This Old House

The house my parents bought. The before and after photos will be great. It's really hasn't had much done to it since 1973. I think any updates were done in, oh, maybe 1980. Should be fun! They're excited, but a little scared. They've lived in their house for 31 years and not only are they moving, but they're tackling major a re-do. Shhhh. Don't tell them what they're in for!

Back on Line...Again

Well, Internet has been down again since Thursday morning. We're up again, but who knows for how long. We're not sure if this is still remnants of the ice storm, or maybe a bigger problem. Anyway, we're learning to live with the uncertainty. Fortunately since it's the holidays neither of us have much work to do, so we're enjoying the respite a little bit, and don't mind feeling "out of it" just a little. Not too much though. Nice to have it back and feel like we're in touch with the world again.

My parents closed on a house on Thursday two streets over from ours. My plan was to take a photo of it Thursday afternoon and post it, but since we had no Internet I scrapped that plan. It's a great little house, but it needs to be totally updated. What an adventure! We've been there, done that and promised we'd never do it again. But this house is really worth it. We're using the same contractor that we used for our house and for Kyle's mom's house...and we swore we'd never do that again either. But, we should have known better and remembered that we NEVER say never. I'm proud of my parents for tackling this. It will be good to have them closer to us, and the time is right for them to make the move. We've all been talking around it for several years, but the right house just never came on the market. This one is close, on a good street, and has a great floor plan. So that will be our little project for the New Year. It will be fun to watch it go from 1973 to 2008. I'll post a picture tomorrow, IF we're still on line.

Some Christmas Photos

Liberation

We're waiting to light the Christ candle. We lit the other four advent candles over the past several weeks. We've read scripture and talked about what it meant for the first-century Jews to be anticipating, waiting and looking for their liberating King; the Messiah who would rescue them; the Savior who would lead them out of oppression. He came, but God sent Him in the most unexpected way: a baby born in a stable to poor teenagers and worshipped by smelly shepherds. And really, isn't it just like God to do something in a way that is out of our realm of expectation? I like the idea that God doesn't desire to save the world in a way that makes sense. And I like it that He uses the most unlikely, humble, broken, out-of-the-way people to do it. I think God sent an important message in the way that He chose to liberate not just the Jews, but all of us. So tonight we are thinking about the ways that Jesus enters into our world - into our heart, and how he saves us from ourselves. And tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that, I want to remind myself that God uses people like me...and you, to bring heaven to earth and continue the liberation.

Tonight I am thinking about all of those that we love who are far away. You are all in our hearts as we wait and anticipate. Merry Christmas.

A Few Family Christmas Party Photos

But not nearly enough. I haven't been taking as many photos lately, so I'm out of the habit of getting in everyone's face with my camera. I really need to regain that annoying attribute. I know my children have missed it. We had our Jackson Family Christmas party last night. I mostly took photos of the babies, since I can't believe that now our children are having children. In the fourth generation group of cousins the oldest already has two sweet little girls. The girls are definitely outnumbering the boys, but aren't they cute?!!!!

Can We Stop the Madness, Please?

I'm sitting here watching "Jingle All the Way." If you haven't seen the movie, here's a quick synopsis: A Dad forgets to get his son the hot Christmas toy of the year, TurboMan, and so he has to go out on Christmas Eve and accomplish the impossible: find the toy that everyone else has already purchased.

It's a silly comedy, and I don't care for the Governator, but it reminds me of the year when Kyle and I decided to get up for one of those ridiculous 5 a.m. sales so that we could find Furbies for our kids. Furbies were the hot toy that year and we were determined to have two under the tree on Christmas morning. We thought we were ahead of the game, and that we would beat the crowds. Not so. The crowds decided to get up at 5 a.m. also, and so we were joined by about 200 people who were already standing in line at the Big Box. So we hurried over to another big box thinking that everyone was at the first Big Box and we would circumvent the system. Not so. They were there also. So, we headed to mall (collective groan on cue, please) and the small toy shop was shooing people out of the store because it was exceeding capacity according to the fire code. That was the end of the Furbie road for us. We went to breakfast at Village Inn and decided to explain to our kids that Santa couldn't find any Furbies that year. We also promised each other that we would never, ever, ever, never, hit the early morning sales and join the frenzy of the Hot Christmas Toy of the Year. And we explained the situation to the kids about the Furbies and Santa not being able to come through. They were completely understanding and when the store shelves were overstocked with Furbies in mid-January they didn't even want one. So I'm watching this movie and realizing that even though it's a silly comedy, there is much more than just an element of truth in the story.

Pastor Chris Seay tells the story of his church, Ecclesia, and their quest to put Christmas back into proper perspective. One way they did this was to talk to the children of the church about what Christmas is really about. Jesus, they answered. So if Christmas is about Jesus, who should we give presents to? They didn't miss a beat: Jesus, they answered. Then he asked them, "How we do that?" And the children talked amongst themselves and came up with this answer: "We give something to people who are in need." Now that's a broad group. Isn't everyone in need in some way, shape or form? I suppose everyone has to decide for themselves what that might mean, but I don't think that it involves cramming in some shopping for an Angel Tree kid in the middle of our obsessing over the Hot Christmas Toy of the Year. Maybe giving to someone in need means spending time with an elderly neighbor who needs some company during what can be a very lonely season; or helping a single mom hang Christmas lights; or building bridges with someone you have been holding a grudge against. Or maybe, just spending time with those we love instead of cheating them out of our time while we overdo the season with shopping, decorating, and partying.

This year, Kyle and I have been struck by how crazy it all seems. I drove by the mall tonight and the parking lot was packed, and some woman who was driving out of the parking lot cut in front of several cars and I could see her yelling as she hunkered behind the wheel like a madwoman. Wow. Something has gone terribly wrong when Christmas becomes the pursuit of happiness via "stuff." I hate to be kind of scroogy about the season, but it just seems that Christmas has become a commodity. This silly little movie seems far too realistic. I pray that we can move away from the consumerism that has come to define this season and reclaim the beauty of Advent. I'm trying to figure out how to do this myself. It seems to be a somewhat new concept for me. Wish me the best...

Who Remembers This?

