I Know

I have a hunch I have some people really irritated with me that I haven't been bubbling over with EXCITEMENT! and HAPPINESS! and GIDDY GIGGLING STORIES! about the PHONE! CALL! (that didn't happen). But the truth is, I've spent the last three days just trying to not cry in public. And, because tonight I'm feeling marginally more sane I may muster up the energy to be giddy and excited. We'll see how this post pans out.

So, the PHONE CALL.

What's that you say? You didn't get a phone call? Why no. No I didn't. And why? Because it was THANKGIVING. And NOONE works on Thanksgiving. BUT I DO have a director that checks his email on Thanksgiving. Which was a whole day earlier than our latest "don't expect anything a minute earlier than Friday and that is BEST CASE and if you want to maintain your sanity don't even expect that" date. So, Thanksgiving morning I'm calling my sisters and my mother and crying because the day just feels ALL WRONG without any of them here and no one to shop with Friday and the food isn't right without mom's stuffing and waaaah! when I walk past my computer and hit the send receive button which brings down all these emails from my online community that say things like "court date" in the memo line. When I see on from Jim. That didn't come through the loop. And it has "court date" in the memo line. So I say to mom, "Hold on a sec mom, I have an email that says "court date" and she says, "OK" and I say....

 OHMYGOSHMOMI'MGOINGTOAFRICAON
 CHRISTMAS!
BRENTWE'REGOINGTOAFRICAFORCHRISTMAS!

Brent, who was outside putting up Christmas lights apparently turned to his dad and said, "That better be a court date. Otherwise the house is on fire." At which time I came flying out of the door and leaped on my husband and made a spectacle outside for God and all the neighbors to see. The neighbors were presumably somewhere else for Thanksgiving lunch because not a single one came out and stared and the screaming, crying woman who flung herself into her husband's arms and toppled him.

Meanwhile, my mother who was on the other end of the phone this whole time finally said, "Honey I can't understand you. What happened?" And I said, "I'm going to

AFRICAFORCHIRSTMAS!

Which she couldn't understand either, but I couldn't stop screaming. So I got off the phone. After I assured her that the house was not on fire.

My two younger sons sat on the couch for the entire encounter. I'm sure that speaks to my parenting tactics in a less than favorable light. Oh, that's just mom screaming. She must be excited about something.... (Actually somewhere in the recesses of my mind I have a vague notion that someone followed me outside and Brent told whichever one it was that we had a court date, resume life. They were both on the couch when I came back in.)

And then I called my two eldest children who were already at their Grandma's house, and told them to run around the pond because I had something to tell them. The story goes that Princess said, "I bet it's a court date," and Eldest replied, "She just wants us to carry something over." Princess came running at me with arms outstretched. She's all in on the crying screaming mess that is her mother.

And that's my story. No phone call. After all that wasted adrenaline.

Pray for us, if you would. Going to Africa at Christmas is not easy under any circumstances. Any that have a budget, that is. People are less than happy with us. Plane tickets are approximately 30% higher because we have Christmas coming and going with new year in between. And there is a whole lot of non-adoption related stuff going on that is also all consuming. We're really excited, but the excitement is being overshadowed by a LOT of crap

A Day To Remember

Eldest: Dad, how long did it take for them to build Big Ben?
Dad: I don't know. I don't even know when Big Ben was built. I know nothing about Big Ben.
*pregnant pause*
Mom: Mark it on the calendar, son. That is one thing you won't often hear your dad say.
*conspiratorial look from dad*
Eldest: What? That he doesn't know about Big Ben?
Mom: That he doesn't know anything about something.

Meanwhile, Dad, who is searching for plane tickets online suddenly opens another browser, presumably to look at where Gojjo Ethiopia is, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but the Wiki page for Big Ben.

Mom: Oop. Too late. The time has passed.

*later*

Mom glances at calendar to see what tomorrow holds. Today's date says, "Dad doesn't know something."

Blue Friday

Last year I didn't go to bed on Thanksgiving and it was one of the most memorable nights of my life.

