Walk a mile in someone elses shoes

Stick with me on this one. All the pieces will come together at the end…hopefully.

There have been a few times in Haiti where I hear this comment, “Why don’t the Haitians want to do anything about their situation? Why would they just throw their garbage on the ground and add to the problem? Doesn’t anyone want to fix this? Why don’t they want more for themselves?” The questions sometime differ, but the point is the same.

There is a small sense of judgment on the people for the lack of response to the problems that the Haitians face. Not always, but I hear it creep it out every now and then.

My family and I try very hard to live to love others. Mission work and service projects have been apart of my life since I can remember. We would go to local homeless shelters, we would go to other parts of the country, and then we ventured to Haiti. There all different levels of helping others out. We try to be aware of the needs of our immediate neighbors, those living in our city and then thinking globally.

This is the first time in my life where I have lived where the mission exists. The only word that was used for days after the tornado was “war zone”. It was surreal, the whole thing. The streets were black and quiet when night time came. Police shut down our neighborhood to keep people out and to keep those who lived there safe. There were wires and trees down everywhere, no one could see where they were going. The red cross food truck would drive up and down the streets three times a day offering free food to anyone who needed it. Churches were coming down by the bus load to help remove trees and debris. Friends were coming and bringing meals and groceries. Other friends were taking the kids so we could clean. The city brought in 2000 volunteers this last Saturday to help with the final debris and clean streets, alleys and sidewalks.

It was overwhelming. It still is, and we aren’t even one of the houses hit the hardest. We can still live in our home. We can stay. We have insurance to cover our damages and take care of us. My whole family is alive.

I remember sitting on our stoop, my kids playing in the front yard, our windows boarded up, debris still in our yard and the Red Cross truck came. My kids scurried to the truck to get a water and an apple. They were so delighted for the free snack.

The parallel universe hit me then.

For my life before the tornado, I was metaphorically in the truck. The one bringing aid. The one helping. I would see people out sitting in front of their metal tin shacks or half finished homes. They were chatting with neighbors, or doing a chore, their kids playing in the yard. Here we came handing water or treats or clothes to anyone who wanted them. We were happy to share and to give, but also wondered if it did any good.

(This is where comments of infrastructure, economy and what not enter. This is not the point of this conversation. I am all about those things and helping for a lifetime not hurting the long term solution with short term guilt giving. Please stick with me.)

Now I found myself as one of those women. People were coming from all over to help. Emergency food was being delivered, volunteers coming to help clean, it was all so bizarre.

One of my first thoughts was “wow in any culture, if you’re going to hand it out for free, doesn’t matter who you are, you run and go get it.” The next one was a bit more difficult for me. I was wondering if the volunteers had judged me for cleaning my whole yard. Why after two weeks was there still so much debris by our garage and in our backyard? What was I doing that I didn’t want to improve our situation? I was just sitting on my stoop, not helping.

Let’s pause this train of thought real quick for a new one.

What I love about our Almighty God is that he provides opportunities for our world to be turned upside down. For us to loose control of what we think we can control. That he allows to know pain, failure, fatigue, mistakes, bad choices, and just generally crappy life stuff. I believed but am now convinced that it is to open our minds to others and understand their story a bit more. To carve out the judgment in our hearts and replace it with compassion, empathy, and understanding. It allows us to truly just love others, releasing us from understanding their actions, and leaving that to God.

My family went Gluten free/Dairy free two weeks before the tornado. That means we had just gotten past the detox, almost, and we were starting the “I would really like a sandwich now. Where’s the mac and cheese? Why can’t I have a yogurt? phase.” The mountain looked bigger than I anticipated. Then a tornado hit our house. How does one even start to process that?

I’ll be honest, this past year I have said that having a third kid kind of felt like I was sinking. All year I’ve struggled with how to manage to demanding kids and a baby. It’s been hard. Where I was sinking before, the last month has sunk me completely. I was feeling like I was drowning, that I couldn’t breathe and all I wanted was a pizza, or ice cream, or anything I was allowed to have anymore.

I didn’t know what to do first. I didn’t know what to do at all. My house was unsafe for my kids, but I had to clean it to bring them home. Once they were home, I still had to clean the yard, but they want to be with me, and I can’t have them in the grass where glass is still imbedded everywhere. I have to call the insurance guy, the car guy, the window guy, the adjuster guy, the tire guy, the other insurance guy, the contractor guy. I have to pay our bills, return phone calls, discipline my kids, feed my kids, pay attention to my kids, clean up after sick kids, and somehow return over 400 emails.

So I sat on my stoop.

It was a break from the pressure in my head and in my heart. It was my time to breath under the weight of my current life. That’s when the volunteers showed up, and I was off to take my kids to a T-ball game. I was going to leave my house, while someone else cleaned it up. Wow, talk about hard. I felt guilty, ashamed, disappointed in myself.

Then I remembered that my kids need this. We live here, so we are constantly reminded of all that needs to be done. We work a little bit each day to try to make it better. This was our break from our reality. Maybe I was judged for that. Maybe you judge me, but I can’t take that on.

It’s funny. The pastor who we worked with in Haiti always said, “We want you to come. Then you see our life and you can share it with others. You can be our voice.” Even more than that, I think people with an outside perspective can see things that those who feel overwhelmed can’t. I can’t see the forest past trees right now. I live one day a time. Truth be told, I just try to make it to nap time, and then start over again.

But when others came and stepped in and took my kids to swimming lessons so I could stay and get our car fixed. When groceries came, and friends visited, and they listened, and they offered their tools, most of them thought of our needs before I did.