I do. Has it really been 23 years? I remember listening to this song over and over the Christmas that it came out. I didn't really know where Ehtiopia was, and now I know that I really didn't understand famine either. I'm kind of glad I didn't see the video too many times though. When I watch it now, all I can think of is that there are too many baggy sweatshirts, big hair, men in makeup (I'm afraid Boy George might scare the African children) and lots of artists who have fallen into oblivion. Bono and Sting have stood the test of time, but only because they changed their hairstyle and got some decent clothes. Of course I'm kidding. Love 'em both. Still, I think Feeding the World sounds like a good idea.

38 Windows!!!

After about six weeks of selling the beautiful notecards (click on the title of this post to see the Story of the Notecards) I am so totally humbled, amazed and grateful to be able to say that we have funded 39 windows for the psychiatric hospital in Azerbaijan. Actually, I said it all wrong. WE did not fund the windows. We were simply the vehicle that God used to get the story out about these precious women, their talents and gifts, and the way that God is present and active even in places that are beyond our comprehension. This hospital, as one of my friends who has visited it says, "is not a place you would want to stay for five minutes." This is mostly true, although I find it to be the kind of place that God seems unbelievably present. More about that later. The reason I cannot take credit for the windows is because there are all these generous people that heard the story and opened their hearts and gave their resources to make life better for women who live on the other side of the world. One couple decided that they wanted to give a Challege Grant - and fund half....HALF! of the windows as a way to get others to give over and above the price of the notecards. There were many dear friends in our Community at Asbury who bought far more notecards than they will ever use because they wanted to be a part of this. One Asbury member gave us $500, another $1,300, and the United Methodist Women gave us $1,000. Every time we sold cards we heard "keep the change" (the notecards were $8...we received tens and LOTS of twenties). When we asked for Crocs for Ethiopia people gave over and above what Kyle could carry. And people are still buying the notecards, so we will continue to sell them and fund over and above the amount for the windows. There are so many needs at the hospital, so we are going to fund another project - to be announced.

And why do I feel such a strong sense of God's presence in the hospital? It's hard to explain, and I'm not really sure I completely understand it myself. I think, however, it has something to do with who we're supposed to be inviting to the party. In Luke 14:13, Jesus is talking to the Pharisees, once again turning their world upside down about who matters in the Kingdom of God. This is what he says: "But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed..." In the previous verse, he says that if you invite your brothers, your relatives or your rich neighbors, they'll just invite you back, which means that you get repaid. There is something about inviting those who can't repay - who can't invite you to their party because they can't have a party - that pleases God. Maybe I sense the presence of God in the psychiatric hospital because serving these patients pleases God. He is present in that place, with the least of these...and He is present with us when we love them and serve them. It has been an honor to provide windows for the women - and to invite them to the party.

Back On Line!

Our modem just lit up - all four buttons are nice and green, and so we are back on the Internet. The phones are still out. I don't care. I was even getting used to not having Internet. It started to feel sort of normal...and I didn't miss it so much after a while. But notice how quickly I sat down to post, and have already checked my email and answered a couple, so maybe I'm not as weaned as I thought.


We closed the shelter this morning because the Red Cross decided to consolidate the folks at one location that was more centralized. I was signed up to work the afternoon shift so I didn't see how many people were there this morning, and how many people were shuffled to the other location. I realized that most of the people that I met I will probably never see again. I hope they are back home and that their power is on, and that maybe in the midst of the nightmare of the past week we were able to give them a little bit of hope, and make life easier for them for the time they were with us. Some people worried that we were being taken advantage of...that maybe people were sticking around when they didn't need to because we were feeding them so well. So what? If you're going to give a cup of cold water, you just give the cup of cold water for goodness sakes. If you're going to take the risk to throw your arms around people, then sometimes you'll get taken advantage of, right? If you worry about that, you'll end up with empty arms.

So we're cleaning the place up after our guests have left, but a mess never looked so good.

Perspective

This is the post I wrote yesterday. I'm writing my posts at home then coming to my parents house to actually access the Internet.

FRIDAY
We got our electricity back on Thursday night. We spent four days and four nights without it – no heat, lights, television, computers, Internet, phones. Our days were spent at Asbury. It seemed like a refuge in so many ways. We NEEDED to be there. Today we didn’t go, and it was a little bit of a crummy day actually. We did some Christmas shopping and restocked our refrigerator and did some cleaning up around the house. I wondered about my new friends: Ricky, Grace, Marietta and all the other people whose names I didn’t catch, or can’t remember. They asked last night if we would be back and we told them we wouldn’t because we had to get our lives back in order just a little. I’m sure they wished they could do the same. It’s funny. I felt more in the Christmas spirit when I was there than I did today in the crowded Big Box or the mall. I’m all for the Christmas tree, and the music and the parties, but it was good to step outside of it all for a few days as we served and gave and received and felt things in a deep way.

I’m sitting in my warm house now, in front of the fireplace with lights on and some football game blaring on the television in front of me. We still don’t have Internet or phones but I don’t care. It’s interesting to remember back about three months ago when we lost our Internet for about a half a day and we were going crazy. We called our provider and pleaded with them in a panicky voice, and wondered how we were going to cope if we couldn’t check our email or hop on the web. Now it seems like such a small thing. Maybe I won’t be saying that in a week, but I truly haven’t missed it. I find places to post and check my email. I have a cell phone and electricity to charge it. Every time I think that I might whine about it a little, I remember how cold it was in our house, and how we walked around carrying a flashlight while candles burned on all our tables and countertops. And then a crowd of faces surfaces in my mind. Many of them will go back to their homes when the electricity is restored and their lives will still be hard. They will still be poor, still unable to get decent medical care. Some will be afraid about losing their jobs, or being abused by their husbands…or dying alone in a house they’ve lived in for sixty years. And for some of them, the electricity will come back on but they will still feel hopeless.

So I’m not worried about what I don’t have because I still have so much more than so many. Perspective can be a tough thing to maintain for those of us who are so very blessed. Perhaps we need to be reminded of it every now and then by cold, dark houses, trees across our driveway, a refrigerator full of spoiled food. Or by stepping out of our comfortable suburban fortresses to see that there is a world of people on our doorstep who need shelter from the storm.

