This Reminds Me

Archive for the ‘Faith’ Category

They’re done.  This morning we delivered our 179 2011 Operation Christmas Child shoe boxes to their collection center which is, coincidentally, our church.  Soon they’ll be packed in cartons for transport to the Samaritan’s Purse warehouse on the south side of San Antonio.  From there, they’ll be crated and the crates shrink-wrapped on pallets for trucking to the Denver distribution center.  From there – well, any of our boxes could ultimately arrive in any one of 110 countries.  We know our boxes have made it to Slovenia and Mexico – otherwise, we have no idea.

179 shoe boxes breaks down to:

179 shoe boxes also means at minimum (usually more than):

537 rubber bands

1074 small toys, brushes, etc.

179 toothbrushes/ toothpaste

358 bagged clothing items – T-shirts, socks, undies, caps, etc.

179 decks of cards

179 foldable bags of some sort – mesh backpack or whatever

716 pencils

179 sharpeners

179 erasers

358 pens

179 boxes of crayons

1074 plastic zipping bags

4,296 bagged pieces of non-chocolate candy and gum

….plus innumerable small “fill in the holes” tops, magnifying glasses, hair barrettes, temporary tattoos, etc.

179 shoe boxes also means:  The chance to catch up with great friends like Renee and her kiddos Allison and Arthur.  They’ve helped pack for years – this year, 21 boxes. Renee also put out the word to some media buds, which is how we got the KSAT interview last week and now…..

……Operation Christmas Child is going to be featured on our local Fox affiliate “Daytime at 9″ TV program Wednesday, 11/16. Fox’s Juan Pardo (shown “mike’ing me up”) came to our house Saturday to talk to me as their “Woman of the Week,” and also to….

…..film us completing a few shoe boxes.  This publicity is great, and I love it but it’s not about “me.”  It’s about Operation Christmas Child.  I hope that comes through in the interview.  This is not false modesty, or some cute little ploy to have my friends pile on compliments.  I know myself.  I’m not some super woman with a perfect spirit and a heart always focused on God.   Operation Christmas Child has long outgrown “me” anyway.   There’s no way, no how I could do this without good friends who donate so much time, money and materials – and by the way, several of them have explicitly told me not to mention their names. They’re not looking for glory. They know what they’ve done.  Anyway, I am thrilled with this publicity – for the ministry, not for myself.  You can bet, though, that I’m going to watch “Daytime at 9″ on Wednesday, 11/16!  Oh, yeah!   

179 shoe boxes means filling the entire back of  Keith’s two-rows-of-seats-folded down Expedition, plus (not shown) the back of my mini-van.

179 shoe boxes means lots of unloading in the church parking lot.

179 shoe boxes means a good start in one of five San Antonio collection centers.    Find your nearest collection center here.

Rod  – our missions minister – used one of our boxes as an aid this morning, encouraging families to support Operation Christmas Child.  There’s still plenty of time to make a box!  Or two!  See the packing guidelines here.

So 179 shoe boxes means all kinds of things, depending on your perspective.

The perspective I care about – that my WOW class cares about – that Renee and many other friends care about – is detailed in Matthew 19:13 and James 1:27 .

Christmas morning – when we are assembling our breakfast tacos and wading through a small mountain of wrapping paper – we’ll take a minute and thank God for the opportunity to share with 179 children “somewhere.”  It’s likely they’ve never gotten a gift before.  It’s very likely they’ll use their plastic shoe boxes to carry water.  It’s almost certain it’s the only “thing” they’ll get for Christmas.

So the boxes matter.

Know what I mean?

We had plans for this Father’s Day weekend.

Our dear family friend Jean was coming to visit.  Jean was at the hospital the day I was born and holds in place in my heart like no other.  She arrived a-okay and that – at least – went according to plan.

Jean and me today.  She’s recently moved to Mexico and – at age 87 – is learning Spanish so she can minister to those near her.  We spent part of yesterday afternoon in search of new walking shoes because she doesn’t use a car in her community.  Why exactly do I whine about church committee meetings and having to drag myself through Costco?

