staying for now

Seriously? It's the end of September and I am just returning to you, oh faithful blog friend?  I think about you all of the time and what I want to say on you, but somehow those ideas remain ideas and I wonder if I should give up this whole blogging and writing thing for this season or if once I stop I'll never return?

I've stopped before and when I come back I can't believe I ever stopped writing. There's an energy that comes out in this process that my brain forgets when it's not experiencing it.

Like running. I haven't ran in over a year, really? that long! In fact I don't even have good running shoes right now. I fondly remember that feeling of release when I get out there for a good run. Once I start I think I'll never stop again.  But I do. I have.

I believe someday something will click. Maybe my love of being yelled at during bootcamp will end. I might pick out some expensive new running shoes or maybe the lure of fresh air and alone time will entice me to get out there again.

Something like that could happen with writing. That super cute bird journal in my newest favorite color might persuade me to pick up a pen again. One of the kids could say something adorable that I must remember, or God might fill my heart with an insight I would be a fool to allow myself to forget.

Or I might simply have to force myself to do it. When it becomes work does that mean I need a break? Should I let it go when I have to force make myself to sit down and not get up until something productive happens (productive does not equal browsing recipes I hope to make or finding craft projects I only dream of doing).

What do you do when there is not enough time to be creative? Is it worth forcing through the block or would it be better just to take a break?

Not sure, but I think I will miss you if I let you go...so for now you will stay.


 

Preschool here and there

Amelie hung up her bag on her hook and enthusiastically talked about playing at the sand table. Wearing her new bubble skirt and coordinating striped shirt with flowers, her headband matched one of those blue flowers. Adorable and so excited she didn't look back for a second.

Because she attends preschool at our church the classrooms are ones she frequents on Sundays.  The same yet different. Different kids, different teachers, activities reserved just for preschool fill the room. Asher met one of his best friends his first year of preschool and I wonder which of the five classmates will be that special friend for Amelie.

Nerves and excitement are running high here, but one thing we aren't nervous about is the opportunity for her education. 

My mind boggles considering the number of preschools in town.  With classtimes available to fit any schedule and meet whatever religious or secular choice I want, there are many many possibilities to choose from.

My mom told me today of the preschool registration she participated in this week.

On the other side of the world, hundreds of moms lined up in the muddy rain hoping to secure a spot for their child to attend preschool.  For them, preschool isn't about sandtables, gym time, and snacks.  Instead it marks the beginning of a child's opportunity...or not.  Being registered and having a spot in a quality school where fees are affordable and two nutritious meals a day are served means their child has opportunity and hope that others don't have. 

Hearts are broken, tears are shed, parents get angry.
The stakes are high.
The number of available chairs simply can't match the number of kids who want to come.

I wish I could fill the extra spots in Amelie's preschool with Ethiopian boys and girls.  I wish the opportunities could spread around just like that. 

I wish everyone had access to a first day of preschool.

Thankful today for the gift of education for my children.
 

Walking now!

Asa ran away from me at the library today and I was so excited!

After months of cruising and even taking a couple of steps in between people he is finally walking all over and seems to have forgotten how to crawl. This happened on his 16 month birthday as if to say, "You prayed for me to not learn to walk while you were in Ethiopia, so I held off for 4 extra months, but now it is time to do it." Just a week ago, I felt embarrassed to leave him in the "walking well" Sunday school room of my sister's church knowing he wouldn't take a single step for them. And now you couldn't stop him.

He walks around so much, he wore himself out to the point of sleeping on Daddy.

As a parent I want to decide when my kids will do something. They should walk before they are one, be done with the pacifier and move into a big kid bed before turning two, and potty train by the time they are three. This is what the books and the parents who have well adjusted children have told me and I like to keep life on a schedule.

But really it is not about my schedule and as sad as I am to admit it, the control has never been in my hands. In fact God regularly reminds me that the plans I write on the calendar are erasable.

His schedule is written in black permanent marker that never fades. Nothing will happen a minute earlier or later than the scheduled moment and I love that Someone who cares for my best has that all figured out.

And because I do not need to plan out the events of the world, I have more time to chase after my Buddy Boo, something I would a million times more rather do.

 

School starts

School starts next week.

I'm feeling the bittersweet passage of time thinking about Asher going back to school as a 1st grader.
Summer felt like summer this year. We spent lazy days sleeping in, large chunks of mornings in pajamas, and generally did not have a lot on our "to do," "to go," or "to be" list.

That turned out to be good.

When Asher was born I made a rule that I needed to get out of the house at least once everyday. In part I didn't want to feel trapped by these four walls but I also like to be reminded that there are people and busyness going on out there somewhere. 

This summer we regularly broke that rule. Maybe because leaving the house with three kids is more of a challenge than it was to leave a house with a baby in a carrier or because our window of time between waking up, lunchtime, and naptime is small. We learned to love to be here and the side bonus is that Asher and Amelie learned to play together.

They built forts, played with legos, initiated secret clubs, but the favorite game has become the one of battling Asa. Hmm... did I just admit to the world that my older children delight in stalking and attacking my sweet one year old?  The truth is when they ask me to send Asa down to the basement to play, they aren't wanting to cuddle or play his favorite game of catch.  When I peek down the stairs, I see Asher waving a sword above an oblivious toddler dancing and perfecting tae kwon do "hi-ya" shrieks. Amelie stands guard in the background holding her sword and ready to follow the moment Asher yells the signal to retreat. 

They retreat back to the couch forts.  These lie behind the barricade wall of toys they regularly reinforce to keep Asa from wandering into their portion of the basement.