Sheltering

TUESDAY
Yes, the electricity went out. Two days ago. We are still without power and I am sitting here in the dark, and the cold. I’m in front of the fireplace with candles surrounding me and I look like I’m trying to call some dead soul back from the grave. The neighborhood looks like a war zone. The ice weighted down everything – power lines and trees. There are giant broken limbs and entire halves of trees scattered in yards and across streets. Last night it was foggy, and driving through the neighborhood felt eerily surreal, like this was not my home at all. Our city has 218,000 people without power. It’s the largest loss of power in our state’s history. Power crews have been brought in from all over the country to help work the lines and restore electricity to the city and the state. Our house is so cold that I might actually be able to see my breath… if I could see. This morning, there was nothing to do but leave. And so we did. We went to church. Actually, we went to the church building, which had been amazingly transformed into a Red Cross shelter. The night before the building had been home to over 300 people from across the city. We arrived about 11 a.m. and were just there to meet our teenagers who were being dropped off by the people they had spent the night with. We weren’t prepared for what we saw. We had no idea. My friend Mary Ann, who also happens to be our Global Outreach director, walked into the room where we were standing and looking across the sea of people who were sheltering in our church. She had tears in her eyes so I asked her what was wrong. “It’s just a mass of humanity,” was all she could say. Kyle and I looked at each other in confusion. By the end of the day we completely understood. We didn’t leave. We were there all day. There was no way we could walk out of our church today. I looked around at all the weary faces, the crying babies, the old people who shuffled through with oxygen tanks and the groups of special needs adults that had been brought in by their caregivers. And in the midst of it there we were. All of us. The church. We were wearing lanyards with bright yellow tags that read “Volunteer.” We were talking to people, serving them food, carrying their babies, wiping away tears. Touching. Listening. Loving. There was no way we could leave.

Kyle and I sat down at the check-in desk that was located by the dozens of front doors that welcome people into Asbury United Methodist Church. And through those doors there was a steady stream all day long – a mass of humanity. They were cold, and one older woman sat with tears streaming down her face and said, “I just can’t do it any longer. I have a heart condition. I’m scared.” Single mothers came in with multiple children and they looked exhausted and in need of a shower. Sons and daughters brought elderly parents because they had no electricity either and the motels were full. A familiar looking older woman came in and began to fill out the intake form. “We’re glad you’re here,” I chirped. She looked up from the form with tears in her eyes and said, “This is my church. I go here. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She and her husband were well-dressed, and I had to tell them that we didn’t have any cots left. “I don’t know if I can get up and down from the floor. I don’t know. We just don’t have anywhere else to go.” I didn’t know what to say.

Our building is three years old and we have a decorating committee that likes to keep it looking very polished and spotless and…decorated. It’s kind of a swanky place really. Not overdone, but people are often impressed with how put together it is. Today, there were diapers being changed and coffee spilled on the carpet in the Sunday school rooms. Some people had muddy shoes. People dragged their pallets and pillows and lay down on the carpeted areas beneath the giant sweeping staircases in our foyer. The bathrooms were a mess, and people were washing their faces and hair in the sink. There were all kinds of smells that converged and commingled all over the place. Our building has never been used in a more beautiful way.

Ice Day

Tomorrow there is no school. Ice Day. We have more ice days than snow days, and tomorrow everyone will be home because the streets will be slick. In addition, the power lines will be weighted down which means that we could be without electricity. The power has flickered off and on about six times in the last fifteen minutes. We have lanterns positioned around the house and I'm dressed in warm layers of pajamas. Our house is very drafty, so we're hoping that now that the power is back on it will stay on. But if not, we're prepared. Somehow, the thought of not having power for my computer panics me more than not having heat in the house. How warped is that? Actually, if all the power goes out, it could be a good thing. I have a book light, and a very thick book by Dallas Willard called The Divine Conspiracy to keep me company. I'm not moving through it very quickly because it seems that every paragraph deserves more than one read. I'm double-reading, as my friend calls it. So I'm looking at the glass half full, and figuring that if there is no electricity I won't have much to do but double-read this wonderful book. Last year, some areas in the southern part of the state were out of electricity for almost two weeks. That's something that could certainly reposition your perspective. Yikes. Here's hoping the lights stay on. Better hit publish now, just in case.

We're Not So Different

I stood in front of a group of women today who were well-dressed and had just eaten a nice luncheon of lasagne and some sort of gooey chocolate dessert. We gathered in a church that was warm and comfortable, and we hardly remembered that it was hovering somewhere around 40 degrees outside. Friends sat together at tables and talked about Christmas, and family, and shared blessings with one another. It was all good, and as I looked out across the faces in front of me I thought about another group of women. The women that I had come to talk about seemed so far away, and so very different from us...and it was very easy to believe that we had nothing in common with them. But nothing could be further from the truth.

The women in the Psychiatric Hospital I visit in Azerbaijan are women like us. Some are young, and some are old, and some are in between...like me. Some have lots of energy, and some just hobble along because they are tired, or sore, or battling arthritis and creaky bones. Some women put on make-up every day, and some women prefer not to mess with it. Some women like to primp, some don't. Some women like to talk, others just listen. They have good days, and bad days. They have hopes, and dreams, and wishes and opinions. They want to know that someone believes they have worth and value. And they all really want to be loved. Isn't that what we all want?

Women in Ethiopia, Azerbaijan, China, Peru and all across the globe are not so very different from me. Sometimes it's easier to believe that we are worlds apart because if I believe that then it becomes easier for me to turn my eyes away from them. If I walk through the front door of the women's ward of the psychiatric hospital and convince myself that I have absolutely nothing in common with these women then I can out the back door and not give them another thought. But it hasn't quite worked out that way. The first time I walked into the hospital, these women amazed me. One young patient was standing in front of a mirror decked out in the same dress she wore every day. She was putting on lipstick. "She does this every morning," said our friend who works in the hospital. "She gets all dressed up and made up just in case her father decides that he wants to come and get her. He put her here because his new wife didn't like her. She wants to look pretty in case he comes back for her." In her face - all painted with eyeshadow and blush and lipstick - I saw the yearning for love, and the hope that it would find her. We are not so different, really. I would be devasated if someone I love dumped me in a psychiatric hospital. I would probably paint my face every day also.

I haven't been able to get these women out of my head...or my heart. I see myself in them. But I also see something else. Jesus told us that when we stop long enough to do something for the least of these - those who have been thrown-away, dumped, forgotten - then we have done it unto him. Jesus resides with those who we would like to believe that we have nothing in common with. Jesus comes to those who we might think are the least like us. So when we recognize him in these people, and determine that we are going to love them, and serve them and make the world a better place for them, then we see Jesus with a clarity that can be blinding.