Last night I went to bed telling Brent that this morning I would wake up $500 richer. He doesn't like my math, but that doesn't make me incorrect. Five hundred dollars I didn't spend is $500 richer no matter now you slice it. It doesn't mean that I don't have some regrets this morning, but frankly Black Friday shopping is only fun if you are with someone you love to shop with. And with Caramel Brulee Lattes. And when you know your way around the stores. Which would require a 2.5 hour drive just to start. And, frankly, there was just nothing I needed enough to justify spending $100 in gas to get it. But I'm still feeling a little nostalgic and left out this morning.

And I didn't sleep anyway.

But it's all good.

It is all I can do to stay in my pajama pants and not make the 25 minute drive to Wal-Mart to see if they have any Cars PJs left for Charming (who needs NONE). But we don't NEED any of the stuff. Our house is overflowing with last year's Black Friday deals.

My problem is that I'm addicted to the good deal. So, as any good addict should do, I'm having a coffee and blogging about my withdrawal rather than caving.

Yay me.

I just published this and then realized that you don't know this is all tongue in cheek. I feel AWESOME. GREAT things are going on. Which I am now going to blog about under a different heading.  Stay tuned....

COURT DATE!

A Word from Tricia Goyer

Remembering You

By Tricia Goyer

In the last ten years since I started interviewing veterans for my WWII novels, most have passed away. Some of them—realizing their days on earth were coming to an end—returned to Europe one last time with their family members to walk along paths they've never forgotten. Those trips inspired my most recent novel, Remembering You (http://www.triciagoyer.com/contemporaryfiction.html#RememberingYou).

One of the most amazing experiences was when I received an email from a woman named Hana. She'd heard of my book and knew I'd interviewed some of the veterans. She asked if I'd interviewed any medics. Then she told me an amazing story. Hana was born on a cart just outside of Mauthausen. Her mother had survived being a prisoner of another camp and was transported to Mauthausen at the end of the war.

Hana was just three weeks old when the Americans arrived, and she was very ill. Because of the filthy conditions she got a skin infection and sores covered her body. No one expected her to live. Yet one of the medics saw the small baby and knew he had to do something. Even though it took most of the day, he lanced and cleaned all Hana's sores, saving her life. Over the years she'd wanted to find the medic, but didn't know where to start.

I was amazed by Hana's story and told her I knew one medic—maybe he remembered who that man was. I gave Hana the contact information and I soon heard the good news. My friend LeRoy “Pete” Petersohn was the medic who'd saved her life! The two were soon reunited! After all these years Hana was able to look into the eyes of the man who saved her and thanked him. After all these years Pete was able to meet the woman he saved. “Baby!” he called out when he met her.

Remembering You is a work of fiction, but the experiences of the men are true. The experiences of the main character, Ava, are also true-to-life. I was busy with life when God pointed me to an amazing story, and to even more amazing men. I'm so thankful I took time to listen and care. I'm so thankful I allowed these men to share what … and who … they remembered most.

Tricia Goyer is a homeschooling mom of four and an acclaimed and prolific writer, publishing hundreds of articles in national magazines. She has also written books on marriage and parenting and contributed notes to the Women of Faith Study Bible. Tricia's written numerous novels inspired by World War II veterans, including her new release Remembering You. Tricia lives with her husband and four children in Arkansas. You can find out more information about Tricia at www.triciagoyer.com.

Remembering You by Tricia Goyer

I'm am privileged again to help spread the word about fellow adoptive mama Tricia Goyer's latest novel, Remembering You.

About the book:

35-year-old Ava Andrews' dream job is interrupted by an unusual request--fulfill her 84-year-old grandfather's last wish by joining him on a battle site tour of Europe. Ava is sure her boss will refuse her request. But, instead, he gives her a directive of his own--to videotape the tour and send it back as mini-segments for the show she produces.

As if juggling these two things isn't hard enough, Ava is soon surprised again ... twice. First, Ava and Grandpa Jack arrive in Europe, only to discover the tour is cancelled. Unwilling to let down her grandfather or her boss, Ava and Grandpa Jack head out on their own. Then, while they're on their way, the pair soon meet up with Paul, her grandpa's best friend, and his grandson Dennis. The same Dennis who just happens to be Ava's first love.

