More on the Haiti trip

My blog disappeared for a day, but thanks to a "yes" answer to prayer, it's back--no explanation whatsoever for why it was missing.

Before I continue, I need to explain that it's so difficult to put this trip into words. I saw, experienced, and learned so much, not just about myself and the Haitian people, but also about God's incredible power, faithfulness, and love. I will do my best to share some of the thoughts and feelings I had while in Haiti, but understand that no words seem sufficient to capture the whole trip.

To pick up where I left off, beginning after the market, we: prayed over a well-known place for voodoo rituals in a cemetery.

Cemetery in Jeremie.

A group went to pray for the sick in the hospital while I went to the maternity ward and offered to feed infants. There were more than 12 babies whose mothers were unable to feed them. They wouldn't let me feed any babies because it goes against Haitian culture for anyone but a sister to feed their child. Sunday we went to church, took a break at the beach, and in the evening I returned with some of the girls to the hospital to distribute socks, sheets, and money to patients they had prayed for. In Haiti, the hospitals do not provide anything extra, including food, so if the patient does not have family, they essentially have no one taking care of them.

Monday morning we woke up at 3:30 am to leave for Doko, and drove an hour and a half to the beginning of the "trail." We hiked 14 miles through the most rugged and beautiful territory I have ever seen, climbing more than 4,000 feet in elevation.

We crossed the river 78 times. Many of the crossings were just knee deep, but towards the end we crossed more than one that were chest deep. No matter where we were on the trail, the Haitians who were hiking with us were right by our sides ready to help. Either to get up or down a tricky spot, or to help pass our bags so we could wade through deep water, they were helping us before we ever had to ask. Many times on the trail I found myself away from the rest of the team, but I began to notice that there was always at least one Haitian not far behind me. It occurred to me that they were making sure that nothing happened to me.

Whenever I came up on a difficult part of the trail to maneuver, they would hurry in front of me to help me down, over, through, whichever was the case. I was so moved by their care for me, even though they didn't know me, not even my name, yet they were demonstrating true unconditional love for me, and everyone else on the team. I started to tear-up on the trail as I thought about how it was such a beautiful depiction of Christ's love for us. If these Haitians could show love to me without even knowing me, how much more God must love us, have created each one of us.

We were the first white people to ever visit Doko, and a few of the younger kids cried when we were first arriving in the village. We taught and played duck-duck-goose, and they loved it.

Afterwards, we ate dinner, and then had a church service with the wildest worship I have ever experienced. Every man, woman, and child were dancing everywhere, filling the aisle, and singing at the top of their lungs. The pastor would ring a bell to signal people to stop and they would just keep going!

The church service went until 10 pm, and we were so exhausted. Using only flashlights, we set up our pallets under the tarp structure, which had been built specially for our visit, while about 60 to 100 people from the church watched us. It was quite comical, and I felt a little like a zoo animal, especially when we had all gotten settled, turned the flashlights off, and the people were still congregated around us in the moonlight, watching to see if we sleep the same way they do and discussing it amongst themselves. While we were all laying there, cracking jokes about our situation, I heard Lisa say, "Grace, is this better than watching TV?" Yes. Yes it was. 

Our little camping spot, in front of the church building in Doko, where we spent two nights. 

To the left, where the brown tarp is showing, is where Kate and I had our little pallet. We were freezing with only a sheet and two children's blankets between the two of us so we ended up shamelessly spooning in the middle of the night to stay warm. Above, Bryan, Isaac, and I are brushing our teeth in the bushes right outside the church building. If you're looking closely, you might think I'm brushing my teeth with 7up, but that is just the bottle I was using for water since TSA took my Nalgeene bottle at Fort Lauderdale.

After we picked up our bedding and had some delicious Haitian coffee, we helped with preparations for dinner. These beautiful women start preparing dinner before it's even light out. We got in on the action around 8 am.

We scrubbed the goat meat with oranges, and  picked as many little shards of bone out as possible before boiling it.

Being introduced to our dinner. 

After helping with dinner preparations, a group of us, led by Lisa, went into the village to meet people and pray for them. We met this beautiful woman. Above: the numbers etched with charcoal on the house behind her are her children's phone numbers.

She showed us the coffee beans she grows by her home and sells in the markets. While we were with her, we met a little girl whose hand was limp. We learned that this woman had raised her after the girl's mother died. From birth, the girl had been unable to walk, but this woman worked with her and taught her to walk by the age of seven.