On Forgiveness

Kyle and I were due for a night out. We were busy all day Saturday - Erin and I at a Youth at Heart party, Kyle hanging Christmas lights (He definitely drew the short straw). So we had looked forward to dinner at our date place...Cafe Ole in Brookside. We were just pulling into the parking place when the phone rang. Caller ID showed it was a call from "Home." Erin was babysitting Alison. This probably wasn't a good sign. I answered it, and Erin said something like this: "The hamster is dead. Really dead. What do you want me to do?"

I repeated her words to Kyle, and then asked her what happened. She didn't know. Alison was crying too hard to tell her. I knew it was time to head for home, so I motioned for Kyle to put the car in reverse, and said, "I guess we need to head for home." He didn't make a move. "Are you sure she's dead?" I asked Erin. "Maybe she's just hurt." No, Erin said she was not moving and her eyes were open, and that through her sobs, Alison had said something about Pierre. Kyle held out his hand for the phone, talked Erin through returning the hamster to the cage until we got home and talked soothingly to Alison, promising her that we would bury the hamster when we got home and go to the pet shop tomorrow to get another hamster. I took the phone back, told Erin that we would be home shortly and to cuddle Alison until we got there. "She seems okay now," Erin said. "Did you tell her she's getting another hamster?"

Children are resilient. We consoled ourselves with this reality as we entered the restaurant. Now, you may judge us if you want to for being really bad parents and not rushing home to our daughter, but by the time Erin was back on the phone with me, Alison was hopping around anticipating a new hamster. What would you have done?

So Alison is fine and dandy. Kyle took her to the pet shop today and they picked out another hamster - a baby girl hamster that Alison named Rocky (after she had been through two other names....Tiffany and Hannah). So all is well. Except for the fact that we are all having a little forgiveness issue with the sweet little White Westie who has been bred to hunt rodents. We know that it is part of who he is...find the rodent, kill the rodent. But we can't escape this fact: he found the rodent and killed the rodent when we were conveniently gone for the evening. Is this coincidence? I think not. Is he a smart dog? Yes he is. I am going to make a leap here and give you what I believe was the thought process of one particular West Highland Terrier on one particular Saturday evening in December: Alpha Male (not my term...the dog's) is leaving with Alpha Female and they are giving out detailed instructions. This means they will be gone for an extended period of time. White Westie sees this as a good thing. The rodent has been making him a nervous wreck for about two weeks now. He knows that this is not a rodent he can hunt because it has a nice cage that sits inside the house and the Little One who loves White Westie carries the newly arrived rodent around in her cupped hands or in her pocket. This is no ordinary rodent, and so White Westie determines that he must watch carefully to determine the lay of the land here. He's not absolutely sure of the rodent's status yet, but he's getting a good idea. And he doesn't like it. See, the Little One has loved him dearly for as long as he can remember. Every day after school she comes home to him and he is her constant companion. They lay on the chair together and watch Arthur. They play outside, where she will sometimes put White Westie on the trampoline with her. He doesn't mind. He loves to be loved. But things have been changing over the past several weeks. The little rodent seems to be taking his place in some small way. He's been trying to hide his anxiety, but everyone in the house can see right through him. They see how he paces, how jumpy he is, how he is drawn to the Little One's bedroom to see what might be happening in there with the rodent. And then, on date night, he sees his opportunity. And he takes it. No one will ever know what really happened because Alpha Male and Female are not around, Little One's big sister is busy cooking dinner, and Little One loves him too much to ever tell anyone what really happened. So he makes his move. The result: One hamster with a broken neck.

We buried Twinkles the Hamster in the flower bed in the front yard while White Westie watched through the glass door. Since then, he has been slinking around the house looking oh-so-pitiful and making little groaning sounds when he tries to crawl up in someone's lap. We not speaking to him much right now. We know it's time to forgive and forget. Alison has. We must put aside his conniving plan to annihilate the tiny pet while we were out of the house. Perhaps he has learned his lesson. As I type he is laying on half of my lap, forcing me to wrench one arm in a strange position and slant my wrist at an impossible angle. He keeps looking up at me with these eyes and I think he might know that I am writing a post about him and spilling the whole story. He's desperate. And I'm a sucker for a dog with sad eyes, so I'm forgiving him. But the next time it's date night he is definitely spending the evening outside.

The Story of the Notecards

Here is another sales pitch for the notecards we're selling. In making my pitch, I thought it would be a good idea to tell the story of the notecards, so here it is:

We have taken two trips to Azerbaijan, working with and building relationships with psychiatric patients, orphans and students at a school. The physical conditions at the psychiatric hospital are not good. The humanitarian group we work with has made some improvements in the hospital and they continue to make improvements, but there is still SO much to be done. The group works mainly in the women's ward of the hospital since it is the part of the hospital that is most neglected. Most of these women don't actually have psychiatric problems, but they have been placed (dumped) there by husbands, parents, step-parents, children, or other family members. They are truly "throw-away" people in the eyes of many in this society. But we know that there are no throw-away people. Every person is created with purpose and every person is loved extravagantly. The humanitarian group has helped provide mattresses, a new roof, improvements to the bathrooms and other things that make this dark place more liveable for the women. In addition, they have begun a supplementary feeding program, a music class, an aerobics class and an art class. They want to give the patients hope, and a view of something beyond the dreary surroundings. They want them to know that life can be lived more abundantly even in the midst of the darkest places and situations.

In the winter, it gets very cold in the city where we work, and the windows in the hospital are very old and drafty. The women get sick. All the supplementary feedings, the new mattresses and other improvements are sometimes undermined by the fact that the winter can be a physically dangerous time for the women. They have to layer their clothes to sleep. The floor and walls are concrete, and so everything gets cold inside. As someone who is quite thin-blooded in the winter, I hate the thought of these women shivering in their sleep and trying desperately to keep themselves warm during the day by wrapping thin blankets over their clothing. No one should have to live like this. I believe it makes God sad.

So on the plane back from Azerbaijan this time, my friend Melanie and I decided to copy our friend's idea of making notecards from the artwork of the patients. Our friend who works with the humanitarian group has made notecards, but they cost a lot to print so he just doesn't make much money. We knew that we could probably get them printed for much cheaper, so we got right to work. In years past, groups that have traveled over there have purchased some of the patient's paintings, so we had quite a collection. We gathered them up and chose eight. Then I took photos of them and edited them just a little bit in Adobe Photoshop. The result is what you see in the photo below. The photo is not the best, but If you click on my Flick'r site (to your right) I have posted photos of each individual notecard. They really did turn out well, and they capture the beauty that these patients feel in their soul, even though there is not much beauty they are able to see with their eyes. When I look at these paintings, I also see hope.