Before she knows it, Ava and Dennis are swept down memory lane as they visit the sites that are discussed in the history books. And even though Ava's videotaping old soldiers, she can see their youth, their hopes and fears, and their pride in their eyes. Soon Ava learns the trip isn't just for them ... it's for her too--especially for her heart.

Read an excerpt, watch a video and find out more here. 

You know, this isn't a Tricia Goyer standard. Hmmm...well it might be. But it wasn't the twisty-turny several points of view heart pounding wild battlefield ride that I became accustomed to in my first introduction to her books. So, don't expect that. This is a present day visit to a vet's life through the eyes of his granddaughter. There's a bit of mystery to be revealed. A bit of romance. And a lot of growing respect for our WWII heroes and the stuff they endured and the baggage they carry because they chose to serve their country.  It is a bittersweet novel that will occasionally make you want to knock the heroine over her  head.


In other words, if you are looking for pulse pounding, stay-up-all-night reading material, this isn't your book, BUT if you like the idea of an aging WWII hero tribute with a splash of romance, this will be right up your alley.  Happy endings never hurt. ;) 

About Tricia:

Tricia Goyer is the author of thirty books including Songbird Under a German Moon, The Swiss Courier, and the mommy memoir, Blue Like Play Dough. She won Historical Novel of the Year in 2005 and 2006 from ACFW, and was honored with the Writer of the Year award from Mt. Hermon Writer's Conference in 2003. Tricia's book Life Interrupted was a finalist for the Gold Medallion in 2005. In addition to her novels, Tricia writes non-fiction books and magazine articles for publications like MomSense and Thriving Family. Tricia is a regular speaker at conventions and conferences, and has been a workshop presenter at the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) International Conventions. On Tricia's weekly radio show, Living Inspired, she shares stories of inspiration and encouragement. She and her family make their home in Little Rock, Arkansas where they are part of the ministry of FamilyLife.

For more about Tricia and her other books visitwww.triciagoyer.com 

Tricia Goyer is celebrating the release of her novel, Remembering You, with a KINDLE Touch Giveaway for you ... and for the friend of your choice. Then on 11/29 she'll be wrapping up the release of Remembering You with a Book Chat Party!



During the first half of the party Tricia will be chatting, sharing a sneak peek of her next book, and giving away a ton of great stuff. Then she'll head over to her website for a Live Chat! Readers will be able to chat with Tricia via video or text.



Don't miss your chance to win a Kindle Touch for yourself ... and to "remember" a friend this holiday with a Kindle Touch for them!



Read what the reviewers are saying here.

One grand prize winner will receive:

• A Brand New Kindle Touch and a Kindle Touch for a Friend (winner's choice!) 
• A copy of Remembering You by Tricia Goyer for each

Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends at noon on November 29th. Winner will be announced at Remembering You Facebook Party on 11/29. Tricia will be hosting an author chat (on Facebook and Live from her website) and giving away copies of her other WWII books and gift certificates to Starbucks and Amazon.com. So grab your copy of Remembering You and join Tricia on the evening of the 29th for an author chat, a trivia contest (How much do you know about WWII?) and lots of giveaways.

Don't miss a moment of the fun. RSVP today and tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 29th!

Blog tour schedule: go see what others are saying!

Community

This blog post has been months in the making. Here's hoping that I finally have enough pieces to make it worth reading. It began when someone I had thought was on my wavelength had disappointed me in some form. The post at that time would have been about the false sense of community we create for ourselves. But the more I think on it, the deeper, the more involved, the subject matter is.

This last weekend, I was in Kansas City hosting my now annual Bead for Life party. I had SO MUCH FUN. It was a weekend of reunion, reconnection and establishing new relationships. We hung out with friends. I saw people I haven't seen in a decade. I met a lady who is adopting though the same agency we are. And I LOVED all of them. It was the weirdest mix pf people I could imagine being in the same place.

I was on a high, but by Monday evening, my rationale kicked into gear.

