PENSIEVE

A time to speak, continued

Intro, Goodbye Girl
A time to speak, part one

"It was the best day
of my life so far."

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There are aspects to my personality my family does not appreciate; for one, I'm inclined to share my thoughts with you, whether or not they're solicited.  When you consider my strong sense of justice combined with the opinion that people in service-related industries should deliver--imagine this--excellent service, you can begin to see where this volatile combination might ignite.

My professional background is public relations and marketing.  I'm crazy enough to believe businesses should not only do what they say but do it well.  In my head, a business owner should want to hear from me because a) I'm a paying customer, b) my opinion is most likely shared by others, c) if I bother to say something, it's because I care about the business and want to see its success, d) I'm not a jerk when I express my concern or observation--it's positively, intelligently and kindly communicated.  My philosophy is I'd want to know if I were in their shoes.

My family doesn't appreciate this as virtue; they wince or groan or search for a sock to stuff in my mouth when I feel the need to express these marginally-filtered, unsolicited "constructive suggestions" in response to circumstances or people.  I do exercise restraint and discretion, I keep my mouth shut more often than not...but sometimes I'm compelled. 

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A year or so ago, my daughter read about a mission trip in Brio Magazine; readers were challenged "to 'adopt a village'--a Compassion International project in Guatemala City, by sponsoring a Compassion child who lives in that area. The Never The Same! '09 mission trip [was to give] readers an opportunity to go to Guatemala and meet their sponsored child...a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

Last summer our entire family also read "Do Hard Things: A Teenage Rebellion Against Low Expectations".  It's an inspiring book about rejecting mediocrity (I strongly recommend it if you have a tween, teen...or plan way ahead).  I could be wrong, but I think the timing of reading these two things close together encouraged Rachel to pursue sponsoring a child through Compassion and to take part in Brio's mission trip.  Without rehashing my previous post, suffice it to say she was determined to make it happen.

Though it wasn't her only motive, Rachel was most excited about meeting her sponsored child, Evelyn.  Yes, she wanted to minister to others; certainly, she was intrigued with visiting another country and culture; but meeting this little girl she had faithfully written for months--and who had written to her in return!--was what she was most looking forward to.

Imagine her disappointment when she found out two nights before the day she was supposed to meet Evelyn, it wouldn't happen unless she (and her best friend Kate, who co-sponsors Eveylyn) could come up with an extra $300-350 to fund Evelyn and a guardian's travel expense!  Because she had to let her leaders know right then, she called us for advice; our phones were off because it was after midnight.  Kate was able to reach her mom who didn't say "no", but discouraged them.  They already had invested thousands of dollars and $300 more on short notice wasn't realistic.

I found out the next day. 

To say I wasn't happy is an understatement--I knew what this meant to the girls!  While I wasn't sure what their final decision had been, it was reasonable for me to assume they declined the offer (based on what Kate's mom shared with me).  

I wrestled with how to respond all day; or whether to stay out of it all together. 

Compulsion to "speak" over-rode restraint.  I emailed our trip contact, expressing my anger, frustration and disappointment.  While I was quick to praise trip planners for their added safety measures, attention to detail and impact they were having in my daughter's life, I clearly detailed why this was a huge failing that impacted not just my daughter, but many others--I wasn't advocating just for her, I really felt the need to speak for all who were affected. 

I used strong language, but I also conceded that while this caught us by surprise, we knew it didn't surprise God, and that regardless of her/their disappointment, He could use the circumstance for their good and His glory.  (I just re-read my email, concerned I'd cringe when I saw it again, but I didn't, thankfully!  It was balanced and reasonable.)

The next morning I had two email responses from trip leaders (Susie with Brio Magazine and Calab, Big World Ventures partner).  They thanked me for writing, heard my heart and felt my Mama Bear pain.  They explained that because so many readers had sponsored children in Guatemala City, Compassion had had to draw children from projects outside the area; areas remote enough it was costly to bring them in to meet their sponsors.

