Shout Out to Wake Forest WalMart

I know, I know...

I've offered many less than rave reviews on this giant of all stuff marts. And yes, I typically avoid the chaos within its walls at all costs. But for today I am singing a different tune. Here's why.

Mamoune and I set out this afternoon to run a few errands. Bank -check. Pick up M's new glasses -check. Walmart -and that's where it all went south. To say that Mamoune has vision issues is an understatement. She has a seriously strong prescription and having been without glasses for an absurd amount of time ('nother story, 'nother time) we were warned that she may feel a little woozy for a day or two while her eyes adjusted.

After a few minutes of shopping, she mentioned that she felt a little dizzy. Not a plea for help. Not really even a complaint. Just a mention. No biggie. Another ten minutes in and she stops and drops her head with her hands resting on her knees. "I don't feel so good." she says. I go through the range of possibilities...are you still dizzy, do you need to throw up, need to poop, etc. We decide to head to check-out and to get her positioned on a nice bench near the ladies room.

I point her toward the desired location and she immediately takes two steps the wrong direction. I pulled her back and getting a good look at her face, I knew this wasn't going to end well. She was weaving side to side and not really locking eyes with me so I pulled her closer.

Now, as I confessed in a previous L150 post, I haven't been great at recognizing God in the moment but there was no missing Him this time. As I struggled to balance Mamoune in her stupor, one of the WalMart managers (I presume based on her gear) happened to be standing right beside us. She asked if I needed help or if I thought we should call 911. I was waffling and trying to process the situation when I felt Mamoune's legs give way. She was out like a light. At that very moment, I heard a familiar voice say "Everything okay?" There stood Alphonso James. One very large, very strong, WalMart employee Alphonso James. "She's passed out Dwight (his nickname) I can't hold her."

He scooped her up and at that moment I realized how precious it is to have someone who knows your child by name coming to your rescue. We made our way toward a seating area and he was talking to her all the way. "Mamoune, you with me? Wake up, girl." We got her to a chair and soon got her back into the land of the conscious. The manager had already called for EMS and they arrived shortly thereafter. A little bit of time, a finger prick to check blood sugar, and several vitals checks later and we determined that a light lunch, dizzy glasses, and some possible anemia had created the perfect storm. Once we knew there would be no need for an ambulance ride to the ER --the paramedics stood watch while the managers opened a register for me and checked me out in no time flat. This is also when I realized that a good friend we hadn't seen in a while was standing nearby and had been praying for us while waiting for a chance to check on us verbally. Meanwhile, Alphonso retrieved our van from the parking lot and drove it to the front door.

And so, laying price wars, consumerism, and the annoyance of big box warehouse marts aside; when it counted the most the Walmart crew was on their toes. Maybe it was emergency training and protocol or maybe it was just good ol' fashioned customer service. Either way

-- THANK YOU WAKE FOREST WALMART--

and paramedics and firefighters and everyone who made haste and cleared the path for one frantic mama! And thank you God for putting friends (old and new) right where we needed them to be.

btw, Mamoune is feeling much better after a snack and some rest. She was pretty shaken up but I'm thinking the 11 year old embarrassment factor will be the longest part of her recovery. =)

Abundant Life

"I have come that they may have life and that they may have it more abundantly." John 10:10


a·bun·dant 
–adjective
1. present in great quantity; more than adequate; oversufficient: an abundant supply of water.
2. well supplied; abounding: a river abundant in salmon.
3. richly supplied: an abundant land.

Life more abundantly. Abundant life. I've been pondering this phrase for quite some time now. I don't think I want, really want, an abundant life. No. I don't think many of us want an abundant life and if I had to choose a substitute I would go with adequate. I want an adequate life. Adequate as in enough. I want enough money. I want enough time. Enough patience. Enough rest. Enough testing to still warrant my own sense of piety but with it enough faith to come out unshaken, unscarred.

But Jesus didn't offer an adequate life. In fact, the only thing adequate about Christ was his death and payment for my sin. It was enough. But everything else in the realm of following Him is wrapped up by this notion of abundance. And 2010 as much as...no, way more than...any other year shed a sometimes unflattering light on this abundant life.

This is not a life that follows a straight, manicured, well-illuminated path. It's more like the yellow brick road full of dark forests, deceptive poppy fields, and some downright terrifying flying monkeys--but made easier to traverse by the company of good friends.

