The Ghetto Quilter

feild trip to the islands

2009-04-30T13:46:00.000-07:00

neice #1: in the orange lavalava
nephew #1: dancing with the girl in brown
nephew #2: dancing with the girl in purple
nephew #3: dancing with the girl in greenish greyish

This morning Big P and Miss F and I all went on a *ahem* field trip to see my nephews and my niece perform at their school. Here's them sitting next to my brother while they were warming up. Wake up Carlito!We had a good time and the kids, of course, did great. Makes me wish that Norwegians had cooler customs. Doesn't it look like fun!?!

modest sleep walkers

2009-04-24T10:41:00.001-07:00

So last night, just as I was *ahem* in the bathroom and about to go to bed, something slammed up against the door. So I peeped the door open to see what had cause the minor earthquake. To my surprise I found Miss B, wrapped up in a comforter, with her eyes shut. I figured that the light was probably a bit shocking to the iris which was why they were closed.

"Sweetie, do you need to use the bathroom?"
"fdlaspogarena; souf," she quietly mumbled
"MISS B. Do you need to use the bathroom?" At this point, I was exiting the lavatory.
"asiodufnasre,dfgiauwrngfa,xdnfviausrtq," she mumbled, a bit louder this time.
I put my hand on her shoulder and knelt down. "Miss B. Do YOU need to go potty?"
"No. No potty."
"Then what are you doing in the hallway?" She rubbed her eyes and then looked at me.
"No. No potty."
"Then why are you here, honey?"
"I'm just standing here right now." At this point, I started laughing.
"You're just standing here? Wouldn't bed be nicer? Why don't you go hop into bed goofball?" At this point, I assumed that she had woken up a bit more because she smiled and nodded. I thought that she had realized where she was and was confirming her silliness with the appropriate reaction.

This morning when I asked her if she remembered last nights incident, she insisted that she did not. I retold the story (with all the kids listening and laughing) and she seemed surprised by it all. Does this mean I can look forward to her sleepwalking out the back door to meet up with friends in the future?

my new favorite holiday

2009-04-13T09:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was brilliant.
Truly.

Easter has been bumped up to my new favorite holiday. It is replacing... a different one... but only because I don't think that I've ever considered which one was my favorite until now.

All life begins and ends with this day. He coulda chose not to... but He did. My life began that day. It is my birthday.

The pictures don't reflect the joy experienced - they never do, though, do they? First, time spent with church family. Next, time spent with Mom (and extended) family. Then, time spent with Dad and family. Last, a cool down with my family. What an amazing thing, all of these people in my life, chosen for this time, set up in this place, to have lives interwoven with mine. I am just so dang thankful!
(Brova, it WOULD have been perfect if you were here. I know, I know. Getting meatballs thrown at you is more important but I love you anyway. Know that you were missed.)

God rocks.
Not that you needed me to tell you that.

What I Did

2009-04-08T10:36:00.001-07:00

okay, bare (bear?) with me. this is yet another cute kid post.
so this morning Miss F is learning about writing papers that concern personal experiences. It's the first lesson so it's a fill in the blank thing. I gave her the paper and told her to write about something cool that she did. What she wrote is as follows (bold is the pre-written goblygook) :

I went to the couch.
Nobody went with me.
I saw my puppy sleeping on his bed.
I heard my mom typing on the computer.
Something I tasted was spit.
I smelled cupcakes baking.
I felt good.
The best part was when I was reading.
Other things to tell about: I saw my big brother doing his work. I saw the lamp by the dogs bed.

Thrilling, no?!? What an exciting life Miss F leads!

Right around there somewheres

2009-03-06T09:52:00.001-08:00

It's been right around a year since Big P and I got home and I've been thinking a lot about it all lately. I was looking through pictures and I didn't realize (then) how skinny that that boy was! Check this one out:
That was his first time coloring. Ever. I didn't bring crayons with me because I figured that an 11 yr old wouldn't be into that. But he was so we just (ahem) borrowed from other kids.

That's one of him "swimmee."

So check my little man out now:

In one year, he's grown 6 1/2" and gained 30 lbs. That's some crazy stuff right there. This picture is of him attempting to appear studious. According to him, math isn't for smiling.

Considering that I was FREAKED out at the mere idea of having an insta-son at the age of 11, this boy SO has a spot in my heart. Just ask Husband. Today I'm at a place of valuing all the steps that we took... all of the ones that brought us here. I wouldn't change a thing. God is too good.

Never Gonna Break My Faith

2009-02-12T21:54:00.000-08:00

INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Put your iPod or other music player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the NEXT button to get your answer.
3. You MUST write it down, even if it's lame.
4. Share it.

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
Something in the Way She Moves - James Taylor
(hopefully this gets more clever as we go along)

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Stormy Weather - Lena Horne
(don't say anything)

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Why Don't You Love Me Like You Used to Do? - Hank Williams Sr. (IT'S HUSBANDS MUSIC!)
(didn't I just tell you not to say anything?)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Smile - Lyle Lovett
(for real.)

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Din Din Wo (Little Child) - Habib Koite
(yeah. I'm one of those world music fruitcakes. the world is big, man.)

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Broken Hearted Melody - Sarah Vaughan
(HAH!)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN?
Let Go - The Godson Concept
(true.)

WHAT IS 2+2?
Brazillian Portuguese, Pimsleur Lesson 24
(umm..)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Outro - Kirk Franklin
(not actually. this is just a song game.)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Eternal One - Robbie Seay Band
(hmm.)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP??
Vesuvio - Spaccanapoli
(Prissy's favorite song!)

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE??
Promises - India Arie
(back to not clever again)

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Brokenhearted - Kirk Franklin
(AHAHAHAHAHAHA)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Loving You Is Sweeter Than Ever - Susan Tedeschi
(FINALLY one that fits! ..stop and lip sink to this one a minute..)

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
For My Good - Lashun Pace
(I hope that it'll be a celebration. Make sure there's a mariachi band, okay?)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Os Grilos - Marcela
(Tab, can you translate?? The Crickets??? but this song is really freakin' good. ..dance in the chair..)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Sunshine - Mos Def
(wow. the cuts are getting better and better over here.)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Prone to Wonder - Chris Rice
(HA!)

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Crazy Love - Van Morrison and Ray Charles
(this is a fat lie. I'm in crazy love and it's crazy good. have you met Husband!?!)

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Hallelujahs - Chris Rice

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To - Ella Fitzgerald
(does my ipod have something against Husband?)

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
In the Belly of the Whale - Veggie Tales
(more like makes me cry. I'm so. tired. of. veggie. tales.)

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Look at Me Now - Kirk Franklin
(now that's just not nice.)

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Joy - Newboys

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Let Me Touch You - Kirk Franklin AGAIN
(ummm...)

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Stormy Weather - Etta James
(should I take that as a no?)

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Tired of My Tears - Susan Tedeschi
(true freakin that. ..jam out some more.. "sick of your lies, tired of my tears, go if you want, you better tell it like it is")

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
You Don't Know Me - Ray Charles
(it does. it hurts.)

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Never Gonna Break My Faith - Mary J Blige and Aretha Franklin
(have you heard this song?? turning up volume. man, I've got good taste in music. I love Mary.)

tunafish

2009-01-20T12:06:00.000-08:00

Plans by Maxine Kumin
Orated by Miss F

she's back at it...

2009-01-16T12:04:00.000-08:00

The unofficial Underwear Fairy is back in the states (until mid February) and she's started another pledge. BUT since ya'll gave a bazillion pairs of undies, this time she's asking for help with some Flinstone (type) vitamins. Ash, does this make you the Flinstone Fairy??

Can we do it?
Yes we can!

She's also more than happy to take gift cards (which rocks for us cause then we don't have to pay for shipping) for the major stores. You can sign up below:

and if that doesn't work then just go to this place... or look to your LEFT. didn't you notice that overtly large purpley block of words??

an ode to 4Runner Man

2009-01-05T07:48:00.000-08:00

So last night when I was following you home from West Seattle, you very well could have saved my life a million times over.
I know, I know. A woman probably shouldn't drive at night when it's snowing with six kids and a husband in the car (whom could've driven but I didn't want to pullover and get stuck) when she only can see with one eye. The possibility of a negative out come was... shall we say... extremely high.
But you, my dear friend, wisely stayed in one lane. You threw on your flashers while we were going up that incline near Boeing Field, just to let me know it was a bit treacherous. You maintained a speed limit between 30-40 mph, not too fast and not slow. There were a few times when you splashed so much water/slush/mud onto my windshield that I had to hit the brakes until my wipers cleared off the mess, but because of your previous kindnesses, I continue to assume that it was accidental.
I do wonder if you have some sort of super hero strength. Night vision maybe? The ability to connect/understand weather? Not even Husband could see the difference in lanes on I-5 last night. At one point, before I found you (or you found me, rather) when I was on the West Seattle Bridge, I was unintentionally driving in two lanes. I only noticed this upon going under another bridge when the signs above were either off center or I was.
When it was time for me to take our exit and I had to leave you, I did feel a bit remiss as I watched you plow on into the night. I'm quite sure, though, that there were others out there who required your aid and it was your duty to meet their needs. I honestly would've preferred to follow you all the way to our driveway, but you must have felt that I was calm enough to continue on without you. Superheroes intuitively know these things.
4Runner Man, wherever you are this morning (probably your secret hideout), I thank you.

what to do

2008-12-27T08:27:00.001-08:00

When the weather outside is frightful (aka slushy/rainy/leftover snow) this is what we do:

go on a walk

take a nap

read a few books

build a snow wall/fort

do some hair

celebrate a couple birthdays

throw snowballs at the cameramom

sick the cameramom's husband on 'em

voting

2008-11-03T08:30:00.000-08:00

Not all of that political junk... I'm talking a real deal and upfront vote done by yours truly. I will even take the time to tell you why I chose to vote the way that I did. Sociologists, eat your heart out.

You may ask yourself, what exactly is the purpose of Halloween? Well, let me tell you. You spend VERY little money on your children's costumes and you send them out to beg for candy door to door (big ups for those who helped spend $5.77 billion. your money encouraged the creativity {or lack thereof} of this blog). Upon the candy arriving in your home, you immediately send them to bed, wait for them to truly be sleeping (none of this fake snoring junk), and quietly tip toe to the motherload.

Yes, there are full size candy bars in there too.

On a rating scale of 1-10 gold stars, here's the results:

Milky Way: 0 gold stars (as in none). The center gooey marshmallow crap is blanchable. You'd have to talk me into eating one of these if I was starving on a desert (or dessert island! how punny of me) island.
Tootsie Roll: 3 gold stars. I would give them a one because they're always the last to get eaten at our house. However, I gave them a three because I will eat them if desperate. Plus, they're classic. Not sugar babies classic; classic classic.
Kit Kat: 3 gold stars. I hate them and yet, without fail, I think that I might like them every year. So, 3 gold stars for succeeding in trickery.
Nestle Crunch: 1 gold star. The chocolate in these bad boys is something ferocious. I don't think that it's actually chocolate... it's something plastic-ier. And who came up with the idea to throw some Snap crackle pop into some plastic chocolate?
Hershey's Milk Chocolate: 5 gold stars. Mostly the stars are for effort, longevity (on the market), and everyone buys this brand for sm'ores. I'd give it a 3 for flavor, but, it's a classic classic.
Starburst: 8 gold stars. Honestly, judging this one is a bit more difficult. So many flavors to choose from! What to do? What to do. So, I went with an overall gold star effect. The delicious pinks outweigh the mildly bitter oranges and so forth. I also appreciate that these don't get stuck in your teeth. If you shove too many in your mouth at once, though, it does get trapped in that sneaky space down low between the back of your cheek and molars.
Dots: 1 gold star. This is another one of those desert island force feeding candies. However, they recieve one gold star since me brova and Husband like them. Personally, they taste like wax to me and take up to two weeks to brush outta the teeth.
Baby Ruth: 9 gold stars. I would give these a ten, but then I'd have to eat them in lieu of a meal. I just can't go there. I try to stay away from binging and purging. They're salty, crunchy, sweet center, perfection makes me smile with every bite. Nummy.
Skittles: 6 gold stars. They're definately edible. A little better than a medium (5 gold stars) because there truly is a difference between flavors. But, really, do you know ANYONE who's favortie candy is Skittles? Now, if I were scoring tropical skittles then the number would go way up. But, alas, these are the plain old skittles.
Milk Duds: 7 gold stars. I truly love carmel. LOVE. But these only recieved a 7 because they often taste out dated (what's up with the box for packaging?). And talk about getting stuck in your teeth! Every dentists' worst enemy.
Smarties: 4 gold stars. There is zero difference in flavor from color to color on these. Major loss of gold stars for that. I love that they're tart and, for some odd reason, they're Husband's favorite candy.
Lollipops, all types: 6 gold stars. My kids love lollipops and I think that it's due to their long-lasting-ness rather than they're flavor. Another bonus with these is if your mouth changes color. One more star for that brand. If you have gum in the center? Yo. Add another star.
Raisins: 0 stars (as in zilch). Who in the heck thought that rasins would be a fun treat for Halloween? Come on. At least go with goldfish; they have a fun shape. Raisins look like mouse turds. Now that I think about it, 0 stars and two thumbs down.
Reese's Peanut Butter Cups: 6 gold stars. These used to be my favorite candy and so I admit that I bumped them up for that factor alone. Now that I'm a bit older, I realize that whatever is supposed to be peanut butter in the center is some strange abberation calling itself peanut butter. Less stars for fibbing about the contents.
Twizzlers: 2 gold stars. What is this crap? Really? It certainly is no licorice rope. Those are real candy. I think these must be a close cousin to plastic-y Nestle Crunch.
M&M's (both with and without peanuts): 7 gold stars. These are so dependable. So reliable and consistent in there eat-ability. Not my most favorite, not my least favorite. Just smooth sailing M&M's.
Snickers: 9 gold stars. Growing up, my mom would buy these and then hide them from my brother and I. I'm pretty sure that I have some subconcious backlash from that which encourages me to like these more than they deserve. However, it's SO deep that I see nothing wrong with Snickers. Except that they make you fat if you eat too many. That's lame. Minus one star for fattness.
Now and Later: 3 gold stars. These are the KING of getting jammed in your teeth. However, it's easy to unlodge them - just get slobber all over your finger (whichever has the longest nail) and pop the bad boy up outta the tooth. The flavor of these is... meh. But what really made the stars go down is that they were handed out unit by unit. Now, when I was growing up, there were about 15 per package (each unit being individually wrapped within). So... did some people open up the package and hand out the units?? Minus stars for that.
Mr. Goodbar: 4 gold stars. I would give these more as the idea of peanuts within chocolate sounds tempting. But, again, the chocolate in these bad boys is a bit disarming. More like chalk-olate (the puns are just rolling forth today - I apologize).
Super Bubble: 7 gold stars. Automatically bubble gum gets a high star rating. It's pleasant, relaxing, and one can blow bubbles with it. I like to snap it myself. However, this particular brand very well could be the same company that put gum in baseball card packs. Powdery and short flavored, these lost points for lack of elasticity as well.
Dove chocolate, all types: 8 gold stars. I said dove. Isn't that enough explanation?
Body Parts gummy candy, all body parts: 1 gold star. The flavor is... none. The chewability is phenominally low for these tire-like boogers. 1 star for creativity. Reminds me a bit of Garbage Pail Kids.
CapriSun juice: 8 gold stars. I was really thirsty as we were begging from house to house. I chugged 2 of these. So extra stars for necessity and originality.
Werther's Original: 9 gold stars. There's something soothing and grandma-ey about these hard carmel flavored candies. ..sigh..

