Sit a Spell

Saturday

2012-01-28T14:06:00.000-08:00

We started watching Parenthood today. I cried four times in one hour. Okay. Five. I teared up when Lorelai started talking. Does that count? It wasn't what Lorelai said. It was simply that it was her. Apparently I have an unhealthy attachment to the Gilmore Girl Goddess. It's like she's been resurrected. Sure. Her name is different, she has two kids, and neither of them are Rory. But I know it's Lorelai. She's in there. I've missed her. It's like getting an old friend back. Thanks for listening.

In other news...

Hudson pooed in the yard this weekend. After this stunt, he immediately decided it was not his best idea of 2012. He started screaming bloody-dang murder. I ran out of the house in the direction of the screaming expecting to find him near death. Instead I found a panic-faced, pantsless kid. I could not even discipline him. His wide eyes said it all. This poo plan was half-baked. He hadn't really thought it through.

I've had some half-baked ideas in my life. Haven't you? The results have caught me just as wide-eyed and off guard.

Here's something they never mention in the parenting books: Most kids are going to poo in the yard a time or two. Especially if they are boys. Why do they insist on leaving all the important stuff out of the books? Why oh why oh why? If you write a parenting book an entire chapter should be set aside for this exact topic. The poo in the yard chapter should come right after the chapter on Sharpie markers.

On the trek back to the house Hudson filled me in on how "gross and be-sgusting" his behavior was. I only added a couple thoughts to the conversation. 1. That dogs make it look a lot more effortless than it really is and 2. I went ahead and talked back up the potty. You know. Just in case.

Hoping your weekend is the perfect mix of strange and beautiful. Those are still the best kind of Saturdays, are they not?

Long-live Saturdays. And Lorelai. And toilets. Especially toilets.

Planting

2012-01-27T15:29:00.000-08:00

Longing is like the Seed

That wrestles in the Ground,

Believing if it intercede

It shall at length be found.

The Hour, and the Clime --

Each Circumstance unknown,

What Constancy must be achieved

Before it see the Sun!

Emily Dickinson

Preparing for Lent:: A Place at the Table

2012-01-26T06:17:00.000-08:00

When Aaron handed me this book and I began reading through the introductory chapters, I was moved. Being back home, in the midst of transition, repairing relationships, and yearning for something stable, one of our overwhelming emotions and thoughts has been this one..."How do we live out our convictions towards the poor now that we're home? Given this clean slate, where everything feels wide open...how do we set up our new life here, leaving the right amount of space and resources available so we can continue to learn how to pour our life out for the hurting and destitute?"

Chris Seay's book seems like a timely gift.

"Can we embrace the truths of Christ if we do not embrace His posture? His hands were exposed to disease and leprosy as He touched the sick. His knee bent to the ground to wash the sullied feet of His friends. His eyes lifted in prayer to the Father. His body bowed and was broken to death. As we learn to march in step with our Savior, we find that our swagger gives way to a lowly and humble way of walking." -- Chris Seay

A Place at the Table - Promo from Chris Seay on Vimeo.

It is with eager anticipation that we look forward to the season of lent, and specifically how this 40 days of focusing on poverty related issues will inspire change. It's sobering to realize the plight of the poor and the condition of our souls are not two separate issues. They are linked and deeply interwoven. The fact that stifling poverty exists for so many around the world says a great deal about my own poverty. We walk into this season of lent asking God to lead, comfort, satisfy, and heal the poor knowing we fall into that category.

Lent begins on Wednesday, February 22.

We'll share more excerpts from Seay's book between now and then in case you may want to purchase it. The book is broken into 40 short readings to be used every day during Lent. Each day's reading also contains a small section focusing on a country and person who needs prayer. In addition, you can find a daily video that corresponds with each reading.

To buy the book: A Place at the Table: 40 days of Solidarity with the Poor

To view the daily videos: here's the link.

Growing up, I thought Lent was something reserved for my Catholic friends. In my religious superiority, I never stopped to find out what my Catholic friends were actually celebrating. When God graciously opened my mind a tiny bit, and I started asking questions instead of judging, I found that Lent is a time of preparation leading up to Easter. It's a beautiful, focused season when believers can savor the story of the gospel, the meaning of the cross, and the hope of the resurrection. What a perfect time to ask God how these truths can bring about actual, tangible change in our lives and ultimately in this world.

Seeds

2012-01-24T13:58:00.000-08:00

Here's clue number 432 that we are back in Texas...

During some of my first interactions with family and friends, I heard many of them say something like...

"I'm so sad you had to leave Haiti...you had just planted your garden."

Texas is a peculiar place, is it not? I guess Texans don't let go of a garden very easily.

Ours has been a relentless pursuit to figure this "grow your own food" thing out, and all we have to show for it so far is a big pile of failure. Yet we're determined. We will grow food. We will. By golly one day, with a full belly of squash and green beans that we harvested right outside our back door, we will mercilessly kick it to the "man."

If we had to live off of any of our past gardens, the entire Hendrick family would have starved to death a decade ago. Our gardens have been unable to sustain even one human being. Or a yard gnome. Instead of the buckets of produce I lustfully dream about while we're planting seeds in the ground in the spring, what we actually get is a child running in the house mid-summer with a lone cherry tomato, holding it in the air, as though they found a diamond..or a gameboy game in the back yard.

Oddly, this astonishing record of failure does not cause us to waiver. Getting the garden ready. Tilling up the soil. Working outside in the sun. Picking out the seeds. Coming in filthy dirty. Going to free gardening classes at the feed store on Saturday mornings. The boys running outside sleepy-headed as soon as they wake up to "check the garden" only to return with a shrug. I guess the work and disappointment is worth it to us even if our only payment is a handful of pitiful lettuce.

We're gearing up for what must be our 8th annual garden fail. I signed up for Sprout Robot.. Have you seen this site? It's an online reminder that tells you what to plant and when to plant it according to your zip code. Plants and robots. My boys are in love. I think this makes us a little bit like the Jetsons. Surely the Jetsons had a successful garden, since they also had a machine that puts your pants on for you.

When I eagerly announced to the kids this morning that we are starting our spring garden in the next few days, our most sarcastic and perceptive son stated the obvious. "Uh...where are you planting it? We don't even have our own house yet or know where we're going to live." I don't know where he gets his sassy mouth.

So I sassed right back.

"And?

So. What.

Small setback."

Maybe I do know where he gets his mouth.

We have seed packets, and dirt, and cups. We'll get earth under our fingernails, hold tiny seeds in our hands, and think of all the hope they bring...of the promises and life they contain. We'll be reminded that while the world is cold and gray, something new is breaking forth in the dark...hidden from our view. New life is coming! Just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it's not growing. With expectancy, we'll care for these tiny seed promises during this time of uncertainty. When we transplant them into our new yard, we'll rejoice at the message one tiny seed can teach a family of souls.

And then let's face it. We'll probably kill all those sweet plants because we can't grow a garden to save our lives.

But. So. What.

Morning Message

2012-01-23T09:22:00.000-08:00

Still. Gray. Heavy.

Words to describe a cold winter's day, and yet words that I've used this week to describe my soul. Hope is rising. I can see hints of it on the horizon. I know it's coming. It's just for now, the world that's mine seems still and dark. Like the moment before the first rays of morning light stretch out in a yawn across the sky.

Every morning I wake up before the sun comes up. Coffee in hand, wrapped in a blanket, hair a tangled, unruly mess I sit down on the couch in the dark. Waiting. Watching. I have been given an extravagant gift. The french doors in front of me frame the sun rising over acres and acres of Texas land.

For the first week I didn't come to the couch to wait on the sun. I came to sit down. To be alone. To think. To read my Bible. To lay a lot of pain and confusion bare before the Lord and ask Him to heal it, to make me teachable, to soften the parts that are hard.

It wasn't until a few days ago that I realized this morning ritual of sitting in the dark watching the sun come up may not be the background for the work God is creating, but perhaps it is the main message I need to absorb before I can fully embrace the rest of what God is teaching. This daily date with the sunrise is no accident.

It is dark. I can't see. All feels heavy and hopeless at times. I can barely make out the shapes in front of me. And yet every morning, without fail what once was completely dark, hidden, and shapeless transforms into something altogether different. Magnificently different.

Every morning I sit on that couch without one sliver of light in the room. Before the sun rises, in that dark, still moment, I find myself marveling that my surroundings will be changed in a matter of minutes. All is quiet. All is black. All is concealed and hidden. All is motionless. It begins. The silhouette of the tree close to the house becomes visible. I can make out the branches. The roof of the swing set. Each picket on the fence. The light steadily grows in strength and power. It marches on. Nothing can stop this light that is gently growing. Yet nothing can rush it.

Hair a mess, coffee almost gone, I sit on that couch before the sun comes up. It's difficult to believe that so much beauty and change is about to break forth. It's hard to believe, but I never doubt it; the sun is about to make its debut. There's never been a day when it hasn't.

In moments the room where I sit and the entire landscape is changed dramatically.

And so is my heart. Over the past few weeks that sun rising, has brought with it a sweet companion...hope.

Maybe the sun comes up every day because God knows that's about how often we are tempted to doubt His faithfulness and power?

I'm not sure what has comforted and taught me more the past few weeks. The Bible sitting in my lap or the messages it contains vibrantly coming alive in the sky.

It's a Girl

2012-01-20T14:37:00.000-08:00

From the It's a Girl website:

"The film tells the stories of abandoned and trafficked girls, of women who suffer extreme dowry-related violence, of brave mothers fighting to save their daughters' lives, and of other mothers who would kill for a son. Global experts and grassroots activists put the stories in context and advocate different paths towards change, while collectively lamenting the lack of any truly effective action against this injustice.

Currently in post-production, It's a Girl! is scheduled for a 2012 release. Stay connected with the project through their email updates or by connecting with them on Facebook."

________________________________________________

A few years ago a documentary called, "No Impact Man" was released. We decided to find a location to show the film, invite friends, watch, and then discuss. We ended up with a really cool mix of people who attended, and I learned a lot from the movie and the conversations that followed. When "It's a Girl!" is released, maybe some of us could host our own gatherings, invite friends, neighbors, watch, discuss, and see how we can be involved in some way?

Thank You

2012-01-17T05:08:00.000-08:00

Thank you for giving and spreading the word about the work Mercy Project is doing to free child-slaves in Ghana, Africa. With your help, we were able to raise $1,140 yesterday. Isn't that exciting?

"As long as there is poverty in the world I can never be rich, even if I have a million dollars. As long as diseases are rampant and millions of people in this world cannot expect to live more than twenty-eight or thirty years, I can never be totally healthy even if I just got a good checkup at Mayo Clinic. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be." -- Martin Luther King, Jr. in The Measure of a Man

One way to keep informed about all that Mercy Project is accomplishing in Ghana is to "like" them on facebook.

There were many touching articles and posts written yesterday about Martin Luther King, Jr. and race-related issues. My favorite posts were found on Kristen Howerton's blog. Did you read them?

How to Talk to Kids about Race and Racism
This is a helpful post with a terrific list of age-appropriate books to open up the conversation of race with children.

Black was Once a Color to Me:
Reflections of a White Father of Black Children on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.
This post is beautiful. I recommend it for any trans-racial family, not just families that are made up of white parents and black children.

Dissatisfied Until that Day::Celebrating King's Life::A Call to Action

2012-01-16T06:30:00.000-08:00

We will watch Dr. King's famous speech today. With teary eyes, I'll hold our babies close and explain to them the significance of King's words. I will find myself wishing that King could see the fruit of his life's work lived out in the trans-racial families we know, our current President, and the horror and disgust on our children's faces when they try to imagine racial discrimination.

Yet King's dream is not fully realized. Slavery still exists, which means part of my job as a mother today will be to encourage our children to keep on dreaming of a world where there is no racial discrimination...a world where no person owns another person...where every soul knows its worth...a world that's truly free.

"Right now, on Lake Volta in Ghana, there are an estimated 7,000 children who are in captivity. They are modern day slaves. Many of these children are as young as five and six years old. Some of them have been sold for as little as $20.

These children work fourteen hours a day, seven days a week fishing for their masters. They paddle, mend broken nets, and scoop water out of leaky boats. They usually eat one meal a day and sleep on the dirt floor of a hut filled with other slave children.

They do not smile, and they rarely laugh. Their childhoods have been stolen." -- The Mercy Project

We are very careful on this blog to only point you to ministries and organizations that we know and trust. We think it's a great privilege that you sit here with us year after year. We are thankful for you and how God has woven our stories together, and for how He is growing our hearts for justice and mercy right here in this little online community. We are personally connected with Chris Fields who runs Mercy Project. We've heard his heart. We deeply believe in what he is doing to free child-slaves in Ghana.

We would be grateful if you spent some time on Mercy Project's website. We believe you will be inspired.

To honor Martin Luther King's Jr.'s life and his dream, we are excited to financially support Mercy Project and want to give you the opportunity today to continue King's fight against injustice by giving as well.

For 24 hours, we will have a chip-in meter right here at Sit a Spell. Our goal is to raise $1,000 today for Mercy Project. Can we do that? The money you give goes directly to Mercy Project. It is linked to their Paypal account.

"So, I conclude by saying again today that we have a task and let us go out with a "divine dissatisfaction." Let us be dissatisfied until America will no longer have a high blood pressure of creeds and an anemia of deeds.

Let us be dissatisfied until the tragic walls that separate the outer city of wealth and comfort and the inner city of poverty and despair shall be crushed by the battering rams of the forces of justice. [,et us be dissatisfied until those that live on the outskirts of hope are brought into the metropolis of daily security.

Let us be dissatisfied until slums are cast into the junk heaps of history, and every family is living in a decent sanitary home. Let us be dissatisfied until the dark yesterdays of segregated schools will be transformed into bright tomorrows of quality, integrated education.

Let us be dissatisfied until integration is not seen as a problem but as an opportunity to participate in the beauty of diversity.

Let us be dissatisfied until men and women, however black they may be, will be judged on the basis of the content of their character and not on the basis of the color of their skin. Let us be dissatisfied.

Let us be dissatisfied until every state capitol houses a governor who will do justly, who will love mercy and who will walk humbly with his God.

Let us be dissatisfied until from every city hall, justice will roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

Let us be dissatisfied until that day when the lion and the lamb shall lie down together and every man will sit under his own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid. Let us be dissatisfied. And men will recognize that out of one blood God made all men to dwell upon the face of the earth."

-- Martin Luther King Jr., Southern Christian Leadership Conference, Georgia 1967.

We pray our dissatisfaction leads us to action. Please consider giving to Mercy Project today. How much money can we raise in the next 24 hours to fight modern-day child slavery?

The Best Kind of Saturday

2012-01-14T15:38:00.000-08:00

Perfect Saturdays happen rarely, but when they do I consider them one of the most priceless, precious gifts a girl could ever receive. Next to bacon.

This farm has always welcomed us home and hugged us tight during times of transition. Since being back we have made a point to walk every inch of this place. The weather has been down-right cooperative and allowed us many hours spent walking, running, and hopping from gopher hole to gopher hole. Wide open pastures. Hills. Sticks. Climbing trees. We want to savor every step, every discovery, and every moment with the people here that we love.

In other news...

I plunged deep into the Hunger Games Series yesterday. Why didn't anyone warn me that this would mean motherhood suicide? I completely ignored my children. I could barely remember their names. They were forced to scavenge for food. Hudson kept saying, "Look at my face. Mom. Look at my face." Katniss. You have turned me into a mother who tucks her kids into bed and says, "If you get up, I'm cutting your feet off. I want to read my book, and I want you all to stay in your beds. Got it?" Anson has read the entire series. This worked in my favor. He ran interference. "Leave mom alone. Those books are so good." Anson kept Hudson alive yesterday. That boy and I bond over books. I stayed up until a ridiculous hour reading last night. I woke up at a ridiculous hour to finish reading this morning. After the last page was read, I set the Kindle aside and informed the boys that their mother was back. "I will feed you proper food again and make eye contact with you. Until I start reading the second book."

In other, other news...

While I was at home devouring The Hunger Games and our kids were eating leftover Christmas candy, Aaron was at a nearby ranch with James Dobson, George Barna, and 148 other evangelical big-wigs. To explain "what the cheese" Aaron was doing at this meeting would take all day, involve sound system set-ups, and childhood friends. The lengthy explanation would end with these words, "No matter how hard we try, our life insists on being bizarre."

Representatives from places like The New York Times and CBS were right outside the ranch's gate waiting for the evangelicals to give a statement about which Republican presidential candidate they are going to support in the 2012 election. When this article says, "a ranch outside of Houston" they also mean "a ranch right down the road from us." We insist on keeping it weird around here.