Meanwhile my sweet Asa sits unfazed and happily goes about his business of throwing balls and generally exploring among the toys.  Really he just giggles over the thrill of being in the middle of what the bigger kids are doing.

These battles have been the mainstay of our summer.

And so how did this nostalgic post about school starting turn into the one that reveals the battles in our basement?

Maybe this oddity that has become normal represents what I will miss about this summer. I will miss overhearing their interactions and the time they spend together.  Watching them create the bonds and memories that make them brothers and sister gives me hope that their relationships will be the kind that support each other through life, just like those I cherish with my own sister and brother.

Play will change. With Asher back in school and Amelie the one dictating our play, we will return to her being the mommy and me being the sister who always carries the brother (Asa) around.

School starts next week and we will soon move on from this summer of homebodiness. The time has been good and the lazy days exactly as a summer should be.

Holding his own

Let me tell you about my Asa.

At 15 months, he is less of a baby than what I think of him as. Maybe it's because he is just starting to get the hang of the whole walking thing. When you can crawl faster than a blink why bother standing up to walk? What those of us who walk on two legs carry with our hands, Asa simply sticks in his mouth and away he goes. Yes just like a mother kitten.
One of his early words is light saber.  He can hold his own in a good family battle, but he is most happiest with a ball. Throwing, chasing, fetching, slamming, he is the boy who lights up at any round object, including the round bollards outside of Target that really do look like giant bouncy balls.

You can't go wrong to feed Buddy Boo macaroni and cheese and there is no doubt when he is done eating.  He is the kid who smashes and swishes every last piece of remaining food all over the high chair and chucks the sippy cup onto the floor. A little destructive? Yes, but it does get the point across.

My cuddly boy loves his blanket and those two fingers automatically head into his mouth any time he needs comfort. We begin each morning with kisses, "MMM - AAA," to each of the Ethiopian giraffes in his room and then we kiss them again before and after naptime and bedtime. Those giraffes get some serious love!

With two older siblings, he fights hard to hold his own - to not be left out of snacktime, getting a turn petting the kitty, and being included in whatever game of chase or wrestling is happening at the moment.

So many things about my boy that I don't want to forget , thanks for letting me share them here with you.

Supply Ziway

I can't resist new school supplies!
Notebooks covered in the latest colors and designs.
Markers.
Unsharpened pencils with full erasers.
Crayon boxes with pointy tips and every single color in the box.
Pencil boxes just waiting to be organized so everything fits in a perfect spot.

Really isn't school supply shopping one of the highlights of the summer? After going years without a need to shop for supplies, I love taking my kids to the store and deliberating over the Star Wars or Angry Birds pencils. Maybe it's a tangible part of imagining possibilities and anticipating the things they will learn.

This year in addition to school supplies for my own kids, I'm collecting supplies for the kids at the Misgana Ministries schools I visited in Ethiopia.  They don't need a lot, just the basics of crayons, glue, pencils, pens, and erasers. I plan to have them delivered in ziploc bags which can be left in the classroom rather than carried back and forth between home and school risking getting lost or ruined.

Would you like to help?

Join me in imagining the excitement of Ethiopian kids get fresh supplies and also pray for God to use the education they are receiving for His good.

Injustice

Have you ever seen an injustice happening and been unable to stop it?

I have before, but none has stuck with me so much as what I saw in Ethiopia. 

Yes there is the extreme poverty. Only one child in a family of many gets to go to school. Orphans pick up the slack and do the dirty work for extended families in exchange for a place to sleep. The sick have no access to basic medical care.  A pastor and his family sleep together in a tiny one room home in the backyard of a property.

One of these stories alone is enough to make you want to ask why? Why are they there and I am here? What in God's sovereignty made the decision to allow me the abundance?

But this one injustice I had never seen before. I have read about it, seen documentaries about it, and signed petitions to try to stop it, but never saw it happening as I did when I stood in line at the Addis Ababa airport.

My mom warned me of what I would see. She said it doesn't matter what night, what month, what year, the guarantee is they will be there.  I prepared to see what before I had only read about, but it still surprised me to see so many.

As I stood waiting to check into the flight back to my family, in front and behind me stood young Ethiopian girls shrouded in black abayas that only allowed me to see their faces.  These young teens traveled in groups led by a Middle Eastern guide.  Dozens of these girls carried only a backpack but embarked on a journey to Saudi Arabia, Yemen, or some other country with the plan to work in a home and send money back to their families.

Having read what I've read and seen what I've seen, I can't believe this intent would actually happen. I guess in the best of cases, they would be hired by a kind family who would treat them with respect and pay them a fair wage. The young women could send their money back home to Ethiopian villages and improve the lifestyle of their parents and siblings. After a few years of working they may earn enough money and be able to move back home and reunite with their families. 

Maybe I am too much of a skeptic to believe that is what actually happens.  A booming sex trade, domestic slavery, harsh abuse, those are the images and scenarios I saw when I watched them walk through security and head for those airplanes bound for a life that could be their worst nightmare.

As I stood in line, I tried to talk with the nervous girl standing in front of me, but she claimed not to speak any English.   I wished I could send her off with some hope - to give her a phone number to call if she found herself in trouble, give her a Bible or a message of the hope of Jesus, a few hundred dollars that she could use in an emergency.  Something!  But under the watchful eyes of the guides, I couldn't physically do anything.

I prayed a lot.  

The injustice is so big but as I think of those girls I stood in line with, the problem is so individual.

I still imagine her face and pray.

I pray for kind treatment and I pray for someone to be available if they need help.

What more can we do?