for haiti

Taido wrote about responding to the earthquake in Haiti a while back, and as I have prayed, I have been amazed at the ways God has given me opportunities to learn more about Haiti and its people.  I know I am not alone in that I have read and learned more about Haiti than I know about many other countries in the last few weeks.  In fact, New York Times columnist, Nicholas Kristof, remarked last week that sometimes he wishes that an earthquake would hit eastern Congo so that the world would give it the attention it needs.

I know there is more out there and feel free to leave your own links in the comments but here are a few of the small and large places that have found their way into my heart (and my Google reader) in the last few weeks.

Craft Hope is a place you can go at any time to practice your crafting for a good cause.  For example, this month you can make a red scarf for a foster child in the U.S.  The crafters there banded together to quickly create a place to sell their goods to benefit Haiti and they have raised $30000 together for Doctors without Borders in Haiti.

27 food bloggers quickly put together a cookbook on Blurb from which all the proceeds are going to Haiti.  Under the High Chair is a blog I read that has more details.  Purchase copies here.

Perhaps most significant for me is that I have been following stories of missionaries and medical personnel in Haiti.  The Livesay family (I don’t even remember where I found them) has updated regularly in the aftermath of the earthquake, which has given me a small glimpse into what it is like there right now.  Which helps me to pray more specifically.  If I had to just choose one, I’d say read this post.

A pediatrician that works with the Livesays is also writing about serving in Haiti right now and she lists their current medical needs.  Her blog is called This isn’t Grey’s Anatomy.  There are four specific medical personnel listed right now and if you are in the Little Rock area and find yourself to be one of those people, I’m pretty sure I know a church who would buy your plane ticket, pack your bag with medical supplies and drive you to the airport.

The rest of us.

Well, we can keep giving.

And praying.

Lord have mercy.

the only use i can find for kool-aid

Someone recently asked me for this recipe that I used to make long ago when I worked with preschoolers at church.  Now I serve with the middle schoolers (you know, so I can spy on my errant son) and as I typed out this recipe it struck me that maybe a little playdough wouldn’t be so bad on Sunday morning with some of the gals I’ve been hanging around.

The funny thing about middle school is that every once in a while you kind of want to just be a little kid again.

Heck…I’m 36 and I still enjoy a glob of playdough now and then.  And don’t even get me started on coloring.  I can do that for days.

Kool-Aid Playdough

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups flour

1/2 cup salt

2 packages unsweetened Kool-Aid powdered drink mix

2 cups boiling water

3 tablespoons oil

Directions

Mix flour, salt, Kool-Aid and oil until blended.

Add boiling water, mix with spoon until cool enough to knead.

Continue kneading until color is blended.

Store in air tight bag or container.

give me your tired, your poor

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me…

Whenever I read a book like Little Bee (Long Way Gone, God Grew Tired of Us and The Other Side of the Sky also come to mind),  I find myself wondering why we can’t just kick open America’s gates and let everyone pour in.

This book has made a wonderful follow up read for me as it addresses practically many of the issues that are heart-achingly brought to life in the stories of refugees.  I read about it on the same blog where I first heard about Little Bee, Signs of Life.  The blog writer did a two part interview with one of the authors back in December.

The book specifically outlines a “Christian response” to the immigration debate, but I would argue that a person of any faith would find the ideas expressed helpful.

For one, I have been amazed at all the myths about immigrants that the research from this book has debunked for me.  Most of the oft-repeated (and uneducated) phrases about immigrants are simply untrue.

For example, a commonly held argument is that undocumented immigrants do not pay taxes but they receive tax payer benefits.  The reverse of this statement actually has more truth to it.  Over 75% of undocumented immigrants pay taxes on fraudulent social security numbers that the federal government knows they have no matches to, but they willingly accept the 6-7 million dollars in taxes anyway.  However, these same numbers cannot be used to receive welfare, food stamps or any of the cash benefits our government offers low income families.

