tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105196612024-03-13T15:22:55.264-07:00Mumbled MusingsI am a daughter, sister, aunt, friend, wife, mother, disciple and an aspiring graphic designer.Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-88258932284860837972014-08-03T08:30:00.001-07:002014-08-03T08:33:09.247-07:00World BreastFEEDING Week (new and ever-evolving thoughts)<div>World Breastfeeding Week (WBW) is upon us again. And I have some thoughts to share.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm relieved that I had no knowledge, two years ago, that this even existed. As I was struggling (to no avail) to make breastfeeding successful with my newborn daughter, hearing about an event that celebrated the very thing I could not do would have only served to heighten my sense of disappointment and feelings of failure. At the time, when those who shared their successes in this "natural" thing that I could not do, I did not delight with them--it only caused me to resent them and wallow in my shortcomings.</div><div><br></div><div>For last year's WBW, I was in a good enough frame of mind (just a few weeks after I ended my year-long relationship with the electric breast pump) to share a little about my more uncommon approach to "breastfeeding" <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 16px;">http://217designs.blogspot.com/2013/08/how-to-feed-baby-year-one.html .</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> It was my goal to make people more aware that breastfeeding doesn't always look like we think it does and it's ok to struggle. It's ok to ask for help. It's ok to shift your parenting plans and expectations. And it's ok, even when you can't "cherish every moment."</span></div><div><br></div><div>This year, I'm a little further removed from my own emotions relating to breastfeeding, and I'm noticing that moms continue to struggle as they try to nourish their newborn children. One-by-one I try to support, empathize and encourage these moms as it is appropriate, because I have experienced something similar to what they are going through. Although I wholeheartedly support breastfeeding and breastfeeding rights, and plan to make every effort to create a successful breastfeeding relationship with my next child, I find that the "breast is best" tagline (among other comments and sentiments) can cause formula feeding mothers to feel ostracized and harshly judged for how they feed their children. Whether by choice or by necessity, formula feeding moms deserve to be empowered to nourish their children without judgement. They, too, need to know that they are doing a great job.</div><div><br></div><div>As my own daughter struggled to gain weight, in her infancy, I was told by her pediatrician and my lactation consultant (and confirmed by my mom and sisters) that the most important thing was to get her fed. This didn't immediately change my view of formula (I cried when I had to supplement her), but as time has progressed, I see that feeding your child (no matter the method) is an act of love. </div><div><br></div><div>Breastfeeding mamas work hard. Pumping mamas work hard. Donor Milk mamas work hard. And formula feeding mamas work hard. Let's celebrate and support all mamas (and dads too) who feed their children. Well done, parents!</div><div><br></div><div>(I loved what Jessica, from The Leaky Boob, had to share about this same topic. http://theleakyboob.com/2014/07/oh-the-places-you-go-world-breastfeeding-weekworld-breastfeeding-month-2014/ )</div>Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-66346630782088752422013-11-01T22:15:00.000-07:002013-11-01T22:52:26.823-07:00Ack! I've become one of "those moms."Today is November 1st. My birthday month has started! My nephew, Dylan, was welcomed into the world 8 years ago today. Thanksgiving and the Christmas season are on their way! There are plenty of things to love about November. In years past, I've enjoyed following others as they participated in 30 Days of Thankfulness (or a variety of other titles). I've jumped in a few times casually, but I don't believe I've ever committed to participate for the entire month. This morning, as I was reminded that we had entered November, I made an internal commitment to complete 30 Days of Thankfulness. For a brief moment, I considered blogging through it, but realized that I have a poor track record with committing to daily blogs. I'll plan to share my thankful thoughts on twitter (you can follow me at: <a href="http://twitter.com/217designs">twitter.com/217designs</a>) and Facebook.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://twitter.com/217designs/status/396307751107719168" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Va0JUZy3cY/UnQDX2x7S8I/AAAAAAAADBo/62gikSB7UX4/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Here is Day 1 for free!</i></td></tr>
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Now, onto the actual purpose of this post. I fear that I may have become one of <i>those moms</i>. You know the type--the moms who can't stop sharing about their perfect kids, husband, job, life! Even when I was pregnant, I found myself internally rolling my eyes at the women who claimed that pregnancy was just "so wonderful." While pregnancy was relatively easy for me, there was enough discomfort, fatigue and fear of the unknown, that I don't think I ever once described it as "so wonderful." I was excited, but I don't think I felt that same instant bond that many moms experience. It felt awkward to talk <i>to</i> the baby that was growing inside of me. I loved her, and lived in anticipation of her arrival, but interacting with her felt kind of intangible.</div>
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After she arrived, it was kind of a haze of diapers and milk and pumping and doctor's visits and tears (hers & mine). I knew people were anxious to see pictures of her and hear what a miracle and wonder our life as new parents was. On Facebook, I posted a handful of pictures<i>. </i>Upon looking back, it appears that my first month or so of facebook posts about our little girl offered very little commentary. I wanted to document our new little girl, but didn't care to admit how difficult it was--I knew nobody wanted to hear that. I had to work hard to find the joy. When we finally got out of the house and I was asked how being a new mom was, I often described it as "hard." This seemed to take people by surprise. I really wasn't comfortable describing it any other way, yet. Nobody prepared me for this struggle. I cried a lot. I had my husband, a
few close friends and my mom and sisters to confide in, but other than
that, I fought this battle internally. I cried so much that I made a
point to ask both my sister and my doctor if I might be dealing with
postpartum depression--I didn't want to miss the signs. With a few
questions, they were able to determine that I was not. I was relieved
and disappointed--at least a diagnosis would give me an excuse for being
so sullen and distressed. All the while, I would see posts from other new moms expressing incredible delight and wonder. They had already gone on outings with their little ones and I was locked away in my little apartment trying desperately to figure this parenting thing out. For them, it appeared that every day held something new and amazing. For me, it felt like every day held the same anxiety and distress. And each mention of how wonderful their child was felt like a piercing accusation that something was wrong with me. "What was <i>I</i> doing wrong?" I would think. Why am I not overjoyed like <i>those moms? </i>I was determined, however, to not be one of <i>those moms. </i>Their experiences were too perfect, too ideal. Didn't they struggle too? Why weren't they miserable like me?</div>
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As we continued through her first year, we settled into a rhythm. Sleep got easier. feeding got easier. We were beginning to figure it out. The posts from <i>those moms</i> felt a little less piercing. It was still hard and slowly I got to share honestly about my struggles and even advise some other moms who went through similar struggles to me. And, in between the posts about a baby that wakes me up at all hours, snot dripping out of the nose, and mischief I never thought a being that small was capable of, I found myself posting about my adorable daughter and how brilliant she was, and how much I loved her and loved watching her grow and learn. And how she taught me to love in a way I had never experienced before! Every once in a while I was one of <i>those moms</i>--and it felt good.</div>
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My daughter turned one year just a few months ago, and I'm realizing, more and more, how much I enjoy her, and how proud I am of her, and how incredible this impossible role of parent is! During those first few months, if anyone told me to "cherish this time, it only lasts so long," I might have wanted to punch them in the nose. That time is NOT a time I want to cherish. But if someone told me that now, I would be likely to agree. Being a mom sure is pretty wonderful! Much of this change in attitude came as a result of dumping my (breast) pump. We were free! No more schedules, nothing holding us back or weighing us down. I also got to really appreciate how much work and care my husband had been putting in (because I started to take it for granted)--and I got to brag about him a little too! (He is cleaning the bathroom as I type this!) It wasn't long until I officially became one of <i>those moms.</i> And it was good!</div>
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I think that maybe I've been one of <i>those moms</i> all along. That I was just purposeful and honest when I shared (or didn't share) our joys and triumphs. Or maybe I became one of <i>those moms</i> when I (mostly) stopped comparing myself and my family to the families I read about on Facebook. Perhaps I became one of <i>those moms</i> when I realized that<i> those moms</i> were just like me. That sometimes they struggled to find the joy too and when they did, they wanted to shout it from the rooftops. That<i> </i>even though <i>those moms </i>didn't go through exactly what I went through, they had their own trials and were just trying their best to get it right. I'm now proud to be one of <i>those moms.</i></div>
