If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that I get a good deal of my material from Josh. It's not that I'm exploiting him, it's just that he's so dang funny!
For instance, a couple weeks ago, he was wanting a glass of orange juice. I went to the fridge to fix it for him and he stopped me with a concerned look on his face. "It's not the kind with pus in it, is it mom?" Pus!? In orange juice!? I was a little shocked and grossed out until I figured out that he was talking about pulp! Pus, pulp, same thing right?
Last night, as I was tucking him into bed, he asked me if we had any super glue in the house. Now, when a seven year old boy asks you for super glue, many alarms, loud bells, flashing red lights and other warning signs flash before your eyes! No good could possibly come from giving him super glue! I calmly asked him what he needed it for. He proceeded to explain to me how every night while he is sleeping his pillow falls off of his bed, the obvious solution to this problem was to super glue it down! Ofcourse! Why didn't I think of that?!
So here's to Josh...the provider of all good blog fodder!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
I Wish I Knew Her Name...
Her lonely face swept through my dreams last night. This girl was still so young but seemed to have no feeling. How could a child become so hardened and indifferent? After all, we were there with tons of toys, games, and gifts of all kinds. Any child would be excited and anxious to receive what were offering. Not this child.
Yesterday, as our large chartered bus drove into the small Kentucky town, I knew that my life was about to change. The houses were old, and battered. The creek was garbage lined. The school that was "our mission" was at the end of a long road. It was a small building that had a peculiar smell as we entered. Inside this building were 400 children waiting for our arrival. For many of them, this would be the only Christmas they would experience.
As the bleachers of the gym became filled with smiling faces and buzzing voices became louder, my heart became larger and heavier. How sad, I thought, to have a room filled with impoverished children. What must their lives be like? Do they have enough to eat? Are they warm at night while they sleep?
Children were assigned to all of us that had come to help. As this girl approached me, I was rehearsing what I would say to her. How could I put her at ease? I wanted to be her friend. It never occurred to me that she would want nothing to do with me.
I asked her name. She would not answer. I introduced myself and she stared at me blankly. I asked her if there was anything that she was hoping to find there today and what she wanted for Christmas. No response.
I didn't know what to do. Here was a beautiful young girl, who even when presented with her choice of many wonderful things, still would not let herself be happy. My heart ached for her. Was she really that void of emotion? Was her young life hopeless?
After several minutes of trying desperately to have some communication with her, I finally asked if I could choose some things for her and put them in her bag. She shrugged her shoulders. I carefully chose gifts that I hoped she would like. I wanted her to have happiness. I longed to see her smile.
When we were finished I walked her back to the bleachers. I told her that it had been wonderful to meet her and that I hoped she had a Merry Christmas. She climbed up the steps and sat down with her bag. She did not smile. I watched her for awhile to see if she was going to open her bag and look at what I had put in it. She never did. She sat alone and then left with her class.
I left Kentucky yesterday filled with a mix of compassion and sadness. I had walked many children through the treasure lined tables. Most of them were happy and excited to pick out their gifts. But even through the joy of these children I could not get my mind off that lonely girl. What was she doing last night while I was dreaming about her? Will she be there next year when I go back? Will I ever get to know her name?.........
Yesterday, as our large chartered bus drove into the small Kentucky town, I knew that my life was about to change. The houses were old, and battered. The creek was garbage lined. The school that was "our mission" was at the end of a long road. It was a small building that had a peculiar smell as we entered. Inside this building were 400 children waiting for our arrival. For many of them, this would be the only Christmas they would experience.
As the bleachers of the gym became filled with smiling faces and buzzing voices became louder, my heart became larger and heavier. How sad, I thought, to have a room filled with impoverished children. What must their lives be like? Do they have enough to eat? Are they warm at night while they sleep?
Children were assigned to all of us that had come to help. As this girl approached me, I was rehearsing what I would say to her. How could I put her at ease? I wanted to be her friend. It never occurred to me that she would want nothing to do with me.
I asked her name. She would not answer. I introduced myself and she stared at me blankly. I asked her if there was anything that she was hoping to find there today and what she wanted for Christmas. No response.
I didn't know what to do. Here was a beautiful young girl, who even when presented with her choice of many wonderful things, still would not let herself be happy. My heart ached for her. Was she really that void of emotion? Was her young life hopeless?
After several minutes of trying desperately to have some communication with her, I finally asked if I could choose some things for her and put them in her bag. She shrugged her shoulders. I carefully chose gifts that I hoped she would like. I wanted her to have happiness. I longed to see her smile.
When we were finished I walked her back to the bleachers. I told her that it had been wonderful to meet her and that I hoped she had a Merry Christmas. She climbed up the steps and sat down with her bag. She did not smile. I watched her for awhile to see if she was going to open her bag and look at what I had put in it. She never did. She sat alone and then left with her class.
I left Kentucky yesterday filled with a mix of compassion and sadness. I had walked many children through the treasure lined tables. Most of them were happy and excited to pick out their gifts. But even through the joy of these children I could not get my mind off that lonely girl. What was she doing last night while I was dreaming about her? Will she be there next year when I go back? Will I ever get to know her name?.........
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