Somewhere to give

Hey, you know that homeless guy on the corner next to where you work that you never give money to because you think he will spend it on beer and cigs?

I do.

I see lots and lots and lots of homeless guys working their corner.  The regulars on my commute

and I see lots of them wandering the Medical Center every day

and I see some with signs that say things like, 

"I don't want your money, I just want a job" 

or

"Lost my job, need $89 to make rent this month" and he marks it off and rewrites the amount with each donation

or

"Family taken by ninjas, need money for karate lessons"

I love their humor.  Would I be making jokes if I was humbling myself and begging for your pocket change while you look down at your cell phone pretending not to see me?

If you have a heart for those guys who have the humility to stand there and ask for your grace, this one is for you.

And it's cheap and easy and you can do it year round.

As of late, Devin and I have these in our cars

The ziploc ($2.00 for like 40) has a small bottle of water ($2.00ish for 12), PB crackers ($1.99 for 8), fruit snacks ($1.80ish for 10), and a little booklet from our church telling them about Jesus and how they can come to our church and find life.

I realize they are asking for money- most of them.  Some of them say anything will help.  Maybe this will.  Or maybe this will just give them a snack and something to read while they sit on their perch.

You can choose to put a few dollars in there if you want, too.  We're going to see how this goes first, but I love to give them money too.  If you are iffy about what they're using the money for, the great thing about these is they get whatever you are comfortable with putting in them.  Get creative.  If you have kids, this is a great way to show them how to love on other people.

So for about $8 you can feed 10 people.  Show some love.  Show that you see them.

Dare to...be sick and not make cookies

I am really lame this year for Kim's Dare to Do It Yourself thing.

This week is Dare to Eat Cookies.

I, however, have felt under the weather since Wednesday night, and the sick bug has slowly made his home in my lungs (just like the Mucinex commercial), so I thought it would be best not to make an entire batch of cookies with a 13th ingredient of otorhinolaryngitis (which translates to ear nose and throat inflammation which actually is not a word/term...but otorhinolarygology is.  There is your medical terminology lesson for the day).

So, I bring you my Dare to Eat Cookies from last year.

Ready go.

Somewhere to Give

I think that everyone probably knows someone who knows someone who is going through a rough time this year.  Maybe?  Jobs are being cut left and right in all industries (including health care...which was supposed to be recession resistant) and parents are having a harder time putting toys under the tree.

Christmas giving, to me, isn't just about the ones who are living in crazy poverty year round, even though they hurt my heart so much.  To me, Christmas giving can be for the families whose parents sacrifice their needs daily if it means meeting their kids' small wants, who are just making it- living paycheck to paycheck- but making it, but they just can't do Christmas presents this year.  I love to give to them, too.

There is an organization called My Two Front Teeth who provides kids with a gift on their list- list meaning they probably only want one or two things.  Most gifts are under $25 and it's super convenient- you can pay for it online and they'll get the gift, wrap it, and deliver it.  It's sort of like the Salvation Army Angel Tree, but they do all of the work for you.

A little more about the Salvation Army Angel Tree.  This is the tree you see in the mall with the angel ornaments on it.  You pick an age, a girl or boy, and you get to go shop for the items listed (usually something like Barbie, clothes size 6x, books), then you bring your things back to the table at that tree and they deliver the gifts to the kiddos.  My family has always done this, and Devin and I adopted the tradition as our own too.  It makes for a fun date- pick your angel in the morning, go shop for them together, deliver your toys, get some coffee, drive around and look at Christmas lights, and talk about how full your hearts are.  Just an suggesh.

If you are more the type of person (does that make sense?) who likes to be right in the middle of the giving- doing the work, buying the needed items, and delivering them, and even if you want to be sure of where your items are going, the KSBJ Giving Tree is for you.  This is for Houston/College Station residents for the most part I think.  The way the tree works- people can nominate someone they know who is having a rough time and needs some help this Christmas.  Then, people (like you) can browse through the needs and find one that fits.  The person who nominated the family will coordinate everything and if you want, you can deliver your items to the family with the coordinator.  