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Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-26732490252969203352013-10-29T18:01:00.000-07:002013-10-29T18:02:39.584-07:00I'm Sorry, Mama<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">I've got more to say and an outlet for sharing it. Oh dear!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">After my post yesterday, I feel compelled to apologize. I don't apologize for the content of <a href="http://217designs.blogspot.com/2013/10/in-defense-of-exclusive-pumping.html" target="_blank">that post,</a> but for the fact that not only did I get defensive, I actually transitioned into attack mode. I thought I had escaped the "Mommy Wars." It is now apparent that I have not. Deep down, I truly wanted to add a voice to the conversation that just wasn't being expressed and I hope that my response can help to support another mama in her journey.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">I've read and re-read <a href="http://banned-from-baby-showers.blogspot.com/2013/10/breast-is-best.html" target="_blank">the blog post</a> on Banned from Baby Showers, my post and several comments and replies to both. My first reading caused me to feel attacked and shamed for the method in which I fed my baby for her first year in life. After <i>desperately</i> trying to breastfeed my baby and making uncountable sacrifices to keep my daughter on breast milk when breastfeeding proved to be impossible for us, I felt like I was being told that I hadn't tried hard enough, hadn't spent enough time, read enough books, spoke to enough lactation consultants or cried enough tears. That even though I had found a way to give my breast milk to my child, that because I did not hold my child to my breast, I wasn't good enough. On top of that, I got to read about all of the breastfeeding moments I had dreamed of but never experienced. All the pain and insecurity came flooding back. I became defensive and, in that spirit, I fought back. I entered the "Mommy Wars."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Let me be clear that it is <i>I</i> who entered the Mommy Wars. I continue to believe that the author intended to support breastfeeding, not tear another mama down. It is <i>my</i> insecurities and experience that fueled my response. I went so far as to say I was "outraged" by the original post. At the time I was outraged, but I'm not any more. And I don't want you to be outraged either.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">So, here it is. My apology: <b>I'm sorry. </b>I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. I'm sorry for assuming that you were writing at me. You don't even know me. Why should I assume that? I'm sorry for responding too quickly and for letting emotion fuel my words. I'm sorry for not slowing down to process it a little more. I'm sorry for not putting myself in another woman's shoes. In my response, I stated, "Please don't assume you know the whole story." I needed to take my own advice. I'm sorry for failing to do just that. I'm sorry for making it all about me.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">This morning I read <a href="http://momastery.com/blog/2013/10/29/friendly-fire-4/" target="_blank">this post</a> from the <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-position: 0% 0%;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Momastery</span></span> blog. This is a blog I enjoy because of the author's transparency in her flaws and her unwavering support of all moms. She doesn't sugar-coat her stories or experiences. It helps us, mere mortals, remember that we are not alone. She shared, this morning, that the "Mommy Wars" represents an internal struggle with our own choices and insecurities. And, in order to feel better about ourselves, we must tell ourselves (and sometimes others) that we are right and they are wrong. I previously thought that I had avoided the "Mommy Wars" because I was surrounded by such wonderful, non-judgmental mamas. But now that I have this understanding, I realize that I may not have escaped unscathed. Despite preaching non-judgment, support and encouragement, I'm not immune to judgment and superiority (and inferiority too). I don't usually share these thoughts publicly, but they have caused me to cast other mamas (at least internally) in a bad light. And this is a reflection of <i>me,</i> not them.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Again, <b>I'm sorry.</b> I'm sorry for secretly judging you, mamas. I'm sorry for allowing my insecurities to cause me to avoid you. I'm sorry for ignoring you, rather than supporting you, if we have differing views or methods.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Now, before I'm done, I do feel the need to go on the defensive again. There have been times that I have been inconsiderate, judgmental and <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-position: 0% 0%;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">unsupportive</span></span>, but I do hope and pray that this is not my norm. I believe that, more often than not, I have <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-position: 0% 0%;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">lended</span></span> an understanding ear, given an encouraging word, and offered a helping hand. I aspire to live my life with humility and kindness.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">I'll end this post in almost the same way as I did yesterday's (I removed one sentence) because I believe it is worth repeating. Thanks for reading and joining me on this journey.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">All this to say that it is important to support the mothers in your lives; to encourage them; to listen to them; to congratulate them; to tell them they are doing a great job; to offer advice <i>when it is requested; </i>to be sympathetic to their story and their struggles; to celebrate their triumphs and commiserate in their struggles. <i>We’re all in this together.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Please take a minute today to tell a mom, “You’re doing a great job!” Chances are she really needs to hear it.</span></div>
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Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-85311541693500798662013-10-28T20:50:00.000-07:002013-10-28T21:56:48.149-07:00In Defense of Exclusive Pumping<div class="MsoNormal">I am disappointed today. I have only ever witnessed the
“Mommy Wars” from afar and in hypotheticals. I am baffled at all the moms who
live their lives on the defensive, as though every person is constantly judging
and attacking them. I am still blessed to be surrounded by supportive moms
(online & in real life) who are thoughtful, encouraging and non-judgmental.
To borrow a line from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">High School Musical</i>,
“We’re all in this together,” despite any differences in backgrounds and
parenting styles. </div>
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So, back to my disappointment—I found <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">myself</i> on the defensive this afternoon upon reading <a href="http://banned-from-baby-showers.blogspot.com/2013/10/breast-is-best.html" target="_blank">this blog post</a>.
Feel free to click over. It’s nice and quick. The author, a natural childbirth
instructor, is responding to a woman’s question on how to encourage
breastfeeding among this modern “trend” of pumping and bottle-feeding breast
milk. While I believe that she (and the original inquisitor) had the best of
intentions, the response was lacking in understanding. Both women based their
view on exclusively pumping on their belief that it was a practice done as a
means of “convenience” for the mom. I cannot speak for everyone, but I can tell
you, from <a href="http://217designs.blogspot.com/2013/08/how-to-feed-baby-year-one.html" target="_blank">my own experience exclusively pumping</a> for nearly a year,
that it is hardly a “convenience.”</div>
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I am going to respond to several of the statements made in
this post.</div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“The trend seems to be, and this is not limited to just my
circle of friends, but pumping and giving breastmilk in a bottle. Simply
because its faster or they're having trouble latching their babies.“</blockquote>
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In my experience, pumping and bottle-feeding took up a great
deal of my time. For much of the time I was pumping, I would pump for 30
minutes at a time, every 2-3 hours. Eventually, the longest stretch I went was
4 hours, and eventually I dropped my overnight pumping sessions resulting in a
decrease in my milk supply. On top of the pumping, there was the act of making
bottles, cleaning my supplies and then feeding my baby.</div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“I want to help them without overstepping my boundaries. Any
tips on how to help encourage true nursing? I've suggested books and lactation
consultants, but I don't seem to be getting through.”</blockquote>
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Put yourself in her shoes. I would guess that there is more
to the story than a simple decision to pump and bottle feed. In my case, I
didn’t feel comfortable sharing my struggles (or at least all the nitty-gritty
details) with everyone I encountered. There was a lot of raw emotion involved,
along with disappointment and insecurity. It felt like everyone expected me to
be delighted by motherhood; I was ashamed to let it be known how much I
struggled. It was a deeply personal struggle and I had neither the courage nor
energy to share it with very many people. In public, I put on a brave face as I
explained, “breastfeeding never caught on,” holding back tears as I recalled
the intense struggle I had endured in my attempts to feed my daughter and help
her grow. It’s possible that these people have read all the books, met with
lactation consultants, and, like me, never achieved that dream of holding their
child to their breast in that beautiful, natural, idyllic moment. Perhaps each
additional piece of advice brings back the flood of emotions she has already
endured. I know that was the case for me. I can’t count the amount of tears I
have shed over my experiences long after I thought I had come to peace with our
situation. Please don’t assume you know the whole story.</div>
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Many of the statements in this post are some of my triggers.