I’m still only about halfway through the book, but I think it would be a great group study book.  It even comes with discussion questions.  We do a class at our church twice a year called Talk it Out that focuses on race-related issues.  It is a hugely helpful avenue for encouraging understanding among people who are different from one another.  I could see how a class on Welcoming the Stranger would be a similar gift to our community.

Both of the authors of Welcoming the Stranger work for World Relief, an organization about which I am excited to learn more.  One of the areas of their service that is fascinating to me is that they connect people and church communities to incoming refugees.  My brother-in-law has been involved for a while in a program like this in Wheaton, IL.  He wrote last summer on his blog about taking 13 refugee students to camp, which I know was a highlight of his summer.  Diffusing statistics into relationships with individuals changes how we see the world.

World Relief does not currently have an office in the Little Rock area, but their contact person told me that we can make “relocation kits” for one of the programs in another city.  Sounds like a party to me.  Then maybe we could road trip to Nashville or Chicago to deliver them.

a little more snow day

Even though we don’t get much snow in Arkansas, we certainly make the most of it while it lasts.  Do people go sledding on 2 inches of snow in other parts of the country?  Do they scrape the little film of snow off of cars to form snowballs?  Do they walk to Starbucks and the video store because the roads are too icy to drive on?

This snowball (made mostly of ice) hit me in the eye.  Yes it did.

No matter how many times you tell a child not to eat the snow (or um, drink a puddle that has formed in the dip of a rock or taste dirt), they just CANNOT RESIST!

Yes, I believe Simon is chasing Norhaine with a metal pole that has been hammered to look like a spear on one side.  Luckily, she’s fast.

Again with the eating the snow…

This was before we went and stole Grandpapa’s sled.

It took me like four hours to put those gloves on Simon.  Why on earth did I buy gloves instead of mittens for a toddler??  Do you know how hard it is to get all their fingers straight?

Ooooh…watch us sled on ALL THIS SNOW!

We brought some Greers along.

Bye, bye snow.

by way of introduction

While we were in Florida over Christmas vacation, I received an email from a friend who is hosting an exchange student saying that there was a gal in need of a new host family because her current hosts were moving out of state.

Three of the darling women in my book club are currently hosting exchange students and last summer when they were all preparing, I felt a twinge of longing that our family could join in, but for some reason I felt like our house was too small and our income too limited to properly host someone from another country who is presumably coming to experience the American dream (whatever that is).

However, something in the email caught my attention.  It was the phrase, would really love to have younger host siblings.

And friends, while we may be short on bedrooms, younger siblings is something we have in spades.

Then when we learned that our new potential guest is one of five siblings back in her country, the Philippines, having her in our home seemed meant to be.  The process to have our home approved was expedited upon our return from vacation and Norhaine (pronounced Nor-HINE) moved in shortly thereafter.  She was also able to move to the same school to which we just moved Cole, which has been a joy, as she quickly adjusted to the smaller setting there.

It’s been less than three weeks since her arrival and already we all feel very comfortable around one another.  She is sharing a room with Mary Polly and I can hear the two of them chatting after everyone is in their rooms at night.  Simon jumps on her like he does the rest of us, so I’d say she’s pretty much in.

This past weekend, we got a little snow and sleet, which is a treat for us Southerners.  All the schools and businesses shut down when we get winter weather, so we get to stay at home and play.  Our family especially enjoyed watching Norhaine experience snow, since there isn’t any in the Philippines.  When she wasn’t outside in it, she was by the window looking at it.  Taking it in.

We gave her lots of opportunity to be all in the snow.  Taido took her and the boys on a walk all over town.  By the time they came home, they were completely frozen.  They dumped off all their wet gear and promptly fell asleep under blankets in the living room.  And then the next day, we loaded up and went sledding.  At first she was a little nervous, but after I forced her on my sled a couple of times, she was going on her own.  So. much. fun.