We're selling these notecards for $8 for a set of eight. There are 38 windows that need to be replaced in the women's ward. Each window costs $340. We felt quite overhwhelmed at how much we needed to raise to replace all the windows, but we knew that we were only responsible to do what we could, even if it meant that we were only able to fund replacing a few of the windows. Last week, someone gave a challenge grant. They gave us $6,600, which will cover the replacement of half of the windows. We were awed and amazed. And so we have realized that perhaps we will be able to do this! The person who gave the grant wants to challege people to buy the notecards, so that these women can have ALL the windows replaced. Not just a few. The humanitarian group operates on a shoestring budget, and so they just don't have the funds to do this. But those of us who have been given so much DO have the resources to do this. I truly believe that people who have been so blessed must be willing to share some of the blessing with those who have so little. If that happens, it will make the world work so much better. Sorry if that sounds trite, but I think it's true.

If I didn't believe these notecards were really worth every penny of $8 then I wouldn't be selling them. But the purpose is so much bigger than just some notecards. So, if you are interested in helping with this endeavor, please email me: lisatresch@cox.net. I'll even throw in free shipping! You can see some photos of the patients below, and a "before and after" photo of the windows. So there is my big sales pitch. How did I do?

More California Photos

Studio 12 is where The Office is filmed!

She Left Fifteen and Came Home Sixteen

Well, I didn't post yesterday. So there goes my big prize money for NaBloPoMo. Oh well. I may be able to get an excused absence because it really wasn't my fault. Here's what happened:

After a morning at the Farmer's Market (I love this place, and could spend three days here just eating) we headed out to Beverly Hills. We drove through some of the residential neighborhoods looking for the Clampett's, then headed to Rodeo Drive where we tried to decide who were the tourists and who were the tourists trying NOT to look like tourists, and who were the real B.H. residents. We decided most of what we saw were the first two. Neither one of us was interested in getting out to shop, so we checked our map and found a museum a few streets over - Museum of Television and Radio. They have 144,000 television and radio shows archived in the upstairs library, so we headed up to find something interesting to watch. Now this sounds strange, but there were lots of people there searching for lost episodes of television shows, and watching shows that were groundbreaking. I however, decided that Erin needed to experience the era-driven, senseless, shameless humor of Laugh-In. So we accessed a 1968 episode and watched the whole thing. Erin thought it was sort of funny, but didn't get most of it. Funny thing is, neither did I. But here is what I realized: we talk a lot about how television has really become trashy, suggestive, all about sex and inappropriate for children. Well, it appears it was that way in 1968. How quickly we forget. After our "laugh-in", we ate dinner at an Indian restaurant and headed back toward Studio City. Unfortunately, we were blocked by the Hollywood parade, which runs the whole length of Hollywood Boulevard. So there was no getting home until the parade was over. We knocked around at Target for a while, then checked to see if the parade was over. It wasn't. Now it was getting late. So once again, I pulled out the map and told Erin that we would find a different route home. She groaned, sensing that this was going to be a very long evening so I launched into a little motivational speech. "When the way is blocked, and you can't seem to find a way through, you go a different direction and you don't look back." She groaned louder.

So that is what we did. We went a different direction (the freeway...ugh) and didn't look back. Mostly we didn't look back because we were driving through a very seedy part of town. Anyway, we made it back to the hotel, but it was too late to post. We were beat. I had been doing all of my posting from the lobby since it had free wi-fi, and the high speed internet in the room was 10 bucks a day. It just sounded like too much after our adventurous evening. I'm hoping this excuse works. It's all true.

By the way, Erin came home 16. I'm still amazed.

Erin's Birthday Day

Well - I've now typed two almost entire posts, only to have them erased by some strange PC thing where it highlights all your text and then it disappears. However, I will not resort to bad-mouthing PCs. I'll just add it to my list of why I don't like them. Anyway...let's give it one more try, shall we?

Today was an awesome day. We started out by meeting our friend Randy at the Good Neighbor Cafe, right up the road from our hotel in Studio City. It was a really neat place. Very quaint, but obviously very frequented by Hollywood types. Randy knew lots of people there. He's so Hollywood, and I mean that in the best possible way. He's so fun to be around. We talked about our OBU memories, and I caught him up on his 20th reunion last year, which he missed. We also marveled at how two people as young as us could be 20 years out of college. Just doesn't seem possible. He and his mom were leaving for Santa Barbara, but he took time out to come and treat us to breakfast. A true friend.

We changed our itinerary a bit and decided to do Beverly Hills tomorrow, so after breakfast Erin and I headed to Hollywood Boulevard. We went to the Wax Museum and the Guiness Book of Records Museum. Fortunately she was museumed-out so she didn't insist on Ripley's Believe it or Not (whew!). I used to beg to go to these kinds of museums when I was a kid, so I indulged her. It was really pretty fun, and I am sure we will fool all our friends with the pictures of the "stars" we saw. From there, we headed to Grauman's Chinese Theatre, and studied all the hand and footprints and took photos. I'm not sure why it's so fascinating and alluring to see these - the place was packed. Fame is funny. Put your hand in some cement and people will flock to see it. But there we were, right in the middle of the frenzy. We did some more walking and people-watching, then headed to Mulholland Drive where we cruised up the mountain and took a photo of the Hollywood sign. It was very smokey from the Malibu fires, so we didn't get good photos. By the way, 45 homes have been lost so far and several of the Canyon roads are closed. The humidity here is about 5 percent which makes it worse. People here are very keen to the damage that these fires can do, but they also have a very "go on and live life" attitude, which is to say that they are willing to take the risk of building these beautiful homes and perhaps losing them to fire. Of course, they do their best to keep it from happening, but they do understand the risk. Anyway, it's a sad thing but they hope to have it 50 percent contained by sunrise tomorrow.

After we left Hollywood Boulevard, we ate Mexican food (the second best tamales I've ever eaten) and headed back to the hotel. Erin is reading a book she bought on the history of Grauman's Theatre, and we have both vowed to watch more old movies. We're starting with "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane" starring Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. A great movie. Erin hasn't seen it yet.

So Erin had a wonderful 16th birthday here in sunny California. More tomorrow! And I think I made it through this post so I will hit publish before anything strange happens...

California, Here We Are!