Those in need rely, depend and can’t survive with the generosity of others. The mountain is too big to climb alone. The ocean’s too deep. We need each other to pull ourselves along, without judgment.

I also have a great new found appreciation of the little things that matter. How a meal being provided changes my whole day and frees up mental and physical space in my life. How a friend coming over to just do my dishes lifted my load by tons. Another friend taking my three kids along with her three kids and wouldn’t even accept a Thank you.

Knowing that people are there to help changes my attitude. It makes me want to fight to improve things quicker. To try harder.

I don’t feel alone in my mountain.

Never underestimate the power of helping.

Never underestimate the power of helping in small ways. They are never small to the one who needs it.

Thank you.

Our story

I keep thinking about how we each have a story to share. A story to live, to share, to experience. A story that touches others lives and stories. Stories that cross over and are lived together. We learn from each others stories. Movies and theater and music can inspire stories, tell stories that move us to feel, to know, to move into something sometimes even great than ourselves. Stories change lives. How we live and respond to the things that happen to us, shape our stories.

For all of you out there who have sent prayers, good wishes, donations, and your time, we are humbled by you and you dear friends are apart of our story. But here is how our story began…


It was Sunday afternoon. Lu was sleeping, the boys were finishing up their rest time, and Paul and I were finishing a movie that we both had fallen asleep during the night before. Saturday had proven to be an incredibly stormy day with major thunderstorms passing through every couple hours or so. At almost 2pm, Paul and I noticed the sky going dark. To us, it was just another rain cloud. There was no wind. Just the darkness starting to creep into our house. I looked out and said, “It looks like its gonna rain again. I didn’t realize we were going to have storms again today.” (Paul and I used to be big TV watchers, but in the last year, it doesn’t go on much anymore except for the occasional show we watch or movie on the weekend, so that means we also don’t watch the news or weather. We’re pretty ignorant people with worldly happenings.)

Within moments, literally less than five minutes later, the wind picked up. We heard it. We both looked outside and still it didn’t feel like a tornado. Paul muted the TV because he thought he heard a siren. The siren was ever so faint. It actually sounded like it was coming from the next suburb over.

This is where I like to point out that many people at this point say, “When you heard the siren did you go downstairs?” I don’t about you, but I have never gone downstairs when I hear the siren. That may seem silly, but when I hear a siren, I mostly just look outside. That may change now.

We faintly heard the siren, looked outside, and it still just seemed stormy. The lights flickered. Those three things, lights flickering, wind growing louder, and the siren going off caused Paul to look at me and say, “We should probably take the kids downstairs.” Not more than a minute later, as we were starting to get up, the wind picked up out of nowhere. We knew instantly that we needed to get the kids downstairs right away. It wasn’t an option anymore. I grabbed Lu from her crib where she was peacefully sleeping and Paul gathered the boys who were reading and playing quietly. As we were headed downstairs, I opened the door to our renters space and called up to him. He was already on his way.

Our house is not that big. Truly. You take 10 steps in any direction, and you are in the next room. In most cases it’s only five. Everything I just described took less than a minute.

It was getting louder. The lights were flickering just a little. I made it to the stairs first with Lu, the boys were behind me with Paul and Chad directly behind them. I was halfway down the stairs when the lights went out. That was my first conscious thought of not having a light source with us. With the storm outside, our basement windows were pitch black. We couldn’t see a thing. We are standing on the stairs, in the pitch black, and my kids can’t see where they are going. This is where we were when the tornado went over us.

People ask us if we heard the freight train sound. I’ll be honest, it was loud. The storm was just loud. What I remember is kids screaming, the wind being so loud and windows crashing. I heard Paul and maybe Chad and of course myself, yelling over all of that for the kids to grab a hand and come downstairs. They were too freaked out and kept trying to go back upstairs where they thought there was light because the basement had just become a big black hole and they couldn’t see. Their parents were responsible enough to bring lights, so we were all in a bit of a panic.

The guys grabbed the boys, and we moved downstairs. Even at this point I wasn’t really thinking that we were in a tornado. I’ve never been in a tornado. I just knew it was really bad outside, and at that moment, I was convinced our basement windows were going to blow out. Paul felt the pressure in his ears build. We have windows all over our basement, so I was trying to maneuver us to one of our closets. Of course all of those closets are filled with junk and we needed to cram six people in there.

I could hear the storm growing calmer. The kids were still crying and we were standing in the basement in the dark. I was holding Caleb and Lu and looked at Paul and told him I needed to go get a light. I was handing him the kids when he told me not to go upstairs.

This is where Paul likes to tell me he doesn’t like being in emergency situations with me because I don’t listen. He doesn’t think its funny that I have a mind of my own and not very helpful in taking orders when necessary. I knew where the lantern was and the lighter. We had to get light down in the basement so the kids could see and have some sort of comfort. The storm was quieter so I knew the worst was over, but I didn’t know the worst of what.

As I went upstairs, listening to the kids crying in the basement, the first thing I saw was our climbing tree up against our kitchen window. You couldn’t even see outside because the tree was pressed to close to the house. A tree that grew up against our garage on the other side of the yard. I walked through the kitchen to the dining room to grab the lantern. The storm was still going, so I didn’t want to check everything out. My people were waiting in the basement. As I went to grab the gas lantern, all I could see around our house was tree branches, debris, and glass shattered all over the house. I couldn’t step into the dining room because I didn’t have shoes on. I took the lantern downstairs with a lighter, and told Paul and Chad they needed to go upstairs to assess the situation before we brought the kids up.