PLEASE join me in voting for your least favorite Halloween candy. The polls will close on the 10th so hurry and vote! You're allowed to vote for more than one nasty bit.

A Meemay Deer

2008-10-27T07:49:00.000-07:00

For your Monday morning pleasure, I would like to introduce you to Miss B in all her glory....

the newest member

2008-10-17T14:21:00.001-07:00

I'd like to introduce you to... Bubba or Honey or Dog X. We're not sure what his name is quite yet. He's a lab/sheppard mix who's just about as sweet and docile (yes, has lots of puppy energy too) as can be. He's just 4 months old and has already managed to pee inside - lucky me. Less than 10 minutes ago we had 16 kids in the backyard, 10 of which came over to meet him. I have a feeling that this puppy won't be hurting for company.

promises you don't wanna keep

2008-10-13T08:35:00.000-07:00

So, a couple of weeks ago Miss Priss asked me if she could get a puppy. This is not a new topic, mind you, one that I have dismissed many a time with reminders of poop in the yard and our serious lack of people willing to do the job.

But the girl wouldn't drop it.

Other kids got on board.

It wasn't looking good for me - I was outnumbered.

So, I did what any good mom would do; I made it REALLY difficult for them to get the dog so that I wouldn't have to say no. They had to come up with a business plan: who would feed, drink, walk, pooper scoop on which day. They had to have $50 down, pay for the dog (however much that was going to be), pay for a kennel in the back, and come up with $15 a week (this would cover food and the leftover would go into an account for anti-flea junk and vet bills) for the life of the dog. What group of kids would actually follow through with this? I figured that they'd give up on day number two and move on to greener and easier pastures.

As of 8pm last night they've earned $103.

Chows are cute dogs... right?

ahhh colloquialisms

2008-10-04T15:41:00.000-07:00

The kids are playing some Marvel comic book video game right now. Big P had a controller and he threatened, "You wanna piece of meat?"

But it doesn't end there. The smack continued...

He went on to shout, "I will throw it at you!"

Do us all a favor and turn your head from this post if you vomit easily

2008-09-25T17:27:00.000-07:00

So, about a month and a half ago, the bathroom sink was a bit slow in the draining department. I dumped some Draino down, which helped a bit. For like 24 hours. So I dumped some more down about a week later. Which helped for like 2 hours.
Just for fun, I dumped the rest down the shower drain.
Which matters very little to the story that I'm telling.

The sink has continued to be SLOWLY draining and this is particularly irritating. Especially when I watched the kids' toothpaste spit just floating around in there. Gross. So Husband and I, being the adults that we are, blamed it on the boys. I questioned them and one in particular looked a bit guilty when I asked him if he had shoved a toy down the drain. We left it at that and I've been not-very-patiently awaiting for Husband to clean out the pipes.

So Husband told me that first this morning there was still water in the sink (from a kid washing their hands after a late night bathroom trip?) and so he began to plunge the drain. After lifting the plunger out of the sink, to inspect the goods of course, something caught Husband's eye. He thought he saw something moving but, that's just weird so he dismissed it and went back to plunging some more. After a few thrusts, he took out the plunger again and thought he saw something moving again. He waited for the water to still because two times deserves a closer inspection; right? Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he leaned in to see what on earth was moving and it was a freakin' worm. Not an earthworm mind you. And I quote, "Something quite a bit more parasitic looking than that. Thinner, long, blackish, nasty."

So, folks, we've got some worms coming out of our sink. That's right. If that doesn't make you want to take a shower (at someone else's house) and scrub off with an SOS pad, I don't know what will. They're called drain moths and if I talk about the whole thing for much longer, I may urp up something myself.

burrowing

2008-09-08T23:14:00.001-07:00

I admit it.
I've been burrowing away lately, reading yours but not posting my own.
Nothing is too bad or too good.
It is too busy.
Does that count?
I'll return show-tly.
I'm thinking that it ought to happen any time now.

The classifieds

2008-08-22T08:46:00.000-07:00

(possibly posted in the want ads by yours truly)

Looking for a good excuse to go to Africa. Not to mention the money as well as the time to go. If you are able to supply any of these things (excuses, money, or time), please feel free to reach me; but I do request that you have your contact information readily available.

Oh. One more thing. I'm also looking for a different mode of transportation to get there. Know of any cruise ships headed to west Africa? That kind of thing. Please let me know.

elegance

2008-08-18T12:02:00.001-07:00

Ever wonder what song Spiderman would choose when playing the piano?
Check out the sheet music.

that's what's up.

2008-08-15T20:16:00.000-07:00

the famous policeman

2008-08-14T11:00:00.000-07:00

I was on the phone this morning in the front yard and a neighbor walked up to me and told me that I should go and talk to the policeman that was parked across the street (and up a bit). She said that he's got a photo of a neighbor who raped and beat up a 16 yr old girl who's now in the hospital. I hung up the phone, called the kids in, put on a movie, and walked to the policeman to check out the photo.
After coming back in the house, I threw in some laundry, blah blah, and about 10 min later, policeman is knocking on the door. The kids are in awe as he asks to use the bathroom. I of course oblige and REALLY hope that the bathroom is clean. REALLY REALLY hope. All of the sudden I notice that O-Dog has left his cereal bowl on the kitchen table. I rush to toss it in the sink. Meanwhile, the kids had immediately begin scuffling around for paper and crayons.
"If you guys are going to draw then let's turn off the movie."
"No, mom. We want his au-to-graph..." they reply wistfully
So Mr. Policeman re-enters the living room and serious as a heart attack, the kids are all starry eyed with their paper and colored pencils shoved in his direction. All asking the poor guy for his au-to-graph. A few police badge stickers handed out later, he heads out the front door.
Before the door even finishes closing Miss Z says, "Just wait until I tell (my friend from the neighborhood) about this!"

P.S. After he left, I went in and checked, and the bathroom was clean

under the umbrella

2008-08-13T09:55:00.000-07:00

As a mom there are umbrellas that we live under, whether (weather, how punny) we live beneath them intentionally or not is not what I want to blog about. Let's just say that we do. Or rather, I do. And to throw having my little diverse family under that umbrella just adds to what I'm talking about.
Umbrella is a term that I am using to describe expectations that I try REALLY hard to live up to because I assume that 1) someone cares more than I do about my family. 2) my children reflect my parenting, therefor my work, therefor myself. Kinda like 6 walking report cards. 3) I want to please man?? I don't know. Just go with me on this one.

Today I'm just going to talk about the hair umbrella. I live under the white-mom umbrella in which I feel like I have to disprove to every person on the planet. Women especially (men don't seem to notice these things). Let's look at the girls' hair:

I tried to get this photo bigger to no avail.

Now Miss B is the two heads on the left and Miss F is on the right, this picture was taken directly after I typed the word hair. I spent about 2 1/2 hours on Miss B's hair and about an 1 1 /2 on Miss F's (she can't have beads in cause of soccer).
Why?
Why on earth would someone do that?
I blame it on the umbrella.
I feel like I have to disprove the notion that white women don't care about black hair *while* proving to white women that it is possible to learn how to cornrow, for goodness sake. I do the girls' hair about every two weeks; this is more than necessary but I don't want those fuzzies to aid in anyone's suspicion that people shouldn't adopt outside of their race.
I learn every new style, I eye all the unsuspecting children who walk past me to see what their sporting, I spend an equal amount of time planning to do hair than I do actually platting.
Think I'm overreacting?
People (ahem, women) stop me in grocery stores, at church, in public restrooms, the park, at the mall. You name it, they've probably stopped me there. They stop me and ask me about the girls' hair and "who did it." This question is always asked with suspicion and it either follows or precedes questions about whether or not they're "my" children (don't get me started on that one). Upon learning that, yes, I did their hair, there is a guaranteed moment of shock quickly followed by a cover up. I hate those moments, and yet I live for those moments. Those moments are why I spend so much time on hair. Those moments prove that umbrella wrong but also prove that I willingly live under it.
Stupid umbrella.

P.S. I hardly ever give Prissy's hair a second thought.

things I wish that I liked

2008-08-11T15:40:00.000-07:00

1. Wine. Wine drinkers come off as sophisticated and sheek. I personally think that it tastes like sour grapes with a bitter tang. Why oh why?

2. Being pink. This is a strange one, and yet it's true. I'm still scratching my head whilst figuring out what on earth God was thinking. But in the meantime, I'm fortunate to be married to someone who thinks it's hot.

3. Sports. I idealize how cool it would be to be a runner or tennis player. And then I think about actually doing it and it's about as appealing as eating from the compost pile. The only thing that I truly enjoy about the Olympics is the 'walk of nations.' The clothes, the diversity, the third world countries that get missed while on commercial break, this is what I love. Everything after that is, in a word, pretty boring. Sometimes it's fun to imagine how disappointed that some of the athletes must be when they lose. But again, that doesn't really have anything to do with sports.

4. Hot dogs. What can I say? They're cheap and easy (head out of the gutter).

5. Cleaning the house. Man, if I enjoyed that task, something might actually get done around here.

6. Forgiving pooh heads. Shall I start a whole new post for this one? Nah.

7. Waking up to this (Yes, that's my front yard. They parked a few cars there, a few across the street [not shown] and then snuck to a drug house a couple doors down with their K9 units. This seriously impressed the kids). Husband and I are still trying to figure out where on earth that God wants for us to live. Going beyond just being satisfied, I wish that I truly saw our neighborhood as a mission field every day that we spend here. It often just gets old and so I put away the welcome mat. Must. work. on. attitude.

8. Change. Mi madre would be the first to remind me that it spends the same. And yet it's such a freakin' nuisance. Heavy, clinking around in my wallet that's already crammed with receipts that are at least a year old, right next to all of those lame punch cards that don't seem to be good for anything and yet I have well over a padgillion. Speaking of change, why do dads always have a pocket full? Will this evolve over time since we now just swipe most everything? I think that it would be an injustice for our children to not have a pocket-full-o-change-memory of their dads.

9. The rain. It makes things green, makes the air quality better, we need it for survival and yet it's irritating. I know, I know. Why do I live in Seattle. For the culture, my friends. It rocks here. Maybe if it rained without clouds while holding a temperature of about 85 degrees, I would no longer hold this view.

vigilante

2008-08-05T08:11:00.000-07:00

So last night the kids were playing outside (around 8 pm) and Priss comes running in the house saying that creepy guy was coming into the yard and talking to the kids about "fris-bees." Husband hops up and goes outside while I pause the movie we were watching and stand up to see what all the fuss is about. As I stand up, I see a dude (think creepy. not homeless, creepy) straight walking into our front yard but no Husband and no kids.
So I head to the back to get all the kids inside and BLAM there he is again, this time standing at the back door, watching for me. I open up the screen and shout (he's a foot away, maybe) in his face that he needs to leave my property NOW. I don't see Husband anywhere but the kids all start gathering around while dude is for real trying to argue with me about whether or not "he's cool." I don't care if you're cool or not GO AWAY. Then my man comes around the corner and uses his scary voice while pointing to the road. The kids are filing in the house and then Husband shouts to me, CALL THE COPS! Cause dude is not trying to leave and Husband is getting pissed while he tries to intimidate guy by walking towards him and then towards the road. This threat doesn't phase dude.
So I go in and grab the phone and walk back towards the back door again dialing 911. All I can see is Husband running down the street.
Dude goes into our neighbors yard and then into another neighbors yard, right into the back (over the fence). Husband comes home because their kid was at our house saying he needed him to translate. So off Husband and neighbor kid go to inform his family that creepy dude is in their yard now. When Husband arrives there, he sees neighbor dad escorting dude out of his back yard. Then creepy dude sees Husband and starts cussing at him and telling him "It's mfing cool, man! these are my effing friends and we're just effing hanging out. Why don't you eff off you duh nuh nuh nuh nuh?"
Husband asks neighbors if they know creepy guy. They shake their heads. Husband wonders if he will have to take creepy guy down because his posture is getting more and more violent.
According to my watch, it's been 10 minutes since I called the cops and nothing. I'm standing in the driveway with the kids inside, waiting for either creepy guy or the cops, whoever shows up first. Another 10 minutes go by.
Husband is standing in front of neighbor kids house chatting with neighbor dad while I just sit on the bumper of the car and wait about 5 more minutes for Husband to come home again. He wants to go looking for creepy guy because apparently he was going after neighbor's kids too. Husband is going vigilante on me and I'm really trying to hold him back. He says he won't be able to sleep. I remind him about knives and to stay a bit away from creepy guy if he comes upon him. I shove his cel phone into his pocket and he leaves.
I sit in the driveway waiting for either creepy guy or the cops, whoever shows up first. Another 10 minutes go by. Creepy guy is long gone (30-35 minutes later) and the cops haven't even showed up yet. I know that no one was being threatened physically but DANG. 30 minutes when a creepy guy is waltzing the neighborhood trying to bait kids (the boys specifically)?
Cop FINALLY drives by about 40 min after the original phone call to 911. I call Husband to bring his vigilante butt home. He and I are sitting in the carport and joke about the events of the evening when a guy on a dirtbike(?) goes by at about 60 mph. No joke. He's got no helmet and so I wink at Husband wondering if he'll hit the same block as cop who's looking for creepy guy. Sure enough! Cop pulls him over and they fight about him getting arrested.
We may not have gotten a creepy guy, but we caught a meth guy... good enough?

my nosey family watching the dirtbike guy get cuffed.
Big P and I are making fun of them from the doorway where I took the photo.

touchy

2008-08-03T20:29:00.000-07:00

I used to write. Not blog write, but actually write. But if people didn't ogle over it, I was hurt. If people did ogle over it, I figured it was cause they were biased cause they loved me. And so I hardly ever do it anymore. I'm too freakin' touchy.

I'm also touchy about my kids. Touchy about my husband. So I hardly ever divulge what I hold dearest to me (unless I'm attempting to make light of it) because I don't want anyone to squish it. It's like being afraid to walk around in your bathing suit because you're nervous about your post pregnancy kangaroo pouch and then, once you finally get the nerve up to strut your stuff, no one even notices that you're swimming. Do they not know how much freakin' work it took to get you out there?!? Apparently not.

So the drama drama that I mentioned surrounded our oldest, Big P. On Wednesday, he had a bunch of seizures and then went to take a nap and I went to check on him about 45 minutes after having a conversation with him (which ended with me telling him to go brush his teeth cause his breath stank) and he was unconscious. I screamed in his face, I slapped his legs and his torso. Nothing. There was vomit on his pillow and he wasn't home. Thankfully, mi madre was at the house and she helped me to carry him to the car so that we could get Husband and head to the ER. I exchanged mi madre for Husband and we sped off down the highway. Big P kept vomiting on himself and woke up a bit (as in opened his eyes - not actually woke up). It then appeared that he was seizing (he has complex partials) rather than the weird unconscious state that he had been in prior. It was bizarre and scary and no human should ever have to see their child like this.
Over and over and over.
He kept trying to take off his seatbelt and open the door while we were floating down the highway and I was crying and praying and he was fighting me with all of his strength. All I could think about was what if I hadn't gone in there to check on him. What if he had choked on his vomit. What if what if what if. We got to the hospital and I turned on my 'make jokes to lighten the crazy tense situation.' They gave him a bunch of sedatives and he finally stopped seizing. We went back to our vacation and I played it off like I am strong and in control and it's no big deal to almost have your kid die in your arms.

