cupcakes for africa

We talk about Africa a lot around our house. 

Our kids know that it exists. That it's far away. And that kids there have a lot of needs. 

They know that mommy went there once.

They know we support kids there.

They know our friends have gone there, lived there, and told stories about the work that's been done in Jesus' name, and through His love. 

They know their cousins' other cousins are adopted from there. 

They are beginning to see that there is a difference that they can make in the lives of others, not just locally, but around the world. 

And though they don't fully comprehend most of the reality of it all, they are at least beginning to. 

Christian in particular has asked to make cards for the kids in Africa, telling them about himself, and wanting to send them over. "Just put on the envelope: To the boys and girls in Africa"

So when I told him about the idea of selling cupcakes to raise money for some of those kids (through www.sixtyfeet.org), he thought it was a great idea.

He helped decorate them, got his cash register out, enthusiastically made the sign, and showed up ready to open up shop! 

At first both boys were apprehensive about the whole "yard sale" concept, all of the people coming up to them and asking questions, and the whole "transaction" idea.

About 30 minutes in, K still wanted me to hold him, and C still looked a little overwhelmed with the whole scene. He pulled me aside and whispered his concern in my ear.

"Mom, the cupcakes are for Africa... but everyone keeps eating them!"

Be still. My heart. 

He thought that somehow "Cupcakes for Africa" meant just that.... The cupcakes were FOR Africa.

I tried to explain to him again that it was the money that was going to help the children buy things they need more than cupcakes-- food, clothes, etc... 

but to him, cupcakes are far more valuable than green pieces of paper. 

To him, the real joy of giving would be to give someone something HE would love to receive. 

At least he knows one thing-- money can't buy happiness. 

Unfortunately neither can cupcakes. 

And that's where we all have a lot to learn. 

It's not about having more stuff, making more money, or achieving that goal you think is going to "complete you".  As we are constantly trying to tell our competitive oldest child, it's not all about winning or being the best. 

Contentment regardless of your circumstances, Love given unconditionally, and the Peace that can only come from knowing God as good, faithful and sovereign. Laying your life down for the betterment of another brings more happiness than hoarding your treasures and scraping for more ever could. 

Our friend David recently left us after his 2 year battle with cancer. And yet, in those 2 years he reached more people with the hope and love of God, and the confidence that HE was worth trusting, regardless of what unfolded. He lived his life to the fullest, with passion, and urgency, and continual investment in others. He leaves behind a legacy for his wife and 4 small kids-- that true happiness is loving God and loving people. 

Thank you, David,  SixtyFeet, The Cupcake Kids, and Katie Seevers for giving us the chance to grow a little more in those things this weekend!

Springing forward.

This winter seemed particularly lonnnnnnng.
I felt like March was a big tease, as usual. It seemed to taunt us with cold for-ev-er.
But warmer weather is slowly replacing those dog days of frigidity, and my spirit is singing with the birds and blooms that seem to magically appear... and all is right with the world.
...Well aside from psycho abortion doctors, marathon bombings, friends losing cancer battles, and your typical worldly chaos....
Needless to say, a lot of things have grabbed for my attention in the past month or so.
I've thought about posting here and there. But somehow it just doesn't seem to happen. I take almost all of my pictures on my phone now, and I think that definitely has a lot to do with it. It's amazing how technology changes so rapidly-- and thus changes our way of living.  Blogging is still something I feel is important, but it's kind of like exercise and eating right. If I'm not intentional about it, it doesn't happen. Ever.
Today I woke up thinking I'd finally get back on the treadmill. I even slept in workout gear. But of course one thing leads to another-- excuses abound until I find myself giving up on the idea for a few more minutes of this or that (read: facebook or a nap). This body ain't gettin any younger.
And neither are these kids.
I registered C for kindergarten at the end of February. I thought I might be a little emotional about it. But I never anticipated how deeply the process would impact me. The day of registration wasn't as hard as it could've been, though I definitely felt the "this is all so huge and new" feelings.
I scheduled us for a tour mid-march, and due to a little snowstorm and a random Toad Adventure (finding a jumbo toad, frozen but alive, on our snowy driveway and of course having to rescue him), we showed up a few minutes late and the principal had started without us. We dropped our thawing toad off in the office (he was in a colander with a lid-- i'm sure they thought we were nuts), and went with the secretary to find the tour-in-progress.
First impressions are pretty important. And the one we got of the principal was what I like to call 'a slap in the heart'. Not only did she not greet us... she barely glanced our way as we joined the 3 other families that were following her around. I felt like we'd just been given an "unexcused tardy" via her body language.
As I tried to catch my breath, I realized we were not in your average elementary school. There were no real classrooms, hallways, doors, or walls. We were standing in a maze of chaos. . . bordered by tall dividers and cubbies, with children of all ages milling around, talking, laughing, reading, etc... blurred by the din of a dozen teacher voices trying to keep their attention.
She called them Pods. She said they were built in the 70s... and as if trying to spin it in a positive light despite her obvious annoyance, she said that with 605 kids, they make the best of it. "It teaches the them to block out background noise...which is an important skill in the real world." Really?? It looked like one big breeding ground for A.D.D.
 I suddenly felt hot. Closed in. Lost. Nervous. Being herded like cattle through the maze of open yet claustrophobic cacophony. A lump formed in my throat, as I tried to take it all in. At the same time, I was trying read C's expression, which resembled a deer in headlights. .. I was also trying to take time to lean down and talk to him...explain what we were seeing (since the principal wasn't talking at all to her future Kindergarteners)... AND simultaneously keep track of K, who thought we were there to touch everything, ask lots of questions, and run around.
The 2 Kindergarten rooms sat back to back, with a divider between them. Fortunately there were actually windows and a door that led to the playground on one side of the rooms. But again, no one greeted us, or said anything welcoming. 25 children sat on each side of the divider, chattering away. It appeared pretty organized for only being run by one teacher per room. But again, I felt like I was going to burst into tears. I swallowed hard, and bent down and whispered something enthusiastic to my almost 5 yr old, who smiled as he looked around. I'm usually pretty good at hiding my emotions, but at this point I was really wondering how I was going to: A.) make it out of here without crying like a baby. And B.) EVER going to be able to send MY baby into such an environment.
Somehow I held it together. The tour ended and the principal slinked back into her office. When we got outside, I knelt down to zip C's jacket and asked him what he thought of it all. His response was simply, "Great!"
And I suppose that should be all that matters, right? That he was blissfully unaware of the chaos and coldness.  He'll probably do great, and have a blast, and never know the difference. But I will. And thus I sobbed on and off for the rest of the day, clueless as to why I couldn't think about the whole thing without breaking down.
The toad thawed out by afternoon, and was trying to escape the walls of his wooden palace. I got some great, regal looking shots of him. But started to feel badly for him-- being wakened from his winter slumber a few days too soon, as unnaturally as possible-- taken captive and held against his will. It was "T" week at preschool and C was determined to bring him in the next day for "show and tell".  I really wanted him to have that thrill, but by the end of the day it was obvious that Mr. Toad was ready to return to the wild. We convinced C that that was best for him, and told him we'd bring the pics to school the next day to show his class. And after a day of what I'm sure was total confusion for the poor creature, "Toady" happily hopped into the hole in the stone wall next to our driveway, right where he belonged.
And just like that, he was gone.
And so it will most likely be with my firstborn. When it's time for him to go, I cannot hold him back.