You will find everything from needs like this:

My best friend was recently let go of her duties in the army. So at this point she is struggling to provide a beautiful Christmas for her two precious boys.It would be greatly appreciated if you could help this family and her youngest celebrate his first Christmas.

To this:

She is a single mom of 4 that works full time and goes to school full time. she works very hard and is still struggling.

To this:

Shes a 83 year old woman that helps 3 homeless men and is a really nice person.  Her daughter that lives with her has cancer and she takes care of her 10 year old grand daughter.  

Check out the KSBJ giving tree and find someone that really hits your heart where it hurts.  

Hoping everyone had a blessed Thanksgiving!
 

If I have to run ONE MORE STEP on this seawall.

Devin and I ran our first official half marathon in Galveston.  

 

13.1 miles of pure Texas beach goodness.  This was, of course, my brilliant idea which I mean quite literally, but later, when I start talking about wishing that pelican would come pick me up and feed me to Jaws, that's where I would apply that with a pinch of sarcasm.

Texas enjoys drastic temperature changes with each day.  So, unlike the weekend before, this race day called for a high of about 80 and sunny skies.  That sounds glorious to anyone not running 13 miles.

We woke up at 4:30am to get dressed and drive the hour drive to Galveston.  We both scarfed some peanut butter and honey toast and munched on cherrios on the way there.  With map in hand, I navigated (by that I mean sang ridiculous songs originating from the 'no one should be up at this hour' delirium) and I must say kudos to the Seawall Half staff for the excellent parking organization.  We headed into the Moody Gardens visitor center for packet pick up.  My shirt was too big.  The usual.

Devin pinned my race number the "right way" aka the "cycling way" which I will admit...is the right way.  It doesn't fall, it doesn't weigh on your clothes, and I look baller.  From there, we left everything in the car and got in line for the bus that would take us to the starting line.  We left everything there.  Even our water.  Because every race has water at the starting line.

We got to Stewart Beach as the sun came up- it was beautiful.  I headed to the bathroom line where a man walked up to me, rubbed my lower back, hugged me, looked me in the eye, and said something that rhymes with, "Oh shmeesus!" and he apologized.  A great way to get pumped for a race is NOT a hug from a strange man, but I was laughing.  He was so embarrassed.  Also, he was in line behind me later at the post-race party and the girl he was with looked NOTHING like me NOR did she have on the same colors as me.  I still do not understand.

Speaking of what I was wearing- I know that usually you're supposed to show what you wore for a race and be all matchy but I have yet to purchase or obtain any running clothes that match.  Also, my running sunglasses make me look extremely butch (Devin uses other choice words) and I look manly and unmatchy.  Stay tuned for race photos when I get them.  Exciting!!

When I came back from the bathroom, D and I warmed up and I decided, you know, I would love some water and maybe something to eat because it's been 3 hours since I ate peanut butter toast.  Let's find the water.  Except there was no water.  There were EIGHT fuel stops on a 13 mile run and not one single Dixie cup of water at the starting line.  Nothing to eat, no gels...nothing.

Dear Seawall Half staff, I blame you for what follows and also don't ever EVER depend on a race to have its act together and provide things they said they would.

We got in line with a pace group we thought we would hang well with about 15 minutes before the start...then the start time passed...and they would make announcements no one could understand on the muffled speaker...and then at 7:48, the race began.  Devin does not enjoy the weaving process of starting a race- I don't think anyone does, but we were out the gate fast trying to get away from the girl screaming WATER!!!! every time there was a puddle in the road.

The first 3.5-4 miles wound on a narrow road (little room for spreading out) through a neighborhood of Galveston- pretty houses, some fields, and not much to look at.  The race website had advertised live music throughout the course but I had yet to see..oh wait...there they are....2 men about my dad's age having a jam session to a song I know I knew but it didn't really...sound...right.  And I think I heard an F bomb and I'm all, "Dude.  family race, but also, it's too early for that".  Then on the way back from that loop, there was a guy/girl duo who had just finished what was probably their third song and uh I think they were taking a break?  I don't know.  Anyway, not much went on for the first part of the race, but, oh! at one point a ravenous creature leaped across the road RIGHT AT DEVIN.  I grabbed his arm and stopped him which resulted in me completely saving his life and him owing me all sorts of favors and chores.  Field mice are vicious.  I would like to thank Rhonda and Warrior Dash for teaching me to run while laughing and hurdling obstacles.