The group stopped and prayed for this woman, her home, and her family. We prayed again specifically for healing of the little girl's hand.

It was so hard to see many people in the village who suffered from ailments, which might be cured or treated quickly and easily back home, but were a permanent or threatening condition in Doko, because they have no access to healthcare.

After we returned to the church I began asking some of the children if they wanted their picture taken. Each time I took a picture I would show them their image on the back of the camera.

 

Having their picture taken, something we take for granted in the states, is so exciting for them. They do not have cameras, and mirrors are scarce in Doko, so seeing themselves in real-live color is so special. It was amazing for me to get to see their faces light up, and hear them giggle as they saw their picture.

When I started there were only a few children, who were very timid, but with each picture I took, more and more children were coming up hoping to have their picture taken.

 

 

 

Within five or ten minutes I had so many kids wanting their picture taken that I decided to get a group picture.

To be continued again...

Reflections on Haiti - #1

I intended to keep a journal while I was in Haiti, but there never was a spare moment to write in the one I brought. When I went back to look at my journal, I had one full entry, and then a partial one that dropped off mid sentence. Now that I'm back, I am overwhelmed at the thought of trying to put into words all that I saw and felt while I was in Haiti. 

Suddenly I'm back in the grind of American life, but I'm exhausted in more ways than one-- physically, emotionally, mentally. I found myself crying several times yesterday thinking of Haiti. It's hard to explain what I'm feeling, and I've even lived through a similar experience for a much longer period of time, so I can't imagine what it must feel like for those of whom this was a brand new experience. The only way I can do this is to start from the beginning.

After my 10-hour overnight layover in the Fort Lauderdale airport, I was finally on my flight to Port Au Prince. Since I hadn't slept at all the night before I fell asleep almost immediately. The plane was filled mainly with Haitians, one of whom was a young woman and her toddler-aged daughter sitting in the row in front of me. I woke up to a strange groaning and then people calling for help. It took me a moment, through my glazed sleepy eyes, to figure out what was going on. The young Haitian woman in front of me was having a seizure. The flight attendants frantically called for any passengers with medical knowledge. A middle-aged American man, and a young Haitian man responded, and together with the flight attendants, did their best to take care of the woman. What might have been a simple solution, was complicated by an obvious language and culture barrier. Every question had to be translated into Kreyol. My heart was pounding as I thought about the woman's daughter, who was being held by a stranger in the row beside her mother's. I couldn't help but think of my own daughter and if I were ever traveling alone with her and something happened to me. I didn't have much time to process the flight before we landed, the women and her daughter were taken to a hospital, and I was on my way through immigration to meet up with the rest of the team.

When all the team had arrived, we loaded up a large bus, and headed for Jeremie. Bryan and Lisa said the bus ride could take anywhere from 8 to 18 hours depending on if we got a flat tire, or if we had to stop for road construction. 

So we took bets on what time we would arrive in Jeremie - winner got half of a bag of peanut M&M's. 

Below: Leaving Port Au Prince Friday, January 10th at 11:45 am.

A market in Port Au Prince

It was quite the bumpy ride, even with significant road improvements, so I didn't take many pictures, but below you can see what most of the ride looked like. 

We arrived in Jeremie sometime between 9 and 10 pm, and one of the team members, Cianna, graciously accepted her M&M award while throwing up from motion sickness. It was a tiring ride for sure, and since most of the team had only slept a couple of hours the night before, everyone quickly settled into their hotel rooms to get some much needed sleep.

The next morning, after some delicious chopped liver over noodles for breakfast, we set out for the market in Jeremie. On our way there, we passed this man, probably in his fifties, carrying two five-gallon buckets filled with water. He is one of many people in Jeremie who have to walk miles to get clean water. Some of the guys on our team offered to carry the water the rest of the way for the man. 

 Below: Part of the market in Jeremie. Motorcycles frequently drove through the masses of people. 

The market was incredible. Masses of people congregated throughout the streets; motorcycles honking as they made their way through clusters of people moving shoulder to shoulder. Under primitive structures, people were selling various produce, while others butchered massive cuts of meat with machetes. We wove our way on narrow paths through the market, passing booths of food, clothing, and packaged goods. People were selling anything from wheel barrows of some sort of meal, to black and white, pointy toe, patten leather shoes.