But it is and I hate this.

drama drama drama

2008-08-01T22:44:00.000-07:00

we're back from vacay. it was good. not without drama. maybe I'll tell you about it tomorrow. soooo lazy.

I never take enough pictures and always regret it.

English??

2008-07-23T11:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I cut Big and Little P's hair and O-Dog kept asking asking asking if he could get a haircut too. I gave in (not knowing how to cut white boy hair) and the result was quite... white trash. Then this morning he put on a knock off Gerrard jersey (that I ironically got while in Africa) and I thought, 'AHA! He looks like an angry fan!

pointing the finger

2008-07-22T23:11:00.000-07:00

"I will tell you just one case of suffering of a family that I know personally. A brother entered prison on account of his work in the Underground Church. He left behind a wife with six children. His older daughters of seventeen and nineteen could not get a job. The only one that gives jobs in a Communist country is the state, and it does not give jobs to children of "criminal" Christians. Please don't judge this story according to moral standards; just receive the facts. The two daughters of a Christian martyr - Christians themselves - became prostitutes to support their younger brothers and sick mother. Their younger brother became insane when he saw it and had to be put in an asylum. When years later the imprisoned father returned, his only prayer was, "God, take me to prison again. I cannot bear to see this." His prayer was answered and he was jailed again for the crime of having witnessed for Christ to children. His daughters were no longer prostitutes, as they received jobs by complying with the demands of the secret police - they became informers. As daughters of a Christian martyr, they are received with honor in every house. They listen and then they report everything they hear to the secret police. Don't just say that this is ugly and immoral - of course it is - but ask yourself if it is not also your sin that such tragedies occur, that such Christian families are left alone, and are not helped by you who are free."

-Tortured For Christ, Richard Wurmbrand, pg47

the woman at the well

2008-07-18T11:40:00.000-07:00

background here

title schmitle

2008-07-14T11:55:00.000-07:00

My two oldest nephews and I were playing a game last week that I often find myself continuing to play alone because I'm a dork like that.

Fill in the blank:

You know you live in the ghetto when ___________.

Some of the funnier answers given were:

You know you live in the ghetto when there are more pit bulls than people.
You know you live in the ghetto when you own more broken cars than working ones (and they're parked in your yard).
You know you live in the ghetto when you aren't sure if that boom was an illegal firework or an illegal firearm.
You know you live in the ghetto when lock downs are more common than fire drills at the local schools.
You know you live in the ghetto when your son suggests that he paint a sign warning drug dealers that his mom will call the police if they keep dealing drugs here.
You know you live in the ghetto when your dads truck gets tagged and you, recognizing the tag, go to school the next day and ask the tagger to apologize to your dad.
You know you live in the ghetto when the sounds of spring are cars rattling from an overdose of bass rather than birds chirping.

Anyone else got a suggestion??

*After re-reading my disoriented and, admittedly, far too personal post, I want to make sure that no one misunderstood my relationship with my dad. The father and son that I spoke of had a rather unhealthy relationship - one that never evolved as the son grew older. The father treated his son like he was two and so the son acted like he was two (give or take a few years). I adore my dad, and don't question his adoration towards me. However, there is a part of me that wishes that I was nine again so that I could follow him around and take trips to the dump with him. With my brain I understand that this is bizarre and would lead to a really unhealthy Raquel. My dad always has been a really really important person to me, beyond him just being my dad. I hope that you read (phonetically as in red) the sentence as pertaining to the entire context, but if you didn't, then hear me when I say that I adore him and I adore our relationship.

I am SO deep

2008-07-13T10:22:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a nightmare that Miss F got her hair wet while she was swimming and her braids came out.

Scary stuff.

Pray the Devil Back To Hell

2008-07-11T14:04:00.000-07:00

Helplessly watching Liberia continue to experience unrest from afar, this is a good reminder that action is what shuts the mouths of those that gorge themselves on confusion.

I'm so sorry

2008-07-09T14:11:00.001-07:00

I feel like I'm going to puke

I'm so sorry.. God please forgive me. Help me to forgive myself. I can't even type
I can't think straight.

I have a good friend who's Sikh. He and I hit it off instantly about three years ago. He's probably old enough to be my dad and he acts like my dad most of the time. Damn I feel tremendously stupid.

He watched us adopt and knows my heart well - this life that God gave me spoke to him. He's asked me so many questions about Jesus and I KNEW that his heart was ripe. With pride he told me about, and introduced me to his son and his wife. We're friends, right?

After I got back from Liberia, I've felt busy and consumed with stuff here. I stopped reaching out but my heart knew that I ought to. I excused it. I excused my not telling him more about Jesus because I didn't have the time. But God knows my true motive.

My husband just called me and our friends 17 year old son died. Stabbed to death at the park. I SHOULD have done so much more. This regret is something FIERCE. I should have done more. It was his only child and that man loved him. Crazy loved him in a way that made me wish I had the same relationship with my own dad.

Things could have been different.
Would have been different.
if only...

EDIT: please see note here

big whiner

2008-07-09T10:05:00.000-07:00

I can't stand hearing other people whine. But since you and I haven't broached the conversation on whining yet, here goes... (plus you can't actually hear me so that weird noise isn't necessarily even a point to this one sided conversation.)

So yesterday we got a call from the neuro that Big P's med level in his blood stream is too high. Too high as in substantially over the limit for a child his age and build. So, that would leave the logical human being to assume that we ought to probably lower his dosage or change the medicine since he still seems to have breakthoughs. However, the nurse told me that the neuro wants to UP his morning dose. I politely offered my logical insight to the nurse who told me that she would call me back.

Which she did.
But the doc still insisted on increasing the dose.
Okeedokee. That sounds like a good idea? But, truthfully, I don't know jack about this whole deal and one would assume he's the expert so I submitted to his position (in theory, not in practice as of yet).
So then (like hours later) I was reading the Wall Street Journal (keep the nerd comments to yourselves) and the FDA is attempting to get Big P's medicine (along with 10 others) black labeled for users high tendency to COMMIT SUICIDE while taking the drug.

Now, as logical human beings, we would assume that our neuro would have informed me of that as being a possible side effect (regardless of the stupid label or not debate). Or the pharmacist, for that matter. You know how you get those print out thingies every time that you pick up a prescription? How about mentioning on there that you might find your kid dead one day so keep an eye out for depression (in the least?).

But that, my friends, I fear that would be far too logical.

An open letter to the ice cream man

2008-07-01T16:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Ice Cream Man,

How do you make it through one day without repeatedly stabbing your eardrums with a popsicle stick? For sure, your patience far exceeds my own.

Much Respect,
Raquel
(You know, the lady with all the kids. You practically park in front of our house everyday... Remember me now?)

this is what happens when...

2008-06-28T20:10:00.000-07:00

This is what happens when you get all dressed up for a party and then can't find it so you come home and take pictures in the back yard and celebrate by watching the (lame) chipmunk movie with some angel food cake and strawberries....

This is what happens when you let all of your kids take a turn with the camera...

betcha 10 dollars

2008-06-23T10:51:00.000-07:00

This meme originated over an idea that was prompted by the book written by Larry Smith & Rachel Fershleiser, Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs by Writers Famous & Obscure. It’s a compilation based on the story that Hemingway once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in six words. His words were, “For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn.”

1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it to your blog including a visual illustration if you would like.
3. Link to the person who tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blog sphere.
4. Tag 5 more blogs with links.
5. Don’t forget to leave a comment in the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.

Danielle, witty? I wish... I can only do so much!

My six word memoir:

False rebellion lead to true rebellion.

I made the kids do this too and it's pretty dang cute (good idea, Danielle). Here's there answers (spelling not spell checked) -

Mr. P - I Luv the holy handsum God.

Miss F - My life's cool becasuse God helps us.

Miss Z - I love the hole big universe (love has a heart shaped O).

Miss B - I love my holle faimly forever.

Big P- The God that help people Love.

Little O - The bom.

As for tagging:

Lisa, Miss Brasil, and Verity

..can you say that..?

2008-06-21T22:14:00.000-07:00

We have an additional kid who mostly lives here. We love her - she's a neighborhood kid with a really good heart. She (and sometimes her siblings) eat lunch and dinner here and then head home whenever I make my kids get ready for bed. She fits right in with the girls and keeps them busy goofing around outside. For some reason, the kids are WAY more interested in playing outside when someone from outside of the family is over... Anyway...

The other evening, as they were saying goodnight, she was in her yard standing at the fence (aka the secret spot; it's hidden by some trees and the shed) and two of my girls were on this side of the fence. One of my girls threw grass in the neighbors girls' hair. The next day her mom wouldn't let her come over because my kid threw grass in her hair (?). When I heard this news, everything in me went into MEGA high defense mode.

What about how earlier that day she was throwing mud balls at my boys?
Betcha she didn't tell her mom that.
Or how about the 80 million other days that she hasn't gotten grass in her hair?
Those don't count against this one time?
Is it really that freakin' big of a deal anyway?
You can just shake the grass out...
Why all the bitterness when we've so easily folded your daughter in with our own?

And then I realized that I was being every bit as ridiculous as the situation. I was getting all into a tizzy... why? Over some grass?
Deep breath.
"We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." - 2 Corinthians 10:5
Taking thought.
Walking it out.
Handing it over.
Leaving it behind.

Because the truth is, anyone can assume whatever they want about us. We cannot change anyone's opinions. We cannot prove to them our devotion, our love, our loyalty... and fra-eeking out about such silliness is a total waste of time. Every part of us that they saw... negated over some grass?

I wish that I could open myself up totally so that her momma could see my heart. But I can't. And if I did, would she see what was in front of her anyway? So I, that day, decided that enough was enough. Words are just words at some point. The actions, I hoped, would speak louder. And so I said nada.

The neighbor girl called a few times that day to talk to the girls - she missed them! They have been almost living together for a while now. The next morning, she was waiting at 'the secret place.'
Her mom said it was okay to come over.

underdog

2008-06-20T09:39:00.000-07:00

I've got a soft spot for the underdog.

A really big one. (have you noticed?)

Yesterday a woman was picking up some meth from up the road and her driver waited for her return on our private little road. I went and scouted out the driver, to make sure that they wouldn't do anything crazy to all my kids outside (About a month ago a man tried to snag up Mr. O by tempting him with french fries. Big P, who had been riding his bike on the road, dropped his bike and ran over to slap the fries outta his hand and carried Mr O up to the house. I was sweeping the kitchen with the door open and didn't hear a thing. I'm a little more touchy since this incident.) I glanced at the driver and my heart totally sank.

There was an infant in the car.

Everything in me SCREAMED to offer to take that baby while she ran off and got high. My blood pressure rose as I debated the awkward situation. It's one thing to be irresponsible when you're only responsible for yourself. It's a whole 'nother can of worms when kids are involved. I stood there, in the driveway hidden from the drivers view by some bushes. The woman who walked to get the meth returned while I stood there motionless... wishing that there was an answer to problems such as these. Wishing that I could swoop up that baby and make everything okay.

I watched them drive away and walked back towards the house where Miss Brasil stood.
Nothing.
I did nothing.

At least - day four

2008-06-17T08:18:00.000-07:00

We've (alright... mostly Husband) been hacking away at trees, bushes, and the like this weekend and on into this week (that's the sad part of the story). A couple of extremely LARGE piles have grown into perfect kid mountains and now I have 6 kids that are covered in sap that won't freakin' come off.

At least we're almost finished?

But they're having a better time than I am. I often look up from the work to take in how different that the yard looks or how much that we've accomplished so far - it keeps me motivated. The kids, on the other hand, are having sword fights with the sticks, building very itchy houses with the evergreen limbs, and having as much fun as they possibly can amidst the dragging of trees from one spot to another.
I gotta tell you that watching their attitudes unfold throughout the day is crazy fun for me. Even cleaning their rooms comes with some singing! It's official. I am in love. I wonder if this feeling will last throughout summer break!?!

At least - day three

2008-06-13T10:34:00.000-07:00

At least they're going to clean their room?
(I asked them to make 'oh-my-gosh-this-is-dirty-faces...)

UPDATE:
This morning, as I sipped my coffee while reading some blogs, the kids started shouting that the police were here. I didn't beleive them until they started arguing about whether or not they should let a policeman in because mom says not to open the door for anyone. I got up and, sure enough, there were two officers at the back (?) door. They asked me about the drug dealers across the way and would I please make 911 calls every time that they deal on our side street. I, of course, agreed. I have to admit that I'm happy that someone is finally taking an interest in the drug houses that appear to be supporting all of the drug habits in king county.

At least - day two

2008-06-12T08:50:00.000-07:00

At least it's half way on?
(and gets a good laugh from the rest of the kids)

*UPDATE
Do you remember this story? Not sure why but the garbage-can-walker-lady got arrested this morning. Took three cop cars to get it done? She was wondering around the neighborhood and it looked like they found her in someone else's backyard... She looked quite happy about the whole thing. I'm still voting crack.

At least...

2008-06-11T11:26:00.001-07:00

At least they'll eat it when they're done??

fair warning

2008-05-31T10:04:00.000-07:00

So last night (started at 10pm) I steam cleaned the couches. The two couches. Uno. Dos. We got them.... three years ago-ish and intelligently spent a bit extra for the microfiber so that almost no stain was a true stain.

Ummm.
Yeah.

Last night I used just plain old hot water and here's what I got:
For those of you considering having a bazillion kids, consider this fair warning. It doesn't matter that no one is allowed to wear shoes in the house, that all food must be eaten over the table, that showers and tooth brushing are a requirement. Dirt, and I mean mega-disgusting-how-did-so-much-get-in-here-dirt, is inevitable. (I considered taking a picture of the junk I sweep up from the kitchen daily but I figured it might be a bit over redundant.)

the kids + my mom at the zoo

On a different note, I would like to officially invite all of you to the service that is being held whenever the weather is good and the pastor and worship leader feel like it. If you would like a fair warning call so that you can attend the five minute service, I hope that you will be within immediate driving distance so you can see how much I love these dang kids... the preaching is fairly pentecostal so I hope you're comfortable with verbal appreciation for the Lord!

brokenness and disruption

2008-05-29T08:59:00.000-07:00

disruption:
–verb (used with object)

1.	to cause disorder or turmoil in: The news disrupted their conference.

2.	to destroy, usually temporarily, the normal continuance or unity of; interrupt: Telephone service was disrupted for hours.

3.	to break apart: to disrupt a connection.

–adjective

4.	broken apart; disrupted.

(as found on this dictionary)

I read on wikipedia this morning that disruptions are "rarely discussed in public." Like politics and religion? HA! Shall we??

If you don't feel like following my links, disruption is the common term used when adoptive parents (for whatever reason) decide that they don't want the child to be a part of their family anymore. It is a legal process that ensures that the child is no longer the adoptive parents responsibility. Thus the child re-enters (or enters for the first time) the foster care system.

I just learned this morning that no such action/law exists if a family has a child biologically. So.... if we legally promise to care for a child, we can exit that covenant. But if we give birth to a sociopath, no such luck; we're stuck with the responsibility for life.