Santorum wins support of evangelical leaders at Texas meeting.

Happy Saturday. I hope yours was the perfect combination of wonderful and weird. Those are the best kind.

This Week: National Human Trafficking Awareness Day

2012-01-13T05:44:00.000-08:00

"Established through a Senate resolution three years ago, January 11 is dedicated to raising awareness of and opposition to human trafficking. " -- The Polaris Project

"...The issue of human trafficking is massive in scope and often overwhelming to consider. How can one person possibly impact such an immense, seemingly intractable global problem? You can start by becoming educated about the issue -- including in your own community. Next, be willing to say something. Ask Congress to reauthorize the Trafficking Victims Protection Act. Fight for anti-trafficking legislation in your state. And simply be willing to stand up and use your voice to say that slavery is wrong. If thousands of voices rise up the same way, they will surely be loud enough to end this tragedy in our time."

-- Huffington Post

I am personally looking forward to attending this year's conference in Houston to become educated and find out how to be involved in my own community. You can get more information about the Free the Captives Conference in Houston here.

"The United States currently has between 100,000 and 300,000 prostituted children, with the average age of entry into prostitution for girls being 12-14 years old, and even younger for boys, according to the Polaris Project, which combats human trafficking across the country." -- Huffington Post

The issue of human trafficking is massive in scope and overwhelming to consider. Oftentimes when something seems too big, I'm tempted to sit back and do nothing. If our time in a third-world country taught us anything, it's that fighting the good fight rarely means we feel like the task before us is easy or even doable. Most days, we won't feel like we win at all. We may not even feel like we stand a chance. Maybe only a few lives will ever be impacted. I'm not sure if feeling like we're actually accomplishing something is the main point.

One of my favorite songs is "When the Saints" by Sara Groves. She paints a beautiful picture of people who are fighting for freedom. In the end she simply says, "I want to be one of them."

Maybe "being one of them" is "what it's all about." I juxtaposed a Sara Groves song with the Hokey Pokey. Shameful. This requires that I repent.

We are given the opportunity to live out, on this earth, towards our fellow man, the very principles that are revered and lived out in heaven. Does that get your heart pumping? As people who have been freed, the gospel compels us to be lovers of freedom and modern-day abolitionists. "I want to be one of them," don't you?

Remembering Haiti

2012-01-12T14:34:00.000-08:00

photo credit: The Boston Globe

Today we remember Haiti, the Haitian people, and so many friends who live there.

Two years ago Aaron and I were glued to the television hurting for a country we had never visited.

The Boston Globe published pictures shortly after the earthquake. I will never forget them. They were the images that sat heavy in my mind during the months when we decided to sell our dream home, uproot our family, and move to the country that the beautiful, strong people in those pictures called home. In a strange way those pictures will always be a part of our family's story.

It was emotional today for me to look through the photos The Globe published yesterday. The photos are more recent, and just as moving as the original photos they posted two year ago, yet they seem to tell one side of the story. The sad side. One of the constant themes of our time in Haiti was that beauty and strength spring up in the most unlikely of places and situations.

I wish there were photos of the amputee soccer team that practiced every Saturday at the school where Aaron worked. I have never seen such determination. I wish there were photos of the mother who lost her daughter in the earthquake. She is fighting to raise her tiny granddaughter while also caring for two other handicapped family members. She does it with a smile on her face. I wish there were photos of the mother who lost two of her young children on the day the earth shook. The child that lived was badly injured. A year and a half later she delivered a healthy baby boy and named him Raphael. His name means, "healing God."

These are the stories we remember when we think of Haiti.

We grieve today with the Haitian people who have lost much, and yet remain brave, steadfast, resilient, and full of faith. We pray our healing God holds you today as you mourn and remember.

Tales of a Cracked Collar Bone

2012-01-11T05:11:00.000-08:00

Ashton broke his collar bone yesterday. This is the third time he's managed to do this. Cracking his collar is one of his hidden talents. This time it involved swings, jumping out of said swings, and a lot of siblings and cousins.

If you're counting, this is the fifth collar bone injury we have had in this house. Life with boys?

With the injury and all I thought this was a good time to go back and read about Ashton's other collar bone catastrophes. What I found was a picture of my punkin-head that made me all weird on my insides. My baby. Where did he go? I want to crawl in this picture and hold him tight...except he would scream...because his collar bone was broken.

What's written below was originally posted on October of 2007.

Ashton, 2007

Last night, we were awakened by a screaming child in the hallway.

Ashton stood there, stiff as a board, head down, arms drawn tightly to his chest…loud shrieks coming from his tiny petrified frame.

He could not move his neck.

He would not stop crying.

Because I had just watched House before going to bed, I was positive he had meningitis.

We did what any reasonable person would do.

We called our doctor in the middle of the night and woke him up to see if Ashton was going to die.

He said no.

Ashton said he did not fall out of his bed.

So maybe these neck cramps were simply the result of sleeping all founky in his bed or something.

We laid him down on the floor in our room.

Every time we touched him he screamed…loudly. Like a pterodactyl.

He laid there with Aaron until about 3:00 a.m.

I’m not sure any of us actually slept, because Ashton did not stop crying.

Then, Ashton said he wanted in bed with mama.

We put him in bed between us…same scenario.

Lots of crying…lots of dinosaur bird screaming.

At 5:00 a.m. we finally realized that Ashton MUST have fallen out of his bed. This meant, the damage was probably far greater than a crick in his neck.

The only time he moved his arm was to point across the room and say, "I want you to go over there."

This was his way of telling us to stop touching him.

We were sure something was broken.

Aaron loaded him up and off they went to the ER.

They got home at 8 a.m.

Ashton had fractured his collar bone.

They drugged him good, so he slept almost all day.

Now here’s the dilemma we are faced with this wonderful evening.

Of all the apparel someone should choose to break their collar bone in, these pajamas would never be top choice.

Ashton can’t lift his arms.

He can barely move them at all.

These are the ever-popular pajamas made for kids these days…you know the ones that are the size of panty hose?

Without arms inside them, the material where the arms go looks the same size as Barbie socks.

How arms fit in them, I don’t know.

This phenomenon should be studied like Stonehenge.

I also don't know how Barbie sock pajamas keep your kids from bursting into flames.

It's a mystery.

So here we have Ashton….

Broken boned, Ashton.

In pajamas that are not bath conducive.

Yet Ashton unfortunately happens to be VERY sweaty and nasty from being at the hospital and in the bed doped up on codeine all day today.

We need these pajamas off.

To make matters worse, these are Ashton’s FAVORITE pajamas.

His absolute favorite.

I knew this was going to be an issue at about 3 this morning.

These pj’s will eventually have to come off…but how?

Aaron and I had a little pow wow about how to get our boy naked.

We could get the pajamas off two ways...

1. Remove them the normal way, moving his arm, causing him incredible pain. Cue loud screaming.

2. Cut them off with scissors.

We decided this was one of the best examples of a lose lose situation, if we ever saw one.

Ashton would react to both choices with hysterics.

Either way…major screaming and sadness.

We broke huddle, confronted the boy and tested our theory.

I said, “Ashton, do you want me to take your pajamas off the regular way…and hurt your arm while I’m doing it…or do you want me to cut your shirt off your body with scissors, but not hurt your arm at all.”

He looked at us like we asked him if he thought it would be ok to chop his legs off.

He simply said, wide eyed, “I don’t like this.”

Aaron’s idea was different.

He says to Ashton, “Do you want to take a bath with your pajamas on?”

We had not discussed this option in our meeting. Aaron was flying solo on this one...thinking on his toes.

Now both Ashton and Ashton’s mom stared back at Aaron like he had lost his mind.

What?

Aaron defended his plan saying, “He will eventually dry. We could lay him on a towel and keep him warm somehow until he dried out.”

Oh heavens. We need some parenting classes.

I reminded Aaron that the pajamas would eventually have to come off our baby boy, some time before his arm healed.

We needed to regroup.

Then my brilliant husband came up with plan C.

Aaron says to our sad son, “What if I get you some new pajamas?”

Ashton liked this.

However, since I have been given the gift of telepathy…a rare ability only mothers have to listen to their children think…I sat there, staring at Aaron, anticipating Ashton’s response.

Sure Ashton thought getting him new pajamas was a good idea.

It WAS a good idea.

However, I knew our smart little son would never agree to these terms until the goods were already delivered.

He’s just too brilliant for that.

He looked at his daddy, who had just gotten out of the shower and was only wearing shorts and said, in his sweet Ashton voice…

“I want you to get dressed.”

This means…”Go get the pajamas…now…and let me see them…and then we’ll talk.”

Aaron sat there staring at his clever boy and said, “Ok. I’ll go. All crippled children should get what they want.”

That’s why Aaron is the best dad ever.

He’s at the store right now buying a bed rail and racecar pajamas.

We’ll let you know tonight, how the bath time saga staring a boy and his broken bone turns out.

In moments, we’ll be cutting up pajamas.

Ashton got us to agree to cut out the motorcycle so he could keep it forever.

This was after Aaron suggested that we cut his favorite pajama shirt right up the middle and make it into a jacket....or a vest.

Ashton was not impressed.

Back in the School Saddle

2012-01-10T12:48:00.000-08:00

With all that has changed, I'm thankful some things can stay the same.

Before we got back into the routine of school in this house, we spent some time talking on Sunday night.

"I'm kind of afraid. I haven't taught you on my own for a year and a half. I'm out of practice. I'm a little nervous it's going to be difficult to get back in the groove of doing school here. I'm a lot nervous that Hudson is going to set the house on fire or try to flush all our laundry down the toilet while I'm teaching you. More than anything, I want you to look back at this time with fond memories of learning and getting along with each other and with me. That's what I want, but that's not always what we get. I'm already nervous about all the ways I'm going to blow it."

The hardest part of homeschooling is never the spelling, multiplication tables, or reading assignments.

The hardest part of homeschooling is the fact that four wonky children and one sinful mother must somehow manage to learn to relate well with each other. All day. Every day.

There's no hiding our flaws from one another. Here they sit. Right here. Mooning us. Our impatience, insecurities, quirks, bad attitudes, strife between certain sets of siblings, children who butt heads with their mother...all of it just as much a part of our day as what's written on the chalk board.

That's the part that makes my stomach ache.

Relationships. They are arduous and lovely.

However your family chooses to smart-up your kids, we're hoping your semester is starting off well. In carpool lines, around kitchen tables, on soccer field side-lines, or in fast food drive-throughs memories are bound to be made over the next few months. Some will be beautiful moments of growth and deeper connection. Others will give us a wide open view of our obvious depravity. Either way, I'm praying love is the loudest lesson we learn this semester even if it's learned through words like, "I'm sorry."

Phones and Pistols

2012-01-08T19:20:00.000-08:00

Aaron has spent the entire weekend pursuing the job opportunities you all sent his way.

Thank you. I hope we say that often enough.

Aaron was going a little stir crazy today. He's had one thing on his mind since we landed. Job. He takes this husband, dad, provider gig pretty serious. I have sweet peace a phone call is right around the corner. Aaron has turned in umpteen job applications and resumes to companies all over the US. Today I could tell. This weight. The stress. Visible. I could see him carrying it around.

"What can we do here tonight to lighten the mood?" We know better than to think magic and fun have to be bought. It's here already. Somewhere. It's here. It always is. We just have to find it.

Aaron politely excused himself from his computer screen and his never-ending job search. "I'm going to take the boys out for a little while and let them shoot a gun."

We said we were open to moving outside of Texas for a job if we must, but I've heard rumor that it's not normal in every zip code in America for people to up and decide to go outside and "shoot stuff." Surely that's just a rumor. I also heard it snows in other states. I'm hoping that's a myth too. Like Big Foot. Or a size 2 with a D cup.

For all of you gun haters, know that I kind of hate them too.

Breathe easy. The boys shot grass.

Having a gun in sight makes my legs feel like my femurs fell out.

I watched way too much Lifetime television growing up.

I'm convinced. Guns = tragic, accidental death.

Yet here my babies are shooting one.

Life is mysterious.

This was just the magic Aaron and the boys needed.

Maybe it was the guns.

After a shot is fired, their eyes are wild.

The boys start jumping.

Something inside their chest seems to explode.

Or maybe it was being wrapped up tight in their daddy's arms.

His voice in their ear gently teaching them how to aim.

Reminding them how to hold the gun.

It's hard to tell which did the trick.

Their daddy or the gunpowder.

This was right before a phone started ringing in my ear. No one would answer it. The nerve.

I love to say the word, "Pee-stol" way more than I like shooting one.

Funny story about this pee-stol. And when I say, "funny" what I actually mean is "terrifying."

Aaron and I were newly married. Like brand-newly married. I walked into our bedroom. Saw a gun on the dresser. I had never seen it there before. I picked it up. In a happy-go-lucky manner I said, "What's this?" Then I casually pulled the trigger while pointing it at Aaron. This all happened in less than 10 seconds. I looked at Aaron, waiting for him to answer. I noticed he was green and not really breathing like a normal person. He was freaked. It's one of the few times that easy-going Aaron has raised his voice at me. "Why did you do that? I just brought that gun in. I took the bullets out of that gun maybe two minutes ago and then set it there on the dresser. Why did you just SHOOT a GUN at me?"

My brilliant response? "Really? It looks like a fake gun. Like a pirate gun. Or a cowboy gun. This is a REAL GUN? WHAT?" I dropped it. Or threw it. I was terrified.

Then he said some things about not pointing guns at people. Or shooting guns at people. Or dropping guns. Or throwing guns.

Aaron was finally starting to look flesh-colored again.

It took a minute for the gravity of what just happened to hit me.

"I could have totally killed you."

Then I said I was sorry.

Which seems like a really lame thing to say after you almost accidentally shoot someone dead, but it's all I could think to say.

Aaron grew up with guns. He shot things. He went hunting. His dad taught him gun safety. Guns were a normal part of every day life in his home.

I never had seen a gun in a house. I was raised by a single mom who didn't make a habit of packin' heat.

I'm so glad I didn't kill my brand new husband. He's such a terrific person, and there is no flippin' way I'm pullin' off the family band without him.

This concludes entry #842 entitled, "We are one, but we were raised two different ways."

We're praying the phone rings this week. The real phone. Not the one in my ear. The one with someone on the other end saying, "By golly, you're all we've ever wanted. All we could ever hope for. I'm sitting here hugging your application." Or a simple "We got your resume and would love for you to come in for an interview" will do too, I guess.

Yours Truly,
Annie Oakley

Wide Open

2012-01-06T14:45:00.000-08:00

Depending on how you look at it the wide open possibility of having absolutely no idea where your husband will work next can either turn you into a 10:30 a.m. Moscato drinker or cause you to create elaborate fantasies in your mind about your "next life."

Aaron has been diligently applying for jobs in the community where we have lived most of our married years. This place feels like home to us, we have friends here that we'd fight to the death for, I only rarely get lost when driving around, and a Chuy's finally opened in said town two weeks after we moved to Haiti. Rude. Right? Rude. But it's here now, and we're here, so I'd gladly live right next door to Chuy's and see what it's like to eat nothing but tortilla chips and creamy jalapeno dip for the rest of my life.

If Aaron can find a job in the town that feels like home to our family, then that's our obvious preference.

To be an over-achiever in the diligence department, Aaron decided to branch out today. He took a deep breath and started looking at jobs all over the U. S. of A.

My only fantasy so far about our "next life" involved our home town, Chuy's, tortilla chips, and liquid happiness. Now that Aaron is looking at jobs all over the country and submitting his fancy resume my thought life is admittedly out of control. Coming back to start all over is equal parts heartbreaking, thrilling, and nausea inducing. I guess it's better to be letting my mind run wild dreaming of the life that is coming instead of sitting here stewing on the circumstances that find us here abruptly trying to piece our life back together. Very little feels definite right now, but one thing I know for sure: I down-right refuse to choose the road of bitterness. I've been there before, have you? I'm convinced there's not a worse place for a soul to live. There is a fine, thread-like line between looking back to learn from mistakes and looking back, brooding, eventually being swept away in a deep, drowning current of darkness and despair. There are times when I think of the gravity of this situation and all that must happen rather quickly for our family to be "okay" and I'm tempted to chew off all my fingernails or put on my running shoes, turn up my inappropriate running music, and run until my anxiety and maybe even my legs fall off right there on the asphalt. Thankfully those moments of panic have been few and far between so far, and mostly what we feel is gratitude for a God that goes before us and provides a million opportunities every day for us to thank Him, see Him at work, and catch a glimpse of His faithfulness. Instead of dwelling on what happened, I find myself thankful for our friends and family and every once in awhile I find myself in the middle of a disturbingly detailed daydream of what our life could look like next.

