Give Thanks

I watched the TV screen as throngs of children ran towards an unimpressive white van that drove towards them across the hot, sandy desert.  The children, their black skin gleaming in the unsympathetic heat of noonday, sang in joyful unison, dancing and leaping across the dry ground as they formed several long lines.  Large barrels of food- mushy porridge of some sort- were removed from the back of the white van and several women began scooping the goop into red plastic bowls and handing them to the eager children, one by one.

They were starving.  Their ribs showed through the skin that stretched tight across their small, angular frames.  Still, they stood patiently, waiting their turn.  As each child received a portion, they began to eat and I smiled in sympathy for these poor kids who were grateful for even wallpaper-paste-like-gook that I would have gladly skipped a meal to avoid; and I smiled because they were being fed.  It was a beautiful sight, these sunny, joy-filled faces getting to fill their empty bellies.

Then--

The unthinkable happened.

The food ran out.

My mouth fell open and I leaned forward, staring at the television screen in disbelief.  Nearly half the children were still standing there, unfed.  How could this happen?  One small girl crawled inside one of the hot barrels and began scraping food from the sides with quiet determination.  Another boy, about the same age as Joshua, suddenly realized the significance of the empty barrels and began to cry.

I cried with him.

I pictured my own son.  I imagined the emotions that would tear my heart to pieces if he were hungry.  If the hope of food was taken from right beneath his nose as he watched his playmates gobble down their last bites, knowing there would be none for him.

I cried harder.

How is it that we have come to take so much for granted?  And place so much importance on obtaining THINGS?  We're a society that loves our things.  I complain that my living room rug is shabby and the computer is working slowly, I didn't have time to put makeup on and oh, heaven forbid, there's a hole in my brand new sock and my shoes don't match my pants.

It's hard to look past our own reality at times, but while some of us are busy whining about petty things, there are children starving...to death.  There are people wondering how they're going to pay rent.  Battling sickness and disease.  Living in pain.  Losing loved ones.  These suffering people are perhaps not to be envied, but there's something that most of them have, that we should all possess, yet often forget to cultivate: a spirit of thankfulness.  Thankfulness for the little things.  Thankfulness for food, whether it's a bowl of mush or a big juicy steak dinner; thankfulness for stability and money; thankfulness for good health, something we always take for granted until we don't have it, right?  Thankfulness for the gift of life.

We are surrounded by gifts from the Father, who showers us with blessings we don't deserve.  We should really take the time to notice them.  To thank Him for each one.  We don't realize how precious these gifts are until they are suddenly stripped away.

Bedroom Makeover

Our plans for the kitchen/dining room are on temporary hold (including the painting).  We will resume when a fabulous deal for kitchen cabinets comes along.  We are keeping a watchful eye on Craigslist.  Our current cabinets are not that old, but neither are they withstanding the time.  To paint before we know what the kitchen will look like is a sure ticket to painting again, and--believe it or not, I don't want that.  My living room has seen 3 colors, yes, so one would think I'm quite addicted to painting.  And, okay, I am.  But there are more projects in this house than I can count and extra painting will only slow us down. 

In the meantime, we decided to fix our bedroom.  We both reached the point where we just couldn't stand the ugliness any longer.  The bare, yellowed walls, the paint splattered floor (which still lives on), the poorly placed furniture and the lack of color.  The bedroom is where one goes to see reprieve in its many and varied forms, after a long, tiring day.  It should be a place of relaxation, restoration and peace.  Ours wasn't. 

So...with a jig and a jog, we were off to Ikea.  I wandered through the textile department for a long, long time, looking for the cheapest options, and ways to put them together in the nicest way possible.  I finally found a $60 duvet cover (which I put over our old brown comforter to save at least $100), a couple of pillows for $1 each, and a $20 rug.  I've learned from experience that it's better to know everything else about a room (colors, textures, lighting, etc.) before choosing a paint color.  Not the other way around. 

Everything else I used for the room was stuff we already had, including the curtains, which I 'borrowed' from the living room.  The living room as the old ones back up because it can stand to wait for something better.

I didn't remember to take a before picture, so this one will have to do.  I've posted it before.  It's a random picture I took for absolutely no apparent reason, right after my parents left at Christmas and John and I were moving our stuff back in. 

John did most of the work, me helping where I could, and Joshua 'helping' with as many tasks as we could come up with for him.

Cracks repaired and furniture moved out....BEFORE:

AFTER:

BEFORE (I think that's kind of obvious...)

 AFTER:

I love owning a house and adding our own little personal touches.  It's amazing how a coat of paint can change the whole feel of a room. :-)

Yesterdays

SUMMER '93: After dinner the three of us went outside and sat on the platform of the swing set Dad had built for us.

“What are we going to do this summer?” Derek asked, calling our meeting to order.    