Is that crazy to anyone else? How is it that we as a society can legally enable people to not see these children that they adopted as their own? We aren't responsible to raise the children that we promised to raise?? I recognize that I'm an individual and that I have a unique family compared to everyone else on the planet. And YET I would never ever hand my bio daughter over to the foster care system. NEVER. The girl could run around with steak knives a flailin' and my mind would not be changed.

So why on earth would it even occur to me to do that to a child that I promised that I would raise? And our laws support this kind of thinking! What on earth is wrong with us humans?

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but did you see the bit about Will Smith talking about how he feels about divorce? "It's not even an option." Why don't we, as adoptive parents feel that way towards our own children? That disruption isn't even an option. And he's a scientologist! And I FULLY understand that there are a MINORITY of children that get adopted that have major issues. And yet, if it was your bio kid, what other option would you have? Legally, there would be none.

Sho' makes me thankful that I have a God (or He's got me, rather) who isn't going to disrupt me from our relationship. I was adopted into that family. "God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.So we praise God for the glorious grace he has poured out on us who belong to his dear Son." (Eph 1:4-6)

No law can separate me from Him. No one can take that away.

petty

2008-05-21T08:16:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I could just SCREAM at the pettiness that people get hyper focused on. Does anyone else see what's going on in the world? Injustice is everywhere and we're whining about silly nonsense.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I was reading this last night and it sang the tune so much better than I ever could:

"We are all starved for the glory of God, not self. No one goes to the Grand Canyon to increase self esteem. Why do we go? Because there is greater healing for the soul in beholding splendor than there is in beholding self. Indeed, what could be more ludicrous in a vast and glorious universe like this than a human being, on the speck called earth, standing in front of a mirror trying to find significance in his own self-image? It is a great sadness that this is the gospel of the modern world."

a part of someone else's story

2008-05-16T09:28:00.000-07:00

It's going to be 90 degrees here today and the kids were SUPER excited to pull out ye ole summer clothes. The talk of warm weather and warm weather activities spurred on a conversation about Liberia over the breakfast table. Lots and lots of memories of the first time they met Husband and I, as well as when they got dropped off at the orphanage.

I exited the scene to get myself ready and remembered when I was in Liberia and, without knowing it ahead of time, dropped two children off at the orphanage. I wondered if I'll forever be a part of their memory of the day that they got dropped off at the orphanage.

On the drive there, their momma talked about music and who her favorite artist was to another Liberian woman in the van. I sat in the back seat thinking that we were just giving the family a ride to their home. My nephew and I traded a few whispers and then, about 10 minutes later, we pulled up to a place that looked SO familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. I'd never been there but DANG it was familiar. Then it all whooshed into my brain... I had many pictures of my children playing on these steps... this is the orphanage. Why are we at the orphanage?

The mom didn't hug or kiss her children, she just patted their backs as they squeezed out of the door to the van. She stayed seated and watched her children walk across the yard to those familiar steps. It was then that they slipped into the large group of kids leaning over the hand rail, almost blending in. The only way that one could pick them out was to see how everyone but those two beautiful children were laughing and messing around. Those two kids were staring... those two seemed in shock. The son looked at his mom and the daughter into nothingness. The mom, still in the van, says that she thinks her daughter won't look because she doesn't want to cry. It's then that I finally realize that these kids are staying.

The van backs further into the yard so that we can turn around. I watch the mom to make sure that she's okay. She spends a lot of time pretending like she is okay. She glances out the window and gives a half hearted wave to her son. As we pull out of the yard, the van is filled with silence and I wait to see if the mom will look back ... if her and her daughter will make eye contact just one last time. Mom never looks back. But I do. I stare at the girl, with devastation pumping through my thoughts.

The girl looks up, one last time. Red Liberian dust fluffs up between the orphanage and the van.

I wonder if someday she'll be sitting in America wondering who that white woman was over breakfast....

A quickie

2008-05-09T11:57:00.000-07:00

not that kinda quickie.

Wanna know how much you're worth as a stay-at-home mom? This website will tell you after you give it a break down of your weekly duties at home as well as your zip. I'm worth $212,894. That's what's up! Now if I could just find someone to write out that paycheck... any takers??

Yesterday Big P, O Dog, and I were dropping off Little P at school. After getting my daily kiss, I say to Little P, "Peace out homeboy," as he climbs out of the van.
Big P then says with a smile, "I'm the homeboy. Little P is the schoolboy."

He thought that was pretty funny. I thought, 'this boy is getting some American wit!'

stockpiling

2008-04-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

Rice.
Rice is the center of our diet.

Don't blame it on the Liberians.
When I was 14ish, I moved in with my brother and his family. My SIL is Samoan and so we ate rice with every meal. Breakfast: rice with sugar. Lunch: leftover rice with random leftover topping from last nights dinner. Dinner: rice with random meat/vegetable on top. This is where my love for rice stems from.

Yesterday we went for our bi-monthly trip to Costco where we drop an amazing amount of money on lame things like tuna fish and toothpaste. Went down the rice aisle. No rice. Not a surprise since Costco moves their junk around constantly. So me and another confused customer found an employee and proceeded to ask them where they hid the rice this time.

No rice.
Huh? No rice?
No rice. We've been selling out about 1/2 an hour after we receive a shipment.
Well, then... when's your next shipment?
Dunno. I've heard either Monday or Tuesday.
What time do you open?
10am.

I had heard that organizations like World Vision were only going to be able to feed 2/3 of the people that they normally do because of a rice shortage, which of course means that a considerable amount of people will be dying of, and/or fending off, starvation. One point five million people, to be exact. With zeros, it looks like 1,500,000 people. That's 3 times the number of the entire population of Seattle.

Curious as to who is having such a major drought that might cause this world shortage, I perused the internet. First I saw that Australia wasn't aiming it's small water reserves towards rice, rather towards grapes. More money it them, apparently. But then I saw that there isn't actually a rice shortage!?!

So people are going to die and because...??

*update: we went to safeway this afternoon and scored the LAST bag of rice in the whole store.

zip it

2008-04-25T20:46:00.000-07:00

So lately I've been trying to be more attentive (and therefor cautious) with my mouth.

I like to let people know when they're taking advantage of someone weaker, acting rude, impolite, insolent, out of line, that kinda thing. For obvious reasons, this isn't always okay, hardly ever appropriate. So, I'm working on it.

And I had a really good week until today.
I just wasn't thinking.
It's some subconscious thing that I just slip into without even giving it a second thought. hehe oops.
So it all started when I was being rather polite while driving today.
You get a 50/50 chance of me being nice while driving so I figure that it's a bono for the person who is on the receiving end of my hardwork.
This dude was trying to take a left out of a gas station on a busy two lane road. So I stop leaving ample room, allowing dude to take his otherwise impossible left turn. He's got his hat all tilted to the side, he's leanin back in his seat with just one hand up on the top of the steering wheel, swearin he's hard. He pulls outta the gas station with his window down and doesn't even cast a glance at the kind person who enabled him to drive in a forward motion that would be me. So, since my window was down, I figured that he might need to be reminded to use his manners when people act kindly towards him. As his window passed my window, it went something like this:

"YOU'RE WELCOME!!!" I shouted at him, as ugly and sarcastic as I could make my voice. As soon as it popped out, I knew that I shouldn't have. His behavior wasn't going to change because I yelled at him. He was probably just thinking, 'That's right you @$#%$%&,' as he went on his hardcore way.

It's so dang tempting for me to want to verbally right what I see as other peoples wrongs. But mostly, I want for them to know that I'm no naive little white girl that they can just walk all over. And for some strange reason, Jesus just won't let me alone on this one. He keeps reminding me that my job isn't to out-ghetto rude people. My job is to submit to the high King Himself.

Why is this one so hard for me to release? Why is it so hard to submit to others even when they're wrong? To let them think that I might agree with them or that I might be too much of a weiny to stick up to them... this is a rough one for me. It's rough to just be still and wait for God's command.

2008-04-25T15:45:00.000-07:00

(jacked this from Danielle)

ONE Word

YOU CAN ONLY TYPE ONE WORD!

Not as easy as you might think. Now copy , change the answers to suit you and post it.
It's really hard to only use one word answers.

1. Where is your cell phone? good question...
2. Your significant other? Husband

3.Your hair? irritating

4. Your mother? working

5. Your father? fishing

6. Your favorite thing? coffee

7. Your dream last night? weird
8. Your favorite drink? COFFEE

9. Your dream/goal? satisfaction
10. The Room you are in? mine
11. Your hobby? coffee
12. Your fear? stupidity

13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? dunno

14. Where were you last night? here

15. What you're not? there
16. Muffins? barf
17. One of your wish list items? books
18. Where you grew up? TUK T-OW-N
19. The last thing you did? debate

20. What are you wearing? jeans

21. Your TV? dusty

22. Your pets? hairy

23. Your computer? okeedokee

24. Your life? ---slowmo
25. Your mood? --- lackadaisical
26. Missing someone? --- no
27. Your car? dirty

28. Something you're not wearing? stilletos

29. Favorite store? bookstore

30. Your summer? rainy

31. Like someone? yes

32. Your favorite color? aqua

33. When is the last time you laughed? today

34. Last time you cried? tuesday?

sometimes it's good

2008-04-24T08:23:00.000-07:00

Big P's epilepsy is a tougher issue that I had originally assumed (that would be before we adopted him)... the meds make him slow down mentally. Now try homeschooling him. Now try homeschooling him in hopes that he'll be fully caught up by the time that he should be in high school. Yeah, most days I feel like throwing my head up against the wall over and over and over.

But sometimes it's good.

He was having break through seizures while on his meds so the neurologist ordered up some blood tests and another EEG. The orders for the EEG were to keep him awake until midnight and wake him up at 4am (not sleeping greatly increases the chance of seizures). That was Monday night. I was so pooped that day that I wasn't sure I wouldn't fall asleep in the EEG room. Anyway, he didn't have a seizure, which means that the meds are actually working! Ta da!

Sometimes it's really good.

for Ashley

2008-04-18T14:54:00.000-07:00

my favorite sign in all of Liberia:
and proof that Akon was loved before he was mauled (hehe):

the nice game

2008-04-18T13:06:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure when we started playing 'the nice game' but boy I'm glad we did.

As a mom of six it seems like a complaining heart spreads more quickly than the flu around here. If I don't catch it, I prompt the family to play.

RULES:

Everyone must say something nice to each person once.
It is your turn promptly after someone has said something nice about you.
You MUST give specific examples - no saying, 'I like Sue because she's nice.' Something more along the lines of, 'Yesterday when Sue and I were playing outside, and I got hurt on the slide, she came and gave me a hug. I really appreciated that.'
You MUST not take too long in coming up with something nice to say about someone. If it takes you too long, that no longer appears nice and defeats the purpose of the game.

What makes this game so cool:

It's free. That's cool.
It helps the kids to learn to be attentive about others kindness OUTSIDE of the game
It changes the entire atmosphere of the house. Everyone is always giddy after hearing and giving compliments.
It changes perspective. Falling into the nag-trap is so easy. This is one of the few things that I've found can guarantee to pull all of us out.

Why on earth am I posting this?

I have to play 'the nice game' all the time in my own head with people who I get ANGRY at
I had to do this today
It helped (along with prayer) to get my mind out of the if-only-you-would-listen-to-me- then-your-life-would-be-better-because-you're-obviously-not-doing-a-very-good-job-zone
That happens to me a lot
Getting into that zone, I mean
It's not a good place to be
Wanna play the game with me?

mother's day

2008-04-14T14:45:00.000-07:00

I got an email today, I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity for all of us to not only think in advance, but to help out a wonderful cause.

Allow me to introduce you to AHope. It's an orphanage that houses children with HIV/AIDS in Ethiopia. They not only do an amazing job loving and caring for children, but they also treat them with expensive ARVs. AHope has a lot of wonderful programs that help to educate the community, adopt out HIV/AIDS orphans to loving and knowledgeable families, as well as a program that is working on keeping families, inflicted with this disease, together.

For this Mother's Day, they are offering BEAUTIFUL card (see below, there won't be any watermarks on your card though) for a minimum donation of $25 towards AHope. Please consider making a difference while reminding your mom how much that she matters.

Turning 7

2008-04-09T08:23:00.001-07:00

Happy Birthday, Little P. I hope that you know how much that we love your silly laugh and your goofy demeanor around the house. Happy 7th little man.

(the best part of this birthday is telling complete strangers that I have 4 seven year old kids... hehehehe)

First official family photo

2008-04-01T13:24:00.001-07:00

I hate timed photos. Like this one. See me? I'm checking to make sure that the timer is going to go off and probably saying something that doesn't need to be said...

Had I been behind the camera, I would've told Big P and little P to smile. I would've told myself that my neck looks like skeletor so please relax a bit and smile naturally for goodness sake. I would've told Miss F not to block Miss Z by doing that thing that little girls do. You know what I mean? That bending the head into the shoulders thing. I also would've noticed the small garbage-y paper things below the couch. How long has it been since someone swept under there?? Gross. I would've turned on the anti-red-eye thingy because, as you can see, a couple of us are plagued with photo-red-eye.

But I wasn't, so this is as good as it gets for now ;)

(here were the other options)

P.S. Why didn't someone tell me to put on some lipgloss!?!

good morning!

2008-03-21T08:33:00.000-07:00

This is a normal weekday morning at our house... well, semi normal because when they saw me get the camera out they all wanted to be on ;) I swear, though, that the dance party happens whenever the music gets turned on...

So good morning from us!

all night long

2008-03-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

So last night I was in my bed ALL NIGHT LONG! Isn't that wonderful?? I met a mom there at the hospital (we were near the NICU) and she had been there for 6 months... can you imagine?? What would become of the rest of your family? Your marriage? Your kids? Your sense of normalcy?

I don't have anything thrilling to write today but I felt like I owed you all an update.

It'll be interesting to see what big P is like once he isn't in pain. I wonder if he's more playful, more gentle, happier...

..hospital times..

2008-03-17T17:27:00.001-07:00

Where have I been? The hospital baby! GOOD TIMES! Miss Brasil is referring to it as a vacation. My question is, who doesn't want to sleep in a chair (see it?) in ugly Tacoma!?!So, here's the quick update before I ditch my five with me brova and head on back to the hospital. Went in to the ER on Saturday night (at children's hospital #2) and they legally had to let us in the door. The large infection under his arm (internal) was heading down his outer arm and I was tired of all the red tape.

Highlights of our stay:
-Yes he has epilepsy
-The bumps AREN'T tumors!! They're staff infections and totally treatable!
-So far has had one surgery and we're hoping that's the final one..

...more later....

too much talkie

2008-03-14T08:55:00.000-07:00

If you know me, you know that one of my weaknesses is what comes outta my mouth. Often times I don't necessarily think before things fly out. Not sure why, but this problem has gotten worse ever since I got back home.

Example:
Yesterday we went to our scheduled appointment for Big P (at the surgeon, children's hospital #2) yesterday and the girl at the front desk wouldn't even let him in to see the doctor. Why? Because she wanted to see Big P's PASSPORT.

That's right.
Doesn't that make perfect sense?
I mean EVERY TIME that I take my children to see the doctor, I ALWAYS get asked to show their INTERNATIONAL picture ID.
Don't you?

"It's too bad that you noticed my kids are black."
(receptionist stands up)
"It's not that! We just -"
"That's fine. When can I schedule another appointment?"
(receptionist sits down and begins typing on her keyboard)

...Sure. I feel bad now. And little did that receptionist know that she's not the first person (or business) to ask me for WEIRD things upon seeing that my child/children's skin is darker than mine. Cone to think of it, Children's (1st hospital) did too... but at least they only asked for adoption paperwork. That's a little less obvious.