Aaron has an Ag degree from Texas A&M University. I found myself dreaming the other day that some newly widowed rancher's wife would hire our family to live on her awe-inspiring acreage. She'd be funny, sweet, and quirky. A tad bit lonely. Our herd of a family would move in next door. While Aaron kept the ranch from going under, we'd fill her life with fun and laughter . She'd fill our life with banana bread. We'd introduce her to wii bowling, and she'd teach me how to fold a fitted sheet and can green beans safely so our family could bypass dying of botulism.

Then I realized that the lady in my dreams was the exact lady off Driving Miss Daisy. Same. Exact. Lady.
Same face. Same voice. Same lady.

Scratch the dear old lady.

I started dreaming Aaron got that same rancher job, sans Miss Daisy. This time he worked for a ranching family who liked the idea of having Aaron around. The fact that we have four boys to help out is an added bonus because this couple's only son grew up to despise ranching and became a lawyer in a high rise building in New York City instead. Tragic. The parents were grief stricken, but still hold out hope that their beloved son will one day see the light, leave the big city, and come back to the ranch where he belongs. I'd homeschool the kids in the middle of nowhere America and blog all about my precious children, our ranching adventures, and our mastiff. I'd spend my spare time cooking beef and butter loaded meals. I'd snap pictures of our food. The boys would saddle up early in the morning to go help their dad work cattle. We'd all wear boots, do chores before the sun comes up, and I'd make bacon every morning for the first week or so and then would stop doing that because let's get real. Who cooks bacon every morning? No one. I couldn't even keep that up in an elaborate fantasy.

Then I realized that this fantasy felt oddly familiar. It felt real. Too real. Hmmm... Oh. Wait. A. Minute. Hold the phone. This is Pioneer Woman's life. It's official. I'm hopelessly in love with her.

Aaron also has a background in video production and graphic design. I wasted no time imagining that his video skills, incredible list of references, and 18 months of life in Haiti had landed him a job with IJM or Compassion International making videos that inspired people to action on behalf of the poor, enslaved, and imprisoned. We'd move to Nashville because duh...that's where all the artsy people live. The obvious next step would be for us to become friends with Andrew Peterson's family. I'd offer to watch their kids any time they needed me to so that A-Piddy could crank out more books for us to read. Andrew and his lovely wife would eventually introduce me to Sara Groves, and I'd probably lick her. Because that's how much I love her. Then I had an imaginary conversation with Sara Groves. In case you are wondering, there is no recovering once you lick someone. Try as you may, the conversation afterward will be awkward.

In between fantasies, I keep trying to really talk up the family band. In the most excited voice I can muster I say things like..."If Dad can't get a job...you know what that means!!!!" The boys all growl. "Mom. No. We're not being a family band." Even when I use my infomercial voice and add jazz hands to my family band suggestion they barely even look my way. I have been pushing the family band idea for about a decade now. They are over it, I guess. Whatever, family. I'm still not giving up on that dream.

When Aaron really wants to rain on my imaginary future plans he reminds me that he could go work for the styrofoam cup factory down the road. They are hiring, in case you are wondering. Aaron applied. The position pays well. If given the job, Aaron would do "cup checks on seams of formed cups" and run the box taping machine. We had to read the entire job description three times before believing this was a real job. It sounds way too Dunder Mifflin.

Crazy future fantasies aside, we're fighting daily over here to remember that God is in this. We don't want to be worried. No matter what Aaron does, we'll be proud of him. He's faithful, hard-working, he can do smarty-pants jobs, and yet he also finds physical labor rewarding. He's taught school, led worship, and served on church staff for many, many years. He's been a carpenter. He can fix just about anything. His past employers have always been sad to see him go. I'd put my money on Aaron any day.

If you know of any jobs that would fit, Aaron wants to be open to prayerfully considering anything. A job is a job, and one thing we've learned over the years is that joy can be found in just about any situation. No matter where we find ourselves next, we know God will provide, He'll give us ample opportunities to love each other and love our neighbors, and He'll grow deep and lasting friendships along the way. You may need to remind me of those things in about 10 minutes when I start to forget and my fingernails start to look delicious.

I'm still not ruling out the family band. No way.

When Our Crap Affects Our Kids

2012-01-04T11:43:00.000-08:00

photo credit: Troy Livesay

There seems to be a really fuzzy line that separates the things we should tell our kids about grown-up life and the things that we shouldn't. It always seems to me that other parents have a better understanding of where that line is. We always wonder if we somehow missed the class where you learn what facts to divulge and which ones to withhold. When did our babies turn into real people with real issues to process right alongside us? How did they evolve into human beings who are no longer blindly along for the ride, but instead thinking creatures who we must consider as we walk and talk through this crazy thing called life?

Tell children too much and you have kids carrying weights their little souls were never meant to carry and a fifth grader with an ulcer and bleeding cuticles. Tell too little and you run the risk of your kids feeling resentful, bitter, left out, believing their thoughts and their voice do not matter. We've been around youth groups and watched enough ABC Family to know these things to be true. We just don't feel smart enough to always know exactly what to do with these strange, gray pieces of life.

Days before Christmas, as Aaron and I were realizing our world was about to change drastically, we were really wishing there was a reference guide for times like these. What would the Cosby's do? Try as I may I could not think of any episodes that applied to our current situation. All of a sudden running home from school every single day to watch the Cosby Show felt like a fat waste of time.

Aaron and I sat on the floor next to our bed. Shoulder to shoulder. Teary eyes. Door closed.

What do we tell our kids? When do we tell them? We want to be strong for them, but can we be honest and admit that even thinking about how they will process that we're most-likely leaving Haiti feels like too much to walk them through since all we can manage to do as grown people is hold each other and cry. It's days before Christmas. Can't we just tell them we unexpectedly get to go home and see family for the holidays and then break the news to them after the holidays?

"I don't see our tears ending any time soon. We need to go home to pray, think, and talk to people way smarter than we are. We have bags to pack. We need to know what the boys want to take home...what belongings they would be crushed to leave behind. We need to ask them what pieces of their life here will help them heal once we're back in Texas. There is no way around this. We have to tell them and trust that Jesus will cover the parts we will most certainly jack up as we begin to move forward."

We gathered everyone in the living room. They all sat close. Skin to skin.

Isn't it strange how children's minds work? When we were newly married Aaron and I sat one evening and tried to remember our very first memories of our childhoods. I loved hearing the stories Aaron told. We allowed each other to walk through some of our earliest memories as children. It was an intimate invitation to revisit pieces of our pasts that formed us long before we were formed into husband and wife. We were surprised that some of our earliest memories revolved around seeing our parents cry. A million scenes of our pasts can no longer be recalled but the ones that involved our parents and their tears seemed to embed themselves, remaining in our minds forever.

We don't put a lot of stock in singular moments defining us in deep, down lasting ways. We don't even put a lot of stock in our supreme ability as parents to completely shape our children. We know how sinful we are, and so looking to God's lavish love for our kids and His sovereignty over their lives is a comfort to us when we think of how often we blow it. We know that ultimately, no matter how hard we try as parents we excel at messing things up, and yet God is gracious and lovingly seems to spare our children from a lot of our stupidity.

Even though we have great faith in those truths, there seemed to be a tangible whisper in our minds that this moment in our living room was an important one, and there would be many important moments waiting for us on the horizon as we deal with this unexpected news and try to move forward.

While we're thankful their entire futures do not depend on one moment in our living room, God did give us enough grace and clarity in that one tiny frame of this story to know that this was an opportunity to teach them about their value to us, to God, and that no matter how unexpected these events were to our family, that we can trust a good God to only give good to His children. When it feels like everything is crumbling, and the Unknowns seem to be doing an obnoxious end-zone dance while the Knowns stand there confused and dazed...somewhere in the middle of the madness, God is up to something good.

Aaron began.

"In about 48 hours we're going to get on an airplane and go to Texas. There is a chance we won't be coming back to Haiti."

The boys fell over into our laps. We all held each other and cried.

When it was over, peace seemed to tangibly sit with us. Like a person. In the room. Among other things spoken, in a moment of absolute weakness and maybe even insanity we vowed on our lives to get their giant mastiff to Texas. Everyone was crying. The boys could have asked for a real rocket ship, and I'm sure we would have promised to get one for each of them if it would make them happy. Before we sat down with the boys, we had great hopes of channeling our inner Cliff and Claire Huxtable so we could calmly explain everything and answer all their questions with Cosby-sized wisdom. What we got instead was a living room floor filled with crying freaks as we held our kids and squeaked out truths about God's faithfulness.

Aaron will be returning to Haiti soon to sell our belongings and will hopefully return with quite the traveling companion. In the meantime we've been so thankful for your kind comments, emails, and messages as we take in so many unexpected new things back here in the US. You guys have always been a constant source of grace to us, so I'm not sure why we would have ever expected anything less.

2012-01-03T16:43:00.000-08:00

- From Aaron

Honestly, with as bizarre as our lives have been over the years, you'd think nothing would surprise us any more.

But you would be wrong.

A few days before Christmas we had some hard conversations with the leadership of Heartline and came to the conclusion that the needs and dynamics of our family were not going to allow us to invest the time that Heartline needed from us. We realized that while we love Heartline and the ministry that they do in Haiti, we were not going to be a long-term fit in the roles they needed us to play.

So, with four children and twelve 50lb bags in tow we tearfully relocated back to Texas. We are currently staying with family while I look for a job and we find a place to live.

This transition was fast and hard and full of emotions. However, we can say already that we can see the Lord's hand graciously guiding and providing for our family during this time. Our intention was to be in Haiti for at least another 18 months, but we're trusting that the Lord's plans are greater than ours.

We have been welcomed back to Texas by a loving family and supportive friends. Those funding our lives in Haiti have been understanding and encouraging as we filled them in on more details of what has happened in the last couple of weeks. We've sought out wise counsel here in the states to help us make these decisions and figure out how to move forward.

Although this was unexpected by us, we trust that God is in control. Everything feels up in the air. Not much feels very stable right now. We feel like we should be completely overwhelmed. Yet what we feel is peace. This equally perplexes and comforts us.

Right now we covet your prayers as we try to make a lot of very big decisions very quickly. I am looking for jobs which will determine where we live. Today I put on fancy clothes and handed in a job application. Heather mocked me, then wished me luck. We will need to find a new house, get our kids in school, and begin to settle back into the routine of life in this country. God's words about the poor, the least of these, and specifically our time in Haiti have changed us forever. We are eager to pour our lives out for the weak, the hurt, and the forgotten even if our address has changed. We're asking God what that looks like from here.

Heather's words from the blog the other day most accurately express where we find ourselves at this point.

We find ourselves filled with hope when we consider all the new this year will hold for us and so many of the people we know and love. We trust all the new to a God who is bent on giving good even to people who rarely deserve it, who says there's really nothing new under the sun, and who wrote the pages of this coming year long before the world began. We sit here staring at the very first page of the chapter titled "2012" eager to read what God has lovingly penned for each of us.

Coming home we found that many of the people we love are in a season of transition, facing many unknowns this year. We were met by friends and family members who are asking God for faith of their own, seeking wisdom, and fighting to trust God as they navigate through the unknown. While our circumstances selfishly seem the most pressing to us, we are reminded that this same story of unexpected events, pain, peace, struggle, the realization that we could have done things differently in retrospect, pushing on, trying to learn from mistakes, extending grace, forgiving, crying, healing, and finding God in all of it - this is the story that belongs to each of us. This is life, and we're all in this thing together learning how to live it.

We hope you know how thankful we are for each of you who sit here with us year after year. Heather and I have grieved this decision, are now at peace, and are ready to move on, and embrace this unpredictable life.

New

2012-01-02T08:40:00.000-08:00

Although this trip back to the states was unexpected, it has also been a sweet time of reflection and prayer.

It's been good to step away for a short time. We missed wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Besides snuggling up deep with our friends and family, and doing some soul searching, we were also very busy trying to explain socks to Hudson, convincing him it's a good idea to wear them, and then eventually giving up on that notion completely.

We find ourselves filled with hope when we consider all the new this year will hold for us and so many of the people we know and love. We trust all the new to a God who is bent on giving good even to people who rarely deserve it, who says there's really nothing new under the sun, and who wrote the pages of this coming year long before the world began. We sit here staring at the very first page of the chapter titled "2012" eager to read what God has lovingly penned for each of us.

Change of Plans

2011-12-28T19:09:00.000-08:00

- From Aaron

We weren't originally planning on coming home for the holidays, but our plans changed.
We're not sure what our schedule is yet or exactly how long we'll be stateside, but this is a helpful time to disconnect and regroup a little.
Don't be surprised if the blog is quiet while we enjoy some time resting and connecting with family.

The Hendrick family

December Beach Birthday

2011-12-24T06:33:00.000-08:00

Little one. We love you.

We love you even though you keep getting older, when we've asked you to stop that.

We celebrate your sweet life and pray you know how very special you are to us and the God who made each freckle on your precious face. You are such a smart, happy, loving little boy but we're most thankful for the simple fact that you are ours and God trusted you to our care. Eight Christmas Eves ago you came into our lives and have since been one of the greatest gifts we have ever been given. Happy Birthday Ashton.

New Family Photos:: New Blog Design

2011-12-19T04:23:00.000-08:00

The talented and patient Troy Livesay took some photos for our family this past week. The same night he took our pictures, he also made Kung Pow Chicken and let us eat it. Family photos + Kung Pow Chicken = A few hours when we all thought maybe Troy could jump over high buildings and pull off wearing stretchy pants.

Tara held a flash high in the air. It felt so legit. We looked like freaks on the streets of Port-au-Prince.

Thank you Troy for making us look a lot cooler than we really are...and for making us look less sweaty and less ready to strangle our kids.

This year was one of the least stressful picture taking years. Why you ask? Because I was sure whatever endeavors I made for us to match and look nice and all be smiley would be ruined by the time we drove two short miles to where we were taking the photos. So there was no color scheme for our clothing. The only request of the boys: Please don't lean up against your dad's nasty truck. The kid's shoes were filthy. The clothes I wanted to wear looked dumb on me, and I changed them at the very last minute. These are some of the only shirts we own that don't have weird little holes in them. Why this happens to clothing here is a huge mystery to me. So there ya go. I had low expectations..heck...I practically had zero expectations and it turned out great. I'm sure we owe it all to Tara's high-held flash.

The real us
It looks like I'm trying to push out a baby and Aaron is a serial killer.

Haiti makes me over the top nutty most days, but I must hand it to this country....it has a way of turning type A, first born control freaks into people who are totally like, "Meh" about things they used to be insane about. I think I will be forever grateful for this phenomenon once it stops making me wonder if I should move into an insane asylum.

Thank you Aaron Hendrick for making this here blog look so bangin. You are the best, and I already know you can pull off stretchy pants.

And thank YOU for bearing with me as I sound like I'm accepting an Oscar or something. Sheesh.

I'll shut it up now because I sound a tad bit obnoxious, and we all know I need to save my acceptance speech for when I receive my Oscar for guest appearance on Glee.

We're off to this magical place this morning to celebrate a soon to be eight year old. Why do babies have to get bigger? Why oh why oh why oh why?

Produce

2011-12-18T07:36:00.000-08:00

Aaron finished the fence yesterday on our 112th attempt to grow a garden.

We've never added a fence before.

We figure when the garden fails, we will still have a fence.

Which means we're already winners.

Imagine that arbor and fence covered in beautiful vines.

It's so dreamy, I can barely stand it.

The boys scavenged rocks from all over the yard to form the walkways.

You would have thought they were building the Taj Mahal.

Aren't kid's brains magical?

Do you miss your kid brain? I do.

To celebrate the fence's completion the lettuce popped up.

Wasn't that thoughtful?

Be still my beating heart.

Jinkies.

Our first cilantro leaf.

Is it strange to sit and stare at one cilantro leaf for 15 minutes?

And think of salsa and creamy jalapeno sauce?

And then drool like a mastiff?

Don't answer that.

Saturday Suggestion

2011-12-17T10:01:00.000-08:00

We recommend sitting down with someone you love and letting your jaw drop in marvelous wonder. It does a soul good to feel incredibly small.

Boston Globe: The Big Picture: 50 Best Photos from the Natural World.

Happy Saturday.

Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life.

~ Rachel Carson

Guess What? We Won!

2011-12-16T11:35:00.000-08:00

Thank you for voting, begging your friends and family members to vote, and for not unfriending us as we annoyingly asked you over and over and over to vote for Heartline.

No one tell the children, but I guess some times it does pay to whine, beg, and be a nuisance! Thanks for doing that to help us spread the word.

Thank you for loving our women and our babies. Thank you for standing with us as we fight injustice and dream of a world where women and children's lives are important and valued.