Because Caleb and Susie were kind, apologetic, attuned to my specific concerns and responsive, they assuaged my anger.  They responded exactly how I would have had our roles been reversed.

That's all I was looking for--a place to absorb and diffuse my fury.  Well, that, and the hope my words might assure this wouldn't be repeated in subsequent years.

What I got was so much more.

Throughout the day, Susie and Caleb remained in email contact.  Both were in touch with Compassion offices and Susie let me know that somewhere there had been a breakdown in communication—the kids were never supposed to fund their sponsor children’s travel expense!  They were scrambling at the last minute to arrange as many sponsor/child visits as possible, realizing not everyone would get to.  

We didn’t know Rachel, Kate and Evelyn’s fate, and I was reluctant to get my hopes up for them.  Having the amazing privilege of meeting one of my own sponsor children, I understood what was at stake.  I wanted this so badly for them it make my heart ache.

So I pray-wished throughout the day, trying to seek God but tripping over my flesh-inclined binding.  If I thought it would have worked, I would've bargained with God.

And then we got The Call around dinner time, and before I processed words spoken, sound waves of excitement told me everything I needed to know...

"It was the best day of my life so far!"
Rachel, describing meeting Evelyn,
the little girl she sponsors through Compassion International

Did my email make a difference?  I doubt it.  Was it the right thing to do?  I'm pretty sure it was.  Was I blessed by the end result?  Is that really a question that needs to be asked? 

What I do know is this:  when I feel a compulsion to speak for those who have no voice or need an advocate...it most definitely is a time to speak. 

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Postscript:  I can't let a post that mentions Compassion International not give you an opportunity to sponsor a child in need.  After SEEING the difference Compassion makes in the life of a children and their families, I'm begging you to begin a relationship with a little one in need TODAY.  Click here to find out more!

Also, because I think so highly of the book "Do Hard Things", I'll be giving away a copy to a lucky reader.  All you have to do is make a pertinent comment to this post :).

While I'm licking my wounds...

Three things while I try my "best" to rewrite the post I was "this close" to publishing, the follow-up to A Time to Speak--somehow lost when I blinked [insert screeching, foot stomping and language that would earn me an "R" rating here]. 

[1]  The movie version of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince opened at midnight, and because searches for "pensieve" have already been heating up, a few bits of related trivia:
    a)  Pensieve is pronounced like "pensive", not pen sieve.
    b)  What, in fact, is a pensieve?  A stone basin used to store memories, to relieve the mind of clutter.  Memories, seen by a third-person point of view, can be re-visited by anyone; the viewer is present in the memory but not a part.
    c)  A pensieve was first introduced in book four, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, when Harry accidentally discovered it in Dumbledore's office.  Pensieves in the movie series do not look like they're described in the books!
    d)  It should play a prominent part in the movie; it certainly does in book six.  {Revised...it does play a prominent role...and if you wanna know my take on the movie??  Ask...:)}
    e)  I've been criticized for using it as my blog name due to its association with sorcery :(.  IMHO, it was a brilliant concept, and I saw it as literary device to advance plot more than say, playing Pied Piper and leading you all to hell. 

[2]  I posed a question on Twitter, asking followers to name their favorite childhood non-electronic toys.  How 'bout shouting out your favorites in comments and/or voting in the poll below:

[3]  I have a "personal trainer" now, and I gotta admit it, between him and the looming threat of having to buy "the next size up", I'm highly motivated.  Couple that with two friends who are similarly motivated, and voila!  I've got accountability.  Which, for the record, is ABSOLUTELY kickin' my trash!  It's amazing to me how just a little bit of exercise encourages me to cut down on junk food--amazing in the "I'm-not-the-least-bit-happy-about-it-so-I'd-better-see-some-results-soon kind of way.

Part of Charles' training is delivered via text message.  Tidbits like, "Remember:  Breath is FUEL!  Concentrate on smooth rhythmic breathing patterns when you walk.  Especially when you increase intensity.  Deliberate, intentional," and "I wouldn't focus so much on weight loss.  Think of it as muscle redistribution. Patience, Grasshopper."