The whole time that we walked to and through the market, I was accompanied by a young Haitian man, Fritznel, who was teaching me Kreyol. As we continued through the market, Fritznel began to tell me about his faith in God. He kept telling me over and over how he, and we, are nothing without God, but with God anything can be done. He told me about his faith in the power of prayer, and how we must pray all the time because that is how we come to know God better. What he was telling me was so simple, things I know in my head, but prayer is something I have been struggling with in my heart, and so his words hit me like a ton of bricks. I was so humbled by this young man's faith in God and his devotion to prayer.

To be continued... (if I don't do this in segments I will never get it done!) 

I Smell Like Mildew

I'm in the Fort Lauderdale airport once again, only 11 days since I was last here although I feel like it's been much longer. It will take me days to write about all the experiences I had, people's stories I heard, and all that I learned in Haiti and about Haiti, and I promise I will. 

At the moment I will just share with you how it feels to be a dirty traveler. I did my best to cram all my dirty clothes into a plastic bag inside my backpack, in a futile attempt to contain the odor. 

Unfortunately my backpack, as well as myself, reek of mildew, sweat, and dirt. I was able to shower throughout the trip, but my clothes went unwashed and the humidity was kind enough to share its dingy scent with all my garments. 

While I stood in the customs and border potrol line for two hours, I enjoyed listening to the elderly Hatian man behind me make jokes in Kreyol to our fellow travelers, which I can only assume involved the ratty, dirt-covered flip flops dangling from the back of my pack. I was glad to provide some entertainment. 

I had to go back through security, which meant I had to remove my shoes again, and try not to scatter dirt and gravel all over the floor in the process. I managed to do this fairly successfully, then arrived at my gate in time to wait four more hours for my flight to board. I killed some time on the phone, purchasing some Chapstick to battle the dry airport air, and ate a hamburger. 

To my utter delight, while pacing the terminal, I discovered that my flight was delayed by an hour, and then again by another hour. Although I'm being sarcastic, and I really would rather be home two or three hours sooner, my time in Haiti has reminded me of all that I have to be not just thankful for, but to rejoice for. Stay tuned for many pictures and posts about the trip, and get ready to laugh and cry. 

A 10-hour Layover and My Most Embarrassing Moment

Disclaimer: this post is not for those who get nervous or squeamish around conversations involving babies, pregnancy, or motherly duties. You know who you are. Seriously, I don't want any irate or annoyed comments about this post. You've been warned. 

I wasn't planning on writing any posts until I returned from Haiti, but I'm on a 10-hour layover in Fort Lauderdale, and something just happened that I will never be able to write about it the same way as I can right after it happened.

This story must be prefaced with the fact that I breastfeed my 3-month-old-- not because I think she'll grow up dumb or end up in jail if I don't, but because I know it's good for her, and also it's 100% more free than formula. That said, I have nothing against formula and completely understand many mothers don't nurse because either they are unable to, it doesn't work with their lifestyle, or their babies have an intolerance to their milk etc. This is not a "breast is best" post, this is about my embarrassing moment.

I bought a manual pump to take with me to Haiti so when I get back I can still nurse my daughter. Since I am on this horribly long layover with nothing to do, and I hadn't nursed my daughter since right before I was dropped off at the airport, seven hours prior to what I will forever refer to as, "the incident," I decided it was a great time to pump. 

I proceeded to the stall that was as far back into the women's restroom as possible. As I was pumping I was distinctly aware of everything and everyone outside of my little stall. I could hear chatter over a janitor's radio, and thought to myself, radios sound so official; why does that make me feel like I might get in trouble? I sat in the stall laughing on the inside about how ironic it was that I felt like I was doing something wrong when really all I'm doing is trying to be a good mom. 

While I was laughing on the inside, I was thinking I would love to tell my sister-in-law, a mother of 3, that I would like to add manually pumping breastmilk in an airport bathroom stall to the list of things I never want to do again. Still laughing on the inside, I disassembled the pump, and to my horror, I dropped a piece, which proceeded to roll over into the next stall. I leaned down, hoping no one was in the stall, and my dignity all but vanished as I watched a stranger's shoe tentatively slide the piece back into my stall's territory. I quickly memorized the shoe to ensure I would never make eye contact with its owner. 

I spent the next five minutes standing in the stall hoping I could remain anonymous. My efforts were not in vain, because I checked everyone's shoes out while I washed my hands, and none were a match to my stanger's shoe. 