Its funny, my responses are very natural and real most of the time, but there are times where all I can think of is, “how you react will directly affect your kids and how they handle what’s happened.” This whole day was like that. With the exception of all of our freakout on the stairs, we tried very hard to stay calm, talk gently with the kids and reassure them that God was with us no matter what.

I knew there was glass everywhere and branches in the house. I needed the guys to go upstairs first, knowing that my children would have a hard time seeing their house like this. We sat in the basement and prayed. We encouraged each other, and we were calmer. Paul called us upstairs and told us to stay in the kitchen, so we came. He and Chad cleaned out the kids shoes from glass and debris so that they could walk through the house and come outside. It wasn’t raining anymore and things seemed to have settled down. I remember Noah looking out the kitchen and saying, “what happened to our house?” (How we handle this will directly affect their understanding of emergencies and where God is present in hard times.) This is all I could think. Be wise in how you talk to your children.

We walked outside with the kids, and its so funny, I’m not even then that I knew that a tornado touched down on my neighbors house. It all looked different. Trees were everywhere. I saw garages missing. I say houses without roofs. People everywhere were coming out of their houses and walking down the streets making sure everyone was OK.

What do you do when you don’t know what to do? Our dear friend Jeromy called and asked if were OK. I told him we had some windows out and trees down. He said he was on his way with wood to board up our house. Within an hour, I saw Jeromy chain sawing his way down our street. So many trees were down, he couldn’t get through. So he cut his way through. Then more people brought out their chainsaw’s and started going to work. It was crazy.

That next hour, Chad and I took the kids for a walk just to see what had happened around where we were. It was difficult to navigate with all the trees and wires down. It was still gently raining. I know it might sound crazy that we took the kids for a walk, but truly, there was glass everywhere in our house and outside our house. There was nowhere safe for kids to be. They were going to get hurt no matter where we went.

So that night our friend of ours took the kids for the night so that Paul and I could get some work done in and around the house. By the end of the night, we had our windows boarded up, our tree cut down out back, a tarp over our roof where there was major damage, and the car windows covered with plastic. A friend loaned us his generator to keep our fridge and freezer going. It was amazing!

I know we could have taken up a dozen offers to sleep somewhere else, but we just couldn’t. Its funny, leaving your house kind of feels like leaving a man behind. We were in the dark, our house covered in glass, but we were safe. Our kids were safe. It still didn’t feel real. I had to laugh, because listening to the generator made it feel a bit like Haiti. When Paul and I went to bed that night, we laid there and I said, “A tornado hit our house.” It was the first time I could really say that. “I know” was all Paul said. Not sure that it still has really sunken in.

Its just apart of our life now.

It’s our story.

We’ve always been near or far away from the news story. This time, we were smack in the middle of it. When you drive away from our house, houses and neighborhoods looked untouched. When drive towards our street, you drive right into the middle of it.

Its still surreal.

There are many houses that are worse than ours. There are other towns where hundreds have died because of tornado’s. I don’t belittle their story or have any delusions that we have it rough, I just want to share ours.

I have lots of other thoughts that I plan on sharing, but that is the story of what happened to us last Sunday at 2pm.

A tornado hit our house.

Here are a couple photos.


This is the entry into our alley.


This is in front of our garage on one side. On the other side is a wall from a garage compeletly blocking entrance to the alley.


Our neighbors tree in front of our house.


The corner where we live. Our house is the second one in.


This is our street that was once a canopy of trees.


This is what so many of the streets look like.

My version of Gardening

Between figuring out how to cook GFDF and trying to get our garden planted, there hasn't been much time for anything else. So even though yesterday was a bit chaotic, I took a couple minutes to snap some pictures and welcome you into our process.

But I have found this time of year everyone is posting beautiful pictures of their garden, and that just isn't the case with us. I have three kids tagging around my ankles and they all want to help. The process isn't a pretty one. In the morning, it was just us, after school let out, the other three neighborhood kids came and helped out.

I thought gardening with three kids was a bit much, but with six kids, holy cow! I am really surprised that we weren't covered with dirt from head to toe. Our process started with organization, bring me a cup of water, and then you get to dig the next hole. But then, they realized they could dig their own holes, and all chaos happened. Dirt everywhere, holes wherever it looked good, and we watered everything, even Lu.

Enjoy!


Ellie Lu was kind of bossy, so we made her project manager.


Our hose isn't hooked up, so this was our time consuming watering method. The boys brained up this genius idea.


Here's Caleb digging a hole for the spinach.


At some point I lost control, and didn't realize that Caleb wasn't wearing the appropriate shoes.


One had the wrong shoes, and this one decided not to wear any shoes at all. Seriously, whose this child's mother?


Then the neighbors came to help! Notice all the bikes in the yard and all the toys strewn about. I think we had every sandbox toy and cup from our house in our yard at point. It was not a pretty sight, but so enjoyable.


Here's all the kids digging the holes. Most of the dirt stayed in the garden.


Some did not.


Here's what we found when digging our holes, "Look mom garbage!!!"


Here's our neighbor Mcwan helping carry the water.


Here's our other neighbor Jesse watering the plants.


q
Dirt and water make mud, ask Lu how she feels about that? She loved it! This is her second outfit from the day.


Outfit one didn't make it.


But in the end, we made it. Here is a look at our finished product.




The brown paper bags around the spinach are to help hold off on weeds. Since we are gone a couple weeks out of the summer, I try use any method to help.

So, we don't have beautiful pictures, our just real life in what it looks like to plant with little people around. I hope some of you are able to get in the dirt and grow some of your own food! Its so much fun.

Apparently the kids had so much fun gardening with us, that we are doing it again today! Yay! Please pray for me.