The best part of it is he works for FOOD!  Cook him a decent meal and we're good for a few weeks! :) 

Seriously, go visit his new blog and comment a little encouragement.  The guy's a spin master AND avid cyclist and he knows the science of exercise!

Red, white and blew

This is exactly the picture I was trying to capture, timed perfectly with the slip & slider in the background!  I've always had a soft place for pinwheels...I don't know if its their twirly spin or color blur, but their simplicity registers childhood delight every time I exhale one into play. 
Is there a childhood toy in your past that evokes the same
happy-memory fascination?  Do tell!  

A time to speak

"We do need to warn you...these kids are not the same!"

-- Never The Same '09 blog

It's been two of the longest weeks in my life, but I imagine two of the shortest weeks in hers.  A mission trip billed as "Never The Same '09" has lived up to its name.  She's been on the mountain, grown her family, fed the hungry, played the role of nurse and lived her faith, and a radiant countenance belies all these things.

Plus she likes vegetables now.  Go figure.

Perhaps I'm being overly dramatic, but I sense my daughter has stumbled into her calling.  What tells me this?  She can't stop smiling.  I see it in her face now, but I heard it in her voice shortly after she met her team members.

This is significant.  For years (though it's hard to remember now) it bothered me she didn't smile often enough.  I--one who believes "you're never fully dressed without a smile"--almost took it personally.  Wasn't a smile an outward expression of an inner working?  Did her solemn expression mask inner fear?  unhappiness?  worry?  

Recently, I've seen this little caterpillar of mine wiggle out of her self-spun cocoon; her metamorphosis, though welcome, was unexpected.  Physical growth and changes are easy to detect, but an evolution of the soul?  A transforming of the mind?  Subtle shifts in personality and behavior and response to others?  It would've been so easy--too easy--to miss had I just been looking with my eyes.

Thankfully, my heart was listening and looking. 

I'm thinking while I write, and I remember a handful of conversations she and I had over the past year.  We were fully present and engaged and seized "accidental" moments.  She had questions and invited me to share my answers.  She acknowledged frustrations, revealed her hopes, admitted fears, confessed sin and dared to dream out loud.  

While I wonder how many of these opportunities I've miss with her or my sons, I'm convinced of this: 

Time is requisite for your kids to be willing to share their heart with you.  It can't be rushed or manipulated or coerced.  They have to know you're fully present; especially as they grow older.

It was time for her to speak. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It was the best day of my life so far."
Rachel, describing meeting Evelyn, the little girl she sponsors through Compassion International

This is when it was time for me to speak...to be continued....

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Related:

Goodbye Girl

No trombones led the little parade

Our neighborhood resurrected a years' old tradition last week, born of Mayberry and family and simpler times:  a Fourth of July parade.

We don't have 76 trombones or 110 cornets or a thousand reeds, but we do have air horns and car horns and I think a kazoo or two.

Crowds don't fill the streets, but neighbors come out of their woodwork or brickwork to cheer for the red, white and blue...

Patriotically-embellished lawnmowers replace tissue-laden flatbeds, golf carts putter street-side instead of brobdingnagian floats suspended overhead, and characters aren't cartoonish giants, they're pint-sized or daddy-sized.

 

Slices of All American Apple Pie:  John Deere tractors, Radio Flyer red wagons, Harley and Rolling Stone tee shirts on middle-aged men, and a little surrey with the fringe on top.  They all bless my born-in-the-USA heart.

  

S i g h...how can you not love a home grown parade?  Since we don't have a riding mower or a golf cart or a tractor, I figure I could still "participate" by taking pictures of those who do...although a few rabble rousers asked me if they needed to sign a release.  To teach them a must-needed lesson, I added 10 pounds to their weight in Photoshop. 

You can have your Macy's Thanksgiving Day or Rose Parade...I'll stick with the party in the 'hood :). 

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How do you celebrate Independence Day?  Is this the quirky kind of thing you think of when you consider the South?  If you live in a neighborhood, do y'all have any community get-togethers?  If not, why not initiate a new tradition!!!