Thank you, Giving of Life.

We're fist pumping the sky over here celebrating this glimpse of justice and sweet mercy!

A Child is Born

2011-12-13T09:22:00.000-08:00

Rosemarie had her baby this morning. Baby is nursing like it is her job. Mom lost a lot of blood. Your prayers are appreciated. As always, I'm incredibly thankful for the midwives at Heartline.

If you would like to pray for our pregnant ladies, here is a link with photos and information.

Tin Whistle Concert

2011-12-12T08:09:00.000-08:00

Bingo. This picture captured exactly how thrilled Anson was to be playing the tin whistle.

The fine arts emphasis for the past six weeks of Classical Conversations has been tin whistle. The kids have been learning music theory and practicing, practicing, practicing for their tin whistle Christmas concert.

For six weeks they have played these pesky instruments. For six weeks I have wanted ear plugs and have said no less than 100 times, "Please. Will you go in your room and play that. And shut the door? Or maybe the roof would be a good place to practice. How about I dig you a giant hole in the backyard and you can climb down in it and practice? That would be cool, right? Or what about I send you on an airplane and you practice your tin whistle at your grandparent's house? Wouldn't that be fun?

I've got Peace Like a River played on a tin whistle by a seven year old is anything but peaceful. It's actually an oxymoron.

If you want to torture someone let three kids play three different songs on the tin whistle at the same time.

But their big day came and watching them play away on their tin whistles was really, really sweet. They played music and recited part of the Christmas story. Children telling this precious story of a baby born in a manger will forever be a thing of beauty.

We only have three more days of school left. I can't wait for the school books (and the tin whistles) to be put away. I am ready to have these crazy kids all to myself for a few weeks.

Sticks, Boys, Gardens

2011-12-10T17:04:00.000-08:00

I was busy giving ugly buckets a face lift when ~~Santa's sleigh~~ Aaron's truck drove up.

Aaron paid a visit to the stick guy. Our sons could not believe their eyes.

Four boys stood drooling and in awe of an entire truck-bed full of giant. sticks.

When we saw their stick-marveling faces Aaron and I had a revelation.

We should have waited and gotten the boys a truck load of behemoth sticks for Christmas.

We totally blew this.

Did you hear anything I just said or are you busy staring at the dirt on Aaron's truck?

Artemis thought she died and went to heaven.

I think she pulled a "sweep the knees" on Aaron right after I snapped this photo.

She doubles as a ninja.

Aaron built a beautiful fence all day.

It will be dreamy once it's finished.

He was dreamy in the meantime.

This is the cutest kid on earth. The end.
Look at those lips. If he can hold them just so...the nail will go in.

He attempted to hammer that same nail into every stick in the yard.

There was a moment as Aaron was driving fat sticks into the ground with a sledge hammer when he roared, "I feel like such a PIE-UH-NEER!" Rar. For some reason men think it would be cool to live like the people on Little House on the Prairie. After he got feeling back in his arms Aaron sobered up. "Well. I feel like such a pioneer...until I walk over there and use my battery powered skill saw." Whah-whah. It was fun to feel like Charles Ingalls for 11 seconds.

Is it wrong to pray sincere prayers for cilantro to grow? 90% of our diet prior to moving here consisted of Mexican food. The other 10% was made up of cream cheese. If I could grow cream cheese I would.

Is there a better feeling?

Yes. That 90 year old white lady is still hanging out in our back yard. Total creeper.

This...this right here...it makes my heart skip a beat.

New life bursting forth.

Tiny growing bigger.

Weak getting stronger.

Reaching for the light.

Telling the truth.

Whispering, "Remember. Never forget."

Garden Day

2011-12-10T05:54:00.000-08:00

We're giddy. The garden is finally going in. We Hendricks are known for attempting vegetable gardens every single year and failing every single year. Our record is impeccable. We are nothing if not persistent.

Maybe this year since we are planting some foods we can never find in Haiti it will motivate us to be a little more serious and on the ball. These displaced Texans WILL find a way to grow cilantro and jalapenos. So. Help. Me.

Leslie

2011-12-08T23:17:00.000-08:00

Leslie had her baby tonight. Aren't they lovely?

Keller

2011-12-07T17:42:00.001-08:00

- From Aaron

I spend a lot of time in my truck. Taking kids to school. Going to the store. Stuck in traffic. Even though I really love to listen to music, that time in the car is a great opportunity for me to listen to sermons and to be challenged by great teaching.

Lately I have been enjoying learning from Tim Keller. He's brilliant. He's well read. I feel like he does a great job of teaching through deep theology while offering practical applications. I love that his messages are infused with calls for justice and social reform. Part of what God has done in our hearts is show us how closely linked the gospel and social justice really are. And yet for many pastors they teach either about the gospel or justice. Gospel on most weeks. Justice on the week with a missions emphasis. But Keller handles both realities well and connects them in every sermon I've listened to so far.

This is from one of Keller's sermons that I listened to today. The sermon was entitled "Blueprint for Revival: Social Concern". In the sermon Keller shared this quote from the 19th century Scottish preacher, Robert Murray McCheyne.

I thank God that there are some among you to whom Christ will say: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." Go on, dear Christians, live still for Christ. Never forget, day nor night, that you are yourselves bought with a price. Lay yourselves and your property all in his hand, and say: "What wilt thou have me to do? Here am I, send me;" and then I know you will feel, now and in eternity, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

But, I fear there are some Christians among you to whom Christ can say no such thing. Your haughty dwelling rises in the midst of thousands who have scarce a fire to warm themselves at, and have but little clothing to keep out the biting frost; and yet you never darkened their door. You heave a sigh, perhaps, at a distance; but you do not visit them. Ah! my dear friends! I am concerned for the poor; but more for you.

I know not what Christ will say to you in the great day. You seem to be Christians, and yet you care not for his poor. Oh, what a change will pass upon you as you enter the gates of heaven! You will be saved, but that will be all. There will be no abundant entrance for you: "He that soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly."

I fear there are many hearing me who may know well that they are not Christians, because they do not love to give. To give largely and liberally, not grudging at all, requires a new heart; an old heart would rather part with its life-blood than its money. Oh, my friends! Enjoy your money; make the most of it; give none away; enjoy it quickly; for I can tell you, you will be beggars throughout eternity.

Now, dear Christians, some of you pray night and day to be branches of the true Vine: you pray to be made all over in the image of Christ. If so, you must be like him in giving. A branch bears the same kind of fruit as the tree. If you be branches at all, you must bear the same fruit.

An old divine says well: "What would have become of us if Christ had been as saving of his blood as some men are of their money?"

Objection 1: My money is my own.

Answer: Christ might have said, My blood is my own, my life is my own; no man forceth it from me: then where should we have been?

Objection 2: The poor are undeserving.

Answering: Christ might have said the same thing. They are wicked rebels against my Father's law: shall I lay down my life for these? I will give to the good angels or the deserving poor. But no, he left the ninety-nine, and came after the lost. He gave his blood for the undeserving.

Objection 3: The poor may abuse it.

Answer: Christ might have said the same; yea, with far greater truth. Christ knew that thousands would trample his blood under their feet; that most would despise it; that many would make it an excuse for sinning more; yet he gave his own blood.

Oh, my dear Christians! if you would be like Christ, give much, give often, give freely, to the vile and the poor, the thankless and the undeserving. Christ is glorious and happy, and so will you be. It is not your money I want, but your happiness. Remember his own word: "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

Dang. That's good stuff.

Gifts that Give Twice

2011-12-07T10:37:00.000-08:00

I get all kinds of excited during the holiday season thinking about the good we can do with our purchasing power. I'm a dreamer, so I can't help but think of a world where believers redeem this holiday by spending less except when it's important to spend more. Christmas does not have to be about gifts at all, but if you are a gift giving family, what if you can give a gift that gives twice? What if we can give the gift of liberation? What if shopping could also make us abolitionists? What if we can give a gift that says, "I value your life" to the recipient of the gift, but also to the person who made the gift. What if we can use our money to vote for the chains of injustice being broken, for oppression being lifted, for the enslaved being set free? Wouldn't that be voting for the Kingdom? Wouldn't that be celebrating the very things Jesus said He came to bring to this earth?

Wouldn't Christmas be exciting again? Couldn't we redeem shopping and gift giving? Doesn't the thought of all that beauty make you want to light a candle and sing "Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel?" Below are a few of our family's favorite companies that empower the poor, care for the outcasts, fairly pay wages, and in so many ways...provide hope and an opportunity to be free from debilitating poverty and despair. If you are giving gifts for Christmas, will you consider some of these companies?

Batik Boutique

Providing hope to women in Asia.

Adorable Crayon Rolls

$12

Check out their full line of diaper bags, purses, baby slings, and aprons.

Read more about the Batik Boutique here.

Hill Country Hill Tribers

Providing work and hope for refugees living in Texas.

Sunbreak Tatted Bib Necklace

$32

Check out their full line of upcycled products, their baby line, bags, and jewlery.

Sseko

Using fashion to educate and empower women in Uganda.

Penelope Clutch, $65

and check out their Stocking Stuffer Pack:

The Stocking Stuffer Package is the perfect gift for the shoe-loving, big-dreaming lady in your life. The package comes with a pair of handmade Sseko sandal soles and three pairs of straps in black, copper, and grey. The holiday bundle will come with the Sseko story and instructions on how to tie the sandals.

$65

I love these shoes. You buy one sole and then can buy as many straps as you like. With so many different straps, and the never-ending ways to tie the straps, it's like getting 45 pairs of shoes in this one pair.

For strap tying ideas and tutorials check out this link.

The thong sandal tie is my fav.

Haitian Creations

Heartline's ministry that empowers women to be able to provide for their families.

Check out our full line of handmade bags.

That's Venette in the picture by the way.

She's a real person, working really hard to provide for her children.

I love her, and so would you.

Apparent Project

Keeping Haitian families together by providing jobs and training.

Click here to buy their jewelry.

True story: I have several of their necklaces. I want every single one of them.

This jewelry is legit and as been featured in Vogue magazine.
You will love it.

Hi, My Name is Heather and I'm a Modern Day Slave Owner

The Christmas Conundrum by Jen the Hatmaker

The Whisper on my Wall

2011-12-06T06:12:00.000-08:00

As soon as the heavy, metal gate slides across our driveway, this is the scene we see.

We wait inside the truck while the gate is closed and locked behind us.

Ready for another day of life here in Haiti.

I sit and stare at the wall in front of me while we wait.

Only God knows what today will bring. Only He knows the sights our eyes will see. He alone knows the plans He has for our precious children this day. Only He knows what joys and what sadness await this family over the next 24 hours. Only He knows the realities the Haitian people we know and love will face.

I sit staring ahead at the wall admitting how uncomfortable it is to never know what a day will bring here.

I sit staring ahead at the tall, ugly cinder block wall marveling at how the color and life seem to burst through all that is ugly, plain, and representative of fear and extreme poverty.

I like to pretend that this sight of life bursting forth out of cement cracks is God holding us close, reminding each one of us in this vehicle that all things can be redeemed. He is at work. His Kingdom is coming. It is on the move. These truths are shouted from Sunday morning church stages and they are whispered just as loudly through hot pink foliage covering grey cement walls. This truth is everywhere if we choose to see it. If we are looking to find it. Where else will I see this truth today? God, keep my eyes open.

Before we leave in the morning, I like to look at this wall...the one where all that is striking and lovely seems to playfully dance across the unattractive...and think of God whispering in our ear a final message before we leave our home.

"Remember. Never forget. The beauty will win. It will always win."

4 Hendricks + 5 Livesays = Camp Crazy

2011-12-05T08:45:00.000-08:00

Tara and Troy Livesay headed to Texas to speak about Heartline.
For the last few days, five of their kids have been staying at our house.
9 kids total under one roof.
We're calling it Camp Crazy.

We sure love these crazy kids.

We have been promising our boys we'd have a fire outside.
Fall in Texas for us meant several nights a week found us sitting outside around our fire pit.
They miss that. So do we.
We decided with friends here, this would be the perfect time to have a fire.
This is because our brains are only for decoration, I guess.

The kids roasted marshmallows.
Our kids don't even like to eat roasted marshmallows.
So when I say, "They roasted marshmallows" I mean they set them on fire and watched them burn.
They spent the evening turning their marshmallows into lava and eating non-cooked marshmallows.
Once upon a time this annoyed me. Now it doesn't. The end.

They roasted hot dogs. Or tried to. The fire was crazy hot. Hope had the right idea, no?

There were a few stressful moments.

1. We tied Artemis up with some rope to keep her away from our hot dog party. Aaron tied her to his truck. I thought she was going to pull it across the drive way. Within three minutes she decided she could not possibly pull the truck all the way over to the fire and her humans. So instead she ate through the rope, freeing herself before we even got the fire going.

2. We tied her up again with a thick leash. She ate through the thick leash and may have even beat Aaron back over to the fire. Lesson learned. She is a beast, and nothing can restrain her. We spent the rest of the evening being licked and pushed over by her.

3. We gave nine children sharp spear-like sticks on which to roast hot dogs and marshmallows and thought this was a good idea. We thought it was a good idea until they started running around. I'm pretty sure if you leave your kids with friends and your child stabs themselves with a long, metal spear that the friendship is compromised in some way. I'm just guessing.

4. Oh yeah. We have a three-year-old who is the brown, cuter version of Dash on The Incredibles. We thought it was a good idea to let him around a fire. No one should trust us with their children. No one should trust us with our own children.

5. Six minutes into fire night we had an epiphany. "Lots of kids. One buffalo dog. One lightening fast three year old. We are dumb. Dang those Duggars. How do they do this?"

6. There was a moment when all the hot dogs were cooked and I remembered that Haitian hot dog buns do not come pre-sliced. As in...they are just giant pieces of bread with nowhere to put the hot dog. You have to cut them open to create a space for the hot dog wienie. I'm sure this is only annoying to Americans who can't fathom a non-opened hot dog bun AND to a woman who has NINE excited children shoving NINE hot, hot dog wieners in her face while she tries to open up hot dog buns in the dark for them. Aaron could not help me. He was giving 100% of his effort to corralling a crazy three year old and our elephant dog. Think rodeo clown. That was Aaron's job.

"You seem frustrated Mrs. Heather." Isaac Livesay nailed it. I apologized for being mad at Haitian hot dogs and reminded the kids that hot dogs make me want to barf, so the smell of nine of them in my nose made me throw up in my mouth a little.

Once the kids had food in their bellies and we successfully scared them with horror stories of children jabbing their eyes out with those metal roasting sticks, everything went back to being fun again.

We had hot apple cider. Our recipe for hot apple cider: Pour some apple juice in a pot. Add red hots. Stir until melted over medium heat. Enjoy.

It was a beautiful night. It was actually "chilly" to us outside. So what we basically did was take one of the three cooler nights in Haiti and then built a giant, hot fire thereby insuring we would remain sweaty even though the weather was actually being kind to us. Why do we do these things?

The grand finale of Camp Crazy happens tonight and it includes bacon. We are all crazy excited.

When Baby Jesus is a Pepperoni

2011-12-04T12:30:00.000-08:00

God forgive them. They know not what they do.

Our Favorite Boy Gifts

2011-12-02T08:18:00.000-08:00

While Christmas can certainly happen without presents, there are times when the need arises to buy gifts for special people in our lives. No matter how we celebrate Christmas, I think we can all agree that one thoughtful gift means more than a whole bunch of meaningless ones. I have loved seeing many unique, creative gift ideas on the internet lately. I've filed several of these away for gift ideas for Christmas and birthday presents for our boys and friends. I thought I'd share some of the gifts that have kept on giving in our house. I'll pretend like I'm Oprah or something.

Every year I try to find non-electronic gifts that will keep our kids entertained. While we still get tired and lazy and fall back on TV and electronics for entertainment and boredom-busters, on a good day...when we're actually on our game (which happens more in my imagination than in real life), our goal is to raise kids who are creative and know how to make their own fun. When we have our game faces on (we have lost them for months at a time by the way) we aspire to raise kids who know how to actively seek out and find joy and adventure. We have even found that one of the greatest gifts we can give our kids is absolute boredom. Go ahead. Pass the parent of the month award. Bottom line: we want them to be engaging in life and play and we want them to be doing that in community with friends and family...not zoned out in front of a video game or television.

Isn't it crazy that in this day and age we have to work hard to make our kids actually play? This is when I want to break into a rant about "Kids these days" but then that would mean I am the 75 year old cranky neighbor lady with all the cats. So, I'm not going to go there.

