Hannah's Heartstrings

Pictures, letters, cards. Notes of things that were important to a teenager. Writings. Declarations of who I was becoming.

The past twenty-two years of my life can fit into one solitary brown box. If needed, my life could fit into a mid-sized suitcase. Yes, there are some unnecessary things…I could scale down much further. But I keep them because I can, because I am not forced to do without them.
I am very sentimental. Too much for my own good. I keep things I should have gotten rid of years ago. A green Skittles bag? Well, it was a limited edition one with Princess Leia on it from the re-release of the first three Stars Wars films. Bits of papers with scribbles on them? Oh yes, those were from my dear little friends when they were first learning how to write. They are now graduating from high school. Ticket stubs? That was from when my Dad took me to see the Nutcracker Ballet. And that shoebox full of letters? Don’t you dare touch that…that is every letter from the past 11 years sent to me by my dearest Canadian girlfriend. The smaller boxes? Well, one holds dried flowers that my uncle sent me on my sixteenth birthday. The other holds all my baby teeth. Yes. Teeth.

I spent most of yesterday going through my boxes. I had, oh, five or six of them. I’m down to one. There were some things that were simply not necessary to save anymore. Some things I never want to part with. Letters and pictures that remind me of a simpler time. The calendar who’s biggest event was my friend getting her first puppy. The scrawled out note of a six-year old thanking me for teaching her the Cat’s Cradle game. The only drawing I have left from a little boy who bruised my ten-year-old heart…the one drawing that escaped my anger and did not get thrown away…the drawing that reminds me never to hold a grudge, because that little boy grew up to be one of the best men I know. There’s the cards and letters from a girl I grew up with…letters dated just a year or two before she was killed in a car accident.

Some things I did release from my grasp. Some things didn’t hold as much sentimental value as they originally did. Other things I was glad to be rid of. Little by little, letting go of things I regret, words I said that shouldn’t have been spoken, people I let in that I should have showed more caution to. Releasing their hold on me. Telling myself its okay, and that even when it hurt, I learned something. God gave me the strength to handle it, the grace to get through it, and now its time to move on and do something new.
Some things brought laughter. Most were quickly followed by tears. Some things brought anger and a feeling of defeat over remembering friendships that were, and are no more. Things I can’t fix, even though I try. Life I can’t go back to, even if I wanted.

There are things I have said and shouldn’t have. There are things I haven’t said, and should have.
But what kind of life do I have if I just sit here regretting and wishing over what was? If I focus on the bad I wish hadn’t have happened, then I miss all the beauty that did. And if I worry about the bad of the present and future, I miss all the beauty that is.

This is what life is all about. Seeing and enjoying every little bit of beauty, living with our eyes wide open, and praising God for all of it. We have nothing to live for if we do not have God. Our lives are purposeless and empty, not matter what we try to fill them up with.

God has the amazing ability to make everything beautiful. Even pain. “…My strength is made perfect in weakness…” God’s grace and love turns tears into smiles.

If this isn’t exciting, then we are doing it wrong. There is so much beauty for us to see here. Sometimes we just have to look for it. We have to stop, breathe and absorb.

There was that little boy that pulled himself up on the countertop where I work and looked right at me and said “I love you!” A little boy I’ve never seen and may never see again, but his sweet little words will touch my heart forever.

There’s the sweet sound of my boyfriend’s voice spanning an ocean, and the numbers in my calendar book that tell me he’s almost home.

There’s the friend I’ve never met, sending me a note just to tell me she’s thinking about me.

The baby of a life-long friend about to be born.

My brother telling me how much he misses me.

My mom bringing me home cashews and avocados because she knows I like them.

Finally being old enough to tease my dad without it sounding disrespectful.

The way my heart beats.

The things that make me smile.


I don’t want to miss a moment.

This is the version of avocado pudding that I have been making. I altered it slightly from the original "4 Ingredient Raw Avocado Pudding" recipe I found on www.healthfulpursuit.com. I added the chia seeds and stevia, doubled the avocado but left the lemons the same amount. I also omitted the extra lemon juice, cause it just seemed to be too sloppy.
I've also included a version I came up with today. I was out of dates and had kiwi, strawberries and coconut. It turned out beautifully and tastes like heaven.
I am going to try freezing the pudding to make a sort of ice cream. :)

Better Avocado Pudding

2 avocados
Flesh of 2 lemons
12 dates, pitted
1-2 TBSP chia seeds
up to 1 tsp stevia powder

Chop dates in a food processor first, then add all other ingredients and blend till smooth.
Refrigerate before eating for a few hours to give the chia seeds time to gel up.