But COME ON FOLKS. Don't tell me that if I was AA or my kids were all pale that it would even occur to you that I might be bringing in some strange child off of the street and trying to give them health care off of our insurance...??? Honestly. The whole thing is bizarre.

Maybe we shoulda adopted from Russia!?!

..ahh.. health care

2008-03-12T10:47:00.001-07:00

So, I'm avidly against socialized health care - just so we're straight on that.

We're having a difficult enough time getting health care NOW for Big P and we have the best insurance, as well as close access to 2 different children's hospitals, on the planet. My little brother and I will go in circles on this one so I'll just stick to what's going on with Big P and leave the style of health care issue behind us.

So I've been making roughly 3-7 daily phone calls to children's hospital since Big P and I got home. He has large growths in a few places that are painful for him, as well as having "episodes" (I'm pretty sure they're seizures but not positive). Now, if I were a health care provider and someone walked in with an 11 yr old newly adopted child with major health issues, I would roll out the welcome mat and offer to help them with anything they need. In the least, someone could at least answer my questions about how to deal with a child who has "episodes" while he's having them. Is anyone in a hurry to help me? That would be a no.

Quite the contrary. So, fed up with watching our son live in constant pain, my husband carried him for a visit to our local ER. For a quick $25 (our ER co-pay) the doc performed a biopsy, a CAT scan, and got us an appointment for tomorrow at a different children's hospital (mary bridge) for surgery. So this morning I called the new hospital to see if Big P should not eat before his set appointment.
"Why shouldn't he?"
"Well... I am under the understanding that one shouldn't eat before surgery...."
"Surgery?"
"...Right?"
"Uh... looks to me like the doc wants to see him before he makes any decisions."
"Even though the ER docs diagnosed him, biopsied him, and CAT scanned him last night?"
"I'm not the doc, ma'am. I'm just the scheduler."

I hung up the phone and tried to remind myself (as I have been trying to lately) that it's all in God's hands. I can do what I can do but regardless of what I do, it's all in God's hands.

Shortly thereafter, children's hospital (the 1st one) calls and says that no one has reviewed Big P's MRI yet but someone will eventually. Right now they're deciding at what meeting his case should be presented. Then, the docs will talk about the MRI and decide what to do from there.

God's got Big P since before the beginning of time. Before I ever laid eyes on him, before his biological parents considered his conception, before any of these docs was ever born. It was so easy for me to set Big P into God's care when he and I were in Liberia. After all, Liberia couldn't do anything for him so I didn't bother placing any hopes or expectations into their health care system. Rather, I hoped in America's. I hoped in God's choice of placing me in the US. I hoped that God was using that citizenship to bring Big P into our care, and thus our health care system. I expected that the docs here would quickly want to help us figure out how to discontinue my sons chronic pain and "episodes." I, mistakenly, hoped in the wrong thing.

So, once more, I put my trust in God as a last resort. I've got to quit doing this. Why isn't He my first option?

All that I know for sure is that this boy is God's child. God's got it.

here vs. there

2008-03-10T21:09:00.000-07:00

So yesterday we had our first appointment at Childrens. And as I sat listening to the squeeks and knocks of the MRI, I conjured up this list of here vs. Liberia:

here:
there's so much red tape, it's difficult to get appropriate medical care.
Liberia:
while there is no red tape, there's no machines/consistent electricity to give appropriate health care.

here:
everyone spends/wastes money like there's an endless supply
Liberia:
everyone spends/wastes money like there's an endless supply

here:
parents give children and over abundance of stuff and not enough responsibility
Liberia:
parents give children an over abundance of work and so so plenty responsibility

here:
education is free and unappreciated
Liberia:
education is costly and savored

here:
time is a valuable commodity that is used and pushed to its limits
Liberia:
time is an oddity of little importance

here:
hearts seem almost hardened to the things that matter
Liberia:
hearts seem almost hardened to the things that matter

here:
we make issues out of non-issues (paid attention to politics lately??)
Liberia:
the issues they face are over-experienced, thus ignored by the general population

And then I wonder... I wonder why we consider one better than the other... I mean, is it more like the lesser of two evils when we choose where to live? I tried to explain so many times to any Liberian who would listen that America aint that grand. Yes there are jobs here, yes we have lots of cars here... and yet... and yet it doesn't equate to a life closer to Christ. It doesn't equate to the things that truly count in this life. I mean, if God is real and we believe that with all of our hearts... if He's the whole point of our existence... then do these things count for anything?

jacked it

2008-03-08T16:18:00.000-08:00

I stole this from Southy, as usual... just par for the course, I spose.

You Are Cayenne Pepper

You are very over the top and a bit overwhelming.

You have a fiery personality, and you can give anyone a good jolt.

You can easily take things up a couple notches, no matter what crowd you're running with.

What Spice Are You?

Our trip to Liberia in video

2008-03-06T21:41:00.000-08:00

Many hands make light work

2008-03-05T10:02:00.000-08:00

To all of you that donated to The Underwear Fairy, I just want to say thank you! She collected 750 pairs of underwear for orphans in Liberia and is even being featured on pledgebank.com's success stories! And Ashley, I'm proud of you for giving your time for something as simple and as easily forgotten as this. I'm so glad we met, chica.

The young girl holding the twins cared for those babies and she alone carried them all over. The four girls on the left often came with us to the beach (the boy on the right followed us all of the way from the market, about 1/4 of a mile, and I can't remember his name). They either wore very little or very tattered clothing. Those gorgeous babies would wear soiled diapers for lack of money to wash the ones they had on. Babies, children, orphans, widows, adults, families, EVERYONE deserves to be clean... to have clean underwear.

How to Make Plantain Chips (Liberian Style)

2008-03-04T14:23:00.000-08:00

Ingredients:

-Oil
-Green Plantains (as many as you're hungry for)
-Salt to taste
____________________________________________

1. I pre heated my oil first, about 1/2" deep on med/high
2. While that warmed, I began slicing the plantain. For *best* results, cut the suckers as thin as humanly possible. Have patience. If you're taking forever, turn off the oil and focus on this as it's a key to yummy chips.
3. Salt the raw plantains before throwin' em in. Now toss in the slices individually so they all have room to fry evenly
4. If a slice is turning the slightest bit tan, take 'em all out as the batch is probably done (you've cooked them too long if the veins on the plantain are visible - that's a no no - you've officially burnt the chips). I leave 'em in for around a minute-ish, just long enough to crisp them and watch the color change from pastey white to a yellow.
5. Throw 'em on a napkin covered plate and toss on some salt before the oil dries.
6. Enjoy (I was planning on sharing with the rest of the family but... well.. at least we had good intentions!?

A morning with the US president

2008-03-02T20:08:00.000-08:00

We left around 5:30am hoping not to have to foot it the whole way. Roads were blocked off and so we tried to get through in a vehicle hoping they would assume that we were the press... didn't work. We trudged along as the sun came up, nibbling on some nasty granola-type bars for breakfast. But we finally made it (around 6:30am and we posted right at the exit of Springfield Airport where Bush was landing.

The Liberian police harassed us for a while and so I argued back. Arguing with the police became kinda like a game to me after a while. What could I say that might make them back down, who could get louder, would they even understand me, could I get away without having to pay any fines, that kinda thing. They bugged us about moving back (even though we were posted before they even showed up that morning - it was just us, the wild dogs, and the UN troops) off the street. Then some guy with a southern accent (presumably American) yelled "THE BIBLE SAYS TO SUBMIT TO AUTHORITY!" and I physically ignored him while thinking, 'What about all of the Biblical greats that didn't do as the authorities asked them because the authorities were corrupt and wrong?'. And then the Liberian police heard the dude and they said, "See! Even that American knows that he should stand back from here!" I told the guy that it was because they feared him, not respected him. I told him that they made trouble where there was none in order to make a buck. He didn't like this but he then backed off.

Well, that's not all the way true. They went and got a secret service agent and she told us that if the Liberian police asks us to move back, then we should probably do that. You can bet that I didn't argue with her.

The roads were completely blocked off, not even the kids going to go to school were allowed to cross. They started just piling up on our side of the street. (Each school wears a different uniform and I thought the pink ones were pretty cute).
We sat for a few hours in the heat while more and more people crowded to watch Bush drive by in his limo. UN troops lined the street, probably about one every 15 feet, facing the neighborhood. Someone near us in the crowd had a radio so we listened as the announcer gave a play-by-play of what was going on in the air field. HUGE helicopters began circling the area, first two and then four. Soldiers hung out the doors with huge artillery, ready to shoot at a country that isn't allowed to bear arms.

Then over the radio we could hear a band playing the Liberian National anthem as Bush presumably did his thing with Sirleaf:

He drove by in a long line of cars, it was hard to tell who was going to be in which of the million cars. But, in the second limo, there was our president and his wife just waving away. And I swear to you, he did a double take when he saw my pale skin in a sea of Africans. We all shouted and laughed... it was a REALLY fun morning.

After the cars drove through, a group of us went to have a drink... it was 10am ;P Some of us had Coke, others had not-Coke.

Then, as we were walking back, this freaky "dio-devil" (that's what it sounds like, I have no idea if I spelled it right) tried to jack my flag with Bush and Sirleaf on it. He wore some leather gloves that were SOAKING wet and he petter my arm to get my attention before he jacked the flag outta my hands. It took me a second to come to my senses (I was staring at him and taking in the enormous amount of BO that came with him) and then I snatched the flag back (he wasn't the only one who tried to steal it from me).

two questions

2008-02-28T05:39:00.000-08:00

A friend asked me on the phone what my happiest and saddest memories of Liberia are. I answered her incorrectly on the saddest one so let me get it right here. (btw, it's 5:45am here and I've been laying awake in bed for the past hour. this whole sleeping thing has eluded me for quite some time now...)

saddest:
I would actually call it the most disturbing memory but it's sad too.
So if you've never heard Liberian English, it's a whole nother dialect and virtually impossible to understand for the newbie. Knowing this, the Liberians speak freely (aka quickly and without fixing grammar and vocab) around the white folks (they considered my nephew white as well which I got a kick out of) when they don't want for them to understand - like their own secret language.
So I'm chillin at the compound and there's about 10-15 guys sitting on the steps with me. One of them is telling a story and they're all laughing and prodding him on. I begin to tune them in, curious about the topic that has them all attentive.
The story teller is in front of the group (they're all about 20-30yrs old) and his whole body moves as he acts out portions of the tale. If I can read his lips, I understand about 50% more of what he's saying so everytime that he turns his head, I have 25% of an idea what he's saying.
'The general was just standing there, totally surrounded. You know what they did to him?'
(audience laughs)
'They stabbed him and stabbed him and kept on.'
(more laughter as the story teller acts out the part of the general getting stabbed in the lungs. He begins wheezing for a breath that his body cannot hold. he looks surprised everytime that he gets stabbed. more laughter)
'And he just takes it! And he's like (storyteller continues wheezing) and there's blood blood a-ll over the floor coming from him, like a river, more and more blood'
(I rise up from the stairs and exit the scene, trying not to cry at the reaction to the story being told. I understand that there's only so much that these men can handle and that we all deal with war and trauma differently... but the callousness and the emptiness that is required from someone to speak this way... it's a side of humanity that we ignore and push aside {have you seen 'The Beach'?} because it's so much easier to speak of Brittany and her boys rather than the brutality of the world that surrounds us. I can't help but wonder how we can just stand aside and watch this happen... I wonder why so few are willing to help, and why even fewer follow through when they're on the ground.)

happiest:
Probably hearing my son call me 'Mommy' for the first time. I've never, and will never, tell any of my children to call me Mom. I want for them (the adopted children) to come to that conclusion within their own hearts without my pushing them to it.
I was headed to the bathroom for a splash of cool water on my face when I heard Big P ask some woman named Mommy what she was doing. I glanced around the bedroom, and sure enough, I was the only woman there.
I looked over at my nephew to ask if I had heard Big P correctly. My nephew smiled and nodded his head, "he called you Mommy, Raquel. Congratulations!"
I, of course, gave Big P an unexpected and delayed hug. He winced with pain. I apologized for forgetting about the tumor on his back. I rubbed his arm instead. He smiled at me quickly and then looked down shyly. One of the pineapple-and-beaches moments...

home again home again - where to begin??

2008-02-27T17:29:00.000-08:00

...oh man...

this one is going to be quick because I don't know where to start nor where to end. I wish that I had a list of questions that I could just answer.

what's on my mind now?

I'm feeling overwhelmed with the scary diagnosis that Big P received while in Liberia... saw the pediatrician today who is setting us up with an appt at Children's nuero-oncology department. if that doesn't make a momma nervous, I don't know what would.

Big P is glued to my husband like white on rice - they deserve one another's love. It's amazing to watch.

Liberia is beautiful and disturbing and hot and wonderful and I miss it and in my heart I feel between two places at once, home and Liberia. I haven't downloaded any photos yet but I'll work on it this week.

Switched Little P to the girls' school today. Tired of the communication gap.

My house smells new. Liberia smelled like damp, hot, sweet spices. Getting off of the plane and smelling that wonderful scent will forever be indented in my brain. So many times I questioned the paths that I took when I was down there. Thought about my past and my future and all of the things that I could do but haven't done. Thought about how families should stay together and we should enable them to raise their own children. Thought about how everyone deserves an education and how the US is spoiled so rotten that it makes my stomach sour.

Spent many an hour sitting on the white sandy beach listening to the Atlantic ocean spill up onto the shore while the sun fell across the horizon and thought, 'it doesn't get better than this.'

Not actually home yet

2008-02-14T12:31:00.000-08:00

You goofballs! We definately are not home yet and it is HOT up in Liberia! I'm telling you! Life is slow and dramatic and sad and wonderful.

The poverty here is immense.

Whether you like it or not, you'll hear all about it when I get back home.

Gotta jet - I'm in someone else's room and their kid might have malaria - dr just got here....

KEEP PRAYING!

my boy

2008-02-10T16:06:00.001-08:00

A self portrait of the cutest man alive (well, he's tied with my other three men at home)....

to all the moms

2008-02-01T07:47:00.000-08:00

to all the moms
who won't be surprised
when I tell them that the day before
I'm leaving for three weeks
the flu has hit my home.
would you all pray
that it won't continue
to slaughter the stomachs
of my small children
(or their dad who can't be sick right now)
(or their mom who has already imagined the horrible plane ride with the flu. wishing I was in bed, wishing Sherman would bring me cold drinks and tickle my back, but instead puking into a barf bag while those who got seated near me are quite disgruntled that I got onto a plane sick.)

write it down?

2008-01-30T08:50:00.000-08:00

For those of you who didn't mark your calenders, I'm leaving for sunny Liberia on Saturday. ACK! Can you believe it? Probably you can... It's hard for me to imagine that my nephew and I (that's him in the photo below) will be chillin' in WEST AFRICA in just a few short days.
I'm a little worried but not overwhelmingly so. I must admit that I'm a little worried about how things'll go without me home. (Not that the world will shatter as soon as I walk out the door... right!?!) Not to mention that I have these better-than-one-could-dream-for-fill-ins:

Me little brova in the Left photo and >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Miss Brasil (you look WAY better in this one than I do) on the Right

And, how could one forget, my beautiful husband who'll hold down the fort?