Goodbye girl

"Hi were here love u!" [sic]
July 2, 11:51 p.m., the most-ever anticipated text message,
sent from my daughter

I hear her glowing....

This week my baby takes a giant leap...an almost 1,500-mile leap.  Never has a sliver of my heart--part of my flesh--traveled so far from home without us.

Her name means "beautiful" and "well-favored"; it suits her well.  I know I'm her mother and it's natural to be biased, but I imagine I'd think these things even if my blood wasn't running through her veins.

She is my first-born child, only daughter, and cautiously becoming my friend.

That, by the way, has not been a short-term goal of mine in parenting.  For years I've seen myself as parent-teacher; more recently, as coach and helper to all our children in navigating sometimes murky life-waters; "friendship" I had reserved (hoped for?) for post high school years...college...and beyond. 

In many ways she is different from me, reserved and serious.  I had to learn how to be her mother, to allow her the freedom to be who she was, not a child I controlled or manufactured.  It is a delicate thing to know when to push or encourage or demand or retreat; when to listen or speak or cry or embrace. 

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The parenting tightrope is narrow; choosing the hills to die on are best reserved for moral battles and wars of the heart.  Sometimes those are hard to distinguish, and of course, they look very different at three than they do at 16.

Sixteen...our nest will be her permanent residence for just two more years and then wings will take her to the next adventure.  Does she realize a piece of her will always remain with us?

Last summer, she read about a Brio Magazine mission trip to Guatemala; coincident to that, participants were given opportunity to sponsor a child with Compassion International in the area...and should they decide to go on this trip, they could meet the child they sponsor! 

For close to a year, all of my daughter's choices have somehow been related to this mission trip:  she and a friend co-sponsor Evelyn, a five-five-old little girl; baby sitting money has been used to cover sponsorship or contribute to the trip's cost; she raised further support by writing close friends and relatives to inform then of her interest in going, and to solicit prayer and financial support; she has written everyone who has responded, and when she writes, you sense her appreciation for the gift (not an obligatory "thank you"); she writes Evelyn (her sponsored child) faithfully; she's kept me on task with immunizations and passport submission and form completion and supply gathering; she's dotted a thousand "I's" and crossed ten thousand "T's".

She has relished the thought of going and living the gospel for children who live in another world. 

While they've been in Miami training since Monday, we've had daily phone access; her voice is beyond excited...

She is radiant...I can "hear" her glowing.

Which sounds absolutely nuts, but I see-hear this when she speaks.

Though she and one of her best friends signed up to do this together, they're rooming with other girls.  "They're already like family," she enthuses.  "I love 'em!"  She's amazed that 600 strangers have come together and meshed so easily and seamlessly.

So am I, but thankfulness trumps amazement.


                                               {to be continued...}

WWJD WWyouD?

Two homeless men have been attending my very middle class adult Bible fellowship (adult Sunday school); although I'm not sure of the details, two women who minister to the homeless bring them every week.

These guys are more faithful in attendance than "old timers".

They sit quietly.  They don't engage in class discussion.  But they've attended week after week for about two months.  We're studying the book of 1 John...the book all about love....

This morning I arrived early and few people had yet to show up; I struck up a conversation with Rick and learned another church member had given him a guitar last week and that he has played since the 70s and has taught many.  He rattled off his repertoire--Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Beatles, The Mamas and Papas--and told me the first song he teaches is always "Amazing Grace".  He both reads music and plays by ear.

I told Rick my father-in-law had given my son his guitar at Christmas, and although he had been teaching himself how to play (with the help of friends and youtube...), we probably should invest in a few lessons.  Rick told me he "sure could use the help", the implication being he could teach my son.

Last week when our church paid tribute to all those in our congregation who have served in the military, Homeless Rick proudly walked up to the front and stood tall behind the Navy Flag. 

Jeanette, homeless ministry angel, extended an invitation to me this morning.  "You probably have to go back to work in the morning, but if you don't, a group of us are going to clean up where the homeless live under the Broad Street bridge."  She went on to tell me there probably weren't any needles, but if there were, they were probably rusted by now.  She was planning on wearing wire mesh gloves.