We do own gameboys, and I owe them for keeping me sane on long car rides and airplane trips. One of my favorite joys in life is playing Just Dance on the Wii with our boys. I guess what I'm saying is, we are a little schizophrenic. Most days I want them outside chasing down adventure. Other days I want to stand in front of the TV with my boys and shake it like Beyonce or pretend like we're really American Idol contestants. Other days I want them to veg in front of the TV by themselves for awhile because for the love...we just want to be left alone for a few blissful moments. I'm hoping when this raising kids thing is said and done that the be creative-go outside-play with your brothers-live life-create your own fun parts are winning out around here. A girl can dream, right?

We also try (and I know it can be difficult to truly feel confident about where products come from) to buy gifts that are made in the United States where better labor laws exist, or from Etsy shops, or fair trade companies. For that reason, I'm not really going to provide links for where to buy most of these items. Some of you may want to buy them from Amazon. Some of you may want to find them at garage sales or at your independently owned corner book store.

Besides Legos, balls, and Playmobile, these are the gifts that have kept our tribe of boy people wildly entertained and have inspired their creativity and imagination...

Ed Emberly's drawing books are fantastic. Confession: I sit and draw with the kids when they bust out these books. Prior to Ed Emberly, I could only draw a tee-pee and a coat hanger. Ed Emberly makes me feel like my drawings should be hanging in museums.

Ross King's Words that Rhyme with Orange.

Best. Kid's. CD. Ever.

It contains songs about bacon, ninjas, and monkeys.

Kids love this music, and I don't want to jump out of the vehicle or lock myself in a closet when they play it.

"It's nothing like Kidz Bop." Maybe that's all I should have said to sell this thing.

Although Ross and Staci King are Jesus fans, this CD is not something you'd use to teach your kids deep truths about the gospel. It is something you'd use to teach your kids to laugh and try new foods.

Andrew Peterson's Wingfeather Saga is the new Narnia.

I will tear up right now talking about how beautifully each of these books are written. Like Lewis' Chronicle of Narnia series, these books are deep and rich in meaning. When a new one comes out we literally fight over who gets to read it first. Then we gripe and complain that the person before us is taking too long. And by too long, I mean more than two days. During the gap between when book two and book three came out, I had to ask God's forgiveness because I actually wished Andrew Peterson would leave his family so he could sit in a cabin alone in the woods for 22 straight years and do nothing besides crank out Wingfeather books. I'm even more ashamed to say that I didn't want him taking breaks to eat, so in my self-serving fantasy Peterson was hooked up to a feeding tube. A cabin and a catheter. Perfect setting for book writing.

So, besides the Wingfeather Saga turning us into monsters, these books are incredible. Perfect for out loud family reading.The bond between siblings in this story and between the family longing for home is miserably beautiful. Congrats. The lump is now in my throat.

A wallet and a watch. It sounds so simple, but these two things make our little boys feel like they are 35 years old, and for some reason they like that feeling. They go in and out of the wallet and watch phase. When they are in it, they are really, really in it.

Compass from Vision Forum.

I'm not sure how to use one of these, and I'm not positive our boys do either...but they love these gadgets none-the-less.

Dangerous Book for Boys means hours and hours of entertainment and fun.

It also means that your household cleaning items may disappear.

So will your paper clips.

This book never grows old with our bunch.

It gets put up on a shelf, then rediscovered by a child.

The magic begins all over again.

Dangerous Book for Boys Kits.

There are several different kinds.

These are small.

They come in a canister.

Boys dig metal canisters.

Will we ever understand them?

Each kit also comes with...wait for it..wait for it...a patch!

metal canister + patch + a sash to sew it on = boy heaven.
The rest of the kit is not very impressive.
I was worried the boys would think it was lame.
That's because I forgot about the magic of metal canisters and a patch.
If you threw in some twine and a compass with this "kit", boy nirvana would ensue.

A head lamp.

Trust me.

Boys dig.

Some twine.

Trust me on this one too.

Boys dig.

And they use it to tie up everything in your house.

This is apparently something boys do for fun.

Wooden sword from Etsy

These never grow old, but they do cause injuries. As long as you have health insurance and butterfly bandaids at your house, these make for excellent gifts. You could buy a shield...or just give them a small, metal trash can lid. Same, same. I found many different kinds for different prices on Etsy.

If you have an art lover, check out Let's Make Some Great Art over at Ohdeedoh.

"Illustrator, designer, and mother of two, Marion Deuchars has created a unique book both for kids who love to draw and adults who have forgotten how much fun a pencil and piece of paper can be."

This is another one of those books that does not quit giving. We have had it for years. It lies dormant for a few months, then gets rediscovered. Instantly our house is filled with paper planes, and I sound like a broken record...."Do something with these things!! They are everywhere!"

To survive, I'm pretty sure our three-year-old boy could have this one wooden hammer/peg toy, the Melissa and Doug velcro food set, and some super hero capes. The End. Warning: They use the hammer to hit other things besides the pegs.

Melissa and Doug toys are great, but most are made in China. Sad day. However..if that is something that makes you feel uncomfortable, I found so many great Melissa and Doug toys at garage sales this summer for Hudson. These toys hold up so well that they seem brand new, even though I bought them second-hand. Warning: The wooden knife in the set is really all your boy will be interested in. He will merely tolerate the food.

This book was also featured on Ohdeedoh.

The writer of Ohdeedoh says..."A new Shel Silverstein book? No joke. The author and illustrator of books like The Giving Tree and Where The Sidewalk Ends defined my childhood and shaped my weird sense of humor, so I was unnaturally excited when I heard the news, but also incredulous. After all, Uncle Shelby passed away in 1999. It turns out that he left behind volumes of unpublished poetry. Every Thing On It is a collection of 145 poems selected from over 1,500 by Silverstein's family."

All of Shel Siverstein's books make excellent gifts for children. They are books our kids return to again and again.

Pick and Draw Game. This is such a fun, family game for younger kids.

Kirby gave it to our boys for Christmas last year.

My all time favorite post about boy toys: The 5 Best Toys of All Time

In the next few days I'll feature a few of our favorite companies that reflect fair trade business models. I do not love the idea of getting bogged down and distracted by the ideas of gifts at Christmastime. I do love the idea of our purchases voting for beautiful, Kingdom things. We can use our purchase power to vote "yes" for things like justice, freedom, creativity, and equality. The money we spend can touch the lives of not only the receiver but the one who made the gift as well. Every piece of gift-giving can tell of our value for human life. The lives the gifts go to, and the lives of the ones who made the gifts we are purchasing.

In the meantime, Kristen Howerton at Rage Against the Minivan is doing a fab job of putting together some great gift-giving guides along these same lines.

Gifts that Give Back

Occupy Christmas Gift Link-Up

Prayer Doulas Button

2011-12-01T07:10:00.000-08:00

If you are a prayer doula for our ladies and want a button for your blog, you are welcome to use this one. To find out more about what a prayer doula is (or what a doula is for that matter) you can check out this post.

Directions for adding the button to your blog if you use Blogger:

1. Right click on the image. Save it some place where you can find it. This is the hardest step in my opinion.

2. Go to your dashboard. Click on "design."

3. Click on "add a gadget."

4. Click on "add a picture."

5. In the box that pops up, click "browse" and find the blog button picture you saved.

6. Make sure "shrink to fit" is clicked.

7. You can add a title if you like. "Praying for Pregnant women in Haiti." Or..."These People are Hippy Weirdos." Whatever you want. Or don't add a title. It's your blog ya know.

8. In the box that asks for a link, cut and paste this one in the box: http://allthingshendrick.blogspot.com/2011/10/prayer-doulas.html

9. Save.

10. Then make sure it's in the right spot in your side bar. Done!

If you want an easy way to access the current list of pregnant ladies in our women's program, you can click on the Prayer Doula button on the side bar of this blog.

Up next to deliver...and by next, we really mean, we have no idea who will deliver next....

Leslie

third pregnancy

last baby died a few days after birth

Due November 29

29 years old

Marjorie

2^nd baby

Due December 12

32 years old

Thank you for praying for our ladies and the little ones they carry.

When Kid Meets Nativity Set

2011-11-30T06:09:00.000-08:00

Christmas 2008

Tis the season for nativity sets. I lovingly unwrap Mary and baby Jesus every year. The sheep. The shepherds. There they sit. Holy. Beautiful. Lovely.

cue: record scratch

Unless you have kids in the house. Especially if you have boy kids in the house.

The things poor baby Jesus has been through in this family in years past are truly embarrassing.

I have found him in couch cushions.

In the back of dump trucks.

In the driveway.

I've had to bust up tiffs between siblings when baby Jesus was brought into their super hero battles. It's just not fair that baby Jesus wins every single time. Baby Jesus as an action figure is unstoppable.

I have found all the hallowed nativity people hanging with yarn on our Christmas tree. It was disturbing.

I have also picked Lego men out of the nativity scene.

"This is the last time I am going to tell you to stop throwing the baby Jesus. Last time, Mister!"

"Do not hit your brother with Mary."

"Get that shepherd's foot out of your nose."

"What's in your underwear?" Oh. All the wise men. Good. Good.

This famous cast of characters have been loaded in a big rig.

This was the nativity set where all the men looked like they worked at a carnival, and I'm almost positive baby Jesus was a four year old wrapped in a swim towel. Creepy. Look at him. He's in the top far right. He has molars and as much hair as Justin Bieber.

Then there was the year that one of our kids kept breastfeeding the baby Jesus. These are the things you don't bring up in Sunday School.

It's tempting to turn this story of a baby born to a teenage mother in a manger into something untouchable, off-limits-kind-of-holy, something we fancy up, get dressed up to tell, reading the Christmas scriptures in a strange, hushed, church voice. How many times have we been to a candle-light service, heard this story of a first-time, young mother giving birth without a midwife or her mother, in filthy conditions, and imagined something more pristine, more perfect, more glamorous than what really went down that night in Bethlehem. Rarely do I equate Christmas with sweat, screaming, blood, feces, an umbilical chord that needs cutting, a placenta, and exhausting pain. Yet that is exactly what the first Christmas must have been like.

When I'm tempted to make this story something other than it is, I try to remember that my child is probably dipping Mary in the toilet or nursing the baby Jesus as I type this.

Children know how to approach the manger. They have a way of taking all the frill, the fake, the phoney reverence out of the Christmas story, and maybe we should thank them for that. They see Jesus as approachable, someone who would want to hang out with them, someone who would welcome the Darth Vader Lego guy.

The truth is, the story of a King born a baby in a barn is not something we need our best clothes on to hear, or something we need to put on the highest, unreachable shelf. Yes this story is precious and requires reverence and awe when we really sit and contemplate all that God has done to win back rebellious people. But, I never want to forget that He came to our filth. Our dysfunction. He was born right into our complex, broken lives. Emmanuel. God with us. God with the distracted. The greedy. The back-talking children. The moms who fall asleep at night wondering if they could possibly fail more. God with the ones with secrets. The ones who feel left out. The ones who think they will never measure up. The ones with failing marriages. The insecure. The mean. The ones who never seem to learn. He came here. He was born in the middle of our junk. He came to be God with us. God in the middle of our homes. The middle of our living rooms. Right in the middle of the madness and mess...He came. Emmanuel. God with humans who are so utterly...hopelessly...human. He was born to a teenage mother who probably would have forgotten to take her prenatal vitamins.

So let's hear them. Your favorite nativity set stories. Will you share those with us?

Will you share something else too? I'm wanting to know your favorite kid-friendly nativity sets.

If I can get over my obsessive need for all the nativity crew to stay in the same room together, I will probably learn some great lessons this Christmas season from our children and the nativity set. I'm going to pay extra close attention because I think these little people are onto something. Maybe they relate best to what actually took place that night with Mary and Joseph. Perhaps we're the ones perpetually jacking this story up.

Related: When Baby Jesus is a Pepperoni

Tuesday Babies

2011-11-29T12:43:00.000-08:00

Lots of attentive, nursing mothers and fat, healthy babies today.

Agathe taught on preventing sexual abuse in children.

For more on what goes down every Tuesday at the Maternity Center, check out this post.

Who Knew Turning 35 Could be Fun?

2011-11-29T07:00:00.000-08:00

I squeezed Aaron when my birthday weekend was over and said, "You gave me the best gift ever. You gave me the gift of productivity in a place where that some times feels impossible." We were both exhausted. Aaron spent the weekend building some of my favorite projects I had pinned on Pinterest. We spent two days painting his handiwork. Three days later, I still have paint splattered on my feet. If I get the paint thinner out to clean myself up, it will feel like that glorious weekend of productivity and partying will officially be over. The paint will stay on my feet until new skin cells replace the old ones. I've decided that's just the way it's going to be.

Barf. Who talks about skin cells on a blog? I'm constantly surprised that you people stick around.

When Aaron and the boys told me they hacked my Pinterest account to get some ideas for my birthday, can I admit that my crush on Pinterest reached psychotic levels? During birthdays and Christmas, can I also confess that there have been many times that I'm opening my gift and think, "For. The. Love. I really, really need a daughter." This year I had to admit: Who needs a daughter when you have Pinterest? I'm officially putting Pinterest on our family tree. She is now a person, and I adopted her. If I start buying her dresses and making her hair appointments then I agree...it's time for me to be committed.

Pallet coffee table.

Is it just me or does upcycling feel like a joyful, redemptive, spiritual act? I keep staring at this table, marveling that a few days ago these pallets were junk. Now my monkey boys are doing puzzles on this pallet-turned coffee table. We're gathering around our advent candles in the evenings, elbows on this new creation...junk turned into beauty. Common thread in all of life's story. Upcycling feels like beauty wins.

pallet coat/bag rack inspired by homedit.com

Aaron had this video cued for me to watch when I woke up..my first gift on my birthday.

I laughed until I cried. Then I watched it three more times. It got more and more funny.

Next it was time to party! Paige Livesay and I share the same birthday week. We also share a love for Texas, wide open pastures, Gilmore Girls, bacon, and a hatred for hot dogs. I love this girl, could not be more proud of her, and am thankful for the influence and impact she has on our kid's lives. We tease our boys that if they are ever in doubt they can think, "What would Paige do?" Note to self: WWPD bracelets would be the perfect stocking stuffers for four little boys we know.

Tara Livesay knows how to par-tay.

She has a gift for making people feel special and loved.

Birthdays are her thing! She does them up right.

Thanks for the party, T. It was the bee's knees.

Just Dance on the Driveway

In my mind I am Beyonce when I dance. Until I saw this picture, I didn't think anything could convince me otherwise.

It was a perfect weekend! And to think 20 years ago, I would have thought by the time I turned 35 I'd be in a nursing home eating mashed potatoes. I guess I was wrong.

Anticipating Advent

2011-11-27T15:15:00.000-08:00

We've spent the weekend getting ready for Advent. I wonder what you call the period of time before advent begins when you wait in anticipation and expectation for advent to start. Tonight we'll snuggle up with the ones we love and begin this month-long journey of retelling the greatest story ever told. We will tell of Jesus' birth to children who make sure the atmosphere is anything but holy. I'll marvel that God's son was born in a manger. The least likely of places. I'll look around the room at little boys who are rowdy and distracted by the candle fire, and at the grownups who some times get a little frustrated with said little boys. This scene will cause me to be teary-eyed thankful that God seems to surround Himself with misfits...the people who fail and fall short.

inspired by Shannan at Flower Patch Farm Girl

the book page garland was inspired by Shannan as well

We hung cousins on the tree cause our hearts ache for them.

Ashton burst into tears looking at this picture of KK.

I held him and cried too.

Inspired by this Etsy shop.

Advent is a time of longing. A time of sweet anticipation. My soul is thirsty and eager to be reminded of Emmanuel, God with us. We'll remind each other that though this world is broken it is not forsaken. The same King that came as a baby, just like He said He would, is coming again to right every wrong, to break the chains of oppression, and heal the wounds of this world. It's tempting to wait without hope when it seems as though it has been too long. Will He come again? There is so much pain. So much sadness. Why does He tarry? We will tell the story of His faithfulness to the faces of our precious sons. We will savor the story. We will long for a savior. We will long to believe. Long for faith.

We will sing of God's love. His grace. His gift.

inspired by Stephanie Lynn's website.

Inspired by: Two Girls Being Crafty.

inspired by Desperate Craftwives

paper wreath inspired by Paper Craze

My sister-in-law, Lynsey found two of these perfect candle holders

at a thrift shop this summer. Then she gave me one.

She is the. very. best.

"The snow may be soundlessly falling in piles of white all around you as you read these words. Or waves may be lapping up outside your door, a steady rhythm under palm trees. Or rain may be coursing in slow and silent rivulets down your windowpanes. But wherever you are on this tilted, spinning globe as you read these words, each of us, the whole planet, we are all sitting close — waiting. Waiting for Christ’s coming.

For this is the season of Advent, the four weeks before Christmas.