Dreaming and Imagination

I remember being a little girl, and my favorite place to be was in my imagination. I loved to dream up stories I was in. I would clean out my parents entire garage and reorganize it as my store. I would imagine that I had lost my entire family and I had to make it on my own. How would I survive, eat, live, etc.

I would turn my parents entire basement into a restaurant and I was the gourmet cook. I would set up tables decked out with the silver and all. I would play for hours by myself or with my best friend. I loved to dream and imagine all sorts of stories, and I lead character in them all. In my dreams I was courageous, heroic, brave, and I could do anything I wanted to. I truly believed I could change the world.

I see this ability to dream in my children. I watch them dress up as super hero's and try to save me from the bad guy. Their stories might be different, but the ability to dream and live in your imagination is priceless. I believe it fuels a desire in us to make things right. To want a better place, and figure out how to create it. It allows us space to be different people and figure out depth of character we posses. How brave am I really? Can I be this courageous in real life? I want to be this kind of hero!

Recently I introduced my boys to the older movie I grew up with, "Newsies". I have to confess, I thought the plot was great, the dancing inspiring, but mainly I just wanted to see Christian Bale in my living room, over and over and over again.

I LOVE this movie. And now my boys have this wonderful admiration for it. It started with listening to some of the music of in the car off a mixed CD my friend made me. They want to listen to it over and over. Then I told them about the movie and it became one of our Friday night family movie selections. They loved it. They couldn't stop watching it.

They have seen it a couple times now and for the past two days, my son Caleb has been dressed up all in black, sporting his cowboy hat, and wearing a red bandanna tied around his neck. He is Jack Kelly, and you should address him as so. I am Jack's mom. Noah really wanted to be the toughest guys in NY, Spot Collins, except we don't own a light plaid shirt or red suspenders. I told him after our Doctor appointment today we would go to the thrift store and see what we could find.

I couldn't promise we would find anything, red suspenders seem like a pretty hard item to find, but I said we would try.

We started navigating our way through the isles and isles of cast off clothing, furniture, toys and general goodies that thrift stores have. Noah politely asked every worker he saw to point us in the direction of the suspenders, he really needed to be Spot Collins and we were looking for his red suspenders. It was amazing watching his nervousness, and excitement of transforming himself into his hero.

I kept thinking to myself, what am I going to do when we don't find any? Can I paint black ones? Can I add red ribbon to them? How can I help him know that even just black suspenders would be OK?

Then low and behold, I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought I was dreaming. But there they were.

Red suspenders!

We all got excited and shouted in the store, and I grabbed them and quickly starting adjusting them to fit. He looked at me, and said, "Mom you are the best mom in the whole world!" (he has also told me he wants a different mom when he disagrees with the rules, so I don't put all of my stock in these passing statements.)

It was really amazing in that moment to help make my kid's dream come true. To be his helper in creating in his imagination what a hero looks like.

See the boys had lots of questions about what Newsies did, and why they were fighting the men in suits. We had conversations about how the Newsies worked for the men in suits and the men in suits started to steal money from the boys. The boys know that this is wrong, and they decide that together they can stand up for what is right and fight against what is wrong. That together they can stand for justice, and in their stand against evil, they win.

This is who my boys are pretending to be right now. Kids who stand up against what is wrong and evil. They are pretending to fight for good and be boys of courage and bravery.

And hopefully somewhere in their hearts and minds, I pray that they feel the same way I did. That hopefully in their real life, they can be as brave and courageous as they pretend to be. That they will be inspired by their imagination to stand up for what is right.

Today in my own little world, I made a little kids dream come true. When they watched the song, "The world will know" on YouTube this afternoon, to make sure their costumes were right, Caleb shouted out as Jack Kelly started to climb the ladder, "Look Noah that's me! That's me! There I am!"

Here's our wonderful $6 find today from the Thrift store. $6 and his whole world changed.


Jack Kelly and Spot Collins


Spot Collins stands proud in his red suspenders.

I hope you are able to do a little dreaming yourself today.

Project: Birthday Party!

I love birthdays. I think celebrating someone’s life is one of the greatest gifts ever. In my house growing up, birthdays were always a big deal. You felt loved and celebrated. I love passing this appreciation onto our kids.

We try very hard to live our lives for other people, but I never want my kids to go unnoticed or grow up feeling celebrated of the person God created them to be. The fact they are alive is a reason to celebrate.

This weekend my middle one turned 4. He requested a Batman party. His little sister turns 1 on Thursday so we combined parties…Batman meets Care bears. Yeah that’s right. Superheros unite. One that gets power from rainbows and the other by all the toys money can buy.

We had intended to play outside, but with cold and rainy weather, we invited 34 people into our little home. It was crowded and cozy and full of love.

We played “Pin the bat on Batman”, then we corralled all 15 kids into the Batcave (the kids bedroom) to read “The Care bears Easter Egg Hunt” while the adults hid all the eggs. We told the kids that The Penguin, one of Batman’s enemies had taken all their Easter eggs and they had to go get them back. My husband played the role of Penguin, (he likes doing those things) and all the kids took their freshly colored Easter bags and went hunting to save the eggs. (FYI, Penquin sports a suit and so does Bruce Waynes butler. Paul was a butler for the first half and then transformed into the evil villan. If you have a tux, might as well use it.) After the games we had a yummy lunch and then dove into cake and ice cream. Once the kids were sugared up, Caleb enjoyed opening his presents to which he got so many things he loved and wanted.