I was trying to convince him to look like a Soprano here... no luck as you can see...

The mountains and piles of paperwork are completed and collected. The packing is 75% finished. The unbelievable amount of shopping is done. The only thing left is to sit and wait for our passports to return from the embassy... and to blog about it all, of course.

And, a weensy confession. I'm a bit anxious about what Raquel + Liberia ='s. Does it equal a smooth ride of awe and wonder? Or a constant sadness of the insurmountable poverty? Or a denial of the poverty around me? Will our son be a poopy head? Will he be introverted and disinclined to my presence? Will our kids' biological family even care if I go for a visit (or two) to make a family tree, find out why Miss F insists that a bullet hit her eye during the war, find out why their mom abandon the twins when they were just infants, what are the symptoms of our newest sons' (Big P) epilepsy - will it be minor or fatal, and on and on? Will any of my questions get answered?

I'm not surprised

2008-01-28T20:46:00.000-08:00

You are

the Hulk!

You're a genius, you're an animal, you're … both? You've got a split personality. At times, you're the serious thinker, caught up in trying to understand life and humanity. But when that inner beast takes over, you're mean, extreme and ready to party. Your wild side gets you into trouble sometimes, even when you're just trying to help.

Which superhero are you?

BEWARE! this might make you cry.

2008-01-24T10:14:00.000-08:00

On world AIDS day, a friend of mine read this in front of our church and I was bawling at like line two so I asked him for a copy. Who doesn't want to cry (note sarcasm)?? I figured that you all would want to share this with me.
Anyway, the friend who wrote this was a missionary in Namibia, South Africa, and Botswana where he lived and learned and loved. His name is Doug Linscott (this is being blogged with his permission). It is styled after a lament psalm (see quote below).

A psalm for the AIDS children of Africa

Oh, Lord God, why do you seek to punish the innocent?
Why do you send your judgement on those who have done no wrong?
You are the Creator,
Why do you seek to destroy that which you have made?
Oh God, it was our fathers who forced themselves on us,
Our daddy's and uncle's who raped us.
Why must we bear the HIV infection in ourselves?
Why do you see fit to ravage our young bodies with AIDS?
Lord, if you do not act,
As you acted with Moses, when he lifted up the snake in the wilderness,
We will die for the sins of our fathers,
And our land, our continent will be barren.
If you do not act our land will become a wasteland
The children of Africa will be no more.
If you withhold your healing power,
we will be bones in the dust of the desert.
Even now Lord, at this moment
Our villages and farms are being managed by children,
Lord we do not have the wisdom to do these things.

But we know we can trust in you,
You are the greatest healer, nothing is too hard for you!
You are our sheild and our spear
You are the thorn barrier that keeps us safe.
Be like a wall of concrete to us
A wall surrounded by razor wire, that none may penetrate!
You will protect us from the lion and the hyena,
The asp and the scorpion will not harm us.
Lord, we turn to you because the arm of man is too short,
But we know that your arm is long and will save us!
Lord God of the Universe, strong to save,
Heal us and our land!

I am with you, I was there when you were raped by those you trusted,
I am with you, even now as the disease ravages your bodies,
I suffer with you and all the pain you know, I know as well
I will never leave you alone, but will hold you in my arms till the end and beyond.

Thank you Lord, for your comfort,
but can we not live to ripe old age as our grandparents did?

But we will continue to praise you even in hardship,
For you are God and there is no other,
Blessed be the name of the Lord!

"The theological significance of a lament is that it expresses a trust in God in the absence of any evidence that He is active in the world. Through a sequential and deliberate structure, the lament moves from articulation of the emotion of the crisis, to petition for God to intervene, to an affirmation of trust in God even though there has been no immediate deliverance from the crisis"

children

2008-01-22T13:39:00.000-08:00

"People were also bringing babies to Jesus to have him touch them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."" -Luke 18:15-17

Today Little O asked me if Superman trusted God. I looked at him with curiosity and asked what he meant. He went on to say

"I don't think he does. Because if Superman trusted God than he wouldn't kill the bad guys. That's God's job to take care of the bad guys. Not Superman."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

A note from the underwear fairy...

2008-01-20T22:43:00.000-08:00

the war against crack

2008-01-17T10:22:00.000-08:00

This morning (it's garbage/recycle day) after I had dropped the kids off at school, I rounded the corner near our house and noticed that our recycle bin is gone. This is hard to miss (as it's LARGE and BRIGHT blue). I did a triple take to make sure that I wasn't just imagining things. Still not there. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed a woman strolling around the neighborhood with my recycle bin.

A bit odd.

So Little O and I climbed outta the van and walked toward the street to get a better look. She's walking away from my house and down another street. She stops in front of a house (presumably hers) and leaves the bin out front. Little O and I keep staring with our mouths hanging open. She quickly returns with a box and takes a few minutes to break it down and then shoves it into my bin.

The recycle guy has already picked up our stuff so the bin is empty... other than her box.

She notices us staring at her, turns her back to us, going back to shoving the box in. Little O asks me if I'm going to go and take back our bin. I reflect on this for a minute...

Nope.

She glances back at us a few times while we watch on with wonder. We go inside and I get on the horn with our garbage people. As I'm on the phone describing the strange turn of events (all the while having a really good laugh, I must admit) she walks past our window with the bin in tow. Now I'm really laughing. She heads up the road (away from the house that she got the box from) and just keeps on walking. I'm almost in tears I'm laughing so hard.

She's parading around the neighborhood with my recycle bin. Walking down the middle of the road, taking a bit of a stroll.

The garbage guy on the phone is laughing to as I tell him what is happening right before my eyes. He offers to send us a new bin. I agree. He then suggests that if she walks my bin back home that I just call them to cancel the order. I ask him if this happens often.

...uh... no... not really...

And so, all of you people who come up with advertising against crack, I suggest that this is a wonderful example of why crack is a bad idea. Forget about "crack kills" because it doesn't always kill. Plus, people who smoke crack tend to not enjoy reality or future thinking. My proposal is that you take real live footage of people high on crack doing really bizarre things (which appear/feel quite normal when your high).

to quote

2008-01-16T21:06:00.000-08:00

In a moment I joined Mahmud, the woman and her child. The woman was dressed in the coarse, baggy clothes of a peasant. She might have been the baby's grandmother. She had a wizened face, shrunken shoulders and her clothes sagged around a thin frame. Only when she lifted her face and stared at me with deep brown eyes could I see that she herself was little more than a child.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, my heart still melting.

"I heard about you in my village, and I walked here."

The place she mentioned was twelve miles away. No wonder the poor thing looked so tired. I sent servants for tea and biscuits. I wondered if she were still nursing the baby; in some villages mothers nurse their children up to three years of age. The baby's eyes stared listlessly, its tiny mouth still. I laid hands on the child's forhead to pray for him; it was hot and dry. As I laid hands on the mother's head to pray, I could feel generations of my family wincing. My heart went out to these little ones, the mother and the child, as I asked God for healing in the name of Jesus. When the maid came I told her also to bring some vitamins for them other. They stayed for half an hour, the mother telling me of her life with a husband who had been crippled in an accident, the new baby, not enough food. And indeed she was nursing the baby - it was the cheapest way to feed him. When the mother finally rose to go, I restrained her with a gesture.

"No," I whispered. "Not yet. We must find some way to see to it that you and the baby are taken care of." Immediately as I said this, the old Bilquis Sheikh began to grow nervous. What if word got out to the other needy people in Wah that the Begum Sahib in the big garden provided a soft touch? Wouldn't we be swamped with lines of other skinny, emaciated, sickly, desperate people?

But even as my heart whispered this question, I knew that I had no choice. Either I had meant it or I had not meant it when I gave myself and all that I possessed to the Lord.

"... and, of course, your husband needs attention too. Let's get you all to the hospital. and let's get some decent food into your bodies. Then, if your husband still can't find work, let me know."

That's all there was to the visit. I made arrangements for the hospital to bill me and waited. But the woman never returned. I was a little surprised. When I asked the servants if they knew what had happened to her, they - as usual - had the answer. She and the baby and her husband had indeed gone to the hospital, and now they were all better. The husbnad had work. My ego bridled at first at the ungratefulness of this woman for not returning to give thanks, but the Lord checked me. "Is that why you helped her? So that you could be thanked? I thought thanksgiving was supposed to go to Me!"

And of course He was right. I went back in my mind to the place where I had first felt that I had taken care of this woman. Then I asked the Lord to forgive me, and never to allow me to fall into that trap again.

"Lord," I sighed, "Your arm must be tired from picking me up so often."

-Bilquis Sheikh
"I Dared To Call Him Father"
italics mine

Anyone underwear??

2008-01-16T14:14:00.000-08:00

How many times do I have to ask you for your underwear? Once? Twice?
It really is getting a wee bit embarrassing.

Fine.
You don't wanna share?
SEND A GIFT CARD. or SEND 'EM NEW.
I can guarantee that the underwear fairy will thank you...

a million times over

2008-01-11T12:26:00.000-08:00

When writing this blog I have to continuously remind myself not to talk about politics. If you only knew how many posts that don't get published! In my family (both maternal and paternal) politics is of the utmost priority. It's the constant conversation (or should I say debate?), it's an explanation for the choices we make, it's something we believe that you should be continuously informed about (through your own research - tv and it's extensions don't count), it's an extension of our beliefs, it's REALLY IMPORTANT AND WE WANNA TALK ABOUT IT.

Where it all gets interesting is when my mom marries my dad. My maternal side of the family are staunch republicans (no, not religious right. not actually religious at all) and my paternal side of the family are staunch democrats. While my parents marriage didn't work I was what came out of that marriage. Kind of like a mule. Not a democrat, not a republican, but a sterile composition of the two. I prefer the term "independent" to sterile mule, as it just sounds better. This term saves me from a lot of small-talk grief. And come to think of it, this blend speaks to the whining boxes post. Anyways...

don't you just want to pet those big ears?
Tab, Jenny, and Sheree I already know your answer...

One of my favorite uncles, Vince, has a blog and when I saw my big head on there today I couldn't help but laugh. But the content is the point. Not my big head. Like salve on this festering wound of feeling misunderstood, he simply told me that he loves me. And that is enough. It's enough to know that I have a core of family and friends (you guys!) who love me and who think I rock. It bothers me to no end that I need that affirmation, but I just do.

I tell my husband all of the time that without him, I wouldn't be able to survive this messy earth. But I want to recognize all of you guys (am I accepting a Golden Globe here??). You take the time to read and comment and email and call and pray and love me. The emails and calls that I got made me tear up and feel bad that I'm a whiner but also comforted that there is love out there.

And that's what counts.

Not what we're up against because that will always be there.

But what counts, what really matters, is that we're not alone down here on this messy earth. I've got you and you've got me. You all proved me wrong a million times over.

Nuff said.

when enough is enough

2008-01-08T22:31:00.000-08:00

(preamble: I am not the friend in this story; no need to question it at all.)

Let's just pretend that you have a friend who is getting abused by her boyfriend. Your friend is now abusing her children as well because she feels an unbelievable amount of stress under the fist of her charismatic, good looking, and yet creepy boyfriend.

You've never liked the boyfriend. Not since she first introduced you two - but you couldn't pin him down on anything so you didn't say FLAT OUT to your girl that somethin' just wasn't right. You hinted around it. But that doesn't matter cause now she's in over her head. It's like she addicted to the drama and freakishly co-dependent on this dude. Oh, and by the way, boyfriend has cheated on her in the past and is almost guaranteed to cheat on her again.

But she doesn't want to hear that! She thinks that this is "the one" and that if she just sticks with this guy, it'll change. (Not like the last guy that she ended up getting a restraining order against because he controlled her every move. She wasn't even 'allowed' to leave the house without his permission. But she jumped over the restraining order and kept inviting the guy over to sleep at her apartment - I know they had a baby together but COME ON.) She thinks that since this guy is abusive in a new way and that since this guy is nicer around strangers (unlike her daddy) and that since this guy tells her she's pretty and smart - that it'll have a different ending.

You've told her that (in the nicest way possible) he's just manipulating her and that she deserves better. Not only does she not believe you, but she's beginning to push you away. Her boyfriend didn't like you from the start either (he could probably sniff your good intentions) and she's been fighting him off for a while on the subject of you. He's told her that you're not a true friend, that you don't know the truth about him (which is that he loves her more than he's ever loved anyone else), and that you just want her to hurt like you're hurting. He tells her that you're the ugly one, you're the controlling one, that you're the one who she should stay away from. He tells her that he loves her while he moves the hair out of her eyes. This is what she dreamed about as a little girl. A man who babies her - she so wants that that she is willing to ignore the other side of him that uses her for his own agenda.

And while this is your girl, the drama is getting so thick that you're not sure you want to be around them anymore anyway. Her kids are runnin' around uncared for and unkempt (the bullies at their elementary school) and she bruises them every once in a while to "knock some sense into 'em" but it clearly isn't working. It hurts you to watch those kids get worse and worse. It hurts you to watch your friend just go lower and lower.

So, my question to you is when is enough enough? When is it time to call it quits on the relationship? When do you just accept that she isn't going to change for you, her kids, or herself?

Or will she? Should you be on standby for when she's ready to leave the boyfriend (for good)?

whining about boxes

2008-01-06T23:01:00.000-08:00

Apparently this blog is becoming my diary. Whatever.

What I am not:
"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." -Philippeans 4:12

I had a dear friend of mine over for the weekend. She and I met when I was getting clean (a slow process) about ten years ago and we hardly ever connect since she moved to Cali. I crazy love her in all of her hippie glory. As usual, we stayed up (almost) all night talking and debating the lame things that we see around us. And then, something went drastically wrong.
My heart was pounding up against my chest so freakin' hard that all I could hear was the whooshing sound of it pushing and accepting blood. That slamming against my rib cage always tells me that I have officially entered into a purely emotional state. The last statement rang in my ears over and over, "You're just an upper middle class Christian white person who wouldn't understand the adversity that these people face." I wanted to RAGE and cry and scream at her blankity attitude and about all of the blankity stuff that has been going in my life lately. I wanted to blast her with the news that I am feeling crushed under the weight of the problems around me. Instead I said,

"Maybe I make all of this look easier than it really is..." and I breathed in one of those pathetic kid-trying-not-to-cry-kinda-chokes. Upon realizing that I wasn't going to be able to live up to the cardinal rule of debate (that would be: don't take it personally), I hurriedly excused myself from the room.

Sitting outside in the windy rain, I reminded myself that the God within me is bigger than I am. Like a mantra I repeated it over and over. I headed back in, promising myself that I wouldn't cry. I did anyway.

I cried because I am so blankin' tired of feeling misunderstood. I am so tired of feeling on the outside of EVERYTHING and not fitting into ANYWHERE. I'm tired of it and it's lonely and I wish so desperately that I would fit into some pre-approved by culture box that everyone keeps trying to shove me into. I told her that I was sorry for taking it personally, sorry that my emotions were nonsensical, sorry that they seemed disproportionate to the conversation. So we hugged and she apologized too and said, "It's just that you own this house and can afford to stay home. You are the majority, Raquel, whether you acknowledge it or not."