The word, advent, it comes from a Latin word. And it means “coming.”

Aren’t we, the whole of the globe, aren’t we waiting for the coming of Christ? For the God in the manger who makes Himself bread? The Saviour in swaddlings who makes Himself our robe of righteousness? The Christ who makes precisely what none of us can — Christmas.

It is only Christ alone who can make Christmas.

We are waiting for the glorious coming of Christ. Sometimes the heart yearning for the gift— is part of the gift!"

-- From Ann VosKamp's free Advent Study

Perhaps you'd like to wait with purposeful longing this holiday season. Perhaps your soul needs to hear this story again and again. Advent starts today, so maybe you'll be tempted to throw your hands in the air and declare, "All is lost, there is no hope, I'm too late." I have good news. The baby we celebrate came for the late, the lazy, the slackers, the hurried, the ones with good intentions, the busy, the ones who forever struggle to get it together. What a relief! It is never too late. Grab the ones you love and whisper in their ears this rich story.

Free Advent Study from Ann VosKamp

Behold the Lamb of God, an Advent Narrative. Book version. E-book version.

Free Advent Study from The Village Church (the church Matt Chandler pastors).

Christmas Opened Up: Advent study for little kids.

Behold the Lamb of God CD. Beautiful telling of the Christmas story by gifted musicians.

tree topper inspired by hostessblog

inspired by Ucreate

For young children: Countdown to Christmas with books.
Kids open a book every day in December. Review of Kirby's favorite books. You can check these out from your library or grow your own collection over the years.

Tahoe Express: Take your kids on a special night to see Christmas lights. Such a cute idea.

Two really cute ways to create an advent calendar.

Gingerbread Nativity

Popcorn bar paired with a Christmas movie will make for a sweet night. This popcorn bar is over the top cute. We will go with a more lame version.

Cute mason jar lanterns. Jar + tissue paper + glue + votive candle = instant wonder at bedtime

Shepherd's Pouch - a great way to teach kids about giving gifts to Jesus in December.

More links to come...

Thanksgiving Day Feast and Videos

2011-11-24T17:11:00.000-08:00

photo by Tara Livesay

To celebrate Thanksgiving we went to Beth's house for a feast. I have no idea how this lady not only figures out how to get four turkeys into Haiti but also knows how to cook four turkeys. I've cooked one turkey in my life and then quickly made sure my aunts know that they can't die until I have daughter-in-laws who know how to cook turkeys. I plan to never cook another one ever again.

"What are your thoughts on Jesus, the movie UP, and...how confident are you that you could pull off cooking a turkey? On a scale from 1 to 10?" I don't think those will be weird questions to ask girls my sons begin to fancy one day. Not weird at all.

Moral of the story: Beth is a cooking saint. She makes holidays special in a place that desperately needs some special.

photo by Beth McHoul

The boys ate. Ran around with friends. Ate. Ran around with friends. Ate. Ran. Ate. You get the picture, right?

Aaron and I ate. Then sat on our duffs. Ate. Then sat on our duffs. Ate. You get the picture, right?

The kids have been working on a Thanksgiving presentation to perform on Thanksgiving Day. The curriculum we use to educate our crazy crew is called Classical Conversations. This curriculum is heavy on public speaking. Every Monday each child gives a 2-3 minute speech in front of all their classmates, tutors, and parents. We've been incredibly pleased to see our kids progress into fearless public speakers. The first few weeks their presentations were hilarious enough for the parents to mock them behind their backs. We mocked them until it was our turn to give a speech. Not easy. The kids did a beautiful job today. We were very proud of this wonky bunch. We waited until last night to break the news to them that there would be about 75 people at Beth's house this year. It did not even phase these little public speakers. They were ready to go!

Paige was a top-notch director. She worked with the kids for weeks. She dominated her role as encourager, boss, and woman with the plan.

Isaac Livesay recited Abraham Lincoln's Thanksgiving Day Proclamation.

Hope and Hayden recited this poem:

The kids said a heart-felt thank you to Beth for all her hard work.

And our favorite? Inspired by Jeff Foxworthy's "You Might Be a Redneck" the kids put their heads together (along with some Haiti friends) to write their own version called...

You Might Be Celebrating Thanksgiving in Haiti if....

It was a beautiful day. This month spent with our thankful tree, counting our blessings, and reading Ann VosKamp's One Thousand Gifts has made November extra sweet. My word, I want to be a thankful person. I want to see God in all things...the hard things and the lovely things. I fail often. Yet even in failing I'm in awe of His grace towards me. He is good to people who do not deserve it.

We pray you were surrounded by people you love today, and reminded of God's grace, love, mercy, and kindness. We can never say it enough: We're thankful for the way you love, encourage, pray, support, and fill our lives with laughter. You pray when we're too weary to pray. You send notes of love on days when we wonder why we're doing this, if any of it matters, when there is so much more to do. When I am afraid or worried you spur me on, and it makes me all kinds of weepy to think that people across the water are praying for us and for our children. God sees. We know He does because of the way you remind us that we're not alone, we're all in this together. Thank you for caring for us and for the women and children here in Haiti that we love so much. Thank you for helping us bring truth, education, value, and justice to women and babies around us. You are one of the gifts we've counted this month.

Pumpkin Muffins

2011-11-23T06:03:00.000-08:00

2 1/2 c. sugar
8 oz. pkg. of cream cheese
1/2 c. butter
4 eggs
15 oz. can of pumpkin
3 1/2 c. flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. ground cloves

Combine sugar, softened cream cheese, and softened butter, mixing until well blended. Add eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Blend in pumpkin. Add combined dry ingredients, mixing just until moistened. Pour into greased and floured muffin pans. Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes.

I got this recipe from a friend a hundred years ago. My boys associate November with pumpkin muffins. Because I detest baking, my favorite plan is to make a whole bunch of these, let them cool, then freeze them in large freezer bags. When the boys want one, they take one out of the freezer and pop it in the microwave. I only cook once, but the boys have muffins for weeks. Best. Baking. Plan. Ever.

Making

2011-11-22T06:46:00.000-08:00

True story: I have a love-hate relationship with hot glue. On one hand, I think a whole lot of the world's problems can be fixed with a glue gun. On the other hand...like on my actual hand...I have four burns and two blisters.

Last year was our first December in Haiti. To say we had not really thought through Christmas in a new country would be an understatement. Haiti is fresh out of craft stores, and the ornaments a few of the stores do sell are gaudy and well...just not us at all.

Exhibit A

For a week this was our advent candle holder.

A potato.

Thankfully...should I use the word thankfully?...we eventually

found some shot glasses and made candle holders out of them.

Last year we learned a valuable lesson. We had no Christmas tree. We had no nativity set. We read our advent study in the evenings around a potato and some shot glasses. And you know what? We had a really sweet Christmas. No tree, none of our favorite decorations...nothing familiar to us...except the most important things...Emmanuel, God with us...and each other.

After Christmas I sat with the boys and asked them their thoughts on Christmas. We all agreed...it was precious and wonderful, but we each admitted that we missed some of our favorite things...our traditions...a tree, our nativity set and stockings. I made notes. This summer, while in Texas I dug out some of our favorite Christmas items. I also spent some time making some new stockings. Ours are old, falling a part, and not at all special. They were pre-pinterest. Need I say anything more?

I got this stocking idea from hgtv, and then realized my sister-in-law is friends

with the lady who designed this stocking for the article. Small world.

I found all the burlap for the stockings at a garage sale in Texas. I paid $1 for about 30 giant burlap bags. I may have done The Hammer all the way back to the truck with the heavy bags. I was that excited.

The burlap came in handy for stockings and banners. I made one for Thanksgiving and for Christmas, and then tucked them in my suitcase to bring back to Haiti.

I will always, always have such sweet memories of making these stockings and these banners. I was on the farm, my nieces and boys were playing in the house or sitting at the table with me learning to hand-sew pillows out of scrap fabric. My sister-in-law was right across the driveway. I'd run over there barefoot to show her a stocking after I finished it. She'd ooh-and-ahh...say all the right things...cause she's the best that way. All of it...special, special.

photo taken at Yonder Way Farm by Lynsey Kramer

Now that I'm back in Haiti I've been busy the last few days gathering supplies to make some ornaments. We bought a tree. Actually we bought THE tree at the grocery store down the road. There was a lot of excitement in our little Haitian grocery store when Aaron announced we wanted to buy the tree on display. Word spread in the front of the store. It was such a joyful experience! It was also comical as three Haitian men dismantled the tall tree and shoved it into the tiniest of boxes.

Kirby and I made this ornament this summer. I've been busy reproducing them. You can't just have one nest on your tree.

Kirby also found this ornament on Pinterest from Stephanie Lynn's website. Isn't it fantastic? I'm using french books to reproduce this beautiful bird.

These were crazy easy to make.

I got the idea and tutorial over at Two Girls Being Crafty.

Garage sale lace glued onto an ugly ball ornament with a rosette topper.

canvas and jute

Inspired by this Etsy shop.

these are my favorite

I did all the ball ornaments in one day. You could probably do them in half a day. I lost power for many hours and could not use my glue gun. This is Haiti, after all.

We ordered Behold the Lamb of God - an Advent Narrative. This is a new advent reading released this year. We love Andrew Peterson.

Peterson's Behold the Lamb of God CD is pretty much all we listen to during December. It's beautiful. Each song, woven together tells the story of Christmas beginning in the garden. We're thrilled an advent study inspired by the story-telling of this CD has been made available. Last year we used Ann VosKamp's advent devotional. It was beautiful, and I will read it again this year. If you have younger children, I have heard really great things about Christmas Opened Up.

I'll share some more fantastic ideas for Advent soon. None of the ideas are mine, but I have smarty-pants, creative friends...and I steal from them! Advent starts this coming Sunday. We've never started on time. That's part of our tradition. I wanted to share these great resources early enough in case anyone wants to order them.

In the mean time, I have big plans to make:

Book page tree topper inspired by Lorajean's Magazine.

Newspaper or book page garland inspired by one of my soul-sisters, Shannan at Flower Patch Farm Girl.

My aversion to newspaper ink being on my hands may force me to consider making this burlap garland inspired by the Do It Yourself Divas. We shall see.

I am going to let the boys help me make these beauties inspired by Flower Patch Farm Girl. These will give us some color on our tree. My boys think Pinterest is a site that teaches moms how to make things out of sticks.

I love these white shabby chic pom pom ornaments. You can buy them at this Etsy shop. I think I found a tutorial for them at the I Still Love You website.

Last night the boys and I were reading Ann VosKamp's One Thousand Gifts. The chapter was about chasing beauty. We had a great discussion about how beauty belongs to God. It's His. When we endeavor to create, to make something lovely out of something plain and ordinary, in a tiny way we hold redemption in our hands. I have been busy the past few days sitting still, with fabric in my hands, lace spread out on the table, in the quiet...thinking of how grateful I am for beauty, for creativity, and for the God who is in all of it.

And now I must stop typing because my hot-glue-gun blisters are stinging! I'm off to Child Development Day at the Maternity Center with bandaids on my fingers!

When The Laundry is Drying

2011-11-18T11:41:00.000-08:00

And the baby is sprawled out, sleepy-faced on his bed...

Taking some time to look for beauty in my own yard
was like a spa day for my soul.

Isn't this life we live an unexpected, mixed bag?

Pain, heartache, toil, grief and yet...

exploding with beauty and wonder...

( and whatever these things are...hmm...not sure)

Everywhere...we are surrounded by the ugly, the ordinary...

the death and the dying *...

but the new and the lovely can't be held back or contained

Miracles, the new, they don't ask permission to make their debut.

love, laughter, joy, what is holy..sacred...it presses on

nothing can fully restrain it

I like thinking about how ultimately the beauty will win.

For now, we get tiny pieces. Clear blue sky. Child laughing.

Peanut butter on the fingertips. Flowers so magnificent they don't seem real.

Breeze at just the right moment. Early morning lingering hug from a spouse.

The first sleepy-headed child awakes, seeks me out, and presses against my skin.

Aren't these but previews of what will come and what will always be?

Doesn't all of it...the sadness...the pain...the beauty...the glory glimpses

teach our hearts to long for heaven?

*Yes, I also found a 114 year old white woman in my yard.
She has old-lady hands. Don't tell her I told you.

When A Statistic Cries

2011-11-17T18:55:00.000-08:00

We told her she has HIV today. 22 years old. Four months pregnant. Homeless. Desperate. Hopeless.

Silence.

It doesn't sink in. How can it? This bad news needs time to pile in...squeeze in...like the last person on a crowded tap tap. Just when you think nothing else could possibly fit, one more person pushes in and finds a seat. The bad news. The newest bad news. It takes time to push its way into her mind, pushing all the other bad news in her soul aside, making room for more.

"I have HIV?" She is trying to understand.

Yes.

Instant. Tears. Face a mess. Overcome. She tries to leave the room. Run away. We hold onto her. She sits. Head falls into her own lap. Her body broken. Heaving. We try to comfort her. We all cry. A room full of tears. We hurt for her. We hurt for Haiti. This land of unlimited impossibilities. We hurt for women. The way they are used. Sometimes the only way to survive is to be dehumanized and devalued...to give yourself to a man who you know has many other women. We hurt for this hemorrhaging planet. We cry out for hope.

I cry for her and I cry knowing three years ago, I would have sat in my smug, safe little world and arrogantly judged women "like this" who can't quit having sex. I cry with new eyes. I weep for this small piece of grace I find in this room heavy with grief. I was wrong, and I could have died never knowing it. Grace. What grace. Why me, God...why all this grace towards me? Why is she dying and you give me grace? Why are you healing my judgmental, harsh heart...a heart that turned people into numbers...people into diseases...people into epidemics...forgetting they are people....real people....precious people who sob, who cry all their tears out when they are told their test is positive? Why are you healing my disease in the same room where she just learned of hers?

We hurt with this scared, young mother. The stigma for people with HIV is terrible in Haiti, so it's possible she will not tell anyone. No one will know how scared she is. No one will know that the person they saw yesterday is not the person they see today. Today she is different. Today everything changed. I can't imagine getting this diagnosis and not being able to go home and cry for days. Most likely she cried out all her tears behind the closed doors of our exam room because she won't be able to cry them in front of her family or friends. She will carry this secret and this shame.

We have one other woman in our program with HIV. I'm not sure how the saddest thing and the most beautiful thing can exist in only a few square feet, but today it did. None of the other women in our program know that this woman they sit in class with every week is HIV positive. Yet she agreed to talk to this young mom who just found out she is infected. She risked a great deal to share her secret with this sad, hurting woman. Through tears she told her story of hope, strength, and survival. My heart swelled up wild with love and admiration for both of these women. Their stories are painful, living, heart-wrenching, heaving, beautiful, courageous, and yet somehow we find a way to squeeze all that humanity into a black and white statistic, write it down on a paper, and fight about it. How does this happen?

I go to bed with a heavy heart. Asking God for mercy...for this woman that we crushed and held today...and for all of us who have ever sat a million miles away and judged her. God please. Have mercy.

Third Culture Kids

2011-11-16T17:25:00.000-08:00

Ask these two mosquito net lovers if they have found that African proverb to be true...they'll tell ya.

______________________________

One of our boys lost a tooth today. We've never done the "tooth fairy" thing. I'd like to say it's because we're not really into going out of our way to lie to our kids, (that would sound uber spiritual) but really we're just not into getting up in the middle of the night for one more kid-driven reason. Without the tooth fairy our children manage to offer us multiple opportunities a week to connect with them during hours when the entire rest of the hemisphere is sleeping. They are so incredibly thoughtful that way.

We do pay up for teeth though. In the middle of the afternoon, Aaron came in the kitchen with a dollar bill. "Here's your dollar. The tooth fairy doesn't land in Port-au-Prince at night. It's not safe."

None of the airlines will land here at night either. Only some days does it really sink in how strange our lives are here.

__________________________________________

"I don't want ketchup! I want rice. I want riiiiiiiiice!"

-- Hudson Hendrick throwing a big fat fit at dinner last night

When Hope Happens

2011-11-15T17:43:00.000-08:00

Marie Lourdes, a mother of six children came to the maternity center today. Her husband left for work in the morning a month ago and never returned home. Rumor has it, her husband was murdered. Not many men take the role of provider seriously here, but from what we can gather...this man did. Up until a month ago he provided financially for his family. He had a job. A decent one. Their children are in school. This woman who has lost so much this month stared ahead with her three year old son sitting on her lap. "I have asked people to help me find orphanages for some of my kids."

