Have I ever shared with you that I have a mystery disease? I saw that. One sentence in and you’re already rolling your eyes. Our middle daughter Amanda has inherited this fascinating unidentified illness as well. We talk about things we are learning as we go. It’s definitely food related. Often I have stroke-like symptoms within fifteen minutes of eating. She has similar issues. The other day she mentioned as a side note that eating a carrot every day is supposed to even out estrogen levels.

Right. Like that’s even possible.

My beloved David currently works with approximately thirty-one females. He never expresses what that means exactly. He’s wise like that. When I mentioned the carrot cure, I helpfully suggested it might be a good idea to keep some handy. Instead of having a can with pencils and pens on his desk, he probably should consider a supply of carrots. That way when he finds himself drowning in a sea of estrogen and one of his very capable staff members steps into his office he could offer a snack.

“Carrot?” he could kindly suggest.

Our oldest daughter has some of the symptoms of the family illness too. I was relating to her the discoveries we’re making in the food department.

“I think it’s some sort of audio-immune problem.” I tried to sound professional regarding something I know nothing about.

She laughed. “Mama, it can’t be AUDIO-immune. That would mean you can’t hear it.” She paused and added. “That’s what my teen age daughters have. You probably mean auto-immune which is a problem with your gut.”

I sighed.

“Yep. My gut tells me I should eat more carrots lest your daddy lose his everlovin’ mind.”

Annyyywayyy…

Something we’ve discovered that has helped us avoid these painful attacks is that there is a group of vegetables that act like poison in our bodies. They are called Nightshades and sadly include tomatoes, white potatoes, and peppers.

Holy Jalapeno.

Can you imagine all the food that nullifies? Poor Amanda lives in Corpus Christi, right by the Salsa Promised Land.

Bless her heart.

So before you stop me in the grocery store to suggest one more possible cure, you need to know. My audio-immune condition will kick in. I can’t hear you. We’ve already tried it. We’ve eliminated all processed foods, all preservatives, flavorings, colorings, and all things fake. I’ve got bone broth cooking in the crock pot even as we speak.

I’m like that pitiful woman in the Bible who suffered twelve long years and spent all her money on doctors but came away worse. Only I’ve got her beat by at least thirty years. Many a doctor has suggested it’s all in my head. And I’ll be the first to admit I’m crazy. But I’m telling you from experience, crazy is not painful. In fact, crazy feels pretty good.

Maybe someday someone will come up with a simple cure like for instance an apple a day… or a carrot… or eye of newt stirred into bone broth. But if not, eventually I’ll move close enough to Jesus to touch His robe. He’ll reach back, take my hand and invite me home for supper. It will be better than moving to the Salsa Promised Land. We’ll sit at the table together and He’ll pass the pizza and lasagna my way and ask with a smile, “Would you like fries with that?”

I’ll smile back at Him and reply, “Yes! And a little ketchup wouldn’t hurt either.”

Or I could have it completely wrong. Instead He may look at me kindly and offer,

“Carrot dear?”

Lynna Clark lives in Salisbury