After sharing this story with my sister-in-law, she said I had to write about it. I told her it was extremely embarrassing, but I guess that's what makes a story good. If you were able to enjoy some laughter at my expense then my work is done here. 

Haiti

A couple of days ago I mentioned going to Haiti, and I promised to elaborate so I will, but the story goes back a few years, so bare with me. In January 2010 Danny and I were living just outside Washington D.C. when we heard an earthquake had struck in Haiti. USGS called it the largest earthquake since 1770. We immediately called our friends, Bryan and Lisa Bartow, who live in upstate New York, because for them it's a second home. Lisa is half Haitian, and still has family members who live there. In addition to visiting family in Haiti, the Bartows and extended family support nine churches in the country, and frequently take teams on short-term mission trips there.

The Bartow family in Haiti, two years before the
earthquake.

By the time we called, the Bartows had already taken action and had coordinated their own relief effort. In a matter of days, through friends and local donations, they had a small charter plane and a half ton of supplies. Their action gained so much attention that an article was written about them in their local newspaper (To read the article, click here).

Having grown up in Papua New Guinea, my heart was wrenched for the people in Haiti, and although I was unable to join the Bartows on their initial earthquake relief trip, it left in me a desire to be a part of their efforts their as soon as I could.

Fast forward four years, and the opportunity has finally come when I can help. In a few days a team, led by the Bartows, will be traveling to visit one of the nine churches they support, in a town called Doko. Due to the rigorous, 7-hour hike up a mountain, crossing a river 60 times, the church hasn't been visited by outsiders in over 50 years. Lisa explained to me the value of visiting people in the Haitian culture, and how by taking this journey just to see them will be an incredible encouragement to the church there.

I will be helping take video of our journey to Doko, which will be used in the production of a short film after returning to the U.S. The film will be used to not only document this historic visit to Doko, but will hopefully bring awareness to the needs of the Christian church in Haiti. I'm incredibly excited about this opportunity because for many years I've wanted to be able to use my passion for photography and videography to be used by God.

My friends and family have had a lot of questions for me about the trip, especially in regards to my 3-month-old daughter. I will be honest, I almost chickened out on going a few weeks ago. I was feeling a lot of apprehension about leaving her for almost two weeks, and how she'll think I don't care about her and feel neglected and how that will damage her psyche or give her some weird complex for the rest of her life. But after a lot of prayer and self-reflection, I realized I was making myself way more important than I am. My daughter knows I love her, and in the long run she will have no memory that I was even gone, but I will be able to tell her about this trip to Haiti and tell her about what God taught me while I was there. Maybe when she hears about this trip she will want to take adventures for God too. Ultimately I don't know what will happen, but that's where I am trusting the Lord to use this trip for His purpose.


So I spent most of yesterday packing for my trip. It's extremely important to pack light since we will be hiking many hours, but it's somewhat difficult to do with heavy camera equipment--my camera body alone, without a lens, is two pounds. However, I delight in the challenge of packing lightly, and got a bit giddy organizing everything to be as light and small as possible.

I managed to pack everything in the photo on the left, into the backpack in the photo on the right, with the exception of the clothes I will wear on the airplane. I weighed it and came out with 14.8 lbs. I won't lie, I'm pretty impressed with my packing skills.

I'm extremely excited for this trip; growing up as a missionary kid in Papua New Guinea, I never really feel "at home" the way I do when I'm overseas. I'm excited to meet the people in Haiti, and hopefully be a blessing to them in whatever way I can. And most importantly, I'm looking forward to what God will teach me through this experience.

Needless to say, not watching TV will not be a problem while I'm on this trip. However, I won't be updating the blog while I'm gone, for several reasons, but I will be doing my best to write in a journal about the trip and when I return, I will back-blog (Get it? like back log? I crack myself up).

Birthdays, Boogers, and Answered Prayers

We spent most of yesterday and my brother's house because it was my niece's first birthday. I love spending time with family and it was extra special to watch my niece eat her first cake. I would have loved to stay longer, but our little one hasn't been sleeping well, so we thought it would be better to head home. Thankfully, she went to sleep at 9 pm instead of 11 like the night before. When I emerged from the nursery looking haggard, my husband gave me some vitamin C tablets and told me to go to bed early. Before I fell asleep I prayed that me and my daughter would both be able to sleep through the night.