Last year my bead party looked so different. It was the same eight or ten people that I saw once or twice a week, for the most part. What was different?

I left.

When you live in the same city, you always have the assumption that people will be there later. It's just SO MUCH work to actually make plans to see people. I was guilty of the same.

One of my bridesmaids lived in the same city, but an hour away. You know how close an hour looks when you are staring down a full three? CLOSE. Suddenly a bead party is a chance for a reunion. Same for college friends, old Bible study partners, people who have changed churches. Oh, the laughter.....what a great day. Every time the door opened, I found myself screeching, "HEY!" and running across the room for a hug.

It was utterly delightful.

We went back to our old church on Sunday. I got hugs. Lots of hugs. From people who would have never ventured to hug me before. People just aren't huggers, for the most part. But once those hugs aren't available, they become something precious. A chance to say, "I love you! I miss you! HEY! YOU are MY friend." My love tank was filled to overflowing.

People are so precious. I think we forget that when they are available all the time. We take them for granted. They become something that is an obligation. Someone else who needs something from us.

And then, sometimes, we lose them. It almost hurts to see them again once they are removed from us. It's a reminder of that which we lost. A piece of ourselves that we won't get back. Pieces of me are scattered all over the planet right now, and I'm homesick for them.

I have dear, dear friends that I have never met. I have a writing community who know my struggle with what I have the opportunity to write and that which I desire to write. They grant me the title of "writer" and include me in their groups even when I have no physical evidence that I belong there. I have been in situations where I believed that I was wasting my time with people in my real life because they didn't get it. They let me down. And then one day we deviated from writing on our writer's loop and someone let me down. The pain that followed I still carry. But my IRL (In Real Life) friends were there to pick up the pieces.

Funny thing about community.

Right now I have another community: the adoptive community. When we adopted Eldest, our community was microscopic. Most people didn't get it. We had one set of friends that held our hands throughout the ordeal and I still describe them as dear friends even though we haven't talked since I was pregnant with Frodo (now 8). This go round I have made friends that I can't even tell you where they come from. They GET IT. I find myself wishing I could sit down to tea with them. But I suspect that if we spent much time together, they would let me down. Just because THIS passion we share, it doesn't mean we share them all. But I want to engage in email dialogue, if for not other reason than because I'm sure my IRL friends are sick, sick, SICK TO DEATH of listening to me talk about the details ad nauseum.

I don't even want to talk about the details, to be frank. I want to talk about changing the world. Making a difference.

What does everyone else want to talk about? Christmas shopping. I opened a Walmart add today and wanted to vomit. I kid you not. Physical reaction so strong I'm surprised nothing came up. Don't get me wrong. I want people to come to my next Bead for Life party and Christmas shop until they drop. I like to give a good gift as much as the next guy. But when I think about how much money goes into plastic in packages that will be forgotten by January 6 (particularly by my children) I just wonder what we are thinking. Thank the LORD He is giving me a community of like minded friends in that area as well. And from the most unlikely of sources. But sometimes even they let me down.

Right now I want my community to care that children are starving. Am I asking them to adopt? Not exactly. But how about buying them a sheep? Really. Is that too much to ask? $30. Last week I shared a image on facebook of a child's foot and a pair of shoes. For $10, you can provide a child with shoes so they don't get those parasites that make walking painful. But it gets better. Those $10 are paid to a person on the ground in Uganda to make the shoes. It gets even better than that. That $10 buys the supplies to make the shoes from a farmer in Uganda. Total people helped? THREE. (PLUS all their family). I made a comment on the photo, "Who wants shoes for Christmas?" I made a deal with myself that I would buy a pair of shoes in Uganda for EVERYONE who "liked" or commented on that photo. Not a single person. So sad.

Community. Sometimes they let you down.

The only one who won't let you down? Jesus. His people will, but he won't.

But I love my community. My online community. My adoptive community. My writing community. My old church. My new church. My family. My friends. My Bible study girls. My facebook friends. My bloggies. The people from my past life that should hate me for being a prissy bitch and love me and my new self anyway. I love the women I pray with on Tuesday and I love their children. I love that my old scientific mentor is now all in for poverty eradication. I loved him then. I love him now. I love KU. I love HHS. Did bad things happen in both places? YES. But good came out of it. God makes beautiful things out of us. Our fears. Our failures. Our successes. Our peeps. Our community. Even when they let us down.