Thankfully, she came to the wrong house to say such things. Beth immediately did what Beth does best. She spoke truth to this woman...words of comfort...words of encouragement. "Your children just lost their father. They do not need to lose their mother. You can take care of your kids. We will help you find a way. Your children have never needed you more than they need you right now." Marie Lourde sat and nodded her head. Even in her grief, she knows...she knows. Tara prayed with her. We told her that we hurt with her, and we will continue to pray.

This mother left the maternity center and headed to our sewing center. She'll pick up some pillows to sell. We are talking and trying to figure out how best to help Marie Lourdes. There are no easy answers for these situations, but I'm thankful that six kids who could have been dropped off at an orphanage in the weeks to come will hopefully be raised by their mother because people are beginning to open their minds wide to what orphan care can look like. Doesn't it make sense that one of the best ways to fight the orphan crisis is to prevent children from becoming orphans? -- from a post written on October 6

___________________________________________________

Aaron wrote this post about Marie Lourdes a few days ago.

___________________________________________________

Today....

The car is quiet on the way to the maternity center. "I feel like I'm coming out of this." Aaron needs no explanation. He knows. He's watched his wife sink into the heaviest of fogs the past couple of weeks. Since living in Haiti, these times come and go. One day I am clumsily walking along and another day I look out the window at this foreign land we live in and can't take the sadness and injustice one more moment. The thought of living side by side with all that is broken for much longer makes me feel like I'm imploding. I am weak. Weary. I don't want to fight any more. Not one more day. Not one more second. I want to "tap out." Go home. Be done. Forget these faces. Erase their stories. This all seems impossible and pointless.

These days have been dark ones.

Aaron drives me to the maternity center. He comes in and waits for Marie Lourdes. They are meeting today. She comes into the building. A photo of her dead husband in her hands. She wants me to see. She wants us all to see. She misses him. She grieves the life she had.

Aaron's truck holds everything Marie Lourdes will need to sell rice and beans on a busy street in Port-au-Prince. As of a today, she is a business owner again. She has been given a chance to get back on her feet. To support her children. To keep her babies.

Marie Lourdes and I sit in a room alone together. There is so much I want to say. "We are the same. You and I. Broken. Needy. Desperate. Searching hard for the goodness of God. Looking for grace. Coming up empty handed." I don't know all those words in Creole so instead I tell her that when she cries, Jesus hears her. He is here. He listens. We can't see it every day, but He loves us every day. He loves us. My eyes fill up with tears. So do hers. I don't know how to tell her that my soul is thirsty for these words I'm speaking to her. Hungry for the kind of words you can write down on paper but starving for the Word that became flesh and walked this wounded planet. I need to know He's here. I need to know He's in this. That He's near to all of us who are broken. That he's near to those who can't seem to find the good in what He's doing. That He's near to the people who want to quit, who have counted the cost and are asking for their money back. That He's near to people who are struggling to trust Him. Are you near to all of this, God?

We give Marie Lourdes rice and beans. This gift brings her hope, nourishment, and encouragement. God listens. He hears. He knows. The night before, the hope and tender care my own soul needed came by way of precious emails from friends...unexpected strangers...the exact people with precise words...balm for the broken, aching places. I was unaware of how hungry I was to know...to really know that God sees me. He sees all of it.

We sit there. Me. Marie Lourdes. Different circumstances. Same soul-broken mess.

I desperately need Marie Lourdes to know..."You're a good mother. We know you can do this. You are intelligent and strong. God sees you. He. Sees. You."

She rides away from the maternity center with Aaron. She's coming out of the fog too.

Doesn't hope look beautiful on a person?

The Weary Eyes of the Widow

2011-11-11T22:25:00.001-08:00

- From Aaron

"If I have denied the desires of the poor
or let the eyes of the widow grow weary,
if I have kept my bread to myself,
not sharing it with the fatherless …
If I have seen anyone perishing for lack of clothing,
or a needy man without a garment
and his heart did not bless me for warming him
with the fleece from my sheep…
then let my arm fall from the shoulder,
let it be broken off at the joint.”

- Job 31:16-17, 19-20, 22

It’s been over a month since Marie Lourdes came to the women’s center and shared her story. Mother of six. Husband murdered. No way to support her family. Looking for orphanages that would take her kids. Beth counseled her against further breaking apart her family and gave her some resources to help her make some money to feed her family.

Heather wrote about Marie Lourdes here and shared her story. Since then we had a couple of people email us and say that they would like to help support this family. However we didn’t see her again and had no way to contact her. Until today.

Marie Lourdes showed up at the maternity center still needing help. I went over to talk to her with Beth and to figure out what would be the best way to use our resources to help this mom and her kids.

To be honest, it was really hard for me. Heather interacts with these ladies every week. She sees their faces and hears their stories over and over. She carries a burden for them and communicates that often through the blog.

But my life is different. Last year while Heather worked at Heartline I taught wealthy Haitian kids at a private school. While we're working on getting the men's discipleship program going, I spend a lot of my time behind the scenes with wood and tools and generators. I hear the stories from these ladies, but I hear them second hand. I know who Marie Lourdes is and I know her story. But to walk in and see her emaciated frame and the sadness in her eyes was incredibly difficult.

We told Marie Lourdes about the people who wanted to help her. We asked her what would be most useful and how she could use those small gifts to make a bigger profit and feed her family. Unlike many of the women we see, Marie Lourdes already has a head for business. She is an experienced vendor. She’s a hard worker who will do what’s necessary to feed her kids. She wants to sell rice and beans on the street.

We agreed to help her out with what she needs to get started with her small business. With the scripture from Job 31 echoing in my brain, I told Beth that I would go get some rice and beans and other things that Marie Lourdes can use to feed her family and to cook food that she can sell on the street. She’ll come back on Tuesday to pick up what we’re providing for her. She was grateful, and Beth asked me to pray.

But before I could begin, Marie Lourdes began to cry. Which meant Beth began to cry. Beth cries all the time. That’s normal. But to hear Marie Lourdes weeping and praying and to watch her boney shoulders heaving … it was too much. It was all I could do to choke out some prayerful words through my tears, my voice cracking like a 14 year old.

I honestly don’t know how Heather, Beth, Cookie, Tara, and the other ladies that work at the maternity center can do what they do every single week. What they do is amazing. They are intimately connected to so many women with stories that we can hardly imagine … much less relate to. This was one story. They hear many. This was one woman. They know and love many women just like Marie Lourdes.

I got a small glimpse of why Heather, Beth, Tara, and Cookie are so passionate about the women they serve. Marie Lourdes helped me to understand my wife better, to feel a small piece of the struggle she feels, to understand why she would fight you right now, risk relationships, and maybe even say offensive things if she feels these women's lives are being overlooked, disregarded, disrespected, or misunderstood.

It’s one thing to know about the brokenness that surrounds us.

It’s another thing to really know those who are living in the midst of this brokenness.

Please continue to pray for Marie Lourdes and the other ladies that come through the doors of the maternity center. Pray for Heather, Beth, Cookie, Tara, and the other ladies who minister there. Pray for ministry that Heartline is doing in our area. Pray that God would do what only He can do in bringing healing and restoration to each of these broken places. The broken places in the lives of those who have been given so little, and the broken places in the lives of those of us who have been given so much.

Paleo-Primal-Caveman-Whatev. Take Two.

2011-11-11T11:31:00.000-08:00

I know you're all going mad wondering when I'm going to revisit this strange paleo-primal-whatever you call it way of eating. That was sarcasm, in case you did not catch it. This may be incredibly boring for all but one and a half of you, but it's time for an update.

I'm on month five of this paleo-primal-whatever you call it way of eating. That's about four and a half months longer than I've ever consistently stuck to a ~~diet~~ healthier eating lifestyle. I've lost a few more pounds. Weight loss is a great perk eating paleo-primal-whatever provides but it's not the best perk. Some of the greatest perks...I don't have to feel hungry, I have lots of energy, don't want the foods I'm "not supposed to have" and most importantly...I'm eating more fruits and vegetables than I have ever eaten in my life. I crave carrots. What the what? That sounds ridiculous. I'm rolling my eyes at myself.

I've always wanted to eat better, consume more vegetables, and eat more natural foods. In reality, I rarely ate those things. The "want to" but "don't actually do it" dynamic pretty much sums up my life. If pressed, I would probably have agreed that foods have the power to nourish and even heal us...that eating foods close to the earth...the way God made them was most likely the best way to eat. I would say those things about food, and I mean I'd literally say those things to a group of Haitian women when I teach about nutrition and food choices, yet I majored in crappy eating prior to five months ago.

I'd prepare for a class, spread a table full of natural, super-foods found locally in Haiti, talk about a good and gracious God who provides these things at very little cost to us, and feel incredibly sad that I'm guilty myself of constantly choosing what is less-than, what is no-good, over what God has lovingly provided. I'd talk up avocados, carrots, papaya, and mango and then go home and eat a meatball sub.

It's strange to begin to see food in a whole new way. These gifts that grow from this earth are incredible and a lavish grace I have taken for granted, passed up entirely, and never thought much about. Natural foods work with our body. They strengthen us, protect us, and nourish us. Processed foods not only do not do those things, they work against our bodies, oftentimes poisoning us and causing disease. God's gifts are always better, mind-boggling, and unexplainable.

While preparing for nutrition classes, I read up on all the health benefits of common, ordinary foods. Every time I do, I find that these gifts God gives, the bounty that comes from this earth are anything but ordinary and simple. They are elaborate and extravagant.

With everything in life there is this soul struggle to believe...really believe that what God gives is really enough and can fully satisfy. I think this is my most favorite, unexpected joy in this new way of eating. I am satisfied. My body doesn't crave the foods that used to control me. Eating this way takes no real self-control because I don't want the carbs or sugar. I've said it before and I'll say it again...if this approach to eating took self-discipline and self-control, I could not do it. If I had to constantly fight against cravings, I would say I wanted to eat healthier, and then I'd go eat some cheese dip. The truth is, when we don't eat sugar we don't crave it. The end.

Paleo in the News

CBS recently did an investigation into the "Caveman Diet" or Paleo/Primal way of life. You can watch all the videos here. I haven't watched the videos because I'd be 85 years old by the time they loaded where I live. Dr. Mercola recently wrote about eating paleo and all the health benefits. I don't so much care about the caveman part of this. I don't even subscribe to paleo blogs. What I do know is this has been a very spiritual and humbling thing for me to look at the food that God created as a grace gift...to try Him...to see if He really can satisfy. He has. Amen and amen. Now if this truth could soak into the other 95 million ares of my life where I still need to learn that lesson...

"While we may consider ourselves to be at the pinnacle of human development, our modern food manufacturing processes have not created a race of super-humans in possession of great health and longevity.

Quite the contrary..

Humans today suffer more chronic and debilitating diseases than ever before. And there can be little doubt that our food choices play a major role in this development. " -- Dr. Mercola

"In two weeks, everybody's blood pressure went down and everybody's cholesterol and triglyceride levels got better. The average drop was 30 points, which was pretty amazing. It's the type of drop you get by taking statins for six months," said Dr. Frassetto.

Dr. Frassetto says Paleo foods, also known as the caveman diet, works by keeping your body's chemistry in better balance. The goal of the caveman diet is to reduce excess body fat, aid in the normalization of blood sugar levels and reduce toxins and anti-nutrients." -- from the CBS report

Getting Started

I say all is well now, that I don't crave the breads, sugar, and other paleo no-no's but that is now. It didn't happen automatically. The first two weeks I was on the "diet" were terrible. I was angry. Mad. Weird feeling. Tired. Anxious. When I say terrible, I mean terrible. I should have been locked in a closet.

This is what coming off of an addiction to sugar and processed foods feels like. They should create rehab places for people like me.

Here's how I survived: I was in the States when I started, so thankfully I was able to plan elaborate, fancy meals. I put a lot of thought into what I would eat those two weeks. Incredible omelets for breakfast. Tons of meat, gorgeous salads...yummy fruit...I went all out. When I was angry or grumpy, I'd eat. I'd eat the allowed foods, but still...I'd eat. This helped. So did having some crystal lite in the evenings when I thought I was going to die if I didn't swallow something with sweetness in it. When I'd want to pour me a bucket-sized bowl of cereal or swim in Blue Bell Ice Cream, I'd make me a tall glass of Crystal lite instead. It helped. I did not lose weight in that two weeks. How could I? I was eating like a heifer. The weight loss came later, when the sugar addiction was broken and food quit being my daddy.

After about two weeks (I don't think it was a full two weeks) things changed. I didn't need the Crystal lite anymore in the evenings. I didn't even need the fancy meals. Food quit bossing me around. I wasn't nearly as hungry. That's how I feel today.

The rest of the family...

I get asked a lot if the rest of my family eats Paleo. The answer is, "No I want them to like me." Maybe one day I will work towards moving us all in that direction, but for now I can't tackle that...especially here in Haiti where I already have more frustration and stress than I know what to do with. Instead, I try to cook them a whole-foods meal (they still eat noodles, bread, and rice) and then I usually modify the meal for myself. If I can't modify it, I don't really care that much. An apple with an embarrassing amount of almond butter for dinner is fine with me or a giant bowl of mango, avocado, sea salt, and lime. This really hasn't been that big of a deal. Because I don't crave the foods they are eating, I don't feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick at dinner time.

My faves...

Pinterest helps with all things paleo-primal-whatever. Well of course this post was going to be about Pinterest. Didn't you see it coming? Who knew people actually put thought into cooking vegetables? I can honestly say I rarely thought of how our veggies would be cooked. I simply threw veggies on the plate to choke down. Now I get all nerd-out excited when I see a new vegetable recipe. I said this wasn't going to become a recipe blog, so let's look at this more like a celebration of the simple things...the grace gifts that grow up from the ground.

roasted cabbage wedges from Martha Stewart

zucchini pizza from Kalyn's Kitchen

tuna filled avocado from Foodie with Family

I eat this for lunch a few times a week.

Haitian avocados are delish.

I make tuna salad the way I like it and then fill an avocado up.

Primal Philly Cheesesteak from Health Bent

The men in my life pile this stuff up high on soft, fresh, bread they buy on the side of the road.

I stuff an avocado with this philly cheesesteak happiness.

This meal makes me a hero in my house.

We eat it every couple weeks.

These are my all-time favorites right now.

I eat them several times a week.

Lime Cumin Roasted Carrots from Babble

I know food, diet, health, and weight are all sensitive topics. I would never say this is the only way to eat. The only thing I can say for sure, with any real confidence, is that the way I was eating prior to five months ago was not good. My relationship with food needed to change. This paleo-primal-caveman-whatever you want to call it way of eating has been extremely valuable as I've sought to make those changes. Like anything else, stewardship of our bodies and glorifying God in the way we eat and drink are each a journey and this approach to eating has been a part of that journey for me personally. The perfect diet is not written down in the Bible so there is freedom for each of us as we seek to be good stewards of all of God's gifts..our bodies included. Praise the Lord, right?

If you have questions, I'll gladly answer them if I can. I don't usually do so hot at hanging out in the comments section of my blog, but I will purposefully do so this time in case there are questions. If these food thoughts resound with you and you are wanting to take this leap and need some encouragement, I'll be your cheerleader.

A few months ago I wrote my first post about this new way of eating. That post can be found here.
That first post was about the reasons I decided to try this paleo-primal-whatever way of eating, losing the weight I needed to lose, and more details about what I do eat and don't eat. The nuts and bolts, I guess.

The Next Step

2011-11-10T13:26:00.000-08:00

"Among the 38 countries most desperately in need of midwives, 22 need to double the

workforce by 2015; seven need to triple or quadruple it; and nine, specifically Cameroon,

Chad, Ethiopia, Guinea, Haiti, Niger, Sierra Leone, Somalia and Sudan

need to dramatically scale up midwifery by a factor of between six and 15."

~ from Medical News Today

While we continue to learn and help at the maternity center, Tara and I have spent the last couple months pursuing what's next in our midwifery education. We've checked into many semi-distance-type midwifery courses. We've talked to several midwives we know personally and sought their advice. Thankfully we work with some top-notch midwives. We've asked a lot of questions. We have done a lot of thinking. A lot of praying. I've personally done a lot of melting down, going back and forth, one day excited, the next day very afraid. This is a huge decision, it will require a great deal of money, studying, and sacrifice on behalf of my family. Thankfully Aaron and the kids are supportive. This is a decision that affects all of us. We believe God has set things up in such a way where I can feel sure about moving forward in my education without putting unnecessary strain on our home.

I think we've finally found a school that best matches our needs and current living situation. Tara is visiting the school during an upcoming trip to the US before we take the next step, send in our application, and ultimately some money.

I'm a lay the cards on the table kind of gal. Can I be bare-bones honest right now? Oh good. Thanks.