I woke up this morning feeling more rested than I have in several days. My daughter slept 10 hours straight, and I slept 7. When I came out of my room I was amazed to see the living room, kitchen, and dining room completely clean. It had looked like a bomb went off for two days, and my sweet husband decided to clean and organize everything while I was sleeping. It made me think of those Ryan Gosling "Hey Girl" pictures-- Hey girl, I noticed you were tired and stressed out, so I cleaned the house while you were sleeping. Except, this was real life, and my own husband, which is so much better.

Handwritten Letters and TV Withdrawls

I have a three-year-old cousin, Henry, who loves checking the mailbox. My aunt or uncle will go with him to check it sometimes more than once a day. Yesterday morning I got to thinking about his love for mail, and how people rarely get "fun" mail anymore. When my husband or I check the mail we  ask the other one, "did we get anything?"; we don't mean literally, because there's always something, but it's usually a pile of Burger King coupons and a free newspaper. What we're really asking is, "did we get something from someone we know?".

Several times, in the almost seven years of our marriage, my husband and I have been apart from each other for weeks or months at a time, and a couple of those times we decided to write letters instead of e-mails. We now have a shoebox full of letters that I'm sure our grandchildren will find either romantic, or hilarious some day.

There is something special about a letter, but people rarely send them anymore. We still send and receive birthday cards, or thank you cards in the mail, but not a letter. We send an e-mail, or a text, or we call on FaceTime or Skype, but it's all electronic. Don't get me wrong, as someone who has lived away from family, I greatly appreciate video calls, but I can't keep them in a shoebox for my kids or grandkids to hold in their hands 30 or 40 years from now.

With my new free time, I've decided to write a letter a week. Hopefully this isn't too lofty a goal that I will end up disappointing myself, but once a month is so far apart I might forget, and once a day is just ridiculous. I don't think I know enough people to write that many letters. Since it was Henry who inspired me, I'm going to send my first letter to him.

In other news, last night was the first night that I really wished I could watch TV. My daughter and I were both feeling under the weather, and I couldn't sleep. Between being poised to hear her if she needed me, and the horrible tickly and scratchy feeling in my own throat, sleep was a mere fantasy to me. All I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch a few episodes until I passed out. Instead I  stared at the baby monitor until I knew my daughter was asleep, and ate throat lozenges like they were my last meal.

Banana Bread Win, Curtain Fail

My husband returned from his backpacking trip at midnight, and when we woke up he asked if there was anything for breakfast. I was very excited about this because I had been wanting to make chocolate chip banana bread, and breakfast seemed like a good enough reason.

An internet search for sour cream banana bread led me to Cookbook Chronicles blog, so I took that recipe and got to work. I reluctantly made the batter into muffins for the sake of time, but expected them to be dry. NOPE. These were the best banana bread muffins I've ever eaten, and I'm usually the worst critic of my cooking or baking, so you should definitely trust my opinion on this. 

Coffee is a staple for me in the morning, but I wanted to break from my usual stash and try some of the coffee from Caffe Vita in Seattle that my husband gave me for Christmas. It was delicious.

Unfortunately, my success could not extend beyond the morning. I was so excited to bring home efficiency curtains to put up in my daughter's room on the curtain rod I installed while procrastinating about other things. They boast of blocking 99% of the light, absorbing sound and lowering your heating and cooling bills. This all may be true, but first you should make sure you know how tall your ceilings are.

When I installed the curtain rod I followed the design tip of hanging the curtains from very near to your ceiling, which makes the room seem taller. My sweet husband put the curtains on the rod for me, and we were both excited that it might be easier to get the little one down for naps.

NAILED IT.

I thought our ceilings were seven feet, but sadly they are eight feet, and the curtains hover around eight inches above the floor, and I'm sure they're allowing more than 1% of light to enter the room. In addition to negating their efficiency, they're hideous; they have a million fold lines, and they are the consistency of a tarp. We will of course return them, but I not before I get one good nap out of them. 

Banana Bread Recipe

Makes 1 loaf of banana bread, or approximately 12 large muffins

The secret to this banana cake is sour cream.

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 tsp kosher salt
• ½ tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp. cinnamon (I omitted the cinnamon)
• ½ cup vegetable or canola oil
• ¾ cup brown sugar
• ¾ cup sugar
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 ½ cups over-ripe bananas, mashed (about 3 large bananas)
• 1 cup light sour cream, or whole milk yogurt
• 2 large eggs

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease and line a 9×5” metal loaf pan. (Or, if making banana muffins, line 12 muffin cups with liners.) 