Well, we've done the touristy thing today at Universal Studios. It was fun. We took the studio tours, saw the campy Jaws shark that comes up out of the water and looks phony; Erin had her picture taken with Frankenstein (she was really excited about that); We paid $16 to split a chicken taco meal at the Pollo del Taco inside the park. But all in all, we had a great time. I always learn a lot about each of my kids when I spend time alone with them on a trip. For instance, Erin doesn't like to get lost...even though I told her you always see things when you're trying to find your way back onto the path that you wouldn't see otherwise. It still makes her nervous. And she is very careful how she spends her money when it's HER money. She got cash for her birthday from the grandparents, so that is her shopping money while she is here. So far, she's bought a pair of socks and a little American Graffiti poster. The socks were on sale, and the poster was $12. And she's worried that she's spending her money too fast. Ahhh, it's fun to watch your kid being a cheapskate.

Tomorrow she will be sixteen. I still remember the day she was born, and how I couldn't believe that I was going to be a mommy to a little girl after all I had known was this wild all-boy boy. On the way back from Universal in the shuttle, we watched a little boy, about 3, and his sister who was about 2 sitting side by side between their parents and holding hands. The little boy was subtly trying to wrench his hand free so he could play with his toy, but the little girl sat with the biggest smile on her face, swinging her short little legs and needing nothing more in life. There was my real life memory of my little boy and little girl. Colin the busybody, never wanting to get too close...Erin, content and smiling and happy to be along for the ride. Things have changed a bit over the years, but she is still a joy. Still ready to go anywhere at a moment's notice. And today in the House of Horrors she held my hand the whole way. What a great day.

We're meeting Randy tomorrow - Kyle's roommate from OBU and a good friend of both of ours who has lived out here for years. After that, I think we're going to cruise around Beverly Hills and see how .001 percent of the world lives. It will be fun to watch Erin pinch her pennies on Rodeo Drive, and I'll probably make a wrong turn somewhere and who knows where we'll end up. Maybe the beach.

My Dad, His Birthday and Raisin Pie

Today was Thanksgiving. And it was my Dad's birthday. This only happens every six or seven years; in fact the last time the two happy occasions converged was when we brought Alison home from China. We brought her home on the 22nd of November, 2001. I think my Dad thought she was his birthday present. He's been crazy in love with her since the moment he laid eyes on her. So today we celebrated his birthday along with Thanksgiving. It was wonderful. He got a t-shirt, a swimsuit (he likes our outdoor hot tub), a bottle of wine...and I made him a raisin pie. This is my Dad's favorite kind of pie. His mother used to make it for him when he was a kid, and I don't know how many years it's been since he's had one, but he couldn't have been more excited. He had two slices. So after we watched him lap it up, Colin and I decided to try it. I have to admit, a raisin pie sounded kind of gross. I like raisins, but not a whole glob at one time. But since I made it, and Dad was digging into it like he hadn't eaten in weeks I sliced a piece for myself and Colin. And we loved it! Who knew a raisin pie would taste so great. So, in honor of my Dad - and his sweet mother Pearl Jackson, here is a recipe for raisin pie. I highly recommend it, although we had some wimps at the table who wouldn't touch it...you know who you are.

2 C. raisins
2 C. water
1/2 C. brown sugar, packed
2 T. cornstarch
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. salt
1 T. lemon juice
1 T. butter
Pastry for double-crust pie
Combine raisins and water in saucepan; boil 5 minutes. Blend sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon and salt in a bowl. Add to raisins and cook, stirring until clear. Remove from heat. Stir in lemon juice and butter. Cool slightly. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Roll out half of pastry into a circle large enough to fit bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie pan. Place in pie pan. Turn slightly cooled raisin filling into pastry-lined pie pan. Roll remaining pastry, and cover pie with a solid circle, or lattice strips. Trim and crimp edges. If using solid top crust, cut slits into it. Bake 25 minutes, or until crust is brown and filling is bubbly. Cool pie completely before serving.

So if you are feeling brave, or feeling nostalgic for what Kyle refers to as "depression era food," give it a try.

By the way, I am hoping to keep up my November postings, but tomorrow Erin and I are leaving for L.A. This is her birthday present. She'll be sixteen on November 24. Can't even believe this. Anyway, I am having to take Kyle's PC (ick) and will leave him my Mac so he can do a slideshow presentation on Sunday. I told him to get a Mac, but he wouldn't listen. We're like the Apple commercials with the PC guy and the very cool Mac guy living under the same roof. I'm the cool Mac guy. Hopefully I will be able to post, but if not I will not defeated about not meeting my NaBloPoMo. I'll have a good excuse.

Let Us Be Thankful Boys and Girls

My Thankful List:

My husband - The one person who sees me in my worst moments and still loves me unconditionally. My best friend who allows me to ramble, and change my mind, and dream big dreams.

My children - They teach me what it means to have a precious gift entrusted to me. They can make me feel the greatest joy, or make me crazier than seems humanly possible, but they reveal in me the deepest love I thought I would never feel.

My parents - What would I do without the people who know me best? They are the emodiment of sacrificial giving. And they never, ever ask to be paid back.

My friends - Because they show me what it means to trust, to confide, to be there through thick and then. They laugh with me, cry with me and inspire me.

Good books - they allow me to get lost in a story, or be challenged by ideas. They also smell really good when newly purchased.

Autumn leaves - I love the changing seasons. It reminds me of fresh starts. I also remember what it was like to live in a place where the seasons don't change, so I don't take it for granted anymore.

A morning walk - it clears my mind, and gives me time to pray, something I never seem to find time for in the rush of the day.

My camera - because I would probably forget the people, the places, the events without it. When I look at a photo, I realize that I have captured and stopped time. I will have that moment forever.

Pens, paper and computer - If I didn't write, I'd probably be much more nuerotic than I already am. Writing puts me in very good space.

My fireplace - because I am cold-natured and it makes everything glow and feel homey.

My gray hairs and my creaky knee - it's good to be reminded that I am here on this earth for just a little while, and that I am not a kid anymore. I am aging, and with age I grow, and learn and am constantly humbled.

My house - it's quirky, and drafty, and messy most of the time. But the majority of people in the world live in substandard housing the size of my bedroom with dirt floors and corrugated tin roofs and no running water.

My Bible, my church and the freedom to talk to people about God - I know what it's like to not have any of this. I have friends who live in places where these things are illegal. They have to close the windows when they pray and sing. I long to know God, to worship Him, to talk to people about the journey I am on. I am free to do this and so I don't want to miss the opportunities.