Our joys this year have been abundant. Celebrating milestones like weddings and graduations. At times we have laughed so hard our sides hurt and are hearts have been full to overflowing. Abundant smiles.

Our sorrows this year have been abundant. Grieving the loss of thousands, hundreds of thousands, in a country so dear to us barely a year ago. Fearing for and grieving with our dearest friends and loved ones of those lost. Weeping over the loss of one precious, tiny life just a few short weeks ago. At times we have cried so hard our bodies ached and our hearts felt broken beyond repair. Abundant tears.

And to be perfectly honest, we've had more than enough, an abundance, of doubts and questioning. Times that our trust was so weak and our faith so shallow our own skepticism threatened to swallow us up. Abundant confusion.


Many of you have been good company. You've walked with us and helped us fight off those proverbial "lions, tigers, and bears" of uncertainty, fear, and spiritual attack. You've prayed for us, encouraged us, supported us. Abundant gratitude.

Looking back on the year, I see that all of this --ALL OF IT--is part of the abundant life that Christ gives; the storms and swells as much as the still moments. Even David's "quiet waters" were marked by "darkest valleys."

But I have this regret. That far too often I lost sight of the most important thing. The abundance of God's presence.

I don't want another year like 2010. Many of you may share this sentiment. I'd rather that no one face overwhelming natural disasters, that no one die a senseless and tragic death, that no one suffer injustice or abuse... the idealistic wish list could go on for days. And so mostly, I don't want another year of overlooking His abundant presence. His sufficient grace. His boundless mercy.

Whether 2011 is a frightful raging sea, a playful babbling brook, or deep still waters I want to (and may need occasional reminders to) remember, live in, and cling to the knowledge that God's love, my Savior's love, His very Spirit in me is adequate...sufficient...boundless....ABUNDANT!

Happy New Year!

Deep in the Heart of Texas

If you've been following this blog or our ministry blog for any great length of time, then you already know our connection to and affection for Haiti. You are probably also familiar with a some of our favorite people on the planet --Troy and Tara Livesay and their crew.

Saturday morning, we will be boarding a plane headed for Texas to spend a few days with these people who claim to love us but have never managed to hit NC soil to prove it. It's all good though because we need to enjoy being the better people in at least one friendship and Troy and Tara provide ample opportunity. ;-)

As Tara mentioned here, Tim and Troy became instant bff's after finally meeting just last year despite the fact that most men of their age and station in life would go to great extremes to avoid such an effeminate reference. It works for them without being too creepy. Sort of. =)

Since we saw them last summer MUCH (understatement) has happened. Their adopted home country being ravaged by an earthquake and their displacement in the States being top of the list. And while we know that they know that we love them and have been praying for them --this trip is not about them; it's about us. :-) And we will feel better after getting to see, love on, and squeeze them in person.

Aside from all the excitement about our visit, I am also experiencing a level of apprehension over the flight(s) that await me. I don't love to fly. I've stated this fact many times. It has not changed. Tim LOVES to fly. He flew often as a child and enjoys it immensely. He loves planes, knows lots about them and loves the whole shebang. He will be comfortable sipping soda and listening to pod casts while munching down the complimentary trail mix. I will be practicing shallow breathing, clenching my fist, and trying not to look like I'm about to spew while chanting my flying mantra "I will NOT throw up in a paper bag!" He will at some point attempt to chat with me about some random bit and I will smile sweetly while shaking my head "no." No as in do not talk to me, do not touch me, and for heaven's sake do not interrupt the "I will NOT throw up in a paper bag" mantra. Okay, maybe that's all a slight exaggeration but still, I do not love flying.

Additionally, I do not love "advanced imaging technology." I am not looking forward to the new screening process of having my x-ray silhouette examined by some remote security agent. Though I choose to believe that said remote security agent is not looking forward to it either. I've read lots of articles, blogs, etc. about the controversy and I get why people are wary but seriously, is it necessary to assume that all TSA agents are perverted, x-cons and sex offenders who signed onto the job as soon as they heard the words "invasive pat-down"? Did TSA break protocol and seek out new employees by posting a classified ad for people to "feel up airline passengers?" I don't think so. I choose to believe the whole thing is uncomfortable for ALL parties involved and for that reason, I will be polite, compliant, and respectful although...

I am fighting the urge to write on my belly with a metallic marker: "I SEE YOU LOOKIN'!"