"Tropical" version:
Add 1 kiwi in place of the lemons, then add 6-10 whole strawberries, 1-2 TBSP coconut flakes and a dash of lemon juice.

*Vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free, soy-free, grain-free*

Unseen once is now made seen
Black, Red, White, Green
Am I a lion, or a lamb?
Am I a boy, or a man?
Drown, come and drown with me
Taste Elyon’s fruit, listen and see
Elyon plays, Elyon sings
His voice soft as a Roush’s wings
Dance, come and dance with me
Forever part of the Circle be
Elyon’s water, pleasure and life
Simple and real, wrong made right
Deeper, deeper…deeper still
You don’t understand? Wait, you will.
The game is on, the Romance begun
The divine magic of two become one
Fight for, chase, desire, pursue
Cherish, hope for, love, woo
Echo of Eden, heaven’s touch
You never thought you could want this so much
Now the Battle is here, the Enemy come
The Great Romance has a war to be won
Be careful the master you choose
It means whether you win or lose
Elyon is silent, Elyon waits
While hell bursts open its gates
The Circle fights, the Circle cries
What was always now dies
Then the Hero comes, he always comes
Watch as now he runs
Power flows, white and pure
There he is, strong and sure
The Warrior, Creator, Lover, Friend
The beginning and the end
Drown, drown again with me
Elyon’s water, taste and see
Am I a lion, or a lamb?
Am I boy, or a man?
Unseen once is now made seen
Black…Red…White…Green.

By Hannah McMichael
Inspired by Ted Dekker's "Circle" series

(If you have not read these books, you won't understand this poem. Go read them!!)

Every once in a while I go back and read blog posts, comments, diary pages, emails, etc., that I’ve written over the past four or five years. Okay, even the past year.

It is an incredibly embarrassing, aggravating, insightful, and ultimately humbling experience.

“I believe this about true Christian courtship.” WHACK! “I heard God’s voice in my head.” WHACK! “I’ve learned how to be perfectly content.” WHACK! “Homeschoolers are better than any other people.” WHACK WHACK!!

Oh dear , the things I really thought for sure I knew! How smart I thought I was. How confident I was in things I truly was just dipping my toes into. And oh, how much I have learned in such a short time!

There are a lot of things I wish I could erase, because I simply don’t think the same now, or what I wrote was done in a hasty flurry of emotion and what seemed right at the time. But I wouldn’t be a very good writer if I did that. Embarrassment, ridicule, the questioning of our true motives and values…it’s the price one pays for speaking one’s mind.

People change, for better or worse. We grow and learn. And the more we talk about our opinions, likes, dislikes, convictions, beliefs and feelings, the more we are likely to be humbled by them at a later point in time. Our words will come back to bite us if we don’t watch out.

So forgive me when I seem to contradict myself as the years go by. Its not that I am floating around with every wind of doctrine. Its only that I am learning, growing, becoming. And from time to time, I am just plain WRONG.

Thank goodness that Humble Stick isn’t too hard.

Before we get too far and to avoid any misunderstandings, let me preface this by saying one thing: I am, in no way, stating that any way of going about relationships is wrong. I’m not here to rant about how conservatism “ruined my life”, or how I was “saved” from the liberal dating scene (neither of which is true). I’m not here to point fingers. I’m not even here to give you a brand new formula, or Ten Best Tips of How To Get Married. I’m only here to offer a perspective.

This perspective is mine, and may be something you’ve heard or thought or discussed already. You don’t have to agree. You don’t have disagree. I’m not bashing. I’m just talking.

So, now that we’ve got that taken care of.


History. I grew up conservative. I still am very conservative in many ways. Saying that I am liberal just wouldn’t seem to cut it, although I know some would label me as heading in that direction. When I was 13, my mom impressed upon me the idea of saving my first kiss for my wedding day. I liked the idea and decided to strive for that. None of the boys I knew ever tried to kiss me anyways, so things were cool. That’s more or less where my thinking about courtship, dating and marriage all started. From there it was slowly built as I read articles and stories, talked with people, and tried to find my place in a circle of home school graduates.