Thank you for being part of my community. Please forgive me when I let you down.

Memory Triggers

One of the things I love about being "home" are the memory triggers.

It's also one of the things I hate about being home, but we're not going there today.

Today as I was driving over to have coffee with my parents I glanced at a street sign which also happens to be the street Brent lived on when we were in high school. It was almost humorous, the rush of feelings that followed my viewing of that street sign.

Sometimes, and I know this is a surprise for you, after fifteen years of marriage you start to take the presence of your beloved for granted. Kisses aren't savored and are sometimes given begrudgingly.

I remembered this morning how giddy it used to make me to just be in his presence. How I would ponder kisses and think about the next one. It made me eager to come home and have lunch with my husband, whom I get to have lunch with every day and also who, as often as not, gets the brunt of my irritation for that. (You want to eat AGAIN? Can't you make your own lunch once?)

Today I will savor a kiss with lunch. And attempt to be giddy about cooking for him. ;) Maybe I'll even play Our Song. As if we could hear it over Mario Cart.

Thought for the Day

I wonder if God is calling you to spread your wings over someone. A person who might not look like you, think like you, or shop where you shop. You may not have to go to Africa or Brazil to find them; he or she may live next door or be related to you. Either way, it is time for us to give of our lives as Boaz gave of his. If we clutch our possessions and ease of life, we will do so at the expense of a wealth of Ruths who not only need redemption, but who might one day be the true saviors in our own stories.
--Kelly Minter, Ruth

Friday, Friday....

My phone just rang. Actually it rang six minutes ago. And I'm still shaking.

It's Friday.

It's 8:30.

I do not yet have a court date.

And I'm going to have a good day. ALL. DAY. LONG.

Depraved Indifference

Nothing I could say is more important than this.

Overdue

What I know of pregnancy, and particularly about being overdue, I learned from my Princess and my Frodo. Charming, as always, made his own path and even gives me a My Midwife Didn't Believe I Was In Labor Until I Was WAY Into Labor story. Nevertheless, I have a theory.

Women don't go into labor until they give up hope that the baby will ever come out.

Last night, as I was laying on the couch attempting to escape reality by wasting my life away watching crappy TV, the thought came to mind, I'm never going to get a call. I'm not going to Africa before Christmas. I'm dreaming to think there is even a chance for a call any time in the near future. It simply isn't going to happen. I may never go. That is all. Time to get on with life.

It was eerily similar to the thought I had with Princess when I was three days overdue and with Frodo when I crossed the five day mark: This baby is never coming out. I may as well get used to being the size of a water buffalo. I will never again recognize my feet. That is all. Time to get on with life.

With both of them, I was in labor within 12 hours.

I am under no delusion to believe that giving up equals a phone call, or labor for that matter. I truly don't even expect one. This morning was the first in three weeks where I didn't even glance at the clock and count down the minutes until 9 AM (my phantom, if I haven't been called I won't be called cut off time period). I really, really, really might not get a call until February. It is completely out of my hands. I need to give up on the plan to buy all my Christmas gifts in Ethiopia and just start figuring out what piece of plastic crap won't drive me crazy OR into the poor house. I'm going to shop for my Operation Christmas Child boxes because the odds are, I won't be delivering my own version of it to the orphans in our care center.That is all.  It's time to get off the I'm Holding My Breath Until I Turn Blue wagon and get on with life.

Laundry is calling. A holiday season is bearing down. Charming wants me to watch him play. And, besides, I like oxygen. I might as well inhale now and again.

It is a new day. I'm gonna seize it.

Thankful....

For this moment and many more like it.

Last night, we were watching House Hunters International when a woman said, "I can dip my toes in the Mediterranean Sea. How many people get to experience that?" I turned to Brent and said, "I did!"

Not only that, I got to smooch in a Med Sea sunset.