I know that a woman who is successfully breastfeeding, is not personally
attacking me, however, every time I hear of their success, I am reminded of my
own insecurities. I am delighted in their success, but it still has a a bitter
taste—that is usually because of my own insecurities, not because of anything
they have said or done.</div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“*Feeling milk let down and my baby relax as milk flowed
into his/her mouth was priceless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had a magic superpower!“</blockquote>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I would argue that all moms are superheroes and each has her
own unique and fantastic superpowers. Seeing the popular comment, “I make
breast milk. What’s your superpower?” originally made me feel like less of a
mother because I struggled so hard to make enough breast milk for my daughter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still have to remind myself to not
take it as a personal attack and celebrate the successes of my fellow moms
(even when they are different from my successes).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need to support each other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“If you are one of these women that pump and give your baby
a bottle, you are missing out on a truly unique and special life experience.”</blockquote>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I agree completely with that statement. I felt it deeply
each time I sat down to pump, each time I fed my daughter a bottle, and many
times in between. </div>
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<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The author seems to assume that a mother who exclusively pumps
and bottle-feeds, does so out of convenience. (After re-reading the article,
this may be more perceived than explicitly written.) I can tell you that
exclusively pumping is anything but convenient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The exclusive pumper will lug around a pump, storage
bottles/bags, bottles, coolers with ice, along with all of the supplies
required for caring for a baby on the go—and the baby too! The exclusive pumper
turns down all kinds of social invitations because it would be impossible (or
overwhelming) to keep her pumping schedule or to find a place to pump. While
breastfeeding is completely acceptable and expected in many public spaces, it
would be quite another story to pull out and use my electric breast pump in
public. The exclusive pumper is not only required to find a private space in
which to pump, but an electrical outlet as well (there are exclusive pumpers
who use manual pumps and that’s another level of commitment altogether). I
could share a hundred stories of how inconvenient exclusive pumping is. I’m
proud to have been able to feed my daughter as much of my breastmilk as I could
in her first year, but it was anything but convenient.</div>
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<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All this to say that it is important to support the mothers in your lives; to encourage them; to listen to them; to congratulate them; to
tell them they are doing a great job; to offer advice <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">when it is requested; </i>to be sympathetic to their story and their
struggles; to celebrate their triumphs and commiserate in their struggles. It
is a great thing to be a breastfeeding advocate, but please do so with a spirit
of encouragement and support, not with a spirit of superiority. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We’re all in this together.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Please take a minute today to tell a mom, “You’re doing a
great job!” Chances are she really needs to hear it.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-3543996418922744082013-08-02T21:33:00.001-07:002013-08-02T23:35:15.739-07:00How to Feed a Baby (Year One)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It’s World Breastfeeding Week, so what better time to share
these thoughts that have been tumbling around in my head for months. Let me
begin by saying that breastfeeding, at it’s core, is beautiful and natural—and I support a woman's right to breastfeed her child when and where she needs to.</div>
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<br></div>
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Personally, I have had a difficult, emotionally draining
relationship with breastfeeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I prepared to welcome my daughter into this world, I expected
breastfeeding to be a natural first connection between my daughter and me.
Between my mom and two sisters, they had successfully breastfed a dozen
children. I thought it would surely come naturally to me and should I have any
small struggles, they would support and guide me through it.</div>
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<br></div>
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By the time I left the hospital, I had not mastered any
productive techniques in getting my daughter to latch and remain interested in
breastfeeding, and my daughter's pediatrician and the hospital’s lactation consultant sent me
home with formula samples and instructions on how to supplement her feedings,
while we worked it out and in order for her to gain weight. The following weeks
were peppered with multiple weight checks, stressful days and nights as I tried
to breastfeed (30 minutes to over an hour sometimes), and then supplemented and
then pumped for up to 30 minutes and then after a very brief “rest,” the cycle
started all over. I cried so many tears. Every little triumph was soon
forgotten with another setback. I would find a position that worked, only to
fail miserably with it at the next feeding. I was exhausted. I was confused. I
was miserable. I couldn’t enjoy my newborn baby. And I desperately wanted to.</div>
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<br></div>
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My sisters and my mom invited a lactation consultant to come
meet me and support me. On her advice, we bottle-fed my daughter to make sure
she was receiving full feedings, while I started to pump to build up my supply.
What a different baby I had when she took the bottle. I would feed her all the
milk I could pump and sample formula to make up the difference. Despite
continued attempts, my daughter never took to the breast. Although I understood
that feeding my daughter formula was a viable and completely normal feeding
option, I was still desperate to feed my daughter breastmilk.</div>
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<br></div>
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At this point, I learned of the option of “exclusive
pumping” and heard a couple stories of women who had successfully fed their
children while exclusive pumping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I decided I would try this option for as long as I was able. In the
beginning, to build my supply, I was pumping about 30 minutes every 2 hours. My
family and friends were wonderful to support me by coming over to help with the
baby while my husband was at work. My mom spent countless hours washing pump
parts, preparing bottles, feeding and caring for our baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other than that, I was a hobbit. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ease of breastfeeding and always
having food available, anytime, anywhere for my child, was replaced with
schedules and a yearlong attachment to the pump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt better, but still had plenty of time to consider and
cry over my failure at such a natural interaction. When the nurse at the
pediatrician’s office asked, “Are you nursing or bottles?” I had to hold back
tears as I explained that I was pumping exclusively. Exclusively pumping
doesn’t really fit into any sort of category. It’s not nursing and it’s not formula
feeding. It’s some sort of hybrid of the two. Don’t get me wrong—I would not
have continued if I didn’t see a benefit, but it was a long, exhausting,
difficult experience, that without the support I received, I would not have
been able to continue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got
pretty good at scheduling out my time and had worked out a system for pumping
on the go, but I never had a very good supply and eventually my daughter’s
appetite surpassed my production. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was again at a crossroads with formula, when my sister
shared a story about a mom she knew who could not breastfeed and her son
received donated breast milk from another mom for his first two years. Another
feeding option I had never even heard of. It sounded strange and uncomfortable
at first, but the more I considered it, the more “normal” it seemed.
Milksharing is not a new phenomenon—Wet Nurses existed at least as far back as
biblical times. I did my research, found the Human Milk 4 Human Babies Facebook
page and put out my request. Our first donor had a little girl a few months
older than mine and shared with us her excess freezer stock several times.
We’ve had about a half dozen donors (“milky mamas”) and I am abundantly
grateful for their generous donations of “liquid gold”—it truly is (crying over
spilt milk never seemed less funny—and ½ an ounce has never been so precious). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the course of about six months, I became an expert in a
few things I had never heard about prior to having my daughter. I was able to
offer words of advice and support as I encountered friends who came upon
similar struggles. And I will continue to offer my experience and advice, based on
my experiences, to other moms who find themselves in the same spot. I have all
sorts of plans for the next baby (not yet!) and how we will work to make
breastfeeding successful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last Friday morning, I pumped for the last time (I think). I
had thoughts of pumping longer, but my daughter has turned one and was able to
transition to cow’s milk and she is getting more nutrition from solid foods. I
was ready. And I feel so free. I no longer have to schedule my entire life
around pumping. I have yet to put away all my pumping supplies, but it is going
to feel so liberating when I do!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite my ability to feed my daughter breastmilk almost
exclusively during her first year (barring baby foods, etc), it still breaks my
heart when I consider the connection we did not get through breastfeeding. I am
conflicted. When I see a mother breastfeeding in public, I see the beauty in
it, but it also brings up the disappointment I felt in my own inability to do
the same thing. I always pictured myself, out and about with my baby,
breastfeeding when she required it, feeling confident and content. So, when I
see another mom living my dream, I am sad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t expect to be so negative in this narrative. I just
wanted to share my experiences, so that others might know they are not alone.