My parents never really gave us a set of rules or regulations. They never said “dating is bad and courtship/betrothal is the only way to go”. We talked about the differences and they encouraged us to do something different than the average American recipe for relationships. They encouraged us to not just date around for the fun of it, to refrain from flirting with members of the opposite sex, and to find someone to be committed to when the time was right.


There were times when friendships got out of hand and boundaries had to be set up. Ages 17 to 21 were some of the toughest, most aggravating years of my life, and I would never wish to go back to them. But looking back, I am glad I had the boundaries that I did and that my parents provided the guidance that they did.


By the time I reached 21, I had pretty much formulated in my head how my perfect courtship would go. Boy meets girl, preferably at church or home school convention. Boy and girl communicate through some public venue as friends. Boy talks to girl’s dad. Girl’s dad permits courtship. Boy and girl court for a few months, always chaperoned, not likely even holding hands, never alone, etc. Boy and girl get engaged and marry within a year. And they live happily ever after. Perfect, right?


Well, yes. And no.


A few guys came and went. Nothing was ever right. And then I met Kyle. In years before, if you had asked me if there was such a thing as love at first sight, I would have scoffed and told you it didn’t exist. I stand corrected.


Just a couple months after meeting, Kyle invited me to go to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball with him. My thought process went something like this: “Wow. That would be amazing. Man I would love to go with him. But who am I kidding? We’re not even in a relationship, and I don’t even know if he’s that interested in me. And not to mention, my dad would *never* let me go.”


My dad let me go. Encouraged me to go!


So in November, with my brother Charlie as my traveling buddy, financial support and intended chaperone, I flew down to North Carolina for an 8 day trip. And thus began my unconventional, non-conservatively conservative, sort of dating, sort of courting, sort of something way different, little bit of everything relationship with Kyle.


Nothing was as I had planned. Meeting Kyle and getting to know him, even more so falling in love with him, threw me for a complete loop. I never expected him. How could anyone ever expect someone like that? My relationship with him was completely different than anything I had ever imagined. I could have read a million books on courtship and dating, and hear a million more success stories, and none of it could have ever prepared me for REALITY.


We did things right and wrong to both sides of the spectrum. The hard core courtship/betrothal group would be shocked to hear how we left our chaperone and went off for walks by ourselves to discuss *us*. The liberal all-American dating group WAS shocked to hear we haven’t kissed yet. To be honest, even our families were shocked at some of the courses we chose! Both sides of the argument look at us with puzzled faces. Neither side can label us because we don’t fit into a label. I say “we’re dating” to some people and “we’re courting” to other just based on who I am talking to. Yes, I call him my boyfriend, but that too depends on who I’m talking to.


No one really understands. Not that I expect anyone to. Any way you label us is probably close, but still so far off the truth.


The thing is, we don’t need a label. We don’t need the pressure of a label.


We’re honestly doing just fine. We call it how we see it. We roll with the punches. We take things as they come. We don’t have a list of perfectly planned out rules, or a step-by-step guidelines as to how everything takes place. And we aren’t just in this for the fun of it or for the temporal pleasure of attraction.


Sometimes we don’t know what we’re doing, but its okay, because we’re figuring it out, one little step at a time. We’re growing together as friends and lovers.


Most importantly, what we are doing works for us.


If we could all just take about three steps backwards, and remove ourselves from the Courtship vs. Dating battle, we might see that there are more than two sides to the story. If couples would just do what works for them together, with the wisdom God gave them and for the glory of God alone, apart from any labels and outside any boxes, I think there’d be a lot more peace amongst the Body of Christ.

Of course, my phrase of “just doing what works for you”, I’m sure, can and will be taken the wrong way. In no way am I implying the condoning of premarital sexual relations just because “it works for you”. No way. Anyone that knows me, really knows me, will know how highly I value the fidelity of sex within marriage and within marriage alone, waiting for marriage to share that communion with each other and God, and the beauty of a husband and wife committed and faithful to each other.


My argument is for getting up to that point.


I am also not trying to imply that super conservative parents are “doing it wrong”, and need to give their kids some freedom. Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you need to just turn your daughter loose at eighteen and say “Come what may.” On the contrary. We need good counsel. Freedom and trust is gained with age and every person is different.


I am merely trying to say that you need to take each situation as it comes and only ask “Is this right? Is this pure?” based on God’s Word, flee immorality and self-righteousness, and not strive to conform to a man-made set of rules or labels that declare one process “more holy” or “more Godly” than another.