After all the kids went home, more adults showed up to celebrate and we cracked open the good cheese, hummus, coffee and liqueur. It was a splendid afternoon finished with coloring Easter eggs.

I love parties. I love gathering people I love and eating good food, listening to music and enjoying each others company. I enjoy the process of making food that my friends would enjoy to treat them to something nice and wonderful. The people that gathered for Caleb and Eleanor’s birthday are people we love and enjoy doing life with. As much as want to celebrate Caleb’s life, these people are a part of that, and in turn part of the celebration. We want to say Thank you to all of you who showed up.

Thank you for loving us, for walking with us through life, for investing in us and praying for us. We couldn’t survive without you.

And to my mom and dad, this party would not have happened without you. Thank you for all your help and love.

The Suit

This is my son Caleb who turns four this Saturday. This is his ultra sweet vintage suit that I purchased for him at Via’s Vintage in Uptown Mpls. It was 50% off and I have no idea why. I think this suit looks AAAAAmazing on my kid. And the best part is…he loves it!

Now the suit has been the source of the some discussion amongst friends. Some think I am being cruel by making him wear the suit. Others love that I found it and that he wears it. I can guarantee that whenever he wears it, there are only jealous, approving, prop calling nods thrown in our direction. Everyone loves the suit.

The friends in the camp of child cruelty look forward to when he sees pictures of himself at High School graduation and he is embarrassed that he not only owned but sported the plaid suit. That it will cause tension in our relationship because although he may love it now, I should know better and not force him to wear it. This will be his argument when he is older, allowing him to distribute all of his growing up issues on me. I should have known better.

Maybe I should, but I just can’t help myself.

The deal in our house, is that although there are times where certain clothes need to be worn, my kids get to pick what they want to wear. (The only clothes allowed in our house are appropriate ones, expect when Noah tries wearing Caleb’s clothes and then they are inappropriately tight.) I don’t want to fight over clothes. I enjoy the freedom of choosing what I want to wear, what I feel like wearing, what I believe matches and goes well together in an outfit. Sure, I have made mistakes. Some pretty legendary ones that should remain secret in High School, but I want my kids to have that freedom.

Be a storm trooper today. Just own it! Want to make a super hero out of all of your orange clothes and a cape, go for it. You think all camouflage matches, well I can argue with you, but you can wear it, until you’re about 9 then we have to talk. For all the things that we correct in our house and expect out of our children, I want to give them this freedom.

So, for those of you who know me and my family, you can guarantee that I did not, nor have I ever forced my son into wearing this suit. He LOVES it! Which I love because I think it’s an awesome suit. I do have to confess that when I brought it home, I said, “Look Caleb, I found you a Bruce Wayne suit!” That may have been a bit a manipulative, and for that I have sought forgiveness. But he sure does love his suit.

And I am confident that when he looks back at photo’s of himself in this suit, he is going to look at me and say, “Mom, I love you. I think you are best for buying me that suit. It has always been my favorite, and I wish it came in my size today. It was so awesome! Could you make me one?” At that, I will most likely have to say no, but I’ll think about it.

Disclaimer: Caleb choose to wear this to church on Sunday. My husband is the one who made him act and dance like a game show host. Now that might be child cruelty.

project homeless shelter

Today my family and I got to volunteer at Mary’s Place in downtown Mpls. Mary’s place is transitional housing apartments connected to Sharing and Caring Hands, the largest center responding to the needs of the poor in the Twin Cities.

I have been convicted by how much I talk about how important serving and loving other people in different circumstances than our own is, and yet I don’t see myself and my kids doing it all that much. I want our life to be lived in responding to the needs of the others. It is a priority of our family, and yet, it has slipped through the cracks of daily living with small kids and all the management that goes along with that.

So, today we embarked in playing with the kids in the after school program over at Mary’s place. There is roughly two nuns who play and look after anywhere between 20-30 kids each day. It is a great center, with lots of really wonderful things to play with, but again, only two adults for that many kids. That many accidents. That many arguments. That many bathroom needs. That many emotional needs. It’s a lot.

So they love having volunteers come in and spend time with the kids. Play with them, hang out with them, do activities with them. And that is what my friend Tabitha and I did. We each brought our own three kids and added to the chaos. It was amazing.

I had great conversations with Zoe about life and her seven brothers and sisters. I played on the playscape with a little boy named Dream. Yeah, that’s right, his name is dream. My Noah got a good start on learning on how to ride a two wheeler. Lulu discovered how much she loves the slide, and all the little girls discovered how much they like having a baby around. The nuns were wonderful and so fun and sweet to visit with.

As we were getting ready to leave I was struck by my normal rhythm of investing in people. I am usually the gal who comes into an event or place, or camp or church and gets to hang out for the night or the weekend. We have an amazing time, and then I go home. The youth directors, pastors and parents are there for the long haul. Not me. I go home. Sure there is Facebook and emails to keep in touch, but the real investing is left to those who live in that place. But here I am in this place getting to know these kids, their names and what their life is like. I live roughly less than two miles from them. They want to know when I’m coming back. My kids want to go back. Everyone involved wants to build a relationship and keep this going.

I was reminded that in its truest form, that is what living like Christ is all about. It’s about the relationship and investing in people. It’s about showing up and being there. It also mandates that it’s authentic and not duplicated in a program type relationship. One that would say I have to be here, but instead communicates that I want to be here.

So we either go once to Mary’s place and my kids can remember that one time that we played with those homeless kids. In this scenario, it very much reflects a program that I would do for my kids to teach them about loving and serving others.