And to explain a little bit of where my mind has been this past year. There
were many, many triumphs and milestones along the way as well, and my daughter
is beautiful, healthy, smart, sweet, growing, loved…the list could go on and
on. I am proud to be part of an elite sisterhood of superheroes—all moms are
superheroes—this was powerfully evident to me during my first year of
motherhood! The support, advice, encouragement, love, commiserating and more
that I received from those who have been doing this “mom thing” for years or
just a few months has been incredible and much needed. Thank you!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">I just realized that there isn't much mention of Daddy in this post. I want to note, that although my husband did not always understand why breastfeeding and breastmilk were so important to me, he fully supported my decisions. And despite my words and actions, that were almost entirely driven by emotion, he stood by me and showed me how much he loves me and our daughter through the way he took care of us so tenderly. We are blessed and abundantly loved!</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-54651020951465328642013-06-26T17:28:00.000-07:002013-08-02T21:30:27.282-07:00...the greatest of these is love.Well, it seems that everybody has an opinion today. And you are either elated or distraught. And many of you feel the need to share your opinion with me--often expecting that I shared your views. The Supreme Court made two major decisions today in the gay rights/marriage equality arena. I won't pretend that I know near enough about the legalities of this issue, but I wanted to say <i>something.</i> As a Christian, it has been so hard to reconcile the stance, based on God's Word, that we have been taught to take on homosexuality, and the love that we are to show to humanity, based on Christ's example.<i> I'm not really going to get into that, though--I think I just needed to confess my struggle.</i><br />
<br />
As I read and heard all sorts of opinions and predictions, I found myself praying, "I don't know how to respond." Immediately, I heard (not audibly): "Respond in love." <i>Duh!</i> So my response is exactly what I posted as my facebook status, this afternoon. It comes from God's Word, in 1 Corinthians Chapter 13, Verse 13: "<span class="text 1Cor-13-13" id="en-NIV-28679">And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."</span><br />
<span class="text 1Cor-13-13" id="en-NIV-28679"><i>Enough said (at least for me).</i> </span>Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-21580553847041451942013-05-10T23:38:00.001-07:002013-05-10T23:38:06.719-07:00In My Defense (a parenting rant)I don't get it. Maybe I'm deaf, or just lucky, or perhaps I'm the perfect parent (probably that one). I just don't know who all these people who defend their parenting style/choices are defending theirselves from. I don't doubt that there are people who adamantly oppose certain decisions in parenting. I just don't see the attacks that would necessitate a defense. So you vaccinate or don't vaccinate your child? Or you breastfeed? Or you formula feed? Maybe you almost always hold your child? Or perhaps you let your child "cry it out?" Good for you. You are likely a great parent. I truly appreciate your experiences, opinions and research. They help me to make informed decisions for my own family. I just can't stand to see you portray yourself as a victim. We are all doing the best we can. Keep at it. And hopefully, one day soon you will be a perfect parent like me or deaf, rather, to the mean-spirited few who don't know when to hold their tongue and let you make the best choice for your own family.Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-52383241758663827872012-12-30T13:35:00.001-08:002012-12-30T13:35:27.082-08:00Love makes the world go round.This morning in church, as we sang:<br />
"In my life, be lifted high;<br />
In our world, be lifted high;<br />
In our love, be lifted high,"<br />
I thought a little about what this means. God calls His followers to be righteous. Because of this expectation, I may be found to be conservative in my beliefs. "In my life, be lifted high." I was also struck by this passage earlier this morning: <br />
"Love from the center of who you are; don't fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle." (Romans 12:9, 10 MSG)<br />
Putting all this together, brought me to the following conclusion:<br />
Although I may be considered conservative in my (Christian) beliefs, may I never be conservative in my LOVE!Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-66004565681386278462012-05-16T17:00:00.000-07:002012-05-16T17:00:03.264-07:00On Being Pregnant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DvC6C_igZqE/T7QIlPdKOII/AAAAAAAAAUc/BDAxovvim60/s1600/31.5+weeks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DvC6C_igZqE/T7QIlPdKOII/AAAAAAAAAUc/BDAxovvim60/s200/31.5+weeks.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<i>I just have some things I want to get off my chest (or belly).</i><br />
<br />
In case, you haven't figured it out, I'm pregnant. Our little girl is expected to arrive July 13th. We (my husband & I) are very excited to meet her. Over the past few weeks (months?) or so, I have been thinking about the many ways I just feel and act so different than your "average pregnant woman." I think there are just so many stereotypes that we put on pregnancy that come to be expectations, when in reality EVERY PREGNANCY and EVERY PREGNANT WOMAN IS DIFFERENT!<br />
<br />
<h3>
Some stereotypes I'm not following: </h3>
<ul>
<li><b>Weight Gain: </b>I follow an online Pregnancy Bulletin Board full of women due in July and one of the constant topics of conversation is "weight gain"--how much have you gained? how much should you gain? and so on. This is one of the places where I am the most opposite pregnancy "norms." I know this can be quite a sensitive issue for many pregnant women, therefore I am quite shy in sharing that, in relation to my first OB appointment, I have not gained any weight. In fact, I am still below the weight I started at (almost 8 months in)! At first my doctor wasn't concerned, but now sometimes she is and has even questioned whether I am eating. I can assure you that I am eating. I've attributed my lower weight to the fact that I have been eating healthier <b>and</b> I think I had gained a bit of weight prior to finding out I was pregnant (wedding anniversary & 30th birthday trips will do that to you). Also my doctor got me more aware of my diet as I am "pre-diabetic" and am actively working to keep my blood sugar at a normal healthy rate throughout pregnancy. I LOVE carbs, so this means I cut out quite a lot of the bad stuff in my diet (at least reduced the portions). So far, so good.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><b>Cravings/Aversions: </b>Pregnant women are always associated with crazy pregnancy cravings like Pickles & Ice Cream. I haven't really had any special cravings or aversions. Food I liked before, I still like. Food I didn't like before, I still don't like. Sometimes, however, I think my sense of smell is heightened--especially when it comes to cigarette smoke. YUCK!</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><b>Discomfort: </b>This is another thing I'm kind of ashamed to admit. As far as how my body feels, pregnancy has been fairly easy. No morning sickness. No regular back pain (yet). Baby doesn't kick me in the ribs or kidneys. However, I feel that when I tell people I feel "really good," they are almost disappointed that I haven't experienced much pain and discomfort. I do notice that I have to take certain things easy. My sciatic nerve doesn't like when I sit on the floor too long; bending down and standing up takes a little more effort; backs on chairs are pretty necessary; but for the most part I feel just fine. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><b>Sleep:</b> During the first trimester I was exhausted quite a bit of the time. I would come home from work and just about pass out. From the second trimester on, I gained most of my energy back, but night-time sleep has actually been really great! I have enjoyed going to sleep earlier (pregnancy is a great excuse for declining late night invitations) and sleeping a full night. Sure, I have to get up once or twice to pee, but I don't know when I've ever slept better.</li>
</ul>
I'm sure there are other things that I will wish I would have shared, but I can't think of them now. Like this: I've had a few instances that I felt pretty confident in attributing to pregnancy hormones (crying at the pharmacy--I'm sure my husband could share some more), but for the most part I've felt pretty even-keeled. This is just my experience with pregnancy so far. We'll see how the rest goes and if I fall into some more <span class="st"><em>cliché</em></span> pregnant woman roles. Thanks for reading.Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-12773537628598186322011-07-14T10:32:00.000-07:002011-07-14T13:37:32.787-07:00I'm Sorry and I Love You.I feel like I have so much to say about stuff. Vague much?<br /><br />This past weekend, I read Don Miller's "Blue Like Jazz," as I traveled to and from a family reunion in Oregon. I read about half of the book each way. "Blue Like Jazz" was incredibly popular in Christian circles (especially young, postmodern/progressive circles) a few years back, but I never got around to reading it back then. In fact, I'm not really sure when I bought the book, but I found it on my bookshelf and decided to take it for a spin—I am so glad I did! I am fairly certain that this will be one of those books that I will choose to revisit often. I can't necessarily put my finger on why, but it was quite profound. I think if I read it a bit more slowly, digest it a little and discuss it with other people, that would help. Highlighters and marginal annotations (thanks, Ms. Tay) would be a good start. It also made me want to get into my Bible and back up some of the things he asserts about Jesus and His teachings with Scripture.<br /><br />It might seem a little cliche, but I feel that the overarching theme was "What Would Jesus Do?" I say this because, the author shared with his readers a physical and spiritual journey of sorts, where he learned and re-learned what it is to live as Christ intends us, as a follower of Christ, as an ambassador or representative of Christ. Historically and especially in the present-day we see proof that we aren't very good at representing Him.