Life is good.

Waiting Purgatory Stolen Excerpt

Friends, I want you to read this.

But because it is a novel, I'll just ask you to read the first half. (The half that begins after the Halloween costume leader.)

And for those of you that won't do that, either, I give you this, completely plagiarized excerpt from Jen Hatmaker's blog in the hopes that it will whet your appetite to AT LEAST read the first half. :)

Jen, if you google yourself and discover I have plagiarized you.....um.....I have no excuses. It just needed to be re-posted.

Your friends are adopting. They’re in the middle of dossiers and home studies, and most of them are somewhere in the middle of Waiting Purgatory. Please let me explain something about WP: It sucks in every way. Oh sure, we try to make it sound better than it feels by using phrases like “We’re trusting in God’s plan” and “God is refining me” and “Sovereignty trumps my feelings” and crazy bidness like that. But we are crying and aching and getting angry and going bonkers when you’re not watching. It’s hard. It hurts. It feels like an eternity even though you can see that it is not. It is harder for us to see that, because many of us have pictures on our refrigerators of these beautiful darlings stuck in an orphanage somewhere while we’re bogged down in bureaucracy and delays.--Jen Hatmaker

And, yep, that about sums it up. Except, of course, the REST of the post.

Expectation

It occurred to me yesterday that I'm living counter-culturally these days.

On Friday, I could not get off the couch. Charming and I watched three full length movies. I stood in the corner of the library and cried the ugly cry as my boys picked out even more movies. But by Sunday evening? Laughing, singing, dancing.

The difference? On Sunday night, the Ethiopian courts open.

I'm on to my moods now. Hopefully that can keep me in check. My heart is another matter. My phone rang at 9:30 last night and my heart was racing so hard that my hands were shaking. Again this morning at 8:05.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Heb.11:1

Apparently, I have a great amount of faith that my phone will ring any day. Fridays signal a three day silence and are therefore something to be endured. Mondays begin five days of hope and therefore are something to celebrate.

Counter-cultural.

And a bit nonsensical.

I'm still sad that my sister has moved, but it doesn't seem as earth shaking as it did on Friday. Now I can see the benefit of having a relative within driving range of many places I'd like to visit.

But you may want to ask me again on Friday. ;)

If there was a theme song for today, it would be titled, "The Woman Has LOST it."

Expectation Failure

The last time I was this addicted to my email inbox and my ringing phone, I was waiting for a rejection for my novel.

The phone could ring any day with news of my impending visit to Africa.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan for a trip that will likely occur over the holidays without knowing when or if it actually will occur?

I spent hours on the phone yesterday trying to set things up. Doctor's appointments that have to happen before December 11, but no earlier than December 11, with a Doctor who works 2.5 hours from my current location. And visits to my sponsored child who lives in a country that celebrates Christmas on January 27 (but the organization's workers still celebrate on December 25 and close their offices "the second half of the month of December and the early part January."

I woke yesterday in a cold sweat wondering if I would still get Christmas cards from people if I don't send them this year, considering I sent none last year, either. And then I remembered that most people don't even know my address, so of course I won't get any cards unless I send them. And is TODAY too early to send cards if I am indeed going to be out of the country next month? And if I do send them today and DON'T get a date next month, will I feel dumb?

And DARN IT, why won't that phone ring?

My sister moved half a continent away today. And I've got a cry headache and an inability to contain my tears. And a good friend's marriage fell apart and things just keep getting worse. And I could just use some good news.

And DARN IT, why won't that phone ring?

Except when it does it is stinkin' Directv. As if I care.

So, I'm having a Pixar day.

FYI, Cars 2 makes me want to go to Italy guilt free and Toy Story 2 had a preview for Toy Story 3 which made me cry.

I need some Chocolate Chip Cookie dough and a spoon. Which reminds me of another story. Today when I asked Charming if we should make some cookies this afternoon, he informed me that he brought two cookies home from Grandma's yesterday, one for me and one for Daddy.

Interesting....