OR…

We continue our relationship with Dream, Nikki, Zoe, and the others. We invest in them. Get to know them. Keep showing up and communicate that we are people who care. People who want to know them for who they are. Love them where they are at. Then it isn’t a program, its apart of life. Getting to know people in a different situation and building relationships with them is a part of life. It’s living a life of a Christian. It’s being involved in relationships.

I was thankful today for the reminder that my ministry often lacks the depth that I pray for. And in this revelation, I have a place and some new friends to invest in. To love and walk through life with in an authentic and real way. God is going to do something for them, for me and for my children in these new relationships. He always does.

Turning life into ministry

So, I have this dream that my children could walk outside and play with all the neighborhood kids. They would play in the warm weather for hours on end right in front of our house. They would explore rocks, bugs, the swing set, imagine they were flying, or detectives, cops and robbers, create races on bikes, play with sidewalk chalk, play basketball, whatever, it doesn't matter. They would be outside in unstructured play time left to create their own adventures and bit of trouble.

Currently that is happening. There are two brothers about my kids age that live five houses down. Then there is another little boy that lives two houses down, and right next door is the gaggle of kids living with their grandma, aunts and uncles. It's really pretty great. They all meet up in the afternoon after school and play and play and play. They primarily play in our yard, because we have a rule that I have to be able to see them. I bring out snacks and drinks. I have also been the mom who brings out band-aids when there are cuts, corrected the way they talk, and settled arguments.

This has all been well and good, until more recently.

Things have felt a little too unstructured. They are getting a bit rowdy and out of hand. There are more arguments. There is more bad language coming into the house. This has led Paul and I to discuss what our life looks like in our neighborhood. How do we let our kids play outside with boundaries, loving others who don't believe what we do, enforce rules without hoovering, play without structure yet keep things controlled, allow them opportunity to stand up for what we believe in without giving into peer pressure?

What does it look like to teach our kids to be a light in our neighborhood without darkness overshadowing them?

Part of my problem is I know what I can do. I even know what I should do. But it's gonna be a lot more work. A lot more time. A lot more attention. And yet, when I look at what it would do for my children and the kids in the neighborhood, I know it is right.

I don't know what the lives are like for the kids on our street. When I have been in the two boys house down the street, I saw immediately the lack of toys and the abundance of video games. Every time dinner is called for in our house, the one little boy down street always asks to eat with us. He doesn't get much food in his house. They like playing in our yard. They like having snacks and talking to me on the porch. They always want to show me their new tricks and skills. And their parents are never outside. I am usually all alone. No other adult can usually be accounted for.

So, I have decided to take a more active role in the afternoon with the kids in my neighborhood. I want to plan a story time once a week. Create a game for the kids to play on another day. I want to get the kids involved in making the snack. I want my kids to buy new sidewalk chalk to share with their friends and we can create a drawing day. Maybe even ask the other parents if we can take an adventure walk with all the kids. We could even do a craft with stuff we find on our walk. Or I can rally the other kids to do a clean up walk with us one afternoon.

Most of the things I've shared probably sound like a small version of VBS, or community action kid summer program. That really isn't my intent. Yes, I want to be more active in my kids live outside with influences that currently seem a little questionable. I want to give my kids freedom to figure out who they are, develop friendships with people in their neighborhood, and learn how to cope when things go wrong. But I also want to be that presence in their life that helps guides them, protects them and reinforces what's right and wrong.

I also understand that our lives, just our everyday mundane existence is to reflect the glory and power of our God. Who we are, how we live, the choices we make. All of that in the every day living experience could point others to know and love God.

We have a great opportunity here. I could get some great cleaning time, blogging time, down time, whatever I want to do time while my kids play outside. But then I'm not really taking an active role in their development and understanding of living as children of God. Plus I could be missing out on really great relationships with these other kids.

See I'm not a big fan of programs. As soon as something authentic and genuine turns into a program so that others can join or recreate it, I don't like it anymore. I don't like our everyday living experiences turning into a program. I just want to live my life. But I do see a great opportunity here to take a more active role in my kids relationships with non-believers in just living our life. In creating a safe place for them to come. To create a time in their day that is filled with a very genuine love. (I do not assume that there isn't love in their homes, I'm just talking about Christ centered love and know they aren't believers.)

I also want to model to my kids how to stand up for boundaries in love. How to love others in Christ without turning them into a project. I don't want these kids to be a project to me. What I truly desire is to help bring a little structure to their hours of free play. To be a strong adult presence that represents a safe place. To help create safe boundaries so all the kids feel safe and the smaller ones don't feel bullied.

So please pray for me as I venture into creating a fun activity for my kids and their friends each afternoon. That I would never turn them into a project, but truly just love them for who they are. That I could help model love and intentionality to my kids. That I could be a healthy presence while leaving the kids to discover their own limits with friends. That this idea isn't totally lame and the kids enjoy spending time with me and each other.

Also if you have some good ideas, please share them! I need all the help I can get.

Mike

So this morning Mike was supposed to come by at 10am. We met Mike yesterday walking down the alley while we were eating lunch outside on the back stoop. Mike is a young dad and living in a shelter downtown, not to far from our house. He was looking for work around people's yards to earn a little extra money to help pay for diapers. He also wondered if he might have a bottle of water.

Recently I have been praying for God to provide opportunities for us to serve the people around us. I heard a wonderful speaker talk about taking your kids gifts and turning them into blessings for others. Allowing them to serve others gives them a purpose, a God given purpose with their life. I have been praying for more wisdom in this area.

All of a sudden, here comes Mike right into our backyard. (we invited him in after he called me madam.) I didn't even have to leave my house, and here was someone who needed us. Needed a little assistance.