Now we can’t wait for spring break to get here so we can show her REAL snow!  You know, the kind that falls in Colorado.

A little more snow.  A little less mud.

new baby dinner

There are a few seasons in a person’s life when people rise up around them.  When a community of people who enjoy loving in ways they can feel with their hands gather around to make life a little easier for you.  Deaths, tragedies or illnesses often rally women to fill up tin foil pans with cheesy potatoes, casseroles or muffins.

I love the scene in Steel Magnolias when Ouiser and Clairee are shopping for M’Lynn’s husband while she goes into the hospital to undergo surgery give her daughter a kidney.  One of them is filling a cart with pork and beans because she says that Drum eats them with everything.  Then Annabelle is trying to fix something that freezes beautifully.

But to me, the most fun time to take someone a meal is when they are celebrating the birth of a new baby.  Bringing a meal in the midst of so much joy is a completely different experience.  I remember so dearly the many, many meals that friends brought to us when we had our little ones.  When we lived in Seattle, we were especially bombarded with food.  The meals that came and came made us feel so loved and lifted up.

There is nothing like the days immediately following a birth.  Those seasons of staying in bed and just soaking in every minute of holding a tiny one to whom I had just given birth are so precious to me.  Meals arriving without any effort on my part just blessed that time even more.  I was free to just relax and enjoy.  And, of course, to sleep.

I felt that familiar little ache this week when I went to hold our sweet friends’ new baby boy this week.  He is so precious.  So beautiful.

Now I’ve certainly delivered my share of meals that freeze beautifully, chicken pot pies and freezer enchiladas.  But since Taido works with Bobby (and Amy), he got involved this time and made his risotto.  It is my very most favorite thing he makes.  It’s so super yummy.  He makes it with so much care.  He won’t even let me help chop the mushrooms because he wants them just so.  So I let him do his thing while I put together the embellishments and in the end we were both very excited about our meal on wheels: sausage mushroom risotto, yummy salad, a baguette and brie, and iced sugar cookies!

In fact, I might be willing to give birth again just to have this delivered to me.  Well, not really.  And fortunately, I don’t have to.  Being married to the chef and all.

Sausage Mushroom Risotto

Serves 4

Ingredients

4-6 cups Homemade Chicken Stock, or canned low-sodium chicken broth, skimmed of fat

¾ pound Italian sausage (we use turkey sausage)

1 lb assorted fresh mushrooms (nice to have some wild mushrooms mixed in, but not necessary)

6 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 cup finely chopped shallots

1 cup Arborio or Carnaroli rice

1/2 cup dry white wine

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for grating or shaving

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Directions

Heat stock in pan over medium heat. Keep stock at a simmer over medium heat.

Brown sausage in a large heavy bottomed frying pan.  Set aside.

Remove stems from mushrooms; thick slice mushrooms. In the same frying pan that the sausage was cooked in, heat 2 tablespoon oil over medium heat. Add mushroom caps; cook, stirring occasionally, until golden and soft, about 3 minutes. Transfer to bowl. To pan, add remaining 4 tablespoons oil and shallots. Cook, stirring, until translucent. Add rice; cook, stirring, until rice begins to sound like glass beads, 3 to 4 minutes.

Add wine. Cook, stirring, until wine is absorbed by rice. Using a ladle, add 3/4 cup hot stock to rice. Using a wooden spoon, stir rice occassionally. When rice has absorbed most but not all of liquid and mixture is just thick enough to leave a clear wake behind the spoon when stirring, add another 3/4 cup stock.

Continue adding stock in this manner, stirring occasionally, until rice is mostly translucent but still opaque in center. Continue cooking until rice is al dente, but not crunchy. As rice nears doneness, watch carefully; add smaller amounts of liquid. The mixture should be thick enough that grains are suspended in liquid the consistency of heavy cream. The risotto will thicken slightly when removed from heat.