In a bowl, stir together the flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, and cinnamon.

In a large mixing bowl, mix together the oil, brown sugar, and white sugar. Mix in the vanilla extract, mashed bananas, sour cream, and eggs.

Stir in the dry ingredients until combined. Pour the batter into a pan and bake for approximately 60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. (If baking muffins, fill each lined muffin cup 3/4 of the way, and bake for approximately 20-25 minutes.) Let the banana bread cool for 10 minutes before carefully turning it out on a wire rack.

Procrastination Takes Determination

I'm a procrastinator. I tend to make simple tasks much larger in my mind and then I avoid them like the plague until there's no possible escape. Unfortunately for me, everything I procrastinate about still weighs on me like a ton of bricks until I do it, and when I do, "it" usually only takes me a fraction of the time and effort that I expected.

There are several things I'm procrastinating about currently, which brings me to my next point about procrastinating -- it causes me to be extremely productive in anything else I can come up with. Busying myself with other tasks allows me to convince myself that I do in fact have more important things to accomplish before the "it."While pondering this concept, I came to the realization that procrastination takes a lot of determination, and so I should probably get some sort of award for this behavior.

Christmas break is almost over and I haven't graded my students' assignments from the last two weeks before the break started. I also need to do lesson planning for myself and for the substitute I will need when I'm in Haiti next week. Oh yeah, I'm going to Haiti next week. I'm very excited about this, and will elaborate on what I will be doing there in another post. There's a mountain of paperwork and bills I need to go through, but it's at the top of my things-to-procrastinate-about list.  I'm sure there are other things I'm procrastinating about, but I'm suppressing them for my sanity.

Since I was procrastinating, I got many other tasks around the house done. I washed a load of cloth diapers, I made the mint chocolate fudge, I spray painted some round tins that will contain said fudge, I installed a curtain rod in the nursery, folded and hung laundry, cleaned my bathroom, and the kitchen. This was all done in between taking care of my 3-month-old. I should definitely get an award.

Unrelated to procrastinating, my grandma invited me and my mom over for dinner and Scrabble. I lost. I also learned that my grandma plays a game of scrabble on her computer every night. She gave me a cheat sheet of all the two-letter words that are legal in Scrabble, so I'm feeling confident that I will improve.

Fudge for breakfast

I ate fudge for breakfast this morning, and since that necessitates a story, I will tell you mine. I've decided to meet our neighbors. There are only three other units on the top floor of our apartment building so this shouldn't be difficult, but it still makes me feel nervous. Our society has become very private, and even in the age of "social" media, the end result is that we keep people at an arms length.

We want people to see our best side, so we take 14 selfies until we get just the right one to update our profile picture, and we post status updates when we do exciting or interesting things so people have the illusion that we lead newsworthy lives. We don't meet our neighbors because if they decided to stop by unannounced they would know that it's noon and I'm still in my pajamas. They would also notice that my apartment smells like something burned because I forgot about the blueberry sauce I was heating up on the stove when I went to put my baby down for a nap. I don't post profile pictures of my unmakeuped, flat hair self, and my picture most certainly doesn't reveal the sour spit up smell residing somewhere on my left shoulder.

* I use to term "swirl" loosely because that's what I was hoping
 it would look like, but as you can see the swirl part was a fail.

So I'm meeting my neighbors, and since that makes me a little nervous, I've decided to get food involved. I've deliberated over what sort of treat to bring as a neighborly gesture, and came up with fudge. Since I feel some level of apprehension about eating home baked goods from strangers, I figured others might as well, and since making fudge has very little hand involvement it might not be as frightening to eat. Also, I don't know anyone who doesn't like fudge.

Yesterday I took the little one with me to the grocery store to purchase all the necessary ingredients for the fudge. As I hoped, she fell asleep in her front carrier while I paced the baking aisle. I found a simple fudge recipe on Allrecipes.com and decided to fancy it up by making a raspberry chocolate swirl, and mint chocolate swirl.

I managed to make the raspberry chocolate swirl*  batch in between baby needs. She didn't want to nap, which apparently made her very angry when evening rolled around. When she finally fell asleep I resolved to taking a hot bath and having a little pinot grigio.

This morning I got up to see if the fudge had set, and to make sure that it tasted good. I decided that I needed a whole piece to get the full flavor, and then a second because I can't give an ugly piece away, and a third as part of this complete breakfast. I'm not proud.