I looked at my hands that lied open on my lap and thought about how I'm in the middle of watching divorce #5 happen, about a major court case go down with a dear friend of mine that looks darker and darker every day (where, against all odds, I have lost absolute faith in the American justice system), about trying to uplift addicts/repeat offenders who just aren't blankity helping themselves, about being three weeks shy of going to Liberia, about intentionally living in this stupid neighborhood where people break our cars and smoke crack and prostitute themselves, about how I'm not sure if we're going to be able to make our mortgage payment without putting some of it on our credit card, and all of this with a husband and five kids asleep down the hall in our 960 sq ft home. I thought about how I feel ostracized in every Christian and non-Christian circle because of how I roll. I felt like the Hulk was about to burst forth outta my skin and brake some more cardinal rules of propriety and political correctness.

I wasn't feeling very content, to say the least.

And she's right. I am white. I am a white girl, born that color and still that color. I am someone who tries super hard to put Jesus first - so she's right about that one. Upper middle class? Not so much. She then says, reacting to my silence, "I think that we can both agree that they need to be advocated for."
And then I say, "Who's advocating for me? I mean, what in the blankity makes them so freakin' different from me? Why aren't we all just people who hurt and who struggle? Why do they need more attention than everyone else?" I waved my arm towards the house and continued, "Is it because I chose Jesus? Because I chose rise above the blankity hand that was dealt to me?"

She smirked a bit and nodded, "Yeah, I guess it is."

And now I think (I'm all worked up again from retelling the story) that I just will never win. I'm not impoverished enough, or gay enough, or brown enough, or black enough, or African enough, or liberal enough, or conservative enough, or educated enough, or handicapped enough, or impoverished enough, or rich enough, or old enough, or young enough to EVER win. I don't want to play this blankity game anymore.

And since this post is already a freakin' monster, I'll leave you with "I Get Out" by Lauryn Hill:

I'll get out
I'll get out of all your boxes
I'll get out, you can't hold me in these chains
I'll get out
Father free me from this bondage
Knowing my condition is the reason I must change
Your stinking resolution is no type of solution
Preventing me from freedom
Maintaining your pollution
I won't support your lie no more
I won't even try no more
If I have to die oh lord that's how I choose to live
I won't be compromised no more
I can't be victimized no more
I just don't sympathize no more
Cause now I understand you just want to use me
You say love, then abuse me
You never thought you'd lose me
But how quickly we forget
That nothing is for certain
You thought I'd stay here hurtin'
Your guilt trips just not working
Repressing me to death
Cause now I'm choosing life yo
I'll take the sacrifice yo
If everything must go then go
That's how I chose to live

No more comprises
I see past your disguises
Blinding me through mind control
Stealing my eternal soul
Appealing through material
To keep me as your slave
But I get out, oh I get out of all of your boxes I get out
Oh you can't hold me in these chains, I'll get out
Oh I want out of social bondage
Knowing my condition is the reason I must change
See what you see is what you get
And oh, you ain't seen nothing yet
Oh, I don't care if you're upset
I could care less if you're upset
see it don't change the truth
And your hurt feelings no excuse
To keep me in this box
Psychological locks
Repressing true expression
Cementing this repression
Promoting mass deception
So that no one can be healed
I don't respect your system
I won't protect your system
When you talk I don't listen
Oh let my Fathers will be done
And just get out,
Oh just get out of all this bondage
Just get out, oh you can't hold me in these chains
Just get out
All these traditions killing freedom
Knowing my condition is the reason I must change
I just accepted what you said
Keeping me among the dead
The only way to know
Is to walk, then learn, then grow
But faith is not your speed
Oh you'd have everyone believe
That you're the sole authority
Just follow the majority
Afraid to face reality
This system is a joke
You'd be smart to save your soul
And escape this mind control
You spend your life in sacrifice
To a system for the dead
Where's the passion in this living
Are you sure it's God you're serving
Obligated to a system
Getting less than you're deserving
Who made up these rules I say
Who made up these schools I say
Animal conditioning just to keep us as a slave
Oh just get out of this social purgatory
Just get out
These traditions are a lie- just get out
Superstition killing freedom,
knowing my condition is the reason I must die
Just get out, just get out, just get out, let's get out, let's get out,
Knowing my condition is the reason I must die.
Just get out.

some things that won't suprise you...

2008-01-04T11:37:00.000-08:00

I've been slapped back with a tag from Alyson. This one is filled with things that I have a feeling won't surprise you all. Here goes -

The rules are as follows:
Simply link to the person who tagged you. SHARE SEVEN WEIRD things about yourself. Tag SEVEN bloggers to do the same AND include a link to their blog. Let each person know that they have been tagged and finally post the rules on your blog.

Everyday I race another mom to my girls' school. No. This woman has no idea that she and I are racing but she still seems to win more often than not. The race is making me leave earlier and earlier to pick the girls up. Lately I've been there 15-20min before school even gets out. Pretty soon I'll be cutting into the boys' nap time. She has a personalized license plate and I'm not sure why this bothers me...
I'm blind in my right eye. Please don't toss things in my direction as I have no depth perception and yet I continue to try to master the skill. Sometimes I make my husband throw things to me over and over so I can try and beat my own brain. So far: unsuccessful.
I'm afraid of going to the dentist. I haven't gone in 13 years. Seriously. I don't like fingers in my mouth and I gag so freakin' easily that I don't even bother anymore. I wonder if women with dentures are considered hot. But you probably need to see a dentist to get fitted for dentures... I wonder if women without teeth are considered hot.
I refuse to wear anything that has the name of a company on it. It seems ridiculous to me that people will PAY to be someone else's advertising. That's just bananas.
I love fairy tales because good people are always beautiful and bad people are always ugly. It's so much easier that way.

The seven people that I tag in no particular order (but Alyson, I'm with you on this one. I'm too lazy to email y'all individually to let you know. If you know then you know.) are...
the beast, ms. sassy, angie, dawne, ms. G6, Verity, and Jeromy

Reflections

2008-01-01T10:20:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged. I like getting tagged but the tags are often toughies. They force a lot of reflection that requires a bit of time staring into space (not sure if you knew this or not but time is one of those things that I don't actually have a ton of) while considering all of the possible answers. Well, this is one of those tags. Thanks Jeromy(?) - hehehe.

Five of my most significant memories of 2007:

Finding out that Papie was available for adoption after we hounded the orphanage to get them to let him in (they had originally not let him in due to his health issues).
Realizing that I would be a mother to six kids which is just freakin' craziness
My little brother coming home from three years in Italy. I missed him. In most ways he's my complete opposite and yet we get along oh-so-well.
Remembering with Husband about the night that we got engaged, Christmas Eve (or was it Christmas? it was REALLY late) and recalling all of the ways that our lives have changed since then (which, honestly, is my favorite part about anniversaries. I love reflecting on how far that God has brought us and how much that we've grown as a couple and thus as a family.) I owe so much to my husband. Without him, there isn't a me. Ya know? If life at home was unstable and yucky, I wouldn't be able to do anything other than focus on trying to fix that. But thankfully I got WAY lucky and married the man of my dreams. The one who loves me more than I deserve. The one who watches me make mistakes but allows me to figure out what I've done rather than naggingly reminding me of how far I fall short. The one who is such a wonderful dad, such a hard worker, such a good hugger, and one who knows JUST how I like my coffee. I love you babe.
This isn't really a moment so I'm not sure it counts but God has pulled me through some really tough times this year... He's taught me so many new things in such a short amount of time - like we (He and I) were on crunch time before the big test (not to be taken literally... although it kinda fits...). I'm crazy in love with Him. His love is new and fresh each time that I bask in it. The more that I love Him, the more that everything else just falls into place.

Without further ado, I am going to torture others and constantly check their blogs to make sure that they abide in my tag. Okay, I won't really. I am tagging Southy, Miss Brasil, Euphoria, Allyson, Susan and Stephanie.

goin to Liberia

2007-12-28T12:23:00.000-08:00

well, ya'll.

..sigh..

I just put my tickets for Liberia on hold. My tummy is tight and my brow is hot. I'm nervous and excited and nervous some more.

Please be praying with us that I won't have to be gone for a full month (as has been requested by the orphanage) - I LOVE my husband and my kids and my bed and I just don't want to... well, ya know.

More later.

The second time around Birthday

2007-12-27T10:03:00.000-08:00

My twins are the only people that I've ever met that have the honor of being 7 years old two years in a row... Since war babies weren't being born in hospitals, the girls didn't have birth certificates until we were filing for the adoption. So the orphanage took a guess and then we waited for about a year and took a more educated guess ;)

They'll be seven one more go around! Here's some pictures from their birthday (we were going to go to Zoo Lights but rain was in the forecast so we went out to eat instead):

used underwear?

2007-12-24T14:29:00.000-08:00

It's bizarre to think that there are people out there who don't have the cash for underwear, isn't it? It's bizarre to think that there are people who would consider it a blessing to have your used underwear. My good friend Ashley has opened up a challenge for others to get involved in. She pledged to donate 250 pairs of underwear if 20 people will donate 10 pairs each. The undies will be shipped down to an orphanage in Liberia where the kids have one pair of underwear each. One pair. Try whining about the poor gas mileage that your 2005 gets now!

Just think about if you only owned the underwear that you have on now. They are in tatters and, honestly, you're blessed to even have that one pair. When the nannies (or possibly the older girls) at the orphanage where you live have a wash day, you've got no underwear at all until those suckers dry out in the humid jungle climate. There's no target or walmart for you to pick some up at... for that matter you aint got the cash to pick some up anyway. Who will help you? With something as cheap and as simple as this?

Ashley told me that she needs some teenage boys underwear in particular. Join with me, guys. If it were you who didn't have undies, I'd get you some and I'd ask others to help.

pictures with Santa

2007-12-21T10:32:00.000-08:00

This morning we went and got Santa pictures and, to no surprise, my kids said some bizarre things to the poor guy.

Santa: What do you want for Christmas little boy?
Mr. P: I wonder what does Santa want for Christmas...

Santa: What do you want for Christmas little girl?
Miss B: A pony, a little doggy that fits in a purse, a purse for my dog, a doll house, some new dolls, clothes that are purple because purple is my favorite color, the parrot that talks to you at Costco - have you seen that parrot?, I'd like some new mittens too but my mom says that I have enough mittens, ooh and scarves with flowers (and on and on and on)....

Santa: And what do you want little boy?
Mr. O: I don't know you.

Santa: How about you little girl? What do you want for Christmas?
Miss F: A doll even though my mom says that I don't play with the ones I already have. But I like dolls.

Santa: And last but not least, what do you want for Christmas?
Miss Z: I wonder if you smell like beef and cheese... (she takes a big wiff)

105th post

2007-12-18T20:47:00.000-08:00

One would think that I would celebrate post #100 but that's so passé (or more likely I was just too busy to notice). So in lue of the celebration, I thought that I could write down 10.5 (that would be 105 divided by 10) things that make me nervous with the added bonus of some overdone Hawaii thingies. Every good party has a theme.
Sweet.

THINGS THAT MAKE ME NERVOUS

1. Random liquid near the base of the toilet when I'm barefooted
2. When I pour cream into my freshly brewed coffee and it coagulates on top
3. When I can't find ... hang on a sec... when I can't remember what I was looking for
4. Knowing that my husband is home, lurking around a corner waiting to FREAK me out
5. Glancing at the clock and realizing that I've spent an hour looking at excruciatingly random photos of Hawaii.
6. Looking in the mirror in a public restroom and realizing that I have yet to brush my hair today.
7. Speaking of public restrooms, those make me nervous... in a general sense. You never know what you're going to get, ya know? You may walk into a stall where someone has peed all over the seat, or one without toilet paper, or one where it smells as if someone has recently exploded in there. The entire affair makes me nervous.
8. The invisible mouse that I cannot seem to catch who is no longer leaving any traces...
9. Hugs. Hugs make me nervous. I am not a random-person-hugger. I'm working on it, but no go so far.
10. When my husband is being particularly and unusually nice...
10 1/2. Miss F told me tonight that she cut her hair some more even after I told her to please not do it ever again. She thinks she did, but she can't remember exactly when she cut her hair, or maybe she didn't do it again at all. She thinks she may have probably cut it on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. But for sure not Sunday.

I'm venting

2007-12-17T13:12:00.000-08:00

I've been slammed lately and so haven't been posting.

Slammed with a beautiful restoration happening within my family, slammed with mourning with my sisters in Christ who are mourning, slammed with a recent onslaught of mental attacks from the enemy, slammed with activity and projects - but to sum it all up I feel slammed with a sort of helplessness.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not bummed out. At all. It's almost like I'm in the eye of the storm (which, I might add, is a wonderful place to be!). For example, I spoke both on Saturday and Sunday to crowds of around 800-1000 people about how God is working in our lives through adoption. My stomach was tight and my palms were sweaty. It was a benefit concert put on by a large choral group in Olympia and when I was thanking them for giving their proceeds to further adoption support, I said "You guys ROCK."
What?
Can a choral group ROCK?
I don't think so.
But what is so beautiful about the stress and the upset stomach is that I get to be a part of helping someone else. I get to testify about our growth as a family and thus our relationship with Christ. I get to be a part of peoples healing (I've had a number of adult men tell me very intimate stories of how they were raised in US orphanages and been able to show them compassion). I get to show others how much that God's love extends far beyond our own backyards and into the whole world. I get to be a signpost that says : Here's how we can help and grow and learn in Christ. I get to be an encouragement for others. I get to do the best that I can with what little I've got. I get to say, "If I can do this, trust me, so can you!"

I wish that we could sit down over coffee (if only I had a quarter for every time that I say that) and I could tell you about all of the unbelievably and beautifully broken people that I get to come into contact with and love on 'em. That the reason that I'm walking in the eye of this storm, rather than being thrashed around by it, is because of Jesus. I wish that the little table that we sat at together over coffee, would be in the eye of the storm. That you would get a brake from the madness that is so freakin' everywhere all of the time. That you would share with me about how your heart is doing, and I would share with you about how mine is doing. And we would laugh and cry and do our best together.
And so why do I feel helpless? I guess it's because I can't force anyone to take a breather. I can't force anyone to feel Jesus the way that I feel Him. I can't force anyone to read the signpost that says "All of this is for HIS glory." I can't make anyone experience this obscure and elusive feeling that I'm talking about. And sometimes, it just hurts to let people go. It hurts to watch them in the swirly tornado flying around and around while getting battered by the debris and by others who are there with them. It hurts to watch them put themselves through something that they so easily could avoid. It hurts to see them hurting.

I guess I need to work on letting the Holy Spirit work without getting in His way. It's hard for me to be quiet as Jesus was quiet. It's hard for me to shut up and let go of what I cannot control. It's hard for me to see prayer as an act of battle. But it's the next step, I think.
I'm ashamed to say that it should have been my first.

How elusive is that?
sorry.
I guess it just feels good to write it out.

A Liberian Christmas

2007-12-14T08:06:00.000-08:00

(picture from here)

"Every Man Heart Lay Down"

Long time past - before your father live - before his father live
Before his father's father live - long time past
Before them big tree live - before them big tree's father live
That time God live.

And God look on the world - that He done make
And Him heart no lay down.
And He walk about in the town to see the people.
And He sit down in the palaver house to know the people.
And He sorry too much.
And God say "The people no hear My Word.
The people no walk My way. Nev mind.
All I can do is make a new country - and make new people."
And this time God's one small boy - Him small child
Hear God's Word, And the child grieve for people and for His Pa.
So he go for God's face and make talk for His Pa.
"Pa, I come for beg you," so He say,
"I come for beg you; Don't make the new world.
Don't lose the people what you done care for. I beg you.
Make it I go, I talk to people. I walk with people. Bye-m-bye
They savvy the way."