This breath, and the next breath, and the one after that - Life is precious. Every moment is a gift. We choose how we spend it. We choose whether we will cherish it. I choose to be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Learn New Words, Feed Hungry People

Last year, while I was doing last-minute Christmas shopping at Barnes and Noble I picked up several of the calendars where you tear a page off each day. Colin got a guitar calendar, Erin a Far Side calendar, Kyle a Bush-isms calendar, Alison a dog calendar. And I bought one for myself (they were on clearance, I promise), the "Word a Day" calendar. I know, it sounds really exciting. Actually, I thought it WAS exciting. For the first week in January I tore off a page each day and learned six new words. Then I got behind, and I had to learn three words in a row. Well that was a big hassle, and all for a tear-off calendar. Then I got so far behind that it was useless and so I donated my calendar to Alison for drawing paper. I bought the calendar because I thought it would it expand my vocabulary, which some might argue is a silly idea. I'm not usually at a loss for words, so who needs more of them? I still think it's a good idea. We get lazy when we communicate, and since there are so many rich words in the English language, why not expand the parameters?

So now I have discovered a site where you can enhance your vocabulary skills and feed hungry people. Click on the title of this post and you will be taken there. Warning: it's addictive. For the skeptical (I have lots of skeptical friends) be sure and click on the FAQ when you arrive at the site. You might also want to hop on to Poverty.com, which is the sister site of FreeRice.com. We think we know about poverty, but the truth is that the statistics are almost beyond belief.

So when we see each other, we'll swap fancy words. And if you are like me and you can't usually find a place to use the word in a sentence once you've learned it, at least you will know that you have given someone a meal (that is, IF you've played the game well).

The Play

I saw my friend Steffani at OBU Homecoming this past weekend. Colin and I toured the campus, and I shared with him about a play that Steffani directed for a class our senior year. She was responsible for the entire production. She asked me to be in the cast - it was a Sam Shepherd play with few actors, lots of dialogue and a sparse set. I agreed. She assured me it was no big deal, that she had done plays like this and memorized this many lines, etc. So I did it with much trepidation, but it went great. Only after did she tell me she had lied. She had never memorized this many lines in a play. Good girl. I would have run for the hills if she had told me that before we took the stage. She was an awesome director, which was made even more difficult because all of the cast were her good friends. We were quite a cast: John, John, Andrew and me. It was a great play, and at the end when the last line was said (I think I had the last line, didn't I? Or not...it's been 20 years) she chose the perfect song that started up as we held hands, bowed and the lights went out. Here it is. I think the explanation he gives sums up the point of the play perfectly. And yes, it has been 20 years and I can't remember the name of the play. But boy was it good. Thanks Steff. What a memory.

Hiking Machu Picchu and Chinese Baby Girls

Why do I always wait to post until late at night? If I want to upload photos, it takes forever, and usually I'm so tired I can't think of much to say. So I am going to start changing my blogging schedule. I am going to start blogging during the day. I am sure this is of great interest to almost no one, but I have to post tonight or I will blow my NaBloPoMo goal for November. Yes, I should have a better motivation for posting than just meeting this silly goal, but I have a tiny competitive streak. Other bloggers I know are also taking the challenge. Translated: if I don't post tonight I'll lose!!!

Okay, there are actually several things to mention in a post. The first, my friend Shannon is possibly making her way home from Peru tomorrow. OR, she will stay until Tuesday because she has this wild desire to hike Machu Picchu. Actually, she and I were going to do this together, so if she does stay to make this hike she is still obligated to go back with me and do the hike again. I hope you are reading this dear friend. Her trip was wonderful. Of course, she learned much about the Peruvian people, and about herself and about God while she was high in the mountains of this wonderful country. I can't wait to hear her voice. We talk on the phone every Sunday, and I have missed our conversations.

Also, my friend Dana just got back from China with a tiny little baby girl who is sleeping through the night. Caisy is her name, and she has two beautiful sisters who are also from China. What a blessing. Dana is a single mom, and is a remarkable person. Alison is begging for a baby sister from China, and this is probably is not going to happen (remember I have learned to never say never) so I am hoping we will get to visit Dana soon so that Alison can get her "baby fix". Of course, this will not work. After she sees this precious baby, she will only ramp up her efforts for a little sister. I will remind her that Dad and I are too old (we're really not, but the teenagers are making us feel old) and that it is fun to be the youngest (this is not true and she knows it) plus we are completely out of rooms (she has graciously offered to share her room, but the hamster lives there and runs noisily on his wheel all night so this probably wouldn't work). We will stay strong. No more babies.

So there is my post and I actually did have something to say. Maybe I will keep my late-night schedule.

Twinkles and Flick'r

This is the big birthday present. Alison has been begging for a hamster for months. We told her they're nocturnal, and that it would probably keep her up all night exercising on it's wheel. We told her sometimes they bite. We told her the cage has to be cleaned out or it will stink. We tried to disuade her in every way, but she would not be deterred. It was a hamster or nothing. So she got a hamster for her birthday and named her Twinkles. Alison sleeps through the all-night aerobics, Twinkles doesn't bite, and Alison will love cleaning out the cage, because she really loves to clean. So far, we are unable to say "told you so!" This kid loves animals. What will be next? I hate to imagine. We don't enough room for a horse, thank goodness.

Kyle's photos from Ethiopia (not all 500 of them) are on my Flickr site...the link is on the right. They are awesome photos. The Ethiopian people are beautiful, inside and out. Enjoy the photos!

More Ethiopia Photos

I'm planning on posting Kyle's photos on Flikr in the next few days, so you can see all of them there. Isn't he a good photographer?? Wow.

November 12, 2001 and November 12, 2007

Six years ago she was a sixteen pound baby who could fit in the crook of your arm (which is mostly where she wanted to be). She was born in China, and for the first year of her life was surrounded by other babies and loved by nannies. She was placed in our arms on the night before her first birthday, and she was scared and probably a little mad that somehow all the nannies and the babies had been replaced with this very strange-looking family who plopped her in a bathtub and spoke in gibberish. But she adapted more quickly than I would have thought - and suddenly she was laughing when we talked to her, and snuggling into our arms where she would fall asleep. Boy, was she a TIRED baby. We toted her around China, and somehow in that amazing country she became a part of our family.