<br /><br />One of my favorite stories from this book, is when Don and a small group of Christians at an extremely liberal college (Reed College), plan how to be present at a school festival that is known for all sorts of crazy debauchery--events are created specifically to help enhance the participants drug trips among other things. As a sort of joke, Don suggests they set up a Confession Booth in the middle of the quad. The group is split on whether or not this is a good idea. One group member is determined to make this happen, and presents an idea that when a person enters the booth, that they will not <span style="font-style: italic;">take</span> a confession from them, but <span style="font-style: italic;">give</span> a confession. They will confess how Christians, throughout history, and themselves personally have misrepresented Christ (the Crusades, ignoring the homeless, less fortunate, lonely, etc). This was such an incredible and profound idea to me. And they did it. And the liberal atheists and agnostics and others at their school appreciated it. So many people who reject the Church and Christianity do so because they have been hurt by someone who has misrepresented Christ and His Kingdom. And we are too busy <span style="font-style: italic;">defending</span> ourselves to consider the option that we are <span style="font-style: italic;">wrong</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">confess and apologize.<br /></span>Christians are not perfect. I am not perfect. I am sorry for forgetting you, for judging you, for ignoring you, for saying bad things about you, for saying bad things to you. I know I am going to mess up again and again and I was not made to do that. I was made to love you, and care for you, and encourage you, and support you. I'm sorry.<br /><br />Another powerful thought I gleaned from this book was the idea that as a follower and representative of Christ, we should love like Jesus. We should recognize each person as one who has already been redeemed by Him. We should approach all that He created with love—from the smelly hippies to the capitalist pigs; from the liberal, science-loving professors to the Bible-thumping conservatives; and everybody else too. Nobody is exempt from the love of Jesus.<br />Jesus says, in Matthew 5:44-45a, <span style="font-style: italic;">"</span><span style="font-style: italic;" class="woj">...love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;" class="woj">that you may be children of your Father in heaven.</span><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span> That sounds hard, but that is what we are called to do, so I will try.<br /><br />John has a lot to say about love in I John 4. In fact, he says that if we don't love, we don't know God (verse 8). It sounds pretty important, especially when we talk all the time about our "relationship" with God. You cannot have a relationship with someone you don't know, and you cannot know God if you do not love. Therefore a relationship with God is conditional on a life filled with love. I like the way Eugene Peterson paraphrases this passage in "The Message":<br /><blockquote><h5 class="passage-header">God Is Love</h5> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-12924">7-10</sup>My beloved friends, let us continue to love each other since love comes from God. Everyone who loves is born of God and experiences a relationship with God. The person who refuses to love doesn't know the first thing about God, because God is love—so you can't know him if you don't love. This is how God showed his love for us: God sent his only Son into the world so we might live through him. This is the kind of love we are talking about—not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to clear away our sins and the damage they've done to our relationship with God. <p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-12925">11-12</sup>My dear, dear friends, if God loved us like this, we certainly ought to love each other. No one has seen God, ever. But if we love one another, God dwells deeply within us, and his love becomes complete in us—perfect love! </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-12926">13-16</sup>This is how we know we're living steadily and deeply in him, and he in us: He's given us life from his life, from his very own Spirit. Also, we've seen for ourselves and continue to state openly that the Father sent his Son as Savior of the world. Everyone who confesses that Jesus is God's Son participates continuously in an intimate relationship with God. We know it so well, we've embraced it heart and soul, this love that comes from God. </p><h5 class="passage-header">To Love, to Be Loved</h5> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-12927">17-18</sup>God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we're free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ's. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love. <p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-12928">19</sup>We, though, are going to love—love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. He loved us first. </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-12929">20-21</sup>If anyone boasts, "I love God," and goes right on hating his brother or sister, thinking nothing of it, he is a liar. If he won't love the person he can see, how can he love the God he can't see? The command we have from Christ is blunt: Loving God includes loving people. You've got to love both.<br /></p></blockquote>So we MUST love, not so that someone will love us back, but because God loved us and we are His representatives and a conduit for His love.<br /><br />Someday I'd like to unpack this more, because there are still a lot of questions, like "How did he show love in challenging the Pharisees?" and "How can I show love and grace to sinners, yet not support their sin?" and the ever-constant question: "What Would Jesus Do?"<br /><br />With all that, let me say, I'm sorry and I love you! I really do!<br /><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-24395164901685421112011-04-05T19:32:00.000-07:002011-04-05T19:39:14.179-07:00#5 Because of Compassion<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>25 Reasons Why I’m Going Silent on April 25</b></p></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;font-size:medium;">Today I simply give you a quote from the first lady of broadcast news, Barbara Walters.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div>"It would be nice to feel that we are a better world, a world of more compassion and a world of more humanity, and to believe in the basic goodness of man."</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">There is a note at the beginning of my <a href="http://217designs.blogspot.com/2011/04/1-because-i-am-blessed.html">April 1</a><sup><a href="http://217designs.blogspot.com/2011/04/1-because-i-am-blessed.html">st</a></sup><a href="http://217designs.blogspot.com/2011/04/1-because-i-am-blessed.html"> post</a> to give a tiny bit of background to this series. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal">If you would like to find out more about Invisible Children and the “25” campaign, go to <a href="http://www.invisiblechildren.com/">www.invisiblechildren.com</a>. You can <a href="http://ic.stayclassy.org/member/ic-fundraising?fcid=30278">CLICK HERE</a> to go to my fundraising page.</p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span></div>Liz Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13605041772186232504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-26026017270575972072011-04-04T22:07:00.000-07:002011-04-04T22:07:32.049-07:00#4 Because of a Few Ordinary Guys with Extraordinary Passion<b>25 Reasons Why I’m Going Silent on April 25 </b><div><br />
There is a note at the beginning of my <a href="http://217designs.blogspot.com/2011/04/1-because-i-am-blessed.html">April 1st post</a> to give a tiny bit of background to this series.<br />
<br />
Jason Russell. Laren Poole. Bobby Bailey. In 2003, they were three guys (who fancied themselves “filmmakers”) fresh out of college, looking for a story and an adventure. They found both. And it lasted much longer than they expected. In fact, the story is still unfolding and the adventure develops and changes all the time. If these three ordinary guys had not taken on the unknown as they traveled to Africa in 2003—the same day as the start of our war with Iraq; two days before I traveled to Europe with a friend of mine—I would probably still know nothing and do nothing for the people of Northern Uganda, D.R. Congo and other parts of Africa that live in constant fear of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). It is because of their passion to share the atrocities they witnessed and their determination to bring an end to the terror Joseph Kony (leader of the LRA) is inflicting, that thousands (perhaps hundreds of thousands or more—I haven’t checked the numbers) who would otherwise be ignorant of this, know and care. Their passion and determination is contagious. The creativity that they, and their staff, and their supporters display is inspiring. Who knew there were so many ways to bring attention, to raise money and to respond to something that just yanks on your heartstrings? Their passion led them so far as to <a href="http://vimeo.com/12058039">stand in the office of the President as he signed a bill into law</a>, promising support from the U.S. government to end the terror of the LRA. (Their goal, now, is to see that resolution come to fruition, as necessary.) I know they will not stop until the terror and the fear ends. And I fully support them. I trust that they won’t give up, just as their friends in Africa trust the same thing. I am inspired by their commitment, their drive and their unfailing love for a people so far away.<br />
<blockquote>If you would like to find out more about Invisible Children and the “25” campaign, go to <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_116149447">w</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_116149447">ww.invisiblechildren.co</a></span><a href="http://www.invisiblechildren.com/">m</a>. You can <a href="http://ic.stayclassy.org/member/ic-fundraising?fcid=30278"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">CLICK HERE</span></a> to go to my fundraising page.</blockquote></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-25668172451619196302011-04-03T22:53:00.000-07:002011-04-03T22:53:24.781-07:00#3 Because Their Story Must Be Told<b>25 Reasons Why I’m Going Silent on April 25</b><br />
<div><blockquote><i>There is a note at the beginning of my </i><a href="http://217designs.blogspot.com/2011/04/1-because-i-am-blessed.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i>April 1st post</i></span></a><i> to give a tiny bit of background to this series. </i></blockquote>I know, people being silent, doesn’t seem like a very good way to spread the word. In fact, it actually seems quite apathetic. But the power behind 25 hours of silence isn’t only in the actual silence. It’s in the before and after. It’s in the unspoken interactions. As a participant of Invisible Children’s “25” campaign on April 25, I am not only committing to spend 25 hours without speaking. I am committing to tell everyone I know what I am doing and why I think it is important. Hence, these blog posts. One thing Invisible Children has resourced participants with is a set of little cards to give out the day of the event to help explain to people what we are doing.<br />