And the child go down softly softly and hold God's foot. (i.e.
begged Him)
So God look on Him small boy. And Him heart be very soft. And God
say,
Left me now, but hear me good; If you go you must be born like a man
You must live like a man - and you must have hurt and have hunger.
And hear me good; men will hate you and they will flog you, and
Bye-m-bye they will kill you, and I no going put my hand there."
(i.e. interfere)
And the Child say, "I agree."
And bye-m-bye God call Mary to be Ma for the child.
Now Mary be new wife for Joseph and Joseph ain't touch Mary self.
So first time Joseph vex. But God say, 'Nev min', Joseph; this be
God palaver.
And Joseph heart lay down.

And God see one king who try for do good for all him people.
"Ahah, now I send my Son for be new king."
And God send star to call the king.
And in a far country, God hear a wise man call his name.
And God say to the wise man, "I send my Son to be new wise man;
Go now with the star." And the star call. And the wise men follow.

And by the waterside - men lay down to take rest.
And they hear fine music in the sky like all the stars make song,
And they fear. And all the dark make bright like day.
And the water shine like fire. And no man can savvy.
And they hearts turn over. But God's angel come,
And God's angel say, "Make glad, all people,
God's child be born in Bethlehem."
And the star come low and stop. But when they go for mansion house
The star no be there. And when they go for big man's house,
The star no be there. And bye-m-bye when they go for hotel,
The star no be there gain - "Ahah, the star be by the small house
Where cattle sleep! " And it was so.

And they found Joseph and Mary and the small child fold up in
country cloth.
And the king bring gold for gift
And the wise man bring fine oil
And the country people bring new rice.
And they look on the God child
And every man heart lay down.

Top 10

2007-12-08T11:49:00.001-08:00

Top 10 Reasons Why You Shouldn't Cut Your Own Hair

A pair of plastic crayola scissors just don't make an even cut
It will make your mommy sad/mad
When it's only a 1/8" - 1/4" it cannot get braided in
Someone is guaranteed to notice your untold secret
It leaves a strange patch of fluffiness in the front/center of your forehead
It defeats the purpose of trying to grow your hair out
Your mommy won't trust you with scissors at school anymore
It makes for memorable family Christmas pictures.
You should regret it (even though you don't)
Your mommy will not be able to help herself from noticing it and mentioning how it was a bad choice over and over and over... even though it doesn't bother you in the slightest.

evidence

2007-12-04T12:35:00.000-08:00

The invisible makes itself known to my husband first.

He wakes up and makes coffee before work 3am Mon-Fri. The house is dark on his first venture out to the kitchen because most of his morning routine takes place in the bathroom. Just a quick walk to the stove to start the water for coffee in a house that he knows by heart. He rounds the corner and movement catches his eye. His breathing stops, his body still... all that he can hear is the banging of his heart. He remains stationary until he believes that he was just imagining things but the doubt still remains. He slowly makes his way to the teapot. One foot in front of the other, his eyes are wide open and his adrenaline pumping. He reaches out to turn on the burner and he quickly leaps to safety.

The next day, the invisible reveals itself to my boys.

Little O and I go and pick up Mr.P around noon from half day kindergarten. Once we're home, I fix them lunch and then they goof around until naptime. This day was just like any other, we followed out routine as usual. After lunch they were playing with some action figures along with my to-be-recycled pile near the back door. Batman (Mr.P) would occasionally yelp at Spiderman (Little O) and a fight would ensue. The shark would hide in a Cheerios box and scare both of the superheroes, to which they would retaliate. Asteroids (legos) would shoot down from the sky and blow up the world.
I sat, checking my emails, at the computer when suddenly I heard them both screaming and running towards my room. This was not a Batman or Spiderman scream... it was a couple of high pitched squeals that tend to induce fear into those that can hear them. I turned my head to see what they were running from. They slammed the door and ran to my side. They too had seen the unthinkable.

Then, my little brother was next.

We sat on the couch, chatting about no-no topics (religion and politics) as usual. Our talks always grow circular and move quickly, following tangents and sudden brain storms. We spoke of Iran, nuclear weapons, Carter, fair elections, Somalia, Sudan, Ethiopia, the term WWJD (what would Jesus do) vs. WWJWUTD (what would Jesus want us to do), is morality possible in government, Islam the religion vs. Islamic control, and corruption. I was passionately giving my opinion on Aidid Jr when my little brother took in a huge breath. He placed his hand on my shoulder, signaling for me to stop my tirade. I congratulated myself on making a good point (what a reaction!) before noticing that he was looking behind me. Slowly, I turned my head. My little brother stood up and slowly backed away from where he was looking. Too stunned to say anything, I searched for what he had seen. Again, I saw nothing.

I think that this invisible thing understands that I would snap it's body in half if I ever saw it. It knows better. It knows that I have no compassion when it comes to invading my home and causing terror. It knows that I am out for blood. To the death.
And so it hides from me.

But I will find it! I promise you that. I will find it and I will conquer it. Little mouse, prepare to die.

statistics

2007-11-30T20:58:00.000-08:00

I gotta tell you, I run into this kinda stuff and it just makes me itch my head... Makes me wonder if we can afford more children (I know... trust me, I know what you're gonna say). But COME ON! Did you read that crap? Throwing money at the problem just doesn't make me feel any better. must. do. more. But since adopting more kids seems nuts and donating money doesn't feel like enough - what to do? I mean, we aren't talkin' National Geographic here... we're talking about real human beings. Real human beings that coulda been us. Afterall, who chooses where or to whom they're born?

Every 15 SECONDS, another child becomes an AIDS orphan in Africa
Every DAY 5,760 more children become orphans
Every YEAR 2,102,400 more children become orphans (in Africa alone)
143,000,000 Orphans in the world today spend an average of 10 years in an orphanage or foster home
Approximately 250,000 children are adopted annually, but…
Every YEAR 14,050,000 children still grow up as orphans and AGE OUT of the system
Every DAY 38,493 children AGE OUT
Every 2.2 SECONDS, another orphan child AGES OUT with no family to belong to and no place to call home
In Ukraine and Russia 10% -15% of children who age out of an orphanage commit suicide before age 18.
60% of the girls are lured into prostitution. 70% of the boys become hardened criminals.
Reliable statistics are difficult to find, even the sources often list only estimates, and street children are rarely included. But even if these figures are exaggerated by double, it is still an unacceptable tragedy that over a Million children would still become orphans every year, and every year 7 Million children would still grow to adulthood as orphans with no one to belong to and no place to call home.

What to do?
What to do...

P.S. If you randomly ended up here because of some of the words used on this post, please check out Bryan Post.

Here's what I was talking about...

2007-11-29T09:42:00.000-08:00

Sorry for not giving background...

A lesson learned

2007-11-28T23:11:00.000-08:00

I was trying to convince Miss Brasil tonight that we can all learn something from the classic musicals. So here's to you, T! READ IT AND WEEP. Just because it's a bunch of boys dancing around in tight clothes while singing doesn't mean that there's no depth!

Gee, Officer Krupke

(West Side Story circa 1957)
ACTION - someone pretends to be the Sergeant while Action sings:
Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke,
You gotta understand,
It's just our bringin' up-ke
That gets us out of hand.
Our mothers all are junkies,
Our fathers all are drunks.
Golly Moses, naturally we're punks!

ACTION AND JETS
Gee, Officer Krupke, we're very upset;
We never had the love that ev'ry child oughta get.
We ain't no delinquents,
We're misunderstood.
Deep down inside us there is good!

ACTION
There is good!

ALL
There is good, there is good,
There is untapped good!
Like inside, the worst of us is good!

SNOWBOY: (Spoken) That's a touchin' good story.

ACTION: (Spoken) Lemme tell it to the world!

SNOWBOY: Just tell it to the judge.

ACTION - Someone pretends to be the judge while Action sings:
Dear kindly Judge, your Honor,
My parents treat me rough.
With all their marijuana,
They won't give me a puff.
They didn't wanna have me,
But somehow I was had.
Leapin' lizards! That's why I'm so bad!

DIESEL: (As Judge) Right!

Diesel says to boy pretending to be the Sergeant:
Officer Krupke, you're really a square;
This boy don't need a judge, he needs an analyst's care!
It's just his neurosis that oughta be curbed.
He's psychologic'ly disturbed!

ACTION
I'm disturbed!

JETS
We're disturbed, we're disturbed,
We're the most disturbed,
Like we're psychologic'ly disturbed.

DIESEL: (Spoken, as Judge) In the opinion on this court, this child is depraved on account he ain't had a normal home.

ACTION: (Spoken) Hey, I'm depraved on account I'm deprived.

DIESEL: So take him to a headshrinker.

ACTION (Sings)
My father is a bastard,
My ma's an S.O.B.
My grandpa's always plastered,
My grandma pushes tea.
My sister wears a mustache,
My brother wears a dress.
Goodness gracious, that's why I'm a mess!

A-RAB: (As Psychiatrist) Yes!
Officer Krupke, you're really a slob.
This boy don't need a doctor, just a good honest job.
Society's played him a terrible trick,
And sociologic'ly he's sick!

ACTION
I am sick!

ALL
We are sick, we are sick,
We are sick, sick, sick,
Like we're sociologically sick!

A-RAB: In my opinion, this child don't need to have his head shrunk at all. Juvenile delinquency is purely a social disease!

ACTION: Hey, I got a social disease!

A-RAB: So take him to a social worker!

ACTION - says to boy pretending to be a social worker:
Dear kindly social worker,
They say go earn a buck.
Like be a soda jerker,
Which means like be a schumck.
It's not I'm anti-social,
I'm only anti-work.
Gloryosky! That's why I'm a jerk!

BABY JOHN: (As Female Social Worker)
Eek!
Officer Krupke, you've done it again.
This boy don't need a job, he needs a year in the pen.
It ain't just a question of misunderstood;
Deep down inside him, he's no good!

ACTION
I'm no good!

ALL
We're no good, we're no good!
We're no earthly good,
Like the best of us is no damn good!

DIESEL (As Judge)
The trouble is he's crazy.

A-RAB (As Psychiatrist)
The trouble is he drinks.

BABY JOHN (As Female Social Worker)
The trouble is he's lazy.

DIESEL
The trouble is he stinks.

A-RAB
The trouble is he's growing.

BABY JOHN
The trouble is he's grown.

ALL
Krupke, we got troubles of our own!

Gee, Officer Krupke,
We're down on our knees,
'Cause no one wants a fellow with a social disease.
Gee, Officer Krupke,
What are we to do?
Gee, Officer Krupke,
Krup you!

Entering the 21st Century

2007-11-26T08:45:00.000-08:00

I know that you all have been here for quite sometime, but I want you to know that I have returned. I turned my back against you all with all of your gadgets (*clearing throat* that would be... uhhh... cell phones) and stood firm in my ground. But I'm back now. I figured that Southy, of all people would be proud of me ;) I can no longer claim old school.

And so, let's take a moment to look back at what has propelled me to get cell phones in the past:

In 2001, I got my first cell phone. Not because I could afford it. Don't fall for that mess.
It all started on a dark and stormy night. Back then, it was just Miss Z and I. I was working part time and going to nursing school full time and trying to give all of my focus to my adorable baby girl. To say the least, life was an uphill battle. Anyhow, I had been studying for an AP exam with another single mom friend of mine and it was around 10pm when Miss Z and I left to head home. I took 405 home and was on the S-Curves in Renton when one of my tires blew. (Now, for those of you who haven't a clue what freeway I'm talking about, the section that I'm referring to has zero shoulders and is a very curvy and dangerous place to break down.) I pulled over as much as one possibly could, grabbed my baby and climbed over the wall of the freeway to take a hike in the disgusting trash that people toss out their windows while whizzing by at 65-75 mph (it's nearly impossible to go faster than that there). I quickly walked along the freeway, apprehensive about who might be doing whateva between me and downtown (if there is such a thing) Renton.
Some NASTY dudes in a rape van pulled off of the freeway and offered to help. I, of course, lied through my teeth about how I had already called and my husband was on his way. I thought about how woman are taught go potty on themselves if anyone tries to rape them. The guys were freaky and I didn't need to go potty. I just kept walking, holding Baby Z tighter, while I turned down their 'offer'. I was headed for a gas station in the distance and no one was coming between me and that pay phone. Especially men who wanted to kidnap me. They began reversing on 405, trying to continue the conversation with me. My pace became a jog as I yelled to them that "My husband is meeting me right over there (I pointed to the closest well lit area). NO THANK YOU!"
To make a long story short, my step dad came and helped me change my tire and I drove home with one teeny tire, safe and sound. I got a cell phone that weekend to assure myself that that would never happen again. I kept that phone for a while but ended up in an argument with AT&T over my bill. I was pissed but couldn't prove my innocence. In haste, I shut off the phone before the contract was up. They made me pay for the extra minutes (I had ordered a larger plan but they said that they had no record of that) and $400 for breaking contract. Did I mention that I was a single mom with a part time job at St@rbucks as my only income? Yeah. But I did promise that manager that I would tell everyone that I knew not to ever use AT&T. I have followed through with that promise (however, my little brother told me that Singular bought out AT&T but continues to use the name?). Poo heads taking advantage of people who can't help themselves. But that's a whole 'nother blog.

Christmas of 2004.
My MIL got me one of those prepaid phones which worked out perfect. When we had extra money, we put minutes on it. When we didn't have any extra money, momma didn't have a phone. I kept that phone for about... well until we were in our first adoption. My regular visits to the salon, cell phone time, and my weakness for shopping in general were all cut from our budget.

Yesterday 2007.
If you haven't noticed, cars break down on me more than your average human being. We don't drive brand new cars but they aren't junkers either. Not to mention that I'm far too PARANOID to drive them if I even think that they might break down. When I drive away in them, they aren't broken. They never break when my husband is driving them. Apparently this is my special problem. The event at Barnes and Noble last week was when I had finally had enough. I wish that we could depend on one another for help, but we just can't. Humans tend to look out for themselves. That's just the way that it is. So, my butt went out and got a phone.

The end.

Giving Thanks

2007-11-20T20:59:00.000-08:00

Would you listen along as you read the lyrics?? PLEASE!?! I know, I know... I don't actually read song lyrics either... but this time? for me? The link to the music file is below us. See it? It's orange. Right click on the link and scroll to 'open link in a new window'. That way you can be two places at once ;)

Click to hear music file

Since I Am So Sick
Don Chaffer
(Enter The Worship Circle)
_______________________________

Since I am so sick
Since I am in need
Since I have no healing within me

Oh, my God, be mindful of me
You are my help and my Redeemer
Oh, my God, be mindful of me
You are my help and my Redeemer

Unto You, oh Lord
I lift up my soul
In Your loving-kindness I believe

Surely those who wait on You
Will never be ashamed
All of those who call on You
Will know the faithfulness of Your name
We sing to the faithfulness to your name
It will never fail
The faithfulness of your name

Though He saved me
Yet will I trust in Him?

You are God
An amazing God
Who can compare to you infiniteness?
Who can compare to your glorious love?

All that I need to know
Is that you love me so

________________________________________________

Everything that I can claim as my own... all of the things that I'm thankful for are wrapped in God. All that I have that is good all came from Him and Him alone. Thank you Jesus. Thank you for loving me in my times of greatest need and in my times of stubborn independance. Regardless of my actions, you are always there for me. Thank you