She turned seven yesterday. Birth is a miracle, there is no doubt. Our family has been blessed by the arrival of two children by birth so I know this is true. But adoption is a miracle also. When I look at this seven year-old girl and look at the photo of her at age one, I see the miracle of a resilient little girl who traveled from a bridge, to an orphanage, to our arms where we carried her to the US where she became a Tresch - through and through. Sometimes I forget the miracle, and I take it for granted. But that is the way it is with miracles. It's easy for them to lose their luster in the grind of everyday life. I want to be able to look at all three of my children and be reminded that miracles are gifts. They are supposed to remind us that God is a loving father who desires to give good gifts to His children - and often those gifts, those miracles, come in the most surprising ways.

From Tulsa, to Peru, then to China

Perhaps I am taking this National Blog Posting Month thing a little too seriously. It's very late - Alison had her birthday party at the Little Gym tonight with eight girls who could make your hair stand on end with their banchee screaming. I haven't downloaded photos yet. I've been proofing the Tidings magazine, and I just really don't have anything to post...but I am determined not to blow my goal of posting every day in the month of November. So here I am. No photos, and nothing incredibly interesting to say.

Actually, I take that back. I got an email from my best friend, Shannon, who is in Peru on a mission trip. Here is an excerpt:

"Thanks so much for all your prayers. My health has been great--no problems at all. I feel very safe here as well. We have been busy each day meeting with people for Bible study, evangelism, training, and baptisms. Many people have accepted Christ and others continue to learn and grow in their house churches. It is pretty slow work though, I must say. For many reasons, the people are willing to say yes to most things asked, but then the follow-through is very slow. They work long and hard to make a living and maintain a household and it´s not like you can just shower up and drive up to church. Please pray that God will give them energy, encouragment, and passion for growing in their faith and knowledge of Him and for spreading it around to all these little villages scattered across these beautiful mountains. I guess that is the same prayer we should all have for ourselves, isn't it? Maybe not the beautiful mountains part, but wherever we are.
As always, God teaches me more about myself on these kind of trips and, even better, more about Him."

I so agree with the last sentence. We always think that we are going to change the lives of other people, but most of the time - we are the ones who are changed. We see the world differently, we see ourselves differently, we see God's purposes and His kingdom with a clearer focus. We are blessed to be moved out of our comfort zone, and into a place where we can see the face of God in amazing ways.

Tomorrow is my little girl's birthday. She will be seven. Six years ago tonight, I saw her for the first time in a hotel conference room in Nanning, Gaungxi Province, PRC. Tomorrow, I'll post photos of then and now. We are blessed, indeed.

Oklahoma Baptist University

Kyle, Colin and I traveled to Shawnee, OK on Friday. It was homecoming. This is always a very big deal at OBU because it is a small university, and coming back for a reunion means you see lots of people that you know. I don't know if it's this way at a large state school, but it's amazing how both Kyle and I have traded high school reunions for college reunions. This was my 20th reunion. It is absolutely impossible that I graduated college 20 years ago. Where did these years go? As Colin and I walked around the campus, I did a great job of biting my tongue, but finally I had to say it regardless of how old it made me sound: "These college students look so young!" Of course they do. They are only a few years older than my son. Colin is interested in attending OBU, which is funny in a way. I couldn't wait to leave and hoped that if I ever had kids, they would branch out a little more than I did. I mean, really...it's Shawnee, Oklahoma. But it seems to be the place that Colin is thinking about and it would be a good fit for him. I have come full circle. It's amazing how in life we do that, and before we realize it, the circle seems okay.

As Colin and I walked around the campus, I - like the old woman I am - began to think back on those college days, and the memories came fast and furious. Colin was gracious, and he listened to me as I ambled down memory lane. If I had a scanner that worked I would have scanned beautiful photos of Kyle and I in our glory days...matching Bruce Springsteen t-shirts and tan faces and smiles without wrinkles. But my scanner is on the blink so you will have to use your imagination. We loved U2's October, voted for Walter Mondale, believed that Dr. Joe Hall was on to something with all his talk of peace and constructive survival. We watched David Letterman late at night and griped about all the Baptist craziness. But we loved our school, despite the fact that we were often fish swimming up the stream.

I missed my 20th reunion, actually. We left last night, and didn't come back today for the luncheon because we had lots of other obligations and Kyle is tired from the Ethiopia trip. I saw my best OBU friend, Steffani, and relived all the great memories and shared them with my son, so I did all I needed to do in Shawnee. I waved goodbye and wondered if the next time I come back will I be bringing my son back to begin his own memories on Bison hill. It's a nice thought actually. I wonder if they still make them learn Ka-rip? I don't think I'll tell him about that.

The Faces of AIDS

Children with AIDS. Mothers with AIDS. Babies orphaned by AIDS. It's easier to let it pass quickly from our minds when we don't have faces to attach to this disease. But those who are affected by AIDS have faces, and smiles, and eyes that cry, and hearts that break for the loved ones they will leave behind and for the ones they have lost. Kyle was able to talk to mothers with AIDS, give crocs to children with AIDS and play with the babies of parents who have died with AIDS. The stories are incredible, but they are just people, like us. And they are dying by the ten of thousands every day. The numbers are hard to fathom, but when you look at the faces, suddenly the numbers take on a very different meaning. Every "number" is a person that God has created - knit together in the womb - with the love of a Father. He has created them for a purpose, and his heart breaks when their lives are affected, or stolen by AIDS. His heart is breaking and so should ours. The crazy thing is, we can do something about this. Antiretroviral medicines are cheap. Very cheap. And when an AIDS patient - even one who is in the latter stages of AIDS - begins taking these medicines there is something called the Lazarus effect. They literally come up off the deathbed and get better. If you've seen photos of people who have experienced the Lazarus effect you wouldn't believe it. And the medicine that literally could save millions of lives is, I repeat, cheap. In Ethiopia, the government provides antiretroviral medicine for free (It is NOT this way in many African countries) but they don't do a very good job of providing education about how to stop the spread of AIDS, and they don't do a very good job of educating about AIDS in general, so there is a great stigma attached to it. People don't want to admit they have it until it is too late. Paperwork must be filled out to get the medicine, and when you are on your deathbed with no one else around to help you but a seven year-old boy who can't get to town to get the paperwork, then it doesn't do much good if the medicine is free. The sad stories are endless, and I promise tomorrow I will do a cheerier post. But Kyle and I think about these things, and wonder what those of us, who have been given so much, can do.