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I don’t recall if the organizers have made this comparison, but I think one of the reasons we will go silent, is in solidarity with those who are silenced by the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) and those whose pleas for help are not heard by the world. I wonder how many of you had ever even heard about the LRA before you read this? Western media has failed to give this tragedy much attention. It is only by the efforts of those passionate to make change that any of their stories are shared.<br />
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One of my favorite things about Invisible Children is that they strive to make the issue personal and relevant. Each face in their movies and videos has a story. Each child in their educational programs has a story. Each person who has been victimized and killed by the LRA has a story. It’s the stories that allow us to feel like we can and should do something.</div><div><br />
</div><div>One of their earlier campaigns is called the “<a href="http://store.invisiblechildren.com/bracelets">Bracelet Campaign</a>.” Through the Bracelet Campaign, you can help fuel the Ugandan economy and support Invisible Children by purchasing handmade Acholi bracelets in a variety of colors. Each different color represents a person with a story. And their story is told on a dvd that accompanies your bracelet.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Invisible Children is devoted to stories. And the story isn’t over. We can be a part of their story. We can help bring hope and redemption to their stories, by supporting Invisible Children in their efforts to end the terror created by the LRA. I hope you will join me. </div><blockquote><i>If you would like to find out more about Invisible Children and the “25” campaign, go to </i><a href="http://www.invisiblechildren.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i>www.invisiblechildren.com</i></span></a><i>. You can </i><a href="http://www.stayclassy.org/member/ic-fundraising?fcid=30278"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i>CLICK HERE </i></span></a><i>to go to my fundraising page.</i></blockquote>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-37307785259005066832011-04-02T10:41:00.000-07:002011-04-02T10:41:00.845-07:00#2 Because Children Should Not Fear Sleeping in Their Own Home<b>25 Reasons Why I’m Going Silent on April 25 </b><br />
<div><blockquote><i>There is a note at the beginning of my <a href="http://217designs.blogspot.com/2011/04/1-because-i-am-blessed.html">previous post</a> to give a tiny bit of background to this series. </i></blockquote><a name='more'></a>Last night, I re-watched “Invisible Children: The Rough Cut.” If you haven’t seen this documentary, this real-life story, you need to. (In fact, if you are in Sonoma County, come see it at my house this Friday, April 8th. Leave me a comment, or <a href="mailto:lizbillybob@earthlink.net">send me an email</a> for more details.) Just like the first time I watched it, I was shocked and challenged. Please find a way to watch it.<br />
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As you watch this movie, you travel with three young filmmakers as they discover and befriend the “Night Commuters.” What are “Night Commuters?” Night commuters are the children of Northern Uganda, who travel from their village home every night to sleep in the protection of the bus station and the hospital floors and corridors. Every night. Let me help you visualize this. Think of a homeless shelter in a big city. I picture a big room with cots evenly spaced in rows—everybody with some semblance of personal space. Maybe men are in a separate area from the women. Now envision this room with no cots and multiply the number of people by ten. Then double that. And it is filled with children—toddlers to teenagers. Some have carried infants with them. There is no personal space. You roll over and you are nose-to-nose with your neighbor. Every night.<br />
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Many of the children walk for miles every day from their own villages to the city of Gulu, to sleep in these “sanctuaries.” Why do they do this? Because sleeping in their own home, would leave them vulnerable to be taken by the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) to be brainwashed and conscripted into the ranks or tortured and killed (or maybe both). Many of the children have already experienced this trauma and have escaped. I imagine all of the children know someone who has been abducted and/or killed by the LRA. Many have seen family and friends brutally murdered right in front of them, yet the night commute is a way of life for them. You will find children playing or doing their homework and even waking up early to wash their faces and say prayers—and then travelling back to their home.<br />
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In 2006, after first viewing this film and learning about Invisible Children as an organization, I was able to participate in an awareness event they called the “Global Night Commute.” I though the tagline was so clever: “We’re taking this lying down.” What I did (with some of my friends), is travel on foot (and public transportation) to our nearest Global Night Commute location—Crissy Field in San Francisco. We carried everything we needed for the night and slept outside, together with hundreds of people in San Francisco and thousands of people in other cities around the world. The purpose was to raise awareness for the troubles of these people in Northern Uganda, by recreating their daily trek. Each participant was asked to write their local and state representatives about the issue. And in the morning, we packed up our things and traveled home (the same way we came). I bought a shirt for this event, and before, during and following the event, nearly every time I wear it in public, I am asked about it. I love telling people what it is about. One more person who knows, is one more person who can help.<br />
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Although our one-day experience resembled that of Northern Uganda’s Night Commuters, we only experienced one night, and we did not fear for our lives on the journey, nor when we returned to our homes. Yet, it gave us the tiniest glimpse into their lives. And knowing even that much helps me know that we must keep moving forward to bring change and to remove fear. Home should be a place of security and comfort. It should not be a place of fear. That is why I will speak out in silence with thousands of others on April 25th.<br />
<blockquote><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If you would like to find out more about Invisible Children and the “25” campaign, go to </span><a href="http://www.invisiblechildren.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">www.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">invisiblechildren</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">.com</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. You can </span><a href="http://www.stayclassy.org/member/ic-fundraising?fcid=30278"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">CLICK HERE</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> to go to my fundraising page.</span></i></blockquote></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-54481729831648136842011-04-01T18:29:00.000-07:002011-04-01T18:29:53.732-07:00#1 Because I Am Blessed<b>25 Reasons Why I’m Going Silent on April 25</b><br />
<blockquote><i>NOTE: My hope is to, over the next 25 days, share with you some of the reasons I feel moved to support Invisible Children in their “25” campaign. On April 25, for 25 hours thousands of people around the world are committing to be silent in an effort to bring awareness to their cause—stopping the 25-year war against Joseph </i><i>Kony</i><i> and the Lord’s Resistance Army (or “LRA”—a force that rapes and destroys villages; abducts, tortures and trains children to be murderous soldiers in their force; and has left a wake of terror and trauma wherever they go). Second, I am committing to help raise funds for </i><a href="http://c2052482.cdn.cloudfiles.rackspacecloud.com/images/287/original/IC_Protection_Plan.pdf?1297879830"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i>Invisible Children’s Protection Plan</i></span></a><i>, which will help bring rehabilitation to those who have escaped from the </i><i>LRA</i><i>. If you would like to find out more about Invisible Children and the “25” campaign, go to </i><a href="http://www.invisiblechildren.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i>www.</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i>invisiblechildren</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i>.com</i></span></a><i>. You can </i><a href="http://www.stayclassy.org/member/ic-fundraising?fcid=30278"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i>CLICK HERE</i></span></a><i> to go to my fundraising page.</i></blockquote><a name='more'></a>I am blessed.<br />
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I am blessed to have been raised in and live and in Petaluma.<br />
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I am blessed to enjoy the commute to and from Santa Rosa.<br />
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I am blessed to smile at the view of the valley as I coast south down the Cotati grade on Highway 101—and the two trees that sit just next to the highway encouraging me on to my hometown.<br />
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I am blessed to have experienced weeks and weeks of pouring rain that contributed to the governor officially stating that the drought in California is over.<br />
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I am blessed by the sunshine at the end of that onslaught of rain.<br />
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I am blessed to know a God who redeems the broken and bruised.<br />
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I am blessed to be able to rent a two-bedroom apartment with my husband.<br />
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I am blessed to sleep in a bed every night—and blessed to sleep without realistic fear of being attacked, raped or murdered.<br />
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I am blessed to have received a pretty good education—in fact, I’m blessed to have received any education at all.<br />
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I am blessed to have celebrated my dad’s 65th birthday with him this last week.<br />
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I am blessed to have relationships with my mom, my dad, my two sisters, my brother, my in-laws, my 11 nieces and nephews, my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.<br />
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I am blessed to own a car and have a job.<br />
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I am blessed to have running water and electricity inside my home.<br />