Well, we were getting ready for nap time and right after that was swim lessons, so I couldn't use his help yesterday, but I asked if he could come back tomorrow. He promised he would. That he wanted to earn his money, however he did some money for diapers today. I had just pulled cash for our groceries that day. I haven't done this in months, and this was my attempt to get us back on good financial ground. Funny how I would have cash this day, where truly, I never cash. I went in and got him $10 and instead of a disposable water bottle, I gave him a real one. If you're gonna spend your days out walking all the time looking for work, than you could use a real water bottle.

We introduced ourselves and my kids were really excited to see Mike today.

He didn't show.

We went outside and started doing yard work and we waited. The kids kept asking where he was. I said I wasn't sure. But either these two things happened:

1. I totally got played. (My husband would agree with this statement.) Some kid walking around looking for money, now he has a water bottle and $10 extra in his pocket. He's probably laughing at the stupid lady who was dumb enough to fall for his trick.

or...

2. Something happened to Mike that kept him from coming. Someone stole the money I gave him. He got another or better job offer for this morning. His kid is sick and he couldn't leave him. He got sick. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got into trouble. Couldn't find extra money for the bus.

I don't know. But you know what, the truth of what really happened doesn't matter. How I think it happened matters. If I believe I got played, than my trust in strangers and humankind in general will be jaded. I will be put off. My heart will be hardened. I will always judge and think the worst of strangers. I won't be able to trust anyone, thus leaving me full of anger and resement.

If I believe that Mike was ligit and something did really happened to him. Then my heart is softened. I pray for Mike. My kids pray for Mike. I start looking for opportunities to help others like Mike. My heart remains open to the opportunities that God puts in front of me. Literally. I can still have hope in mankind and God's ability to love all people.

See the reality is, it was only $10. Big deal. I have been blessed so much by the kindness of family and friends, that the least I can do is offer up $10. Because $10means something to Mike, but it also means something to me. It makes sure I am aware of people around me. It makes sure I continue to pass the blessing on.

I really don't care if I'm being laughed at by Mike and his friends. I am kind of bummed if I got played. But mostly, I hope nothing bad happened to Mike. I was looking forward to getting to know him. To hear his story and what happened that landed him at the homeless shelter. I'm mostly sad about the potential of meeting a new friend and expanding our ministry.

Lord, wherever he is, I pray that Mike encounters you and you move him from the place he's in, to a place of peace and healing and hope.

A bit out of balance

I miss my husband. I am usually the one leaving my family behind and it always feels different when I am the one left behind.

Yesterday was our Sabbath. A day of rest, family time, and reconnection, but Paul wasn't here. So me being with the kids all day just feels normal. I was trying to figure out a way to make our weekend special without spending money. We were going to take a walk around a new park, or visit a pet store for fun, or something different.

Then I woke up and my baby had thrown up all over. Then after little while, she threw up all over the boys fort. Then she threw up all over me. I didn't feel much like cooking the day before so we planned on having all leftovers on Saturday. That means the sink was full of Tupperware dishes that were waiting to be washed. On my sabbath, I was now staring at a hallway full of laundry, and a sink full of dishes, a sweet baby who can't leave the house because she's sick and a cold morning. I was alone in my day and it didn't feel like rest.

There are a only a few things that really make my Sabbath really restful. No dishes, no chores, and time together as a family. I didn't want to turn my Sabbath into something legalistic. So I turned my laundry chore into a way to serve my daughter and love her through her sickness. The boys and I pulled out old toys and turned our whole living room into Gotham city which was something fun for them, even though not want I wanted. I wanted to go out and into an adventure. I had to choose to bring the adventure into our home. I made sure we all took a rest/nap then played outside for the rest of the afternoon. I got to hold my baby, which she doesn't really let me do much anymore, till she fell asleep. She slept most of the day.

Even with the good things in the midst of my day, it felt off. I felt out of balance in my day because it didn't look like it normally does. I was feeling the full weight of missing my helper and partner. I was missing the full day of rest. But I had great restful moments in my day. The boys and I had a beautiful devotional time at night before bed, and they were both asleep by 730pm. I sat there. I didn't want to check email or get on the computer. I didn't want to do laundry or dishes. All the things I am normally doing at night. This was a special day. Set apart for rest. I visited with our housemate and caught up on life. It was good, and brought renewal to my day. To share ups and downs with another believer. Then I went to bed at 1030. It was glorious and unusual.

So my Sabbath didn't last a whole day. I was missing my favorite part, my husband and reading. But God blessed me in other ways. Time with my daughter. Special play time with my kids. Wonderful devotional time and sleep.

A Sabbath is about rest. Rejuvenating life. Putting a pause button on life to remember what's most important. Even though it didn't look like it, that is what God blessed me with yesterday. Today I have been working hard on restoring our house and getting projects done because I got rest. Thank you Lord for knowing what I need.

Mika oh no!

So, we love music in this house. Love it! I wish I had more time to explore new music, but maybe some day in the future. This does not however keep us from enjoying the music we do have. Music is almost always playing in our house.

Currently there are two things happening here. One, Caleb can only remember the lines, "If I had a million dollars, I would buy you a dress, but not a real green dress that's cruel" from BNL.

All I think is, "Really? That's what you remember?" Over, and over, and over, and over.