Seriously, does it really matter what you call it? On your fiftieth wedding anniversary, is anyone going to remember, or really care, what you called your before-marriage-period?


There are a lot better things we would be worrying about. Instead of strapping ourselves to labels that are pulling us down, why aren’t we being a light to the world around us? Why aren’t we teaching kids about keeping their bodies special and pure and saving sex for marriage instead of defining our own self-righteous labels and boxes?

There’s a deeper meaning here than just a name for a relationship. We are slowing down the message.

Maybe its time we get out of the way.

“So…what DO you eat?”

Yes, I get that question quite often. Its one of those phrases I’ve become accustomed to hearing over and over. Like “Oh, you’re home schooled! So how does that work?” or “Wow, you look so young. I would have guessed you about 16.”

I don’t really get tired of hearing that question. I’ve got quite an incredible story, to be honest, and its good information, so I’m happy to share my food life with people. I don’t get tired of the other questions either. Yes, I loved home schooling. Yes, I know I look like a kid. But its alright.

The only thing I don’t like it the look on people’s faces when I tell them what I do eat. Fruit, veggies, nuts and beans. Very little grains. No wheat, sugar, corn, meat, dairy or potatoes of any sort.

Here comes the look of pure pity. Sorrow, too, as if they want to cry for me.

Oh, its well meant, of course. By loving friends that simply are amazed that anyone can eat like that and still be sane. It doesn’t annoy me or anything.

Its just…well…I am honestly not a person you should be feeling sorry for.

I’m not ill. I don’t have some terrible terminal disease that is going to cut me off in the prime of life. In truth, I will probably be one of the last people to get a life threatening illness due to the fact that my diet is so simple and clean.

I don’t deserve your pity.

Why should you be sad for me? Because I can’t indulge in the nearest cupcake or bucket of ice cream? Because I’ll never be able to share a bowl of popcorn at the movies with my boyfriend? Because I won’t be able to enjoy take-out pizza with my kids? Gee, when you put it that way…

But hang on.

You’re right. I’m missing out. I’m missing out on birthday cakes and summer ice cream cones, hot delivery pizza and road trip candy bars. I’m missing out on all the food normally associated with cook-outs and tea parties and baby showers.

But there’s something else I’m missing out on as well.

I’m missing out on missing out on life. Yeah you read that right. No, I didn’t repeat myself accidentally. Go ahead, read it over again. I typed it just the way I wanted it. Maybe it would be better said that I’m not missing out on life. There. That’s a little clearer.

If you’ve never had a seizure, then you can’t imagine what I’m talking about. The helplessness that washes over you when you know you’re going down. The feeling of defeat, of “Oh SNAP!” when you wake up and realize you’ve had one. The recuperation period that seems like an eternity squashed into a day or two. The feeling of fear when you can’t figure out why on earth this is happening, and never knowing when it is going to happen again. And then the total apprehension that comes with wanting to do anything in life…can I go on this trip? Can I have these people stay over? Should I get up this early? Can I drive today? Could I ever get married? What about having a baby? Am I going to be alright?

Talk about a reality check.

So guess what. There are exactly two things in the entire world that one can do with seizures.

One. Go to the doctor and get put on medication. Trust me, I’ve researched it.

Two. Change your diet. Change your life.

I picked number Two.

I’ve now spent the past two and half years trying to figure this out. Changing this. Trying that. Tweaking, fixing, experimenting, eliminating. Crying, fuming, starting all over again, and again, and again. Till finally…

I found something that works. Its called Simplicity.

Fruit, veggies, nuts and beans. Very little grains. No wheat, sugar, corn, meat, dairy or potatoes of any sort.

I’ve given up the all-American food life for a chance at a normal life. Comfort food in exchange for a clear mind and the ability to bounce out of bed at a moment’s notice. I’ve given up ice cream, pizza and popcorn, and gained the ability to go on long road trips, host incredible events, be a little bit stressed if I have to, not fear my menstrual cycle, and even fall in love.

Don’t pity me. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m totally getting the better end of this deal.

It’s almost 6:30pm Valentine’s Day Eve, and my valentine is on the other side of the world where it is almost 4:00am Valentine’s Day. My day is nearly ending, just as his is beginning.

