blog because I was tired of mumbling under my breath over the kitchen sink.

OK....OK....I blog because everyone else does it ... So go ahead and enjoy my little party corner of the Ultimate Blog Party hosted by 5 minutes for Mom!

Now I tried to think of what might make this blog have a "party feel". I don't know how to put music on the site, but I do know how to post videos! Hope you get a few good laughs out of this video showing my 3yo enjoying bathtime!

Be sure to check out more blogging ladies participating in the Ultimate Blog Party. You can find the list of blogs by clicking on the image below and scrolling down a bit.. The fun will be going on until March 9th!

A Story - Part I

This story begins with two neighbors. One middle-aged white woman lived next door to a young black woman. They were cordial but were not friends. The day and time did not allow them to be friends. There was no slavery, only the remnant of a sense of class and of difference. They chose to be cordial.

The black woman was married, or had been married at one time. People assumed she had been married because she appeared to be taken care of. No man seemed to live with her and she did not work so people just assumed. She also had a few children. Maybe three or four. No one was really sure because she kept a flow of relatives' children in and out of her home. No one really cared because her children, any of the children, did not get into trouble nor did they cause trouble.

The two women went through their lives, co-existing from a distance. There was no reason to pay attention to the other. But things changed.

The white woman's son was a captain. He was her prize possession as she was alone in this world other than him. He spent months at sea, sailing cargo back and forth from one location to another. He was a good captain, stern, but he got the job done. He commanded his crew with a firm hand. His interest was making money and making deadlines. He delivered on his promises.

His crew worked for him because he paid them well. They didn't like him nor did they truly respect him. They feared him. He had no concern for them personally. His interest in them was solely professional. Deadlines were to be met at all cost. Schedules were more important than sleep, food, or sickness. Steam from boiling water can only build up in a teapot so long before it bursts forth. Human spirits work the same way.

As the captain stood at the helm of his ship, observing the looming landscape before him, he had no idea that sight would be his last. He had no memory of the blow, no feeling of betrayal, and no sense of fear. His crew had grown tired and taken their perception of justice into their own hands. Their captain was killed and thrown to sea. His waterlogged body would be discovered on the shore, two miles in from the scene of the crime, an arm missing from the apparent bite of a shark. His name goes unknown. The person who told me this story did not know the man's name. Only that he lived the life of a captain and that he died a betrayed man. Why does he even matter? Stay tuned...

Read Part II

Fearless

I've had this photo in my possession for about a week. I've been trying to think of something deep to say that would go along with the photo. I've had lots of deep illustrations come to mind and I've conjured up provocative spiritual concepts that would move me and I hope others.

Well...it's Tuesday and once again I'm sleepy. So here's the photo. Enjoy it for what it is and see if it brings to mind something meaningful. Being insightful and sleepy just doesn't go together... I'm learning that quickly...even as I type...

People Want To Know - How Do You Have Time to Blog?

Well let's just say that I don't always have the time :) .....