Second, my eldest really can't dance. I'm a little afraid for him, truly. We have some important people getting married in our lives in the next couple months and this truth will soon be universally known. Mika has been played non-stop on the kitchen CD player for the past three days. This is dance party central while I cook, so I get an up close and personal look at my son. Its sometimes entertaining, sometimes horrifying, and always a shade embarrassing. I mean this kid has no self conscious at all. He is completely content in his body and loves expressing himself. It's kind of like an animal with all the flapping of the arms, the stomping, the facial expression and grunts. Oh yes, I said grunts. I love that about him, but I wonder, can I handle being the mom of the kid who just embarrass himself on the dance floor.

Now if he asks me, I tell him, express yourself! It shouldn't matter what anybody else thinks. You are having fun, that's all that matters. Dancing is moving your body and that's what you are doing.

But.

Secretly, I think, Oh man, someone please teach my kid how to dance or tell him to stop. Just get him to stop! I've tried. It's not working.

I hope I can graduate to really believing what I tell him. I want to love him through this.

And yes, he will probably end up on YouTube soon. I'll let you know when that happens.

It's just the way it is

I had my three kids dressed for the snow. I had lunch for everyone ready. Diapers, wipes, toys, files, receipts, mileage, W2's, was I forgetting anything? Probably.

My kids were outside and getting in the car. I actually looked at myself in the mirror before going outside and said, "You can do this. The past few days have been rough, but you can do this. You will survive one way or another." I know, a little motivational pep talk before going to my tax appointment during lunch time with my kids. Whew. I was kind of asking for it.

I'm wearing my rain boots because I just packed my snow boots away yesterday. I cleaned. The boots are gone, and I'm not bringing them back out. So there I am with my rubbers on and after asking my son three times to get in the car and stop playing in the snow I got upset. My voice got louder to demonstrate that I wasn't wasting time and space just uttering words, but that I actually needed him to get in the car and buckle in. I wanted to leave at 1030. It was 1050. We were off to a great start.

So after talking through things with Noah, it sounded kind of like (Noah how do we both have success? How can I get you to listen, and how do I stop getting upset?) It ended with Noah saying he was tired of being a kid and having to listen, and I told him to just wait till he got a boss.

Then the Low Fuel light came on. 20 min late and the low fuel came on. Then Lu started to cry. It was a wail yet, just a dull, I'm mad at you, you aren't giving me what I need kind of cries. We venture in the snow, everyone is going slow, the baby is crying and Caleb asks questions that Conan would do a comedy sketch of. You know those kids who just look around to fuel the ques ions? That's my kid.

Mom, why's that tree all green?
Is it leaves or needles?
Its like Christmas right?
Is Nana and papa going to help us cut down our Christmas tree?
Boat Nana and boat papa right?
Do they live in Texas?
Where's MI?
I want a boat. When we get more money can we have a boat?
Why is that person walking? Don't they have a car?
Is that a school bus?
Why's it yellow?
Mom, Why"s Lu crying?

It's constant. And it may be entertaining to you, but its not anymore to me. I'm a talker. I do it for a living. I married a talker. A man who loves to tell stories. We should have known better. We naturally made more talkers, but then we also discuss everything with our kids, so we now nurture the nature of talking in our kids. Oh dear Lord help me.

I did answer Caleb's question about Lu crying, telling him that Lu needed me and I couldn't give her what she needed right now. The boys then took the next five minutes to discuss my lack of parenting. No she's crying because mom isn't feeding her. No she stinks and mom isn't changing her. I think she just wants mom to hold her and she's too busy. Wow. I feel like a stellar mom now. Thanks boys for that rundown.

And yes if you were wondering, I'm slightly slipping on the roads, checking directions, the baby is still crying and Caleb is still asking questions.

Once on the highway, a car next to us changes lanes and kicks up a HUGE amount of snow/slush onto our windshield. HUGE. Like, I can't see for 6 seconds because there is so much snow on my front window. The crashing of it sounded like a door slamming. I panicked and switched the wipers off instead of on high. It was an intense 6 seconds. This little episode, no matter how lightly I played it off, terrified my oldest. He is now whimpering to my daughters crying next to my son's questions about snow/slush, how the snow did that, where's the car, what color is it, etc. Oh dear Lord help me.

I'm starting to get nervous about the gas, and 20 miles later, we get the gas station. It was an exhilarating gas stop. I got violated by the storm. The storm whipped my shirt up, snow went down my pants and down the front of my shirt. My hair got stuck in the door, and I slipped in the snow. I was able however to get a bottle to Lu to help her calm down. No more crying. Oh dear Lord help me.

After one wrong turn and 75 questions later, we arrived. I told the kids the plan. Bathroom stop, lunch when we get to the office and if you behave, ice cream when we're done. The boys go to their bathroom, I lay Lu down on a cold tile floor to change her diaper. She totally gave me the look of "What am I doing down here?" Then we head upstairs.

We have pita and hummus, we take out all the toys, Lu takes all the books off the shelves, Caleb gets cheese stuck to his pants, hummus in his hair, Lu dumps water all over herself, Noah falls down just standing there (I'm just not sure how he does that), and all the contents of my purse get dumped out. It went alright. We were there for an hour, after the first five minutes Noah wanted to know if we were done. We got everything picked up. The boys got suckers when we left, and I told them they didn't burn the building down so we would get ice cream.

Noah fell asleep in the car, I made another three wrong turns and we made it to McDonald's. Not really thrilled that I promised ice cream, good behavior should be expected not always rewarded, but they really weren't bad. They sat and played and accidents happened. We got ice cream, and headed home.

Nap time happened in the car, so no peace and quiet in this house today. Hmmm...I'm tired. But I don't think we owe anything on our taxes, so today was a success. Now I just need to decide if I want to take the three kids out again in 6in of snow to go to church by myself. Maybe I'm addicted to high maintenance. Most men would agree.