So how do you cook them?
Well, it's complicated. You get them, crack them open. Then they would grind them to a fine powder like a flour. Then, on dry sand, they would make a flat place with an edge on it, line that with pine needles, cover the pine needles with a cloth, spread the flour out on that, and then carefully and gently pour water over the flour.
They would pour water over about ten times. As the water gently washed over the flour and drained into the pine needles and sand, it would take away the tannin with it. Tannin is bitter.
Then the flour was used to make a porridge, and sometimes that was cooked harder into mush balls.
Today, something hurt. I was accused falsely. It was very false. But the people hearing the accusation do not know me nor the situation enough to know that it is false. And they jumped on it. Added to the accusation, and believed it.
It hurt. It hurt. And I began to cry. Which further enforced their belief that there was truth to the accusation. Finally, I asked for ten minutes.
I went to my room, stuck music on, and lay down still. Time to quiet my heart before God.
I did that again after lunch. Just time to quiet myself before God and be still. To not think, to not try to figure things out, to not defend. Time to be quiet. To let music wash over me.
A little like the acorn flour. Let it wash the bitter away. Until I can sort what is left out with God.
What was the emotion that remained? A feeling of being accused, of being called dirty, ashamed. Of having dirt thrown at me.
Quiet before God, I let that sit. Until I heard His voice.
Do you have anything to be ashamed of? Accused of? No. No. I can say without lying that I have walked in integrity here.
Then the quiet voice of God, echoing what others have told me. Don't take other's accusations. You answer to God. There is no man who can accuse or make me dirty with their dirt-throwing.
So I rested. Letting the water wash the bitterness away. Pain remains. Grief. A deep silence. The quiet conviction that I am standing with my feet firm on a rock, and no matter what men throw into my life or take out of my life, my feet have a firm place to stand.
And as I sat in the quietness alone with God, conversation after conversation with my husband came back to me. Time and time again where he said the exact opposite of what he said today. It is so easy to accuse me to another's face while not looking at me.
I felt comforted by the memories. I believe firmly in my heart that my husband does not doubt my integrity at all. He has said over and over that he does not. Even laughed and said he has no doubts about me because I am so honest that I'd tell him if I had a problem.
And he is lying here. I believe he even knows it. I wrote these memories down. Because I want to ask him tomorrow - then you said that, then you said that, then you said that, and now you are saying this. Which is the true way you feel? If you really, truly doubt my integrity, look at me and say it to my face.
But what is sad, is that the damage is done. Word which are meant to hurt which are thrown out like whips leave lashes, and lashes turn into big ugly welts which turn into scars. You can not undo them.
And the damage is done. I am not the type of person that allows actions in my life that bring my integrity into question.
I'm just worth far more than that.