So by the time this super boring 4 miles was over, I was MORE than ready for some beach scenery.  But, like, not 7 miles of it. And also I was sort of thinking about getting some water.

7 miles of running down the Galveston seawall.  Did I mention it was 80 degrees?

Around mile 5 or 6, I was having some, um....digestion issues? and D's knee was hurting.  I stopped for the bathroom, we both stretched and got water, but I think we both knew that we wouldn't be able to catch up on our hydration.  We had not trained in weather this warm in weeks, we were sweating a LOT...it just wasn't going to happen.  We were half way and we were both like, "Wanna go get some breakfast instead?"  But we settled for some gels which is NOT the same as pancakes.

So, if you don't know this, a pretty good sign that you don't have enough water in you while you're running is you get abdominal cramps.  I'm not talking about the side stitch you get when you haven't worked out in a year and 8 months and you up and decide to run one Wednesday morning.  I am talking about full on cramping of the abdominal set of muscles- all the way across and it is so strong that it will bend you in half.

Let me interject here and say my core is so weak that that field mouse could have karate chopped me in the belly button and I would not have been able to protect Devin any more.  So, I learned from this race that I have to start doing core workouts if I am going to make it through this marathon.

Anyway, so I started getting those cramps at about mile, what D?  8 or 9?  I tried to stretch it, breath with my stomach, exhale quickly, all of the tricks and finally I told Devin "I can't run unless I run like this" [make a mental image of Steve Urkel walking with a sprained back.  What you can't make your own mental image?  I will provide one].

The crashing waves of the Gulf of Mexico, the beautiful white beaches, Devin, the brown one, and me the fluorescent one.  Got it?  Oh and Judo Mouse.

Anyway, so I'm like I can only run if I run like this, and Devin is all, "Uh, so run like that".  PROFOUND!!  I married an Aggie for a reason.  They're so dang smart.  So I ran like that off and on for miles.

At around mile 10, Devin was like, "I am waiting for the right turn off of this road".  Seriously.  The sun was beating on one side of us.  Devin got tanner, I produced more freckles.  On half of my face.

We finally turned off of the seawall and I knew the home stretch was coming soon.  When I had Moody Gardens in sight, it just got closer and closer and I knew we were so close.  But, what?  My watch said we still had a mile and a half to go.  Fine, whatever.  Little did I know, they would wind the finishing mile through some freaky version of Candyland with all of these Christmas lights covering weird cartoony shapes and this is about where I got goosebumps, which is never good if you are running in the heat, and then D said "Babe, the finish line is right there" and I sprinted and beat him.  I am lying.  That's a lie.  We finished together and we have never been happier to finish a run.  Except for the catch.  I finished the race and begged the boy scouts for a drink and they handed me some nastyface Gatorade recovery milk shake in a warm carton.  NO WATER AT THE FINISH!  At least on my side.  I threatened to rip that boy scout's "Tie a donkey to a tree using your teeth and a q-tip" badge off of his vest if he didn't find me water fast.

I love the scouts and all that they do.

We headed straight for the massage tent where there was a line but also a sign up sheet?  It was a mess but worth the wait.  We hoovered some BBQ, half a beer, some ice cream for D, and we were out of there.

Devin treated me to our favorite coffee spot in Galveston where we sat and talked about the worst run ever and how we can't do the marathon.

Jokes.

But seriously, pray for us.

We have 67 days.

Somewhere to give

My favorite piece of mail comes in a cream colored envelope with blue print that shouts:

A LETTER FROM YOUR CHILD!

Yep.  This is my favorite kind of mail.  It is filled with colorful pictures our kiddo drew, ideas and questions from them, and most importantly, it lets us know that they are still around.

Devin and I sponsor 4 beebs through Compassion International.

From left to right is Lisa (6), Navina (11), Nepal (8), and Budra (7).  Nepal is a writer to the max.  We get more letters from him than any of them and he is a master flower artist.  The girls love when I send them sheets of stickers.  Budra is the sweetest face you will ever set your eyes on.  This morning, when Devin took this picture, I made him kiss them all before he left for work.  