Stylin' and Profilin'

A couple of days ago I enjoyed a nice hairstyling moment --with my middle son. Yes. Isaiah. The gargantuan child brushing my hair ever so carefully and securing it with a clip. Does that read as oddly to you as it feels in real life for me?


It's not that I don't consider cosmetology a worthy profession. I've seen Barber Shop for crying out loud. I know that this is a decent and respectable role for a strong, black man to pursue. And supposing my boy grows up to be a stylist for the stars, that will rock and my love and support for his accomplishments will be sincere...eventually...after some processing time and a small measure of unsuppressed snickering behind his back.


You see, ever since this precious boy was a mere 6 months old but being squeezed into 2T clothing, we have been banking on the notion that he would someday take the world by storm as a renowned athlete, use his prestige for God's glory, give back to his community, and well, maybe just maybe, set his folks up with a sweet little bungalow beach house on a private island in the tropics. =)

Superbowl ring? Sure.
NBA championship? Heck yeah.
2024 Olympics? You betcha!
Cover of Cosmopolitan? uh....gulp.


Maybe he can do both, I muse to myself as he palms my head before brushing the hair back out of my face. Yeah. And that way, when he flashes a "Hi Mom!" poster during the Superbowl and the camera pans my way for all of two seconds, I will be beaming with pride and sporting perfectly sculpted hair! A mom can dream, right?

Is there a counselor in the house?

Life can be pretty crazy and I suppose we all have coping mechanisms of one sort or another -those little things we do to reboot, regroup, recharge, unwind, etc. For some of us, it's a glass of wine and dark chocolate (thank you Juli Bourden for reinforcing this one) but for three year olds it looks a little different.

I know of kids who have imaginary friends. Bella has never had one of these though she does go through occasional seasons of being her own imaginary friend named "Maddie." And her imagination sometimes confuses us -like when she says to Tim, "Daddy, you be the dad." It's typecasting, we know, but either way those drama days of high school really pay off. Tim totally rocks the "dad" role; very convincing.

But now Bella has taken coping to a new level. She's become a dog. Her name is Titan or Cooper (real names of real dogs) depending on her mood. She crawls on all fours. Kennels herself in an invisible crate which she insists must be locked lest she escape and she loves to do tricks. It got a little weird yesterday when we had company and she came crawling into the living room and said, "Mom, tell me to sit so I can get a treat." She continued to practice her obedience training as well as fetch. Fortunately, the company found it more cute than disturbing.

And it was... until this morning. She came into the bedroom first thing and already in character. Tongue hanging out, on her hands and knees, panting. I told her that I was really hoping to see Bella for a good morning hug and kiss. No change. So, then I suggested that "Titan" could go and find Bella and bring her back for some morning love. She headed out the door in search of ...herself. Tim shook his head. "I can't believe your playing along to convince our daughter not to be a dog." I didn't have much time to ponder it since Bella, er Titan, returned at that moment. Still crawling. "Where's Bella?" I asked. "She didn't want to come" came the reply.

I knew we'd have to pay for counseling at some point. I didn't expect any of them to crack so early. If she doesn't return to her human persona soon we will schedule her psych evaluation and I will need more dark chocolate. In the meantime, she is awfully cute and quite frankly, she's the best dog we've ever had! =)

Lemon Broccoli

Oh, how quickly it can all go wrong! In the middle of cooking supper (read: cooking, chasing pre-schoolers in and out of the house, yelling at boys for wrestling like maniacs in the living room, monitoring neighbor children who are way too zealous about using the sharp knives to "help" me, and finishing up one young lady's science homework) I had a...well, what my grandma would've called a spell. Yep, I had a spell. I was suddenly hot, sweaty, nauseous with stomach cramps and a pulsing headache. No idea what prompted it (not counting the stress of the above mentioned chaos coupled with stifling heat as we try to save money on a/c).

I went down hard. An hour, a quickly cooled house, and two ibuprofen later, I woke up to my poor hubby trying to manage the hooligans and finish the dinner I had abandoned mid-prep. It was 7:15 pm. We don't usually eat that late. The domino effect. He had roasted the broccoli and cauliflower nicely but expressed concern that he hadn't put enough olive oil on it and it wasn't quite the way I make it. No biggie. He had also made a last minute decision to roast some chicken. So, we were waiting for that when Tim answered a phone call.