I won’t see him for another 5-ish months, which is most of the reason I am currently aching for summer to come. The other much smaller portion of that reason is that I am freezing and really…did I say REALLY…looking forward to it being summer, with lots of sunshine and warm air. But nice weather or no, I simply can’t wait to see my fella. I am contemplating how to roll Christmas, Valentine’s, Fourth of July, and his June birthday all into the one glorious event called Homecoming. Good thing he’s not big into holidays. :P

I almost wasn’t going to post anything about Valentine’s Day, because I didn’t want to sound all sappy and mushy. And I have been on the reverse end of V-Day, the ever depressing Singles’ Awareness Day, and I know how annoying it gets to hear all the blabber about how wonderfully awesome such-and-such’s significant other is. Especially while being single with absolutely not prospects in view, V-Day is just a constant reminder that you are single, and all your friends aren’t, and guess what…you don’t have a date. Ouch.

Then I thought, well, I’ve waited this long, I deserve one little post about my honey on a day dedicated to lovers, right? I should come up with something cute. Yes, I sent him a Valentine. Yes, I sent him some sweet sugary items. Cause I’m a cool girlfriend. ;) But I already told the world I wasn’t going to post tons of mush stuff yet, cause that’s personal, and not everyone needs to know, or really cares for that matter. So this shall be the extent of my lovey-dovey-mushy-sappy-Valentines-Day-post: I love Kyle. I miss him. He is the best thing that ever happened to me. Deployment is hard. And I can’t wait to see him.

There.

Now, I have two things I want to say. One to Singles and one to…un-Singles. Whatever.

First, to the singles. I am not going to give a bunch of emotional nonsense about being content and there’s someone out there for you, and just keep waiting. Cause that’s what that is. Emotional nonsense. Yes, you need to be content, and at peace, cause otherwise you are miserable, and the only thing worse than a miserable single person is a miserable un-single person, but I will get to that later. Yeah, there probably is someone out there for you, and sometimes you do have to wait, cause there’s nothing else to do, and waiting builds character. But if you know what you want, and you know what you are looking for, then by golly, get out there and find it. And if you aren’t finding what you are looking for where you are at, you need to change where you are at. Be brave. Step out. Go get ‘em.

Second, to the Un-Singles. Girlfriends and wives mostly. Every other sentence I hear coming from your mouths is a complaint about your guy. How he hasn’t come home yet, and how he’s been gone so long, and “OMG, he hasn’t texted me in four hours!!!” Are you for real? You get to see your man every-stinkin’-day, and you complain about not hearing from him after a couple hours??? I don’t mean to sound blatantly sarcastic, but GROW UP! You really just have no idea, do you? You should be praising God for this man, and the fact that you get to see him every day and be in almost constant contact with him, and simply for the fact that *he*is*yours*. Do you realize how many single girls out there ten or fifteen years your senior would give their right arms to be in your place?

I understand getting frustrated with your lover, and frustrated with life that gets in the way of being with him (still speaking to girls here, just cause its what I see, but if there’s guys out there doing this too, y’all can just switch the gender usage). But for heaven’s sake, please quit talking about it all the time, and even more, quit posting it on Facebook!

I can think of way lots more to say, but I think I better stop here for now.

I hope you all have a wonderful Valentine’s Day, or SAD, or what have you. Just remember to be thankful. Life is too short, and you never know when everything that you love might no longer be here.

I think I know so much. Whether by education or experience, I really think I'm quite smart. I can talk a good game, lead the pack when I need to, write words that sound downright Austenian, and make life look good.

But the more I think I know, the more clueless I become.

I read a lot. I stockpile bits of information in my brain, observing and studying, knowing that I'll need this information someday. I keep telling myself how wonderfully prepared I am for the future, that someday I will be more than able to handle marriage and motherhood.

But something deep beyond my knowing tells me I will never be as prepared as I think I am. At least, until I've walked that path.

I move towards each new step with complete confidence, courageous and sure of myself. But as I set my foot down, what I thought I knew is stripped away and I am left standing, naked and vulnerable, with nowhere to go but forward.

Things are rarely as I expect. No amount of preparedness could have readied me for reality.

Each step is different than the one before, and different from any other journey I've observed. I could read a million stories and never find one quite like mine.

I'm not saying preparation and knowledge are useless. Oh no. I'd be lost without them. But they only do me any good when I wait, take each step as it comes, stop trying to plan my life and be ultra-prepared for it, and add to my knowledge by each experience that I encounter.