We love them.  I hope to meet all 4 of them someday.

Although they don't all live in the same villages, they are all from India where poverty, hunger, and disease run rampant.  All 4 of their fathers only get to work sometimes and most of their mothers do not work.  They live on about $1.50 a day.

My straight black coffee costs more than that.

You can choose your child, or choose a country and Compassion will select one for you.  You get to write them letters, send small gifts, send them Christmas and Birthday gifts through the organization, and Compassion makes it all super convenient.

You can go here to see how your money will be put to use.

When we got married, we decided that this would be a way we would use some of the money God gives us every month.  I don't know if it is for everyone, but I think if children and culture and communication speak to your heart, sponsoring a child might be for you. 

But if it seems a bit too long term for you, and you still want to help, Compassion has plenty of options for you:

-You can donate as little as $10 to help their pig income project in Rwanda

- You can help improve classrooms in Bolivia

- You can help to build a kitchen in India

- You can help to build proper bathrooms for Kenya

- And another one that gets me.  You can donate to give a woman proper prenatal care and counseling, a safe birth (most of these women give birth in unsafe places resulting in multiple baby deaths), and care for children up to 3 years of age.

If you decide Compassion is right for you and have any questions, please please please email me (link on the left sidebar).  I would love to hear about it.

Dare to Entertain

Last year I put a lot of effort into decorating our table for our first Christmas.  I also may or may not have protested our lack of space for a Christmas tree and taped a tissue paper tree to the wall.  And I may have taped ornaments to it.  And I may have put our presents under it.

This year, I wanted it to be simple.  We found the best Charlie Brown-ish Christmas tree and it fit perfectly on the center of our table.  We won't be able to put presents under it, but I love its simplicity.

 

and because Blogger is being stubborn, you only get 2 pictures.

2 days until Thanksgiving! 

I'll admit one thing to you right this second.  It's not even Thanksgiving and I have stressed more about Christmas presents in the last few weeks than I have in the entire history of my existence.  I have this God-given people pleasing gift giving sort of thing in me that makes me think the gift to death.  I don't like to give just anything- I like to pick it out for them.  I like for it to mean something.  I like for it to reflect thought and effort and fantastic taste (what?).  And so then I think about it so hard that it's not even exciting anymore and all of the sudden I hate gift giving and everyone I am buying gifts for.  Or something less harsh.

I was sitting in church on Sunday fully engaged, as usual, by our pastor's speakin'.  We are so blessed to have him.  He does good, relevant preachin'.  And in his wise message, he put it better than I ever could.  It went something like...

Christmas, with the presents, is really kind of dumb.  You call your brother and you're like 'What do you want?' and he's like, 'A blue long sleeve shirt' and you're like 'cool' and he's like 'What do you want?' and you're like 'A black long sleeve shirt' and he's like 'cool' and so you both go out to the same store and you buy the other person the shirt he could afford to get for himself and he buys you the shirt you could get for yourself and basically we're buying things for people who have the money to buy it themselves but we do it just to wrap it up and give them a gift.

I think I'm off on a word or 2.  If you want the real deal, click here.

But oh how right he is.

May I be one million and eleventy hundred percent honest right now?

Sometimes I get caught up in it.  Like, I really seriously need those boots; like it is a need for my feet because in all seriousness if I do not have those boots for Christmas, I will be straight up nastyfeet because my feet will be bare because I own no other shoes and do not have one penny to get them myself and why would I spend my penny anyway because, oh look!  It's Christmas!  Someone else can get them for me.

For real, sometimes I think that way.  I convince myself that my wants really are needs.  My wants are never needs.  I cannot even come anywhere close to having any clue what it is to actually seriously need something.  Thank you, thank you, thank you, God, for that.


And in that minute of Gregg's speech about how ridiculous our petty gift giving is, I remembered what it is that I love so much about Christmas.  It's what I have loved since I can remember.  It's what makes Devin laugh at me as I tearfully pull his wallet from his pocket.  It's what gives me burning joy in the core of my soul, and it is what makes my heart burst with worship to God.  I. love. to. give...to those who know what it is like to seriously. seriously. need something.  To those who work to the ends of the earth to provide for their family.  And even to those who I just feel for.