I didn't even know there was such thing as wire mesh gloves and I don't have a job to return to....

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And with that, Jesus' words in Matthew and a few things James had to say are ringing in my ears, along with the phrase "...perfect love casts out fear...", taken out of context but within the passage we studied in class.  This morning.

The best hamburger in the world...! *

Ai yi yi...once again I'm thinkin', "BlogHer chose THIS for my post in its ad rotation?  Why couldn't it be my post contemplating a response to the homeless sitting right next to me or about my very heart leaving my body and traveling across the globe?  I'm all about this piccha, but I sure would love for you to think along side me...unless you've got a hamburger concoction that can trump this one!! :)

I thought he was mocking me.

"You wanna take a picture of this?" asks my husband.

Since I've been known to take pictures of everything from fire hydrants to fire-breathing spiders, I just figured he was making fun of the type things I like to photograph.  How much do I love that he knew I'd love to photograph his Perfect Hamburger? 

Then, again, m a y b e it was self serving; me thinks he was just trying to figure out a way to make it last longer! ;)

July 4th, 2009.  Grillin' burgers on our back patio.

His version of the Best Hamburger in the World includes a patty seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic, onion powder and Worcestershire sauce, ketchup, mustard, mayo, lettuce, tomato, and the deal breakers--dill chips and pepper jack cheese.  I have no idea how he gets all that in his mouth AT ONE TIME, and it's best I stopped taking pictures before the eatin' commenced.

You don't even wanna know how I eat MY burgers, but I'm curious about you--what's your version of the Best Hamburger in the World?  Or if you aren't a burger fan, what's a "must have" for your summer celebrations?

* according to my husband :)

What happens when your 12-year-old SON gets a hold of your cell phone

In his mind, my "footprints in the sand" cell phone wallpaper was vanilla-ly boring; yet this is his idea of excitement???

Sons...they're a breed apart...;)

{Here's a link because this is a REALLY FUNNY, and believe it or not, informative book...you have GOT to get a copy of your own!}

Make believe and little girls

When I was a little girl, I had fizzy affection for all things "mini"--Hershey's chocolate bars and stuffed animals and oddly enough, office supplies.  I'm convinced whoever invented Polly Pockets and Littlest Pet Shop toys was Just.Like.Me., and had I been a teaspoon brighter and a dash more risky--and you know, thought of it first!--I'd be rolling in the green, compliments of Mattel or Hasbro.

One of the reasons for my little love affinity was the size of my black patent leather pocketbook; shoulder-strapped with an envelope enclosure, it was the perfect size for my age five frame.  For anything to fit inside, however, it had to be small.  It was a dress purse reserved for special occasions, and I suppose my first plane ride was its most significant.

This was back in the day when people dressed for travel; my sister and I were no different.  Black and white houndstooth suits, belted in red patent leather, we were twins born 16 months apart.  As the younger sister, I adored the arrangement; my big sister probably resisted it. I'm not completely sure, but I'd wager we wore black and white saddle shoes, iced with white lacy socks. 

Rising above the clouds, I was fascinated.  I hadn't realized their enormity from the ground, and now tickling their faces I was spellbound by their effortless magic!  I imagined what it would be like to run through them or jump from perch to perch, and I was certain their taste was of spun sugar.  Mostly, I longed to reach out and scoop up two handfuls, to keep safely in my patent leather pocketbook until I had the notion to bring them out again to play with or show my friends.

It was disillusioning when I learned they were just vapor.

Recently, I looked through five years of digital images; I had never before noticed how often I photograph these magical, ethereal shape shifters.  Clearly my childhood fascination remains intact, vapor or no stinkin' vapor. 

Then, again, they are where rainbows are born...:)

{Mouse over pictures for more information.}

Initially, this was an entry for Carmi's Thematic Photographic at Written, Inc., but since he's changed themes (from Clouds to Aviation), and I jumped down a long bunny trail, I guess it's just a plain ol' post :).