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I am blessed because I have never worried that my neighbor, my friend, my family or myself would be abducted by the LRA. In fact, I have never personally known a single person who has had any direct contact with the LRA.<br />
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<div>Because I am so blessed, I will speak out in silence on April 25, so that other lives can be blessed.</div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-12594712442025779232010-04-02T12:30:00.000-07:002010-04-02T12:38:12.198-07:00"Jesus Was a Common Criminal" or "Bound in Chains" (Good Friday Musings)I work at a church, which I love, but sometimes the details (date, time, location, ads, etc) make me forget about how important ministries are. Since Easter is coming this weekend, I was thinking of announcements and how since Easter is more highly attended, those announcements get greater visibility. (Side note: I think announcements are the bane of most pastors' existence...that's another post though.) <br />
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For some reason, our prison ministry came to mind and it got me thinking that prisoners have a special kinship with Christ. I think it's especially clear because today is Good Friday--the day where we (Christians) remember the crucifixion of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Although he was without sin, scripture tells us that he was tempted like us and suffered like us. Not only that, he expressed anger and frustration and boldly stood up against the laws and customs of his culture. <br />
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I think that so often we like to believe Jesus was this gentle, peaceful man who was wrongfully accused, convicted and punished to a much greater degree than the crime he was charged with. We're only part right. We say "Bad Pharisees! Bad Pilate! Couldn't you see he was the Messiah here to save you...and the whole world?!!!" When the fact of the matter is they were just tools in God's great plan to save the world. This was what was supposed to happen. Jesus died on that cross because I sinned and you sinned and the criminals sinned and the little old church ladies sinned. This punishment was not against Christ, but against the world.<br />
Back to my point--prisoners share a special kinship with Christ because they know what it is like to be arrested, tried, convicted, living in fear, isolated and some in expectation of death. But do enough of them know that the Creator if this universe knows what they feel? Do they know that the punishment He endured can save them from eternal punishment?<br />
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I've realized in a few minutes of musing how important the Prison Ministry is and how grateful I am to the people who serve in this ministry.<br />
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TODAY IS GOOD!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-32436445135427565832010-01-29T11:13:00.000-08:002010-01-29T12:45:45.570-08:00My Letter to the Editor<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I wrote a <a href="mailto:letters@pressdemocrat.com">letter to the Editor</a>?!!! </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Prior to reading my letter to the editor of the <a href="http://www.pressdemocrat.com/">Press Democrat</a>, you should visit the following links (all of them):</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><a href="http://extracredit.blogs.pressdemocrat.com/11730/parent-seeks-to-remove-book-from-school-reading-list/">Parent Seeks to Remove Book From School Reading List</a></div><div><a href="http://talk.santarosamom.com/eve/forums/a/tpc/f/7701063148/m/5701040369?r=8501013369">Inappropriate Book (warning! graphic content!)</a> (there is content here directly from the book that is R-rated--since I don't promote students reading it in class, I don't suggest students read this link)</div><div><a href="http://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/20100127/ARTICLES/100129471/1033/NEWS?p=1&tc=pg">School Board Votes to Keep Disputed Book</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><a href="http://extracredit.blogs.pressdemocrat.com/11762/parent-not-convinced-tortilla-curtain-belongs-in-class/">Parent Not Convinced "Tortilla Curtain"Belongs in Class</a></span></div><div><br />
</div><div>I think the School Board's decision is unfortunate and was urged to write a letter to the editor.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I hesitate to post this, because I know that many people (friends whom I respect very much) will disagree with me. But, if I am bold enough to share my opinion with all of Sonoma County, I should be bold enough to share my opinion with my friends. I hold additional arguments regarding this situation, yet the following words were most important to share in the 200-word limit the Press Democrat imposes. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Please understand that I do not believe student access to this book should be denied. I do, however, believe that this book should not be REQUIRED reading.</div><div><br />
</div><div>My letter reads as follows:</div><blockquote>Dear Editor:</blockquote><blockquote><b>Close the Curtain</b></blockquote><blockquote>I am greatly disappointed in the Santa Rosa City School District's refusal to change policy regarding the teaching of the book "Tortilla Curtain" in local high schools. This book should not be REQUIRED reading for high school students. It includes a graphic rape scene, extreme racism and is riddled with profanity. I see a blatant double standard. Viewing an R-rated film in the classroom requires a signed permission slip from a parent, yet this book (which would receive an R-rating as a film) is given to the student without express permission from their parent. Students are disciplined for using profanity, while this book spews pages of profanity directly into their young, impressionable minds. Teachers and parents express concern over the inappropriate, oversexualized dancing at school dances, yet they find it appropriate for students to be "exposed to these issues" through this book. The school board maintains that students "need to be exposed to these issues and they need to discuss them." Is this the only book that addresses these issues? If the school district refuses to remove this book from the list, at the very least they should require written parental permission prior to assigning this R-rated reading to a student.</blockquote>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-38671891821494675872010-01-22T21:33:00.000-08:002010-01-22T22:07:00.703-08:00roots to branchesTwo of my favorite non-profits (<a href="http://www.invisiblechildren.com">Invisible Children</a> (IC) & <a href="http://www.twloha.com">To Write Love On Her Arms</a> (TWLOHA)) were up against each other this week for $1Million from Chase. Both organizations were top five. <a href="http://www.facebook.com">Facebook</a> members voted for their favorite charity over 3 rounds. I didn't enter the voting until the final round. Voting ended at midnight (EST) tonight. I would have been stoked if either won. During the last hour or so, TWLOHA (which was going steady in third place) began soliciting votes (via twitter and facebook) for IC. It was a truly selfless act. They even went so far as to change their profile pictures to a image that read "I voted for Invisible Children."<div><br /></div><div>IC graciously thanked and applauded TWLOHA as the voting wound up and Invisible Children was revealed as the $1Million winner. TWLOHA (as a top five contender) won $100,000 in the competition. What's really remarkable to me is that these two organizations were up against some pretty big hitters (as far as charities go). I think the difference for them is that the venue (facebook) mirrors the way these two organizations have grown since their beginnings.</div><div><br /></div><div>IC, in the beginning, was just a couple of guys who filmed some crazy stuff in Uganda and started sharing the video with anyone who would listen. They had no intention of starting a non-profit organization, but were compelled to help the (invisible) children and people of Uganda. It's always been promoted by word of mouth. I heard about it from a friend. We watched their documentary and couldn't help but want to help and inform others of the atrocities happening in Uganda. Anytime I wear the shirt I own that says "Invisible Children" I am questioned about it and I get to spread the message even further. </div><div><br /></div><div>TWLOHA started as a group of young people showing compassion, friendship and support to a young girl who suffered from addiction and self-mutilation. The story of this experience spread from person to person and was eventually built into an organization that raises awareness and provides help to those who struggle with addiction, depression and other issues. Many indie bands took up the cause and began wearing shirts that said "To Write Love On Her Arms" and passionately promote the cause at their concerts and on their websites, blogs and twitters. Additionally (mostly) young people from all over the country and around the world tirelessly promote and support this organization by wearing their apparel and talking about it on myspace and facebook. </div><div><br /></div><div>Both IC and TWLOHA were started and mostly supported/promoted by younger people. It's amazing to see the youth of our nation be passionate and compassionate. The youth are speaking up and thankfully they are being heard!</div><div><br /></div><div>These organizations may have started with grass roots, but it seems they have grown into strong oak trees with wildly magnificent branches reaching in many directions.</div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-6482885480504424932010-01-22T10:41:00.000-08:002010-01-22T10:44:49.143-08:00On TwitterI just set up a <a href="http://www.twitter.com/217designs">twitter </a>account and linked to this blog. Maybe I should update more often. I've been thinking about being more blog-centric. Maybe sharing about my adventures in graphic design or my new commitment to <a href="http://www.youversion.com">read through the Bible</a> this year (thanks to a handy-app on my BlackBerry Storm). I hope to be here more often.<div>Peace out.</div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-760992084204887572008-06-18T11:05:00.001-07:002008-06-18T11:05:28.044-07:00Untitled Generation<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/brianhepler/223809577/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/82/223809577_4e4d40d5f5_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/brianhepler/223809577/">Ugen-kickoff-poster</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/brianhepler/">bhepler425</a></span></div>When I first glanced at this poster, I thought it said "Untitled Generation" and I was kind of amazed and inspired. We are an untitled generation. There may be many, many titles given to our generation, but none can fully encompass it. The generation I am a part of and the generations following will not be easily defined by one word. We are varied. We revel in our uniqueness, yet we still strive to be like the people around us. I doubt I can accurately describe it. I think it would be fantastic to be known as the "Untitled Generation." What do you think?