Add mushrooms and sausage; warm over low heat. Remove from heat. Stir in butter and Parmesan; season with salt and pepper. Divide among four bowls; grate Parmesan over risotto. Serve immediately.

Walnut, Pear and Blue Cheese Salad

4-6 cups mixed baby greens

2-4 tablespoons blue cheese crumbles

1 pear, sliced

1/4 cup walnuts, toasted

Dressing:

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons champagne vinegar

1 tablespoon honey

1/2 teaspoon salt

Assemble salad.  Blend dressing ingredients with an immersion blender or whisk.  Toss salad with dressing just before serving.

Sugar Cookies

4  cups sifted all-purpose flour

1/2  teaspoon salt

1  teaspoon baking powder

1  cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter

2  cups sugar

2   large eggs

2  teaspoons pure vanilla extract

In a large bowl, sift together flour, salt, and baking powder. Set aside.   Use an electric mixer to cream butter and sugar until fluffy.  Beat in eggs.  Add flour mixture, and mix on low speed until thoroughly combined. Stir in vanilla or lemon juice and zest. Wrap dough in plastic; chill for about 30 minutes.   Heat oven to 325°. On a floured surface, roll dough to 1/8 inch thick. Cut into desired shapes. Transfer to parchment lined baking sheets; refrigerate until firm, 15 minutes. Bake until edges just start to brown, 8 to 10 minutes. Cool on wire racks; decorate as desired.

little bee

I discovered this book on someone else’s top books of 2009 list.   I think the cover might have hooked me actually, as much as the recommendation.  Which should show you that I’m kind of an easy sell for a book.

School was called off because of sleet today and while Taido walked the icy streets with our crew, I curled into the couch and became completely immersed in this story.

Little Bee is a refugee from Nigeria and by far the most powerful part of the writing of this story is her voice.  The chapters are alternatively narrated by her and another woman with whom her life has crossed paths.

It is one of those stories about which it is best not to know too much before you begin it.  So I will not say much, but here is a little excerpt of the eloquent voice this author has given to a precious 16 year old girl from a small African village.

In your country, if you are not scared enough already, you can go to watch a horror film.  Afterward you can go out of the cinema into the night and for a little while there is horror in everything.  Perhaps there are murderers lying in wait for you at home.  You think this because there is a light on in your house that your are certain you did not leave on.  And when you remove your makeup in the mirror last thing, you see a strange look in your own eyes.  It is not you.  For one hour you are haunted, and you do not trust anybody, and then the feeling fades away.  Horror in your country is something you take a dose of to remind yourself that you are not suffering from it.

For me and the girls from my village, horror is a disease and we are sick with it.  It is not an illness you can cure yourself of by standing up and letting the big red cinema seat fold itself up behind you.  That would be a good trick.  If I could do that, please believe me, I would already be standing in the foyer.  I would be laughing with the kiosk boy, and exchanging British one-pound coins for hot buttered popcorn, and saying, Phew, thank the Good Lord all that is over, that is the most frightening film I ever saw and I think next time I will go to see a comedy, or maybe a romantic film with kissing.   But the film in your memory, you cannot walk out of so easily.  Wherever you go it is always playing.  So when I say that I am a refugee, you must understand that there is no refuge.

Some days I wonder how many there are just like me.  Thousands, I think, just floating on the oceans right now.  In between our world and yours.  If we cannot pay smugglers to transport us, we stow away on cargo ships.  In the dark, in freight containers.  Breathing quietly in the darkness, hungry, hearing the strange clanking sounds of ships, smelling the diesel oil and the paint, listening to the bom-bom-bom of the engines.  Wide-awake at night, hearing the singing of the whales rising up from the deep sea and vibrating through the ship.  All of us whispering, praying, thinking.  And what are we thinking of?  Of physical safety, of peace of mind.  Of all these imaginary countries that are now being served in the foyer.