I decided to put on a pot of pasta to supplement in case the chicken wasn't ready until midnight. I reached up in the spice pantry for my sea salt and noticed a bright yellow can of "Lemon Scented Dusting Spray" (that's the super creative name for generic Pledge). I retrieved the can from the cabinet and handed it to Tim with what I thought would register as a what the heck is this doing in the spice cabinet? look. Turns out facial expressions do not translate nearly as well when one of you is on the phone and not really paying attention -justifiably so. Also turns out that the what the heck is this doing in the spice cabinet? look strongly resembles the here, maybe this will spice up the broccoli look. yup.

Oddly enough, I like lemon on broccoli. But I definitely prefer the fresh squeezed sort verses the "lemon scented" version with the poison control warning on its label. The broccoli was trashed. The little people ate cereal. And the rest of us scarfed down buttered pasta and piping hot chicken that will surely haunt us in our sleep tonight.

Anyone want to join us for dinner? We'll begin taking reservations soon. =)

A Single Square

Question. What would you do for a single square of toilet paper?

Random, huh? But seriously think about it for one sec --what would you be willing to do?

If you happen to be sitting at your computer with a settled stomach and the (taken for granted) knowledge that there's a value pack of "big roll" tucked in the bathroom closet, cupboard, pantry; you probably can't imagine taking extreme action to secure a small sampling of quilted 2-ply. And that scratchy, generic, 1-ply stock offered at most public facilities???? Willing to go to great lengths to chafe yourself with that stuff? I doubt it.

Then again, we've all been there. The mall, the library, Walmart...you gotta go real bad, you plop down and aahhhhh, then glance over and "aw, snap!" Ah, well now that's a different story. Suddenly, toilet tissue, no matter how thin or stiff, is a prized possession. So much so that you will grab that sad little brown tube and start meticulously peeling off tiny pieces --the ones that stick to the glue -- and stacking them together into something resembling a cotton cosmetic pad that you can only hope has as much absorbency. You've done it, you know you have! =)

In some cultures none of this would be relevant. You'd just squat in the street and move on. But here in the good ol' US of A, we are a little more particular about our bums. (Though perhaps not particular enough by some standards. Check out this interview with the author of The Big Necessity: The Unmentionable World of Human Waste and Why It Matters for an interesting read.) We've traveled the path from pink and blue --Vagisil would like to express their sincere thanks--to quilted, to aloe infused, to recycled. Buffing our bottoms is big business.

By now, you're thinking, Amie, what the crap are you talking about? (couldn't resist that one) I'm talking about this...all joking aside:

Every other Thursday we volunteer at a local food pantry distribution at Faith Baptist Church. It is one of my favorite things. Overwhelming, heavy, leave feeling both glad to have helped and utterly helpless at the same time FAVORITE thing! The economy continues taking a toll and this is more than evident by the ever-increasing number of families coming for help. The need is great. There are families sitting in the worship center of the church who do not have a roll of toilet tissue in their home. This is not assumption, this is not some projection of common statistics, this is knowledge based on relationships built over months and months. Toilet paper. None.

If your first thought was "well, what have they done to squander their money away?" -shame on you. Please stop yourself now.

If your first (2nd, 3rd, 175th) thought was "whoa, what can I do?" I'm so glad you asked. =)

1. Be aware.
2. Be humbled not judgemental.
3. Be there.
4. Be generous.

Okay, so you've read this blog which means you've taken care of number one whether you meant to or not. Now you're accountable. See how I did that? ;-) About number three...if your church, community, local non-profit hosts a food pantry (and lots of you reading are FBC'ers so I know yours does...hint, hint.) please volunteer. Most have lots of options for service and even varying times available for different components of the ministry. And if you spend a night or two hanging out with the families, grandmas, grumpy old men, precious babies, I assure you that humbled thing will take care of itself. But if you can't be there in person then definitely be #4. I can only speak to our specific location but the warehouse is looking bare and could easily be replenished if we all, each, everyone, the whole of us added a few staple items to our grocery list each week.

I did a little research and there are lots of items that run under $1.00: white/brown rice, pasta, chicken noodle/ tomato soup (on sale .50 each @ Target), instant mashed potatoes, tuna, salmon (lunch packs), lots of canned vegetables, etc. etc. etc.

I hope you take this as I intended it. A reminder. It's not a guilt trip. It's really not. Now, if I said that I hope you think of the need for supplies at local food pantries every time you wipe your butt today THAT would be a guilt trip. But I won't say that. ;-)

Four No More!