Smart Seasons

This morning, as I helped Eldest and Princess study their spelling words, I had a flash of nostalgia. The word was compliment. Which Eldest spelled with an "ie" because he was fretting so much over which one should be used, and Princess spelled with an "e."

It took me back.

For all my joking Wednesday about losing the Krebs cycle, I do sometimes mourn the days when people thought of me as smart. I miss knowing that complement is a chemical involved in a rapid immune response. And I miss the certainty of knowing that. Because today when I typed complement into dictionary.com to verify that before I typed it, dictionary.com didn't bother to even list that in it's definitions. I'm sure I could get out an old immunology text and find out for sure, but I'm just....too tired.

I sometimes miss the days when I was full of information that I mistook as knowledge and I was regarded for it.

Now, more often than not, I get the You-are-so-dumb look from my kids. And Brent, who is far more knowledgeable about many things athletic than I, goes even farther and tells me in his lecture voice how I'm doing an air squat wrong when my thighs are on fire.

I want to be smart again.

But I will choose, today, to be knowledgeable.

All of my life, in every season, You are still God, I have a reason to sing.
I have a reason to worship.

With Great [Knowledge] Comes Great Responsibility

The problem with knowing stuff is that you can't un-know it. Sometimes you can forget it. I've forgotten the Krebs cycle. I used to know it frontwards and backwards. Now all I can remember is that CO2 is a byproduct and I'm not even certain of that. But I've forgotten it because it became unimportant to me. It isn't something I have to regularly visit and, frankly, I never cared much about knowing it after the exams.

But there are other things I know that sometimes I wish....I didn't. I'd like to go through a day and ignorantly participate in life and just be normal. Except, knowing what I know, I don't really want to not know it. Lack of knowledge does not necessarily also mean lack of accountability. Just because I don't know a "J" turn is illegal doesn't mean the police officer won't give me a ticket.

I can't pretend to not know the sinister things that go on beneath fun children's holidays. I can't pretend to not know the way the more popular forms of birth control work. I can't un-know the current actions of Hershey and Pepsi. I can't un-know that my daughter's care center has a waiting list of malnourished babies to take her place as soon as she and her friends are cleared out of there. And I can't un-know that a child could be fed, clothed, sheltered and schooled for a month for less money than I spent on candy for a holiday I don't even celebrate.

And I am disgusted.

One of the awesome things about adopting is the instant community you find yourself in. One such person posted on her blog that the group she sponsored a child through in Ethiopia would let you come visit when you go for your adoption (I know World Vision does as well). She also said she had become the advocate for 10 other children in the school to help them gain sponsors. And my first thought was "I'm sponsored out."

You betcha. There's my compassion in a nutshell. It ain't pretty, is it?

But something in her message grabbed me. She referenced Tom Davis whose book I'd reviewed a couple years ago and my curiosity got me. I linked through.

Only one child of the ten was left. His name was Setotaw and he had a tooth out of alignment and his zipper was undone. And I looked in his face, thinking, "How many $35 monthly commitments can I make?" When I saw a vision of my receipt from Target a couple days prior. All we'd gone in for was the bag of candy each child is allowed to pick at the end of October for our Reformation Day party. Let me just say my receipt MORE than covered Setotaw's care.

CANDY.

I can't un-know that I spent more on CANDY in October than it would take to care for a child.

What have we come to?

A friend of mine posted last week that Americans spent 6.7 billion dollars on Halloween this year. (Or maybe that is last year's figure. Someone else commented that this year it was closer to 7.) Gee, I don't know people, can we think of something better to do with SIX POINT SEVEN BILLION DOLLARS?

In case you are interested, I immediately inquired about Setotaw. Because how on earth could I stand before God someday and say, "Well, the candy seemed more important at the time." And by the time I'd emailed her, three other families had stepped in to lay claim to him. He was the last child of her 10 sponsored and he became the prize. I am saddened that my hesitation lost me out on his sponsorship. That precious boy.

And if you are still interested, she's already posted 10 more in need of sponsors. It would appear that I might be able to hand deliver letters and gifts to your child if you were so inclined.

HA! Interesting....I was just revisiting the blog and ran across this. Use it as you will. Or better, should. :)