Part of our plan was for Keith, Lois, Hannah and Julia to go visit Rachel yesterday at Highland Lakes, the summer camp at which she’s working. Keith – knowing her passion for all things tie-dyed – bought white T-shirts and fresh color kits so they could create custom shirts to wear for the visit.   They did get to go – that part of the plan went well.

Me thinks she was surprised when she opened the door and saw their tie-dyed shirts.  They brought two new ones for her, too.

They spent the day together messing around Austin.  Keith planned to leave by 7 p.m., but here’s where the plan crumbled.

Highland Lakes is gorgeous.  And Rachel was in no hurry for them to go.  So they tramped around until 9 p.m.

Mighty pretty scenery!  Julia – 11; Lois – 17; Rachel – 20; Hannah – 15

In the meantime, Hannah got a email.  If she wanted to volunteer the next few days at Girl Scout camp – which she did – she needed to be there by 1 p.m. today (Sunday.)  If we had known that earlier, Keith and the girls definitely would have left Highland Lakes earlier.

They got home after 11 p.m. last night.  Hannah had to get packed for camp.  Keith had to leave with her by noon today.  So —–

      We didn’t eat breakfast together.  Oh, sure, I made Keith’s favorite quiche, but he and Hannah were up late getting her somewhat ready so they slept late. 

      We didn’t go to church together.  Hannah and Keith stayed home – she to finish packing, him to get lunch ready so he could leave by noon.  This was particularly disappointing.   He missed (the most excellent) Father’s Day sermon, plus acknowledgement with the other fathers by the congregation.

      He had to rush opening his gifts after lunch.

It occurred to me that while we had plans for Father’s Day that were derailed – they were changed only because Keith is a real father.  He wanted to visit his eldest child and surprise her with tie-dyed shirts for the whole family – neat!  They stayed longer than expected because Rachel didn’t want them to leave – sure.   He stayed up with Hannah last night, then shepherded her this morning – fine.  He made lunch for all of us so we could hurriedly eat and he could transport Hannah – uhhh, okay.

So instead of getting fussed over all day today – Keith spent most of it ensuring his family had what he wanted them to have.

Happy Father’s Day to the man who knows that his children replace our ”plans” in any equation for celebration.

This week I shared a picture of myself with a co-worker I’ve never met.  After months of casual contact, we were getting better acquainted.

I shared one Rachel took Sunday of Julia and me in the church parking lot.

Rachel always takes better pictures than do I, even though I shoot a Nikon and she generally uses her iPod.  Sigh.

My co-worker’s comment on the picture?  “She (Julia) looks just like you.”

I didn’t tell her Julia was adopted.

I think as an adult, Julia is going to be what my grandmother called a “handsome woman.”  Not frilly, not fru-fru, but “handsome.”  She has the most incredibly beautiful tanned skin, dark brown hair with individual gold strands and a lithe athlete’s body.  Her eyes have a small slant that intrigues me.  I can’t take credit for a bit of that.

Rachel, Lois Hannah and I do look alike – or so I’ve been told.

Here are the girls on Easter Sunday -

Lois – 17; Hannah – 15; Rachel – 19; Julia – 11

And me at age 17 .  I’ve supplied half of the gene pool in which Rachel, Lois and Hannah swim.  Can you tell?

I was flattered my co-worker thinks Julia and I look alike.

But what I really want for my girls is not that anyone looks at them and sees me. I don’t want them to see impatience, fatigue and such limited understanding.

I want for them what the Apostle Paul spelled out in 2 Corinthians 3:18. I want people to look at my girls and see Jesus.

I want them to look like their real Maker.

Then I can try to look like them.

Our church presented the “Living Last Supper” last night, and will do so again tonight.  If you hurry, you can just make it.

If Peter – the big fisherman – looks familiar, there may be a reason.

No dying his hair this year.  Our worship reminded all that the original Peter was more “seasoned” than the other 11 apostles, therefore, this modern-day enactment should reflect that age definition.   So Keith went the natural salt’n'pepper look.  We’re proud of you, Keith!  And Phil, Bill, Rodger, Brad, Travis, Jeff, Jason, Ray, Jon, Zachary, Daniel, Wade, Chris, Brian, Jonathan and Kyle.