Last Wednesday Justus began running a fever in the late afternoon. We put him to bed and I tossed and turned all night anticipating his cries when the medicine wore off and his temperature climbed. It finally happened at FOUR in the morning. I got him up and slept the rest of the night (morning) on the couch feeling like I was snuggled up to a gargantuan baked potato.

Thursday and Friday my body tried to catch up on the sleep lost but unsuccessfully. ( I was mid-way through a digestive cleanse and my system was fighting against me.)

Saturday evening after church, Bella complained of a headache. Yep. Full-blown fever by bedtime. She crashed on the couch and we decided to leave her there so we wouldn't have to wake the other pre-schooler to care for her in the night. After one hour of sleep, she made her way into our bedroom. Tim vacated to the couch and again I was wrestling an oven-hot super-spud. She moved, turned, dug her feet into my back and legs ALL night. I alternated Tylenol and Ibuprofen, wrapped her feet and legs in a vinegar soaked cloth, held, rocked, and comforted her. At long last, she fell asleep. It was FOUR in the morning.

Sunday night, I tried to catch up.

We headed to bed around 10pm on Monday and I was out like a light. Then the phone rang. 11:45. I threw on my clothes and headed out to take my friend and her daughter to the Emergency Room. We waited and w-a-i-t-e-d. She was seen. Everything was fine. She was discharged. I dropped them off around the corner and quietly slipped back into the house. Tim met me at the door. I crawled back into the bed at...you guessed it - FOUR in the morning.

I'm still trying to catch up.

Now, I'm just hoping that this four thing comes in...threes. =)

Five is Two

Two years ago today, a baby boy was born. We had NO IDEA he existed. And yet somehow through an emotionally confused maze of human choice, consequences for choices, God's sovereignty, grace, and the sometimes seeming insanity of His design --- that baby boy was ours. (click here and here for his introduction posts)

Lots of families have "oops" kids. (and yeah, I'm aware of the negative connotations behind that label and how most people try to avoid saying it in such terms or at least have sense to whisper it in the presence of said child...yada, yada.) Justus was our "oops" adoption. Just like those unexpected pregnancies, we hadn't planned on him and were not exactly prepared for him. Only difference being, we didn't have nine months to get used to the idea. We had six days. Six feverishly-insane-running-all-over-creation-to-file-appropriate-documents; buying-borrowing-and-begging-for-blue-baby-stuff; picking-out-boy-names-days. It was all very surreal, well, right up until the midnight feedings. It got real, REAL fast. ;-)

But even now, there are times that I look at this golden-toned, chunky-legged boy running through my house and think where did this kid come from? And I think of all the things that could have shaken down differently and kept us from getting that phone call from Amazing Grace Adoptions and I am struck by just what we could be missing: all the snot, poop, biting, fighting over toys...I'm kidding! I'm kidding! (I knew if I got to mushy and idealistic you would all be rolling your eyes by now. =)) Sure all those things came with him but we would also have missed the mischievous way he cuts his eyes, the way he talks to the chickens as though they've been anxiously waiting for him all day, and the sweetest, puckered up kisses on the planet to mention only a few.

And so the one who pushed us over the hump to number five is a whopping two year old and knowing how many more tantrums, spills, or diapers are left to endure... doesn't make me feel any less blessed!

Focus

Sometimes when you're feeling overwhelmed by life, kids, ministry, circumstances, spiritual warfare, food poisoning, fatigue, or a number of other completely random things =), it helps to shift focus and consider the things that are simple, quiet, don't wake you from sleep in the middle of the night, don't wretch your insides, and are really beautiful just because they are! Here are some shots of the really beautiful things God is letting us enjoy around the Sexton/Launch 150 stomping grounds.

The Rose bushes are exploding with color.

This one just about makes me cry. Teri Gray gave me this plant 8 years ago for my birthday. We moved and left it behind. Last year, I asked permission from the current residents to dig it up and transplanted it to our front yard. Given my track record -I expected it to wither and die immediately. Not dead. Gorgeous!

Same plant -two types -two completely different shades of purple. God is so cool.

Even the garden is showing off!

Delicate Sugar Snap blooms

Cucumbers

Mulberries ripening overnight. Cobbler on the way!

And last but not least...there are always these lovely ladies. I never would've dreamed that sitting and staring at a bunch of chickens could be so therapeutic. It's quite impressive when those layers of feathers reflect a prism of color in a kiss of sunshine.

I am waxing poetic about yard fowl. sigh. Maybe I'm even more tired than I thought. Off to take a nap.