I know where I stand and I know where I'm going (the general direction, anyways). And the more I know about it, the more I realize that's about all I know.

I don't know if any of you are wondering whether or not I am going to write about my relationship with Kyle. But if you are, this is for you.

I do not plan on sharing much publically about Kyle and me right now. I have two good and legit reasons, too. The first is that I do not want to give anyone reason to think things that aren't true, or jugde me wrongly, and sometimes staying quiet is the best thing to do. The second reason is that this is all so special, and the things in my heart are so tender and dear, there's really only one person I want to share them with.
Yes, sometimes all my warm fuzzies come bubbling out, and I have on occasion posted something lovey for the public. But I really seek to keep it private. For now anyways.

I'm sure the time will come when I will be more willing to share our story with the world. But for the time being, you may all reast assured that things are completely wonderful. I am deeply and madly in love. Kyle is the most amazing person in the world and I thank God every day for him.

And for those of you that are wondering "Who is this guy?"...Kyle Fellows is his name. He is an identical twin, a LCpl in the Marine Corps, and a preacher's kid. :) He has brown eyes that twinkle when he smiles and the coolest laugh. I met him at a Bible conference in Ohio on May 28, 2011. He is currently serving his second 7-month deployment in Afghanistan, and will be back home in July.

If you have any questions, things that you just can't help but be curious about, feel free to ask me personally! Lord knows I'm happy to talk about my fella...in private...

One parting thought. I have read many courtship books and stories and articles and discussions. But no words of man could have *ever* prepared me for the reality of all this. I may write my own book someday...

I have read stories from women whose men were overseas for six months to a year or more. They would talk about getting calls from their loves, seeing their faces on webcams, getting letters and any other form of contact as if it were the most incredible thing in the world. They gushed over the tiniest bit of contact or any little reminder of their love.

For the longest time, I didn't get it. Sure I thought it was cute and all. The romance of it touched my heart. But I didn't understand the depth of it.

I understand it now.

I know how one little message can make my heart sing for days. Just a few minutes of conversation feels like heaven. Days are counted and marked off, and every day that goes by is one day closer to homecoming.

I understand it now.

Everything matters. Everything.

I've written about how it takes a hero to truly capture a guy's heart. But in reading the comments on my post, and thinking further, I realized something was missing from my thoughts. Or rather the expression of my thoughts...the thought was there, I just forgot to say it.

It takes a hero to capture the heart of the girl. But what does it take to capture the heart of the hero?

We as girls have the tendency to forget the fact that guys have hearts too, and very tender ones at that. They are courageous and tough...and easily touched deeply, though different than girls are used to. We get caught up in the admiration of a man protecting a girl's heart, and while this *is* indeed admirable and right, what about the girl protecting the guy's heart? That thought is a little harder, since it is the man's job to protect. But I'm thinking there's something in this for the girl as well. Who's to say a girl's heart is the only one that needs protecting?

A man can be the hero of a woman's heart, but heroism is not a one way street. A woman has to want a hero. She has to need a hero. She has to be capture-able (you can still be a lady-in-waiting and not be hiding away in your tower). And above all, she has to be willing to capture his heart.

Men's hearts are tough, brave, kingly, visionary, and everything else they need to be men. But beyond that rough exterior is a soft, vulnerable, easily touched, easily broken center. It takes a heroine to see this.

It takes a heroine to capture, touch, nurture, protect and even fight for the heart of a hero. And it takes a silent, admiring heroine to keep that heart heroic.

I was first introduced to Pesto when my friend Michele C. gave us some with her homemade bread. We ate way too much of the wonderful stuff. :) As my diet changed over the past 2 years, I found that I could not eat Pesto in its original form (parmesan cheese, basil, garlic, olive oil, basil). So my mom discovered that our local Whole Foods Co-op (where she and my brother Charlie work) makes and sells a Spinach Pesto that was perfectly clean! She was able to get the recipe, and after a bit of tweaking, I came up with this recipe. It's ctill very true to the original, but my process is a bit different, and I always aim for a different texture and taste that what you would get at WFC.
But without further ado...here is the recipe for Spinach Pesto.


Spinach Pesto

Baby spinach
walnuts or almonds, chopped fine
garlic, fresh or powdered
lemon juice