This Reminds Me

Archive for the ‘Family’ 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?

Warning: Excessive Maternal Bragging About to Occur

Lois is now a high school senior.  She’s worked hard enough to have some real choices about where she goes away to college.  Those decisions are bittersweet because while I’m thrilled for her, I know I’m going to miss her.  But while she’s considering her next educational step, we’re enjoying some fun now with her being recognized as a Commended Student in the National Merit Scholarship Program.  Woot!

Tuesday:  A lovely breakfast for Lois, Keith and me with other families at the local country club…..

….where each student announced his or her intended college and major.  For Lois:  Likely Baylor or A&M, majoring in Engineering.   Both of her grandfathers were engineers, so, it’s a family thang.

Tonight:  The students and their parents were recognized at half-time at the Reagan/Madison game.  Wish Keith could have been there, but he’s in Houston visiting his parents.  And Hannah’s at Girl Scout camp.  But Rachel took these pictures, and Julia clapped hard.  This was the fourth football game I’ve attended in my life – one as yearbook editor in high school to write copy; two when I was handling sports and events for SBC in Houston; now this game tonight.  Interestingly, my former SBC sports marketing boss and friend Mark saw us at the game, and posted his congrats to my Facebook wall.

Yeah, I had to practically run to keep up with her – but what else is new?

A medal from Dr. Brian Gottardy, NEISD Superintendent.   As I have blogged before - the single biggest blessing we’ve gotten from moving to San Antonio in 2000 has been the schools.  In Houston and in San Antonio – good neighbors, good friends, good church.  But schools in Houston?  Forget them.  Hideous.  I am profoundly thankful for the excellent NEISD teachers Rachel, Lois, Hannah and Julia have enjoyed, and the schools’ constant emphasis on achievement.  Rachel is an education major (also a family thang) at UTSA and hopes to join them one day.

I’m not exactly sure how Lois got to be a senior.  I mean, she’s my preemie.  The toddler who used to wear swim goggles, hold a flashlight and announce, “”Mom, I’m going on a mystery.”  The kindergartener I put on the wrong school bus our first week here.   The middle school alto.  Now the fierce Latin competitor.  And somehow a senior.

I’m clapping for her every chance I get.

I like to cook something on Saturday that we can just “eat on.” Not a meal, though we cook those, too. But just something for our lunches, and for the kids to shovel in when they have 10 minutes at home between babysitting and Latin, or Scouts and Model U.N. This week – chicken and dumplings.

My mom made absolutely delicious homemade noodles, though in retrospect, I think they were more like flat dumplings. She never measured her flour, Crisco and salt as she mixed it with her hands, then rolled and cut it in short strips with a sharp knife. Omigosh, they were good. Mine aren’t that good, but then, I don’t have her talent. Keith’s mom also has a good recipe for a light, fluffy dumpling baked with roast chicken, but that gets a whole lot of kitchenware dirty.

This recipe – which I originally got from my friend Ginger – dirties one stock pot, two cutting boards a small bowl and a few kitchen utensils. That’s it. And to make an entire batch costs about $15.  And it’s easy – hence, “Cheaters Chicken and Dumplings.”  My kids love it, so – my kind of recipe!

You need:  A chicken, 3 cans of biscuits, 1 stick of butter, 2 c. of milk and a mix of chicken stock and water.  My friend Ginger uses only water to boil her chicken.  I like at least half chicken stock for those vegetable flavors, too.  If I don’t think the broth looks rich enough, I will add a scoop of jarred condensed chicken stock.

In a stock pot – cover your chicken with liquid (stock, broth, water, jarred stock, whatever you like.)  Just barely cover it.  If you’re using stock or broth, you won’t need to add salt.  Boil the chicken about 45 minutes.

Cut your biscuits.  I usually cut them into 9ths – 2 cuts across, 2 cuts down.  You want small pieces.

Cheater’s way to remove the chicken from the boiling stock – place a grooved cutting board near the pot and use a long-handled fork to quickly lift the bird, drain it and set it down.  Much easier and less sloppy to move a cutting board than a pot of boiling stock. Notice the pretty orange/yellow color of the stock.  Good stuff!

Add one stick of butter and two cups of milk.  Bring to a simmer.

Drop the biscuit pieces one by one into the simmering stock, stirring every couple of minutes.  An 11-year-old helper is great to have at this step.