I love to work for them.
I love to open my wallet for them.
I love to sit with them.
I love the needy,however God decides to define it for me on a given day, more than anyone else on the planet.

There is no gift- no clothes, no shoes (or boots), no trips, no thing that satisfies and quenches my heart more than helping someone else.

Last year I wrote blog posts about gift ideas.  This year, I want to introduce (or reintroduce) you to some of my favorite groups of people who depend on me and depend on you and depend on the people who will selflessly and faithfully give them a dollar so their needs can be met.  Needs like clean water.  Like safety.  Like shelter.  Like food.  Like education.  Like shoes for their little toddler feet.  Like Christmas gifts for their kids.  Like fixing a leaky roof.  Like a scoop of gravy on their mashed potatoes on Christmas Day.

Maybe a group will speak to your heart.  Maybe you will help.  Maybe you will be hooked.  Maybe God will speak to you through giving.  Maybe you will worship God through giving.  Maybe you will be changed.
 

Monday.

Kim at Newlywoodwards is having her annual thingy about the holidays and it starts today.  But, because I am lame / not creative, I just decided to show what I did last year.  Because I liked them. 

Here is the original post.

11.11.10

Dear Husband,

When you leaped off of that 50 bazillion foot high cliff into a lake of cold water, I was the proudest I've ever been to be your wife.  You're welcome for being awesome and not freaking.  Last night you told me your new marathon time goal is to beat Oprah.  A brave goal, my friend.  We are in neck deep in marathon training.  Crap.

Wife

So this is camping

 We set up camp in the dark, so we really never knew where we were until we woke up to this the next morning.  

Beautiful.

We got married on this lake.

We want to be here someday.

 

Sheesh.

Close up first thing in the morning.

It was cold, and I was glad to have my new Cat's Meow.

Speaking of hot breakfast.

 

 This is Maverick.  

He is a lover of acorns, sticker burrs, doing 1238 different tricks, and sniffing.

He's a no b.s. kind of dog.

You can tell by the sweater.

Girls only hike.

Such sweet friends I have.

  

It's not camping without listening to the Aggies beat OU...wait... 

 

We ate steak, chicken, baked potatoes, veggies, apple cobbler, and smores.  

I have honestly never tasted a baked potato that good.

From now on, Dev and I will make fire and cook potato outside.

Ooga Booga.

Only in Texas could you do this in the middle of November

 

Why is it that when I tried to title this post, all I could think of were George Strait Lyrics about divorce?

Today, my world slipped away.

Once upon a time, I was a single wild stallion (as Devin described me) and Devin had a big fat crush on me.  My blog, my version.  Anyway, his like turned to love but not without the key 3rd factor in our relationship.  Wait, God is our 3rd factor.  Ok, his like turned to love but not without the key 4th factor in our relationship.  Cafe Agora.

source



Cafe Agora is a 2 story house turned coffee shop Greek mythology wonderland located in the heart of Montrose.  They serve the. best. coffee in the. best. coffee mugs and they let me drop a quarter in the juke box until the sun comes up.  Devin and I spent many a night when we were dating at Cafe Agora asking questions, talking about life, and in my case, trying to talk myself out of how much I loved him.  I'm a sucker for a man who buys my coffee and doesn't mind a few bad dance moves.

Agora holds such a precious place in my heart.  The place I fell in love with my man.  The place I learned so much about him.  The place we took OV06 after the rodeo.  The place we met to plan our engagement pictures.  The place that apparently lit one too many candles.

On Sunday night, Agora went up in flames. 

source



I feel like my coffee lovin' heart was ripped out of my chest and danced on.  First the very place Devin dropped to one knee and asked me to be his wife was hit and destroyed by Hurricane Ike and now our Max is a pile of ashes.

Pray for our marriage as the signs don't seem to be in our favor, but also (& slightly more important), pray for me to find a new favorite coffee place that plays their music a little too loud and will serve me a cold beer between brews.