<br clear="all" />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-3072167802817603662007-09-25T22:16:00.000-07:002007-09-25T22:42:28.680-07:00It's Been A WhileI cried a lot today. This afternoon mostly. I'm frustrated and felt like I should write the stuff that I'm thinking down. I don't know if it will even help or make sense. It might just make me cry more, but I need some sort of order, even if it's in the form of sentences--grammatically correct or not.<br /><br />Several months ago, my parents told me that my grandma (my Dad's mom) has been depressed and his brothers and sister (who live near her) were concerned and decided to visit the doctor with her. A few weeks ago the doctors were able to determine that she has ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease). I don't know much about the disease just that it breaks down your muscle function and is a possible cause of her depression. It's really hard to think of my grandmother as weak. She has always been very strong. I recall not more than five years ago seeing her chase a stray calf back into the pasture (did I mention she lives on a Dairy farm). Also within the past five years her doctor told her she had some of the strongest bones he'd seen (I don't recall if he said "ever" or in a woman her age). This was when she broke her neck! I wasn't scared. She's always been strong. She worked in the garden regularly, always doing something. She was a local librarian for 30 years (more I think). And now she has difficulty swallowing and has a chair with a lift because it's hard for her to get up.<br /><br />My parents went to visit this last week and when they returned they strongly suggested that my sisters and brother and I try to visit as soon as possible. My mom offered to help with expenses which is going to make it possible. Sunday and Monday I had tentatively planned to go with my sister, her husband and their four kids in late November or early December (they wanted to wait for their newborn to have her first immunizations). But my other sister was frustrated because she could either go right away or wait until January because she is nearing the end of her pregnancy. Well, today they both decided to go in two weeks. The week that my photography class ends, my auto class begins and over the weekend that I am moving. So, I called my brother to see if he might want to come at a later time with me. He's considering going the same time as them (they didn't plan it, it's just what works best). Plus, it would be less inconvenient at work for me to wait until November to take the time off.<br /><br />So, I'm struggling with the fact that I may have to go do this alone. I don't get to spend time with all three of my siblings and their kids (it's been 3 years since we've all been in one place at one time). And I'm worried that I'm being selfish. I'm trying to stick with my class even if it is an elective. Follow through with the Auto class, even if it is offered in the spring. Keep my original moving plans because that's what I committed to. I'm frustrated and disappointed and feel selfish. And I don't blame anybody. Well, maybe me. But I don't know how else to respond. Right now I'm hoping that somebody else will be able to travel with me. I've wanted to visit my family in Kansas for quite some time now but have not made it a priority. I know that I am blessed to still have all four of my grandparents living and I know that that won't be true for always. I want to relish the time that I do have with them.<br /><br />I think I've run out of things to say. Please pray that I get to go to Kansas at the right time.<br />Thanks.<br /><br />Love.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-58706675675026822682007-04-20T12:36:00.000-07:002007-04-20T13:24:17.991-07:00"I can't help..."<div class="comment">The following was posted on a<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;" href="http://rosa.hosting.vt.edu/index.php/memorial/">Virginia Tech website</a> set-up to receive condolences for the tragedy that befell them on April 16th:<br /><p></p><p></p><blockquote style="font-style: italic;"><p>..I don’t believe in any religion, but in this <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">tragedy</span> I can’t help saying “God bless”. </p> <p> God bless you all and rest in peace. </p> <p> And to all the victim’s families,<br />I am deeply sorry and sadden by your losses. </p> <p> Nuri </p> <p class="info"> April 20, 2007, 12:06pm • Pa-ju city, South Korea</p></blockquote><p class="info"></p>I was truly struck by this person's opening sentence. "I don't believe in any religion, but in this tragedy <span style="font-weight: bold;">I can't help</span> saying 'God bless.' " Even without the background of religion, this person senses and asks for God to bless. I know He will.<br /><br />This person <span style="font-weight: bold;">can't help</span> saying "God bless." I just can't get over that phrase. It is powerful. God is powerful.<br /><br />God shows himself in tragedy, in sorrow, in sympathy, in hope, in love, in nature, in literature, in art, in blogs, in music, in smiles, in tears, in phone calls and text messages, in weddings and funerals. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I can't help </span>but notice Him and recognize Him in every facet of my life. He is ever-present. Even if we don't say "God bless," He blesses. Even if we don't say His name, He listens. He knows our names and planned our lives to the final breath. He has given us purpose and direction. We just have to listen to His "still, small voice." He will lead us. He is faithful.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I can't help</span> but think about the students, faculty, alumni, friends and family of Virginia Tech. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I can't help</span> but cry for the loss of life. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I can't help</span> but pray to God that He would send comfort and hope and Truth and love to those who grieve and recover from their loss. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I can't help</span>, but I know Someone who can.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"I can't help saying 'God Bless.' "</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" href="http://www.hokiesunited.org.vt.edu/"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Today, we are ALL Hokies.</span></span></a><br /><p class="info"> </p> </div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-5911579112706407782007-03-14T22:31:00.000-07:002007-03-14T22:34:23.441-07:00Remember That Time We Got Tear-Gassed In Nicaragua?I was visiting my friend, Jana, in Nicaragua (Nick too...but he was taking a nap). So, Jana and I go to the market to get some fruit. As we're about to leave...me carrying a watermelon and her carrying a backpack and canvas bag full of fruit...my eyes start stinging, and I get the taste of fireworks (you know when you can taste sparklers in the air) in my mouth. And at first I think "Oh we're passing a barbecue," or something weird. But then I notice everybody around is walking, or running, away. So...we try to get away from it. First we walk into a little salon place at the market. But it's all more or less open air, so they are trying to get away from this stinging feeling too (I'm crying and spitting). Worst thing, was seeing a little kid crying--not understanding (not that the rest of us understood). So, we kept walking. Bear in mind, I'm still carrying a big watermelon. And just walk, hoping to get away from this substance...whatever it was. We finally get to some back exit of the market and are away from the "horror." But we still don't necessarily know what it is. And I spit the whole way back, and we just hope it wasn't some sort of chemical agent and worry about how far it spread and we worry about poor Nick, locked in the house, cause it's gated and we took the keys. Finally we make it back, Nick's fine (still asleep, I think) and we turn on the radio and call Jana's boss, who has a tv, to see if we can find out anything. Later Jana's boss calls back and tells us two guys were arrested for throwing cans of tear gas into the market. Oh and I just remembered, that right before this happened at the market, we witnessed an altercation between a drunk guy and his girlfriend...we were trying to walk around this situation. Big sigh---we're not going to die. Still spitting (like a camel).Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-84851104152791800532007-02-22T22:23:00.000-08:002007-02-22T22:35:14.586-08:00I See YouI see you in a girl who hugs her friend so long it seems they haven't seen each other in years,<br />when it's been less than a day.<br />I see you in a boy who makes his mom a gift that's not amazing,<br />but they both love it just the same.<br /><br />I see you in a tree--it's silhouette;<br />I hear you in the breeze, rustling the leaves;<br />I know you in the quiet moments--in the words I read, the words you breathe.<br /><br />I hear you in a friend who calls each day just to say, "Hey"--or stops by unannounced on a rainy day.<br />I hear you in a song and then another and another and in words spoken in prayer.<br /><br />I see you in a tree--it's silhouette;<br />I hear you in the breeze, rustling the leaves;<br />I know you in the quiet moments--in the words I read, the words you breathe.<br /><br />I long to know you better--you know me best.<br />I know you because you are always with me--you're the only one who never leaves--you're always right next to me, in front & behind me.<br /><br />I see you in a tree--it's silhouette;<br />I hear you in the breeze, rustling the leaves;<br />I know you in the quiet moments--in the words I read, the words you breathe.<br /><br />I see you.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10519661.post-1163477215077470912006-11-13T20:02:00.000-08:002006-11-13T20:06:55.150-08:00Hundreds and HUNDREDS of CandlesSo, last Sunday (the 5th), I turned the big 2-5! It was kind of low-key. I was in L.A. for a conference, so I got together with a few friends for dinner the night before and had lunch and dinner with some new friends on my actual birthday. It was great. I'd really been looking forward to 25. I just KNOW it's going to be wonderful. Well, the day before my b-day, I come to find out that one of the presenters at the conference, informed his audience that you are no longer cool after 24 (to teenagers). I was mortified (not really--I found it kind of amusing, and have since been told that this does not apply to me)! The second blow came when my 5 year-old nephew was reminiscing (this weekend) about helping me blow out my "hundreds and hundreds of candles!!!!" I have to face it, I'm getting old. And I LIKE IT!!!!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1