You want really small biscuit pieces – like, no bigger than a fingernail.  As they poach, they expand.  So smaller = better.

Pick your chicken off the bone and tear/cube.  I use all the meat – white and dark.  I also select the biggest chicken I can find at the store.

Add your chicken to the simmering dumplings.  If you’re the mom, you dump it in all at once.  If you’re the daughter, you add it more daintily.

And now you’ve got chicken and dumplings……

….which my assistant says are “delicious!”

Enjoy!

Shortly before Rachel started kindergarten, we attended a welcome-to-school party hosted by a family whose home included a large swimming pool.  For a still-unexplained reason, Rachel – who could not swim – leaped into the deep end.  I stood there absolutely incredulous as she bobbed to the surface, gasped, and promptly sunk.  In just a few seconds, I had slipped off my watch and my shoes and jumped in fully clothed to retrieve my child.

I didn’t rationalize her plight and minimize my own responsibility by saying, “Well, Rachel, I can’t save you because there may be a drowning child somewhere else, and really, what I need to be doing is dictating mandatory swimming lessons worldwide, and/or lobbying legislators to require 24×7 lifeguards at every body of water.”  No.  My child needed me.  I jumped.

Sometimes, children need to be saved.

This week, I’ve been both irritated and horrified at UNICEF’s war against international adoption. UNICEF seems to believe that the “answer” to the needs of orphans is to improve the conditions in their home countries so there’s no need for international adoptions.  How lofty.  How noble.  That kumbaya-chanting ideal assumes (1) that all global economic imbalances can be solved and (2) that all parents want custody of and/or are capable of caring for their children.

The day she left Children’s Home #47, Julia’s friends wished her to be happy, be healthy, remember Russia and obey her grandmother.  I play “what if” often – like, what if Keith and I were 10 years younger with a bucket’o'money?  Would we adopt again?  Look at those kids.  Oh, yes, we would.

Global economic imbalances are a harsh reality.  The world has been and will be – until Jesus returns – a place where “the poor will always be with us.” As a Christian and a human being, I am sorry for the families without clean water, or enough to eat.   And while I wish I could wave a magic wand and make – say,Ethiopia – a land of plenty, I can’t.   And even if I could, that doesn’t mean that every Ethiopian parent would want custody or or was capable of caring for children.

Modern adoption language discourages terms like “saving children.”  And we are never supposed to say children were “given up for adoption,” oh no, it’s “the bio parents made an adoption plan.”  I know all the now-correct language to use.  But really – I think 99% of that stuffola really only applies to in-country, US-adoptions, almost always with infants.  When you’re holding a cooing little bundle of blue in a U.S. hospital for whom you’ve waited years to fill that empty crib – great.  Be all correct in your language.  Get out the whole “birth triad” language book out and jabber away.

But when you are adopting internationally – especially when you have other children – oh, please!  All of it just makes me grit my teeth.  What is wrong with flat-out acknowledging that yes, you’re adopting – but at least part of your motivation is in saving a child?  I’ve spoken to families who pulled children out of hellish situations in Africa, Russia, South America, etc..  When a family adopts a scar-ravaged Colombian toddler removed from the custody of a bio mother that almost burned him to death – ‘cmon, that child was most definitely saved and there was no “adoption plan” made.  That family, BTW, had several bio children already.  I have a blogging buddy in Michigan I admire tremendously.  She and her husband had three bio kids before adopting a school-age girl from Russia.   Now they’re adopting a Ukrainian teenager set to age-out of the orphanage.  Statistics say he’ll have a short, bitter life of crime – assuming, of course, he doesn’t commit suicide soon, as 20% of those kids do.  Her family is not trying to solve the poverty problem in the Ukraine.  They can’t.  They’re just going to rescue a little 15-year-old piece of it.

Fixing a whole country is just too big.  The families I know that have adopted intentionally can’t do that as individuals, and don’t believe it’s the job of the United States to shoulder world reform.   But they feel called to do “something.”  So – like most of us – they do what they can.

UNICEF’s answer to the orphan is, “We’ll get your whole country fixed and then your parents can keep you.  You’ll have no need to be adopted intentionally.  Wait.  Just wait.”

But children – as we all know – can’t wait.

Sometimes, you just have to jump in and save them.