Raspberry Chocolate Fudge Recipe:

• 1 (14 oz.) can of sweetened condensed milk
• 1/4 cup butter at room temperature
• 1 1/2 cup white chocolate chips
• 1 1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
• 2 tsp. raspberry extract (I used imitation, don't judge) 
• Pink gel food coloring (optional) 

1. Using butter, grease an 8X8 inch glass baking dish on bottom and sides.
2. Divide the sweetened condensed milk and butter into two bowls with equal parts 
3. Put white chocolate chips in one bowl with raspberry extract and pink food coloring and stir
4. Put semi-sweet chocolate chips in the second bowl and stir
5. One bowl at a time, place in the microwave for 2-4 minutes on medium (or PL 5) 
6. Remove the bowl from the microwave and mix until smooth
7. Pour into greased baking dish (feel free to attempt to swirl them!) 
8. Let set in refrigerator for 2 hours or over night. 
9. Cut and serve! 

Scrabble Victory

My husband is away on a backpacking trip in Big Bend with my dad and oldest brother, which means it's a little quieter around the apartment. Couple that with a windy, chilly day, and it's a bit more tempting to pull up Netflix on my laptop, curl up on the couch under a cozy blanket and indulge in watching those Chuck episodes I was thinking about. However, my desire to be more creative with my time won over, and after I finished all the usual household chores and after-christmas boxing, I decided to have my mom over for dinner and a game of scrabble.

Something strange happened; I won. Winning scrabble against anyone on my mom's side of the family is an incredible victory. They've been playing it for decades, and there are rumors that my grandma reads the Scrabble dictionary after she reads her Bible.

Needless to say, I was thrilled about winning, but the evening also got me thinking. If I had sat watching TV last night, I would have enjoyed myself, but I would have missed out on that memory with my mom. Our evening had been interrupted periodically by taking care of my three-month-old daughter, and we took turns holding her and making her laugh during the game. It's precious for me to watch her be held by her grandparents and great-grandparents. For the first six years of our marriage, my husband and I lived far away from our families, and when we found out I was expecting, we decided to move back so our daughter could know her grandparents. So I cherish the time that she has with each of them, but I realized that I often have chosen TV over opportunities of genuine life moments and experiences.

After my mom left, and my daughter was fast asleep, I was left wondering what to do with my time before I went to bed. This Christmas my husband and I decided to do the four gifts: something you want, something you need, something to wear, and something to read. For my "something to read,"he gave me a book called A Praying Life, by Paul Miller. I started it a few days ago and decided to read another chapter last night. The book is delightfully easy to read, and so far it hasn't left me feeling discouraged or lacking, only that many others struggle with the same thing I struggle with, and that there's hope for us! Something that stood out to me in the chapter I read last night was, "Learning to pray doesn't offer you a less busy life; it offers you a less busy heart" (p. 25). I suppose it stood out to me because that's one thing I'm expecting from not watching TV-- to not be filling every second of my life with a distraction, and maybe that will lend way to more genuine and effective prayer.

Rejoice always; pray without ceasing. in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.                        1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Happy New Year - 365 Days Without TV

New year's resolutions. Let me just say, I don't like them. They tend to bring about disappointment when December 31st rolls around again, and we think about how we failed to work out every day or we didn't land our dream job this year. So this is the first year in many years that I'm even setting a goal for myself that begins on the 1st of January. 

This year, after some amount of prayer and deliberation, my husband and I have decided to go 365 days without watching TV. I have no judgement for those who watch TV and movies; I greatly enjoy both, and I'm somewhat uncomfortable when I think about all the episodes of Chuck that I didn't finish before midnight last night. This is, however, precisely the reason we are not watching anything for the next year. We want to know what we might do or accomplish if we started using our free time to do other things. 

There are many things I want to to, but somehow when I can sit down and check out from life by watching someone else's or a character live a life I'll never live, I seem to forget about my own and subsequently stop living it. 

So with my 365 days of no TV there are many things that I hope to do, but instead of listing them, and thereby documenting resolutions that have the opportunity to become disappointments, I'm just going to blog every day about what I found to do with my time the day before.

Some days may be more dull than others, but that's life right? I don't know if there are those out there who will be interested in reading this, or maybe be inspired by it in some way, but I know the more who are, the more I will be inspired to continue. 

Happy new year!