Aaron and I have been talking through this whole "Should I be a midwife idea" for a long time now. Since last year actually. A lot of difficult conversations have been had and then had all over again. Rinse. Repeat. I have peace about the studying, the work, and even about the sacrifice we will all have to make in our house in order for this to become a reality. One of the key elements in our decision making process is financial. If I'm going to become a midwife, the bottom line is, God must provide a way. I truly believe that if God calls us to something, He pays the bill...somehow, some way. So we wait on Him to show us how or if He wants to do that.

I selfishly wish I arrived on this island a midwife. Wouldn't that make more sense? "If I was writing this story, I'd write it differently." Remember that? The truth is, in the States I had never even considered, for one second, becoming a midwife. I think this story would be way cooler if I had. It wasn't until coming to Haiti, learning the sad reality that up to 90% of pregnancy related deaths could be prevented if women simply had a trained birth attendant, that midwifery became incredibly important to me. Being at births, supporting women in their most vulnerable times, and knowing and loving the women we serve at Heartline has ignited true passion in me. Personally knowing women who could have easily made up those scary, sad statistics has a way of changing everything. We personally know and love women who simply would not be alive today had they not been delivering at Heartline or with a trained birth attendant. Truth changes us. It always changes us.

I have not always wanted to be a midwife, but looking back, I am aware that loving and supporting women has always been a theme in the story God is writing. God gave me ample opportunities to walk this crazy road with college-aged women and as a breastfeeding advocate and counselor for new mothers while living in Texas. I literally grieved leaving those ministries and relationships behind because I was foolish enough to think I was actually leaving it all behind. Never in a million years would I have ever thought God would bring me to Haiti, throw me into a group of incredible midwives and allow me to use those same God-given desires in this very new, unexpected way. Often, as we've talked through this new possibility, I've gotten frustrated that God didn't lead me to become a midwife before coming here. He knew I was coming here, right? I'm trying to trust that those 12 years of ministry to college-aged women and new mothers was the soil that had to be tended...that had to be prepared for me to be effective or passionate about midwifery today. So here I am, not a midwife, yet working with midwives, serving women who would not have access to prenatal care, wanting to learn more, and trying to figure out how God is going to put all of these pieces together.

We do not normally use our blog for personal fund-raising purposes. The times we've done that are few and far between. Whether it should or not, asking for money (even for missions and ministry that we believe in whole heartedly) feels all sorts of creepy to us. However, as much as I hate asking, I also know somewhere deep down inside of me that God's plan and picture are always bigger than my own. This mosaic of His Kingdom is vast, and sometimes I forget that we're just one tiny picture within a picture. Perhaps this journey to become a midwife in a developing country is not just my journey or my family's journey. I am selfish at my core, so oftentimes I only think of how this is affecting me and us. I forget to include others, and I struggle to remember that God has provided His people and His church to under-gird ministry to the vulnerable and to least of these. This is a Kingdom thing and it includes a whole lot of people, not just the people I eat dinner with every night. Just typing that out brings a lot of comfort. Note to self: remind yourself of this truth more often.

Perhaps you are supposed to be on this road with us as well. Part of the decision making process for us is prayerfully asking God to provide financially for my education. Maybe He will not provide the funds. Wouldn't that make the next step a lot easier? Maybe He will provide in some sort of crazy, mysterious way. Maybe He will provide through some scholarship of which I'm not yet aware. Maybe He will use you, the people already on this road, whose hearts have been touched by the plight of women here in Haiti. I really have no idea. What I do know is He must provide, and so we're busy asking Him to do that.

If you'd like to invest in my midwifery education, please email me personally. I will give you all the details. hendrickcrew@gmail.com

If you can't help financially we ask you to pray with us as we wait on God to ultimately guide us by either providing for midwifery school or not providing for it. We wait knowing He knows best. He is writing this story, and we wouldn't want it any other way. Most days. :)

Blurry Pictures:: Post by Aaron

2011-11-09T08:36:00.000-08:00

The plans of the diligent lead to profit;

As surely as haste leads to poverty.

- Proverbs 21:5

Scripture seems to teach that there’s some wisdom in diligent planning and foolishness in haste.
I have to remind myself of that sometimes as we begin to intentionally disciple men here in Haiti.

Right now, the framework, ideas, and goals are still in their infancy.

We’re still in the planning stage. We’re evaluating curriculum. We’re looking at similar examples that have been successful. We’re asking for the courage to dream impossible dreams. We’re seeking God for wisdom.

Those are all good things. I'd argue they are vital. But they‘re not very visual and they don’t translate well on a blog or in an email to the people who are supporting us. Programs do. Systems do. Models do. But figuring out how to disciple a group of men through life-on-life discipleship, relationships, working together, growing together, being a part of each other's lives and learning from one another...that stuff is hard to bullet point, measure, and even explain. Attempting to serve others and with others on a human, organic level can be messy, awkward, and abstract. Treating someone like they are your brother instead of like they are part of a "system of discipleship" is something I believe in, but it does make explaining what we're doing, or attempting to do with Haitian men a bit more complicated.

When we came down this year, we told our friends, family, and supporters that Heather would be working with the women’s program and I would be doing men’s discipleship. Obviously Heather has been busy with the women. This blog regularly has pictures and stories of the beautiful things that God is doing in the lives of women. The Haitian women, and the American women who walk this road with them.

But even though I don’t have any pictures to prove it, we are making progress as we seek God about what it looks like to love, encourage, teach, and train men. We are continuing to move forward with the idea of building a bakery and shaping our discipleship ideas around a small group of men working together. We’ve been talking about ovens and what sort of fuel we’ll be using. We’ve been looking at the property and determining where along our front wall the bakery will actually be located. We have visits lined out to a couple other local bakeries to see what we can learn. We're working on budgets so we know what we'll need to raise and what it will cost to make the things we're dreaming and praying about become a reality.

We’re doing things. Progress is being made. It just feels slow sometimes.

I find myself wanting to hurry this along. I also find myself admitting how prideful that would be. I know the hard work before a harvest is not only in the tending of the plants, it's in the preparation of the soil. I know the most intricate, awe-inspiring buildings can't stand without a solid foundation. I also know it would be incredibly arrogant to think we could up and start something new, this personable, this real and not seek God's face, His heart, and take the time to learn and understand as best we can the Haitian culture. God opposes the proud. There has sadly been a lot of damage done in Haiti in the name of aid and religion. That scares me, and I personally don't want to be a part of that. Instead, we want to humbly approach this new aspect of ministry.

Please pray with us as we continue to make decisions, pray, and dream. We’re excited about the potential. We believe that God is working and leading. We’re trying to trust His timing.

The Brave Are Thankful

2011-11-07T11:11:00.000-08:00

photo credit: Joanna Howard

"I know there is poor and hideous suffering, and I've seen the hungry and the guns that go to war. I have lived pain, and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks for early light dappled through leaves and the heavy perfume of the wild roses in early July and the song of crickets on humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that a good God gives. Why would the world need more anger, more outrage? How does it save the world to reject unabashed joy when it is joy that saves us? Rejecting joy to stand in solidarity with the suffering doesn't rescue the suffering. The converse does. The brave who focus on all things good and all things beautiful and all things true, even in the small, who give thanks for it and discover joy even in the here and now, they are the change agents who bring fullest Light to all the world. When we lay the soil of our hard lives open to the rain of grace and let joy penetrate our cracked and dry places, let joy soak into our broken skin and deep crevices, life grows. How can this not be the best thing for the world? For us? The clouds open when we mouth thanks.

...When I give thanks for the seemingly microscopic, I make a place for God to grow within me. This, this makes me full, and I "magnify him with thanksgiving", and God enters the world...God is not in need of magnifying by us so small, but the reverse. It's our lives that are little and we have falsely inflated self, and in thanks we decrease and the world returns right." -- One Thousand Gifts, by Ann VosKamp

"I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks"

Asking God today for the faith to look around this broken place, to seek out the good that surely is here growing and to have the courage to say, with a pure heart, "Thank you."

Grace: God is the Writer of Our Stories

2011-11-05T17:06:00.000-07:00

photo credit: Joanna Howard

"If it were up to me, I'd write this story differently."

That phrase, and shades of it have been spoken in my soul many times as I've walked this road God has paved for me.

Ingratitude. Distrust. Looking past the lush mountain God has given and fixing my eyes tight on the speck of dirt in the distance...what it seems He is withholding. I want to push His hand. Force it. Rush Him. Demand my way.

2:30 a.m. Mama Emmanuel is in labor. Come. This is her fifth baby. Her uterus has been around the block a time or two. It knows what to do.

The birth team hurries to the maternity center. Mama Emmanuel is in pain. She is almost dilated enough to push. Any time now. Coffee brewing.

"Maybe...maybe you don't want to change the story because you don't know what a different ending holds."

10 hours later the baby is still tucked safely inside his mother. 12 hours later we sit waiting, confused. This labor unlike any other I've seen before. The baby's heartbeat is healthy and strong. Every few minutes we check. Baby's heart....the sound of horses galloping. Mom's body has been ready for hours. We've all been ready for hours. Why won't this baby descend? Fifth baby. This does not make sense. We watch Cookie and Beth, wise midwives and women, seek God for guidance. Wisdom whispers, "Wait."

Farmers and ranchers are rarely nonspiritual. You can't work this land, hold the earth in your hands, and not make spiritual connections. Seeds. Harvest. Weeds. Shepherding. Life. Death. "Farmers, we think we control so much. Do so much right to make a crop. And when you are farming,...you are faced with it every day. You control so little. Really. It's God who decides it all. Not us." Seasons can't be rushed. Man can't figure out how to empty the sky or how to close it up. The farmer can labor until he falls over, but he can't control the frost. God's hand is infinitely stronger than our own.

In the same way, you can't consistently be around natural labor and birth without seeing our own human stories wrapped up in all that struggle, gasping, pain, and ultimately joy indescribable. You can't see the struggle, frustration, exhausting labor, and exhilarating release and not think profound thoughts about life, this world, and the God that created all of it. A labor and birth is like an entire life's story you watch in one day.

In real life and during a birth, it is tempting to want to rush the struggle, skip the pain, speed it up already...take the pen in our hands. In Haiti, where health care is limited, being impatient and rash seems riskier. Haiti is notorious for shaking us, forcing us to come face to face with our faith...or our lack of it.

"There is a reason I am not writing the story, and God is. He knows how it all works out, where it all leads, what it all means. I don't. Maybe...it's accepting there are things we simply don't understand. But He does."

I've never seen a baby born with such fast force. He was not pushed out. He was launched. One minute it seemed as though Mama Emmanuel wasn't even in hard labor. The next thing we know, the midwives' hands are full of new life. A baby boy born with a chord wrapped tightly around his neck two times. The mystery. All revealed in a matter of startling moments. A baby that could have hung himself..if he had descended...if he had done what we wanted. If the midwives had rushed it, intervened, taken matters into their own hands. While we were frustrated with a labor that seemed to have stalled for hours, with a mother that seemed to have forgotten how to push, annoyed that nothing made any sense, aware of how limited our options are if things did not progress, the One that knit that little life together was faithfully holding him. Holding the midwives. Holding all of it.

In that moment I was reminded that it is by God's grace that His grip on that pen is strong. Though we snatch for it, in frustration we grab and demand to write the next chapter or rip out the last two...His hand is strong. Grace keeps the pen out of our hands. He writes our stories at just the right pace.

You have never seen a more weepy room of women. Tired, humbled midwives. Tired, relieved mother. All of us. Incredibly thankful.

God seems to get bigger and bigger and we feel smaller and smaller with every birth.

"There is a reason I am not writing the story, and God is. He knows how it all works out, where it all leads, what it all means. I don't. Maybe...it's accepting there are things we simply don't understand. But He does."

You can read more about Mama Emmanuel's life and how her story and faith is forever growing ours:

Mama Emmanuel

Saturday Labor

God sparing her son today is only one chapter among many that continually turn our hearts toward heaven.

All words in italic belong to Ann Voskamp and are found in her beautiful book, "One Thousand Gifts."

Good Morning Baby

2011-11-05T06:49:00.000-07:00

Mama Emmanuel is in labor. She called at 2:30 this morning.

The birth team is here waiting with expectation.

Please be in prayer for her.
I'll spare you the details, but we really need this baby to descend.
If you need to be inspired this weekend, please read about Mama E's life.

Thankful Tree

2011-11-03T11:50:00.000-07:00

Every November we have a Thankful Tree in our house.

We never realize it's November until about a week into the month.

We start late every year. That's part of the tradition.

This year, the Thankful Tree pictured above has been floating around on Pinterest.

The one I made years ago has not really been as sustainable as I would have liked.

I didn't even feel guilty making a new one because come on...it's made out of sticks from our yard.

Our fall was, has always been, and always will be, that we aren't satisfied in God and what He gives. We hunger for something more, something other. (One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp)

I got out my creative memories circle cutter.

Remember those?

Want to know how many times I've cut my fingers with this thing?

Of course you don't.

I sent my boys outside yet again to find sticks.

They think that all Pinterest crafts require sticks.

I let them think that so they will speak highly of Pinterest to their father who is not in love with a site that seems to offer me lots of creative, fun, exciting projects for HIM to do.

A good God plans everything. Everything.

So a good God can only make plans for good.

-- Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts, page 88.

~~Every day in November~~ on the days we don't forget, we each write down
what we're thankful for on a circle.
I don't know about you, but I always need to be reminded that all of life is grace.
I forget that about every three minutes.

...I know all our days are struggle and warfare (Job 14:14) and that the spirit-to-spirit combat I endlessly wage with Satan is this ferocious thrash for joy. He sneers at all the things that seem to have gone hideously mad in this sin-drunk world, and I gasp to say God is good. The liar defiantly scrawls his graffiti across God's glory, and I heave to enjoy God...and Satan strangles, and I whiten knuckles to grasp real Truth and fix that beast to the floor. -- Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts, page 90

Then we decorate our tree.
I am thankful this Thankful Tree hardly took any effort.
Favorite craft ever.

[Satan] sneers at all the things that seem to have gone hideously mad in this sin-drunk world,

and [we] gasp to say God is good. -- Ann VosKamp, One Thousand Gifts

In the evenings we are going to read Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts. Last year I received this book in the mail from a sweet reader, who is a huge encouragement to our family here in Haiti. I cried just about every night as I read Ann's words. Reading this book to four boys in the evenings may end up being a hilarious failure. We'll see. I will cry. They will stare at me.

This should go without saying, but I'm incredibly grateful for each of you. Praying for a sweet month of Thanksgiving, that God would remind us of His grace, love, and care, and that those truths would change the way we think and look at this world.

Calling All Procrastinators. Voting Ends on Friday.

2011-11-02T07:42:00.000-07:00

Our ladies have a favor to ask of you....

Many of you email us or comment on this blog asking how you can help us at Heartline. We're incredibly grateful that you love and care for our women the way that you do. Well, we're about to give you a much-needed, tangible way to help. In the past, I've gently asked for your votes.   Today I'm going to downright beg for them. We have an opportunity to win $50,000 for our maternity center from a privately funded grant through the Giving of Life Organization. This contest has gone on for a ridiculously long time, and we realize you're probably sick of hearing about it. Believe us. We're sick of talking about it.

We are in fourth place. We need your help. This contest ends Friday. We are finally in the home stretch.

If you are moved by the work that Heartline does, we are inviting you today to be a part of this work. Today you get to move from spectator to team player. Today you get to be an interegal part of saving women's lives, of saving baby's lives, of keeping families together, and offering women access to truth about their health, about mothering, and about the Bible. This is big stuff, and you get to join in today.

Will you help us? Will you vote for Heartline today? You can register your email address and get extra votes. We need all of them. You can vote from cell phones, ipads...get creative. Will you ask people in your office to vote for Heartline? Will you ask your family? Will you be that annoying person who asks everyone they know to give women in Haiti a fighting chance? Will you send an email to your church or your small group Bible Study? Will you ask your Mop's group?

Will you post about this on your blog? Will you facebook about this, tweet about it, etc. If you do something over the top creative or hilarious, you better tell me about it, okay?

We have two days to dig in and get some votes. If we move up even one place, I will forever take pride in the fact that all of us who hang out here during the week are stellar slackers who know how to pull off something huge at the last minute. You will forever be my kind of people.

The bottom line: This money is needed. We can do a lot of good with these funds. Lives will literally be saved. Children will grow up in their biological families.

To vote, please go to the Giving of Life website. Voting takes two seconds. Not even lying.

If you need a post to pass around on facebook, twitter, or to paste directly on your blog that describes what HL does you can use this one: Help us Give Life to Women and Babies in Haiti

Ready, set...annoy everyone you know!

We are in fourth place, we have 8727 votes right now. Let's see if we can raise that number today!