I believe Little Bee’s voice will haunt me for a long time.

Also, I think her oft-used phrase That would be a good trick is going to move right up in my world in the same way the phrase It’s time to do the skedaddle has forever become a part of my vernacular with friends who have also read the story of the Walls’ family.

a little ipod craft love

Mary Polly got a little weensie sewing machine for Christmas that we have been having a little fun with.

We had seen these darling ipod/camera/phone covers that we decided to try to make.

Like this:

And this….don’t you just LOVE the little birdie??

So here are our results!  A little rough, but we had fun!

For Ben…

and here’s mine:

and Mary Polly’s…still in progress.  She wants like a million buttons on hers!

This one is for Whitney!  A camera of course.  Inspired by Elsie Flannigan’s drawings on Mary Polly’s paper dolls from Red Velvet Art.  SO DARLING!

We think she likes it!

And last, but not least.  You just have to know Taido to know how very perfect this little cover is for him!   He has this very special goat on many, many of the things he owns…

We had a lot of crafty fun and I’m sure we have many funky covers in us.

But for tonight, I’m sticking to what I know best.

Making these.

Yum!

lit

When I read a book I love, I usually want the whole world to read it RIGHT NOW!

I’m not really trying to be demanding.  I just want you to be able to share this beautiful experience with me.

But sometimes I love a book so much that I am reluctant to lend it out afterwards because I don’t want to part with it.  At least not yet.

Then every once in a long while I love a book so dearly that I am not sure I can give it to you to read because if you don’t like it, well, I’m uncertain about whether or not we can still be friends.

I finished one of those this weekend.

I have savored the newest poetic prose of one brilliant, beautiful, delightful, funny, precious to my heart Mary Karr.

I have re-read sentences over and over just to drink in a little deeper the way her words make this amazing use of language.  How did those words come together to do that?

She is a crafter of stories so rich I want to reach out and hold the hand of the person she is describing.

I cannot count the number of times I had to stop and cry.

What is so beautiful about her newest memoir, Lit, is that I was (mostly) crying with joy.

While reading her first book, The Liars’ Club, which of course you also must read, I cried as many times or more, but out of a sense of despair.  Of, oh, dear Lord where o where were you in this suffering?

In her newest book, Mary answers, or at least, addresses that question.

But do not miss these wonderful stories if you are wary of crying, because I promise that you will laugh just as much or more.

Mary Karr is nothing if not a smart aleck from Texas, with a propensity to mouth off. (her words)

But she is also a poet.

The intersection of poetry and wit is magical.

I love her.

I am pretty sure I could listen to her tell stories for an eternity, which is why I will be personally requesting the room next to hers in heaven.

from the opening:

Now nights, I sit downstairs on the porch and stare into the black hole of the garage, which, in my childhood cosmology, was where my oil-worker daddy sat in the truck and drank himself to death.  After he staggered into the house to pass out–first bumping against the sides of the hall like a train conductor–I’d go out to the garage and stand with my back to the wall, waiting for the headlights of my mother’s vehicle to come swerving up the dead-end street we lived on.  Through sheer force of will, I’d draw her drunk ass home alive.  Daddy was steady and stayed.  Mother was an artist and left.  Those two opposing colossi tore a rip in my chest I can’t seem to stitch shut.

Liars’ Club is the story of  the rip in her heart. 

Lit is the story of its hard wrought healing.

I am grateful for both.

january’s sparrow

I picked this book up from the library yesterday and I cannot think of a better way to start the season that we remember so many who have paved the way for change for the better with their blood.

Patricia Polacco’s books never disappoint, but when I saw this cover I just gasped at it’s beauty.

I cannot imagine that she did not do the illustrations for this story without shedding tears.  Every page, every facial expression, every stroke brought me closer to the precious Crosswhite family.  Their story of hope for a new day for African Americans in this country is real.  Members of their family still live today in the town where they first found freedom.