Celiac sprue (some doctors say celiac disease) is an inherited condition. When a person with celiac eats gluten, a protein in wheat, rye and barley, the body's own immune system reacts and damages the lining of the small intestine. That lining is supposed to be covered with tiny little fingers that soak up the good out of your food. In celiac they get worn down flat, and your body can't take in what it needs, no matter how well you eat.

• It shows up differently in different people. Some have stomach trouble. Some are just tired and anemic. Some have thin bones. Some hardly have symptoms at all. That's why it's so often missed.
• It runs in families. If you have it, ask your doctor about testing your parents, brothers, sisters and children. My son Gregory was tested last year. Negative, thank goodness.
• It's diagnosed with blood tests and a biopsy of the small intestine.
• The only treatment is a strict gluten-free diet, for life. There's no pill. The good news is that for most people, once the gluten is gone, the intestine heals and you feel better.
• Oats: most of the celiac groups here in the United States say to stay away from oats too, so I do. Some studies overseas say oats may be all right for some people, but oats are very often mixed with wheat at the mill. Ask your doctor.
• Don't start the diet before you're tested. If you've already stopped eating gluten, the tests can come back normal even if you have celiac. Get tested first. Then change your diet. I can't say that strongly enough.

Giving up bread is the easy part. It's the gluten you can't see that gets you. I read every label, every time, because companies change their recipes without telling anybody. Here's where I've found it:

• Malt. Malt is made from barley. Malted milk, malt flavoring, and a lot of breakfast cereals that look perfectly innocent.
• Beer. Barley again. In Wisconsin, giving up beer is practically against the law. James drinks mine for me.
• Soy sauce. Most of it is brewed with wheat. Read the bottle.
• Soups and gravies. Canned soups, soup mixes, and bouillon cubes very often have flour or wheat in them. So does just about every gravy ever made.
• "Hydrolyzed vegetable protein" and "modified food starch." These can be made from wheat or from something safe, and the label doesn't always say which. When in doubt, I call the company. Most have a number on the package, and the people who answer have been very kind.
• Sausages and lunch meat. Some brats and sausages have fillers. Ask the butcher.
• Licorice, some candy bars, anything with a cookie or crisp in it.
• Medicines and vitamins. Some pills use wheat starch as a filler. Ask your pharmacist every time you get something new. Mine keeps a note in my file now.
• Crumbs. A shared toaster, the butter dish everybody's knife has been in, the flour dust in the air when somebody else is baking, the fryer that also does the breaded fish. I have my own toaster, my own butter, and my own wooden spoons, with a red ribbon tied on the handles.
• Communion wafers. I'll tell you about that below.

Communion was the one that made me cry. Communion wafers are made of wheat. The first Sunday after I was diagnosed I sat in the pew while everyone went up, and I felt like I'd been sent to the hall.

That week I went to see Pastor Worley. I was afraid he'd tell me it couldn't be helped. Instead he sat with me in his office for an hour, asked a lot of questions, read up on it, and called me back on Thursday. Now there's a small covered glass dish on the altar with a few rice wafers in it, kept apart from the regular bread. He blesses them right along with everything else. When I come up, he serves me first from my little dish, before his hands have touched the regular wafers, so there's no crumb of wheat on them. Nobody else even notices. The first Sunday he did it, I couldn't see the altar for the tears.

If your church hasn't thought about this, go talk to your pastor or priest. Different churches have different rules about it, and some have more to work out than others. But you won't know until you ask, and you may be surprised.

Church suppers I had to learn all over again. What works for me:

• Bring a dish you can eat, and make it a big one, so even if nothing else is safe, you've got a meal. I put a little card on mine that says "Gluten-free. Help yourself!" and it's always the first one empty.
• Go through the line first, before the spoons start traveling from the scalloped potatoes to the noodle hotdish and back.
• Know the usual suspects. Anything with cream-of soup, gravy, noodles, bread crumbs or crushed crackers is out. Plain ham, roast chicken, baked potatoes, raw vegetables, fruit salad, and most Jell-O salads are usually fine, but ask about the topping.
• Tell the kitchen ladies. Ada, Evelyn and Darlene have run our church kitchen since before I was confirmed, and once they understood, they started setting aside a plate for me before the gravy goes on. Evelyn now makes a pan of her famous scalloped potatoes thickened with cornstarch just for me, and she won't hear a word of thanks about it.
• The Friday fish fry. This is Wisconsin, so I'll address it. Battered fish is out, and so are the rye bread and the fried potatoes if they share the fryer. Some places will broil a piece of fish for you if you ask nicely. Get the coleslaw and a baked potato, and enjoy the company.

1. Call ahead, in the slow part of the afternoon, not at six o'clock on a Saturday. Ask if the cook can talk to you for a minute.
2. Keep it simple. A plain steak or a chicken breast cooked in butter, a baked potato, steamed vegetables, a salad with oil and vinegar. The fancier the dish, the more places for flour to hide.
3. Be specific. "No wheat, rye, barley or oats. That means no flour, no breading, no croutons, no gravy, no soy sauce." Saying "I'm allergic to bread" isn't enough. They'll bring you a sandwich without the bun and leave the breading on the chicken.
4. Carry a card. I typed up a little card that explains celiac and lists what I can't have, and I hand it to the waitress to give to the cook. Mine is laminated. The bank has a laminating machine. That's one of the perks.
5. Thank them, and go back. When a place takes good care of you, tell the manager, leave a good tip, and become a regular. We have a supper club out on the highway that knows me by name and brings my relish tray without the crackers.

The Celiac Sprue Association (CSA/USA), in Omaha, Nebraska, is a national support group for people with celiac. They have local chapters, a newsletter, and information on what's safe to eat. Joining was the second-best thing I did after going to the doctor. There's a chapter about an hour from me, and I go when the roads are good.

Cookbooks. Bette Hagman's cookbooks, starting with The Gluten-Free Gourmet, were my bible the first year. She's the one who taught me about baking with rice flour, tapioca flour and xanthan gum. Your library can get them for you.

Your doctor and a dietitian. Ask for a referral to a dietitian who knows about celiac. Mine helped me make sure I was getting enough iron and calcium while my insides healed.

Me. If you've just been diagnosed and you're standing in the grocery store wanting to cry, write to me. I've been there. It gets easier. It really, truly does.