Mark was holding a thick stick in his hands and pulled a piece of Mom’s kitchen twine out of his pocket.  He tied it to the end of the stick and whipped it in the air.  I covered my head, even though he was aiming it in the opposite direction.

  

“Maybe we should go on a long bike ride,” Derek suggested, reaching out and grabbing Mark’s stick.  He threw it to the ground.  “You have to hurry up and learn how to ride, Mark.”

 

“Hey!” Mark protested, focused on the stick.  He wriggled off the platform and climbed down the ladder to retrieve his new toy, but Derek jumped easily off the other end and picked it up before Mark had his feet on the ground.  He spun around and whipped Mark on the back of  his legs.

 

“We can’t go on a long bike ride.  We’re not allowed off the street,” I said logically, ignoring their antics.  Mark picked a rock up from the ground and recklessly hurled it towards Derek’s head.  He was always reckless.  Derek dodged the rock and it landed with a thud against the side of the house.  The smiles faded from their faces.  My disapproving frown remained intact.  We stopped moving and stared at the window, waiting breathlessly for Dad or Mom to appear.  A minute passed, and nothing happened.  We relaxed and Mark dove across the rocky lawn and landed on top of his stick.  

“Ha!” he cried victoriously, returning to his feet.

I sat down on one of the swings, pumping my legs, swinging higher and higher.  I tilted my head backwards until my hair brushed the ground when I came back down.  I could see the moon, still pale in the dusky sky just above the green roof of our house.  I stopped swinging and stared at it intently.  I heard there was a man up there, but I never understood what that meant.  I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

 

“People find fossils and bones in their backyards.  Maybe I can find a whole dinosaur skeleton,” Derek said, returning to the important task of planning our summer.  “I’m going to be an archaeologist one day.  I might find Noah’s ark.”  By the triumphant tone in his voice, you’d think he’d already found it.

Derek looked at Mark.  “What are you going to be when you grow up?” he asked in a superior voice, certain that nobody could top his high and lofty ambitions.  He tilted his head back and looked down his nose at Mark, raising his eyebrows and clearing his throat.  Mark looked up, distracted by the grasshopper that was clinging to the end of his stick.  He shrugged.  “I’m going to stay at home and live with Mom and Dad.”

“You can’t do that!” Derek scoffed.  “How are you going to make money?”

 

The grasshopper jumped off the stick and into grass and Mark returned his full attention to Derek.  “I have a bank account.”

“You can’t live off of five dollars for the rest of your life,” I informed him unapologetically.  There were so many things I wanted to do; I couldn’t wait to grow up.  I looked at Mark and wondered how he could be so calm about his intentions to stay at home with our parents for the rest of his life.  Who wanted that?

“Where ya goin’, Daddy?” called Mark, pulling me back from my thoughts.  The screen door banged shut and I heard the familiar jingle of the car keys as Dad pulled them from the pocket of his well-worn jeans.

 

“Well,” he said, looking over at us.  “I’m going to get ice cream for Mom.  I didn’t think you’d want any.”  We laughed and started running towards the car.  Dad scooped Mark up as he ran past him, and turned him upside down.  “Where do you think you’re going?”  He teased.  Mom stood at the screen door laughing as Mark squealed and tried to free himself.  Dad started spinning in circles and Mark’s head fell back and his eyes bulged as he laughed so hard that no noise came from his mouth.  I smiled.  Living at home with Dad and Mom wasn’t such a bad thing.  For now.

Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting back at the swingset with our melting ice cream cones.  We had all ordered the same bright blue bubble gum ice cream,  and we counted the gum pieces to see who got the most, talking little but enjoying the twilit evening. 

~~~~

We're all grown up now.  

I am a wife.  A mother.  I am still logical. 

Derek is not an archeologist.

Mark lived with his parents until he died.

I think back to those carefree, twilit evenings when we were free to dream.  Life was good.  Easy.  We were undaunted.  Full of hope.  We were invincible.  Blissfully unaware of the trials we would face only ten years later.  

Today, we are still headed in the same direction: straight for tomorrow. 


 Cherish each moment.  Dare to dream.  Love each other like it's your last day together.  


When tomorrow gets here, yesterday is a long time ago.

Joshua wanted to buy me flowers yesterday.  He said, "I want to give you flowers because you're nice!"  My heart melted.  Random, yes, but something I want to remember.  I told him we didn't have money to buy flowers but that I loved that he wanted to do that.

The Cost of Eating: Canada vs USA {groceries}

My parents and I decided to make a "fake" grocery list of (mostly) basic food items that everyone has in their pantry and write down the total cost for the items at our respective grocery stores- theirs in Ontario and mine in Pennsylvania.

The idea started when John and I went grocery shopping in Ontario, before heading for my parent's house in December.  I wanted to pick up a few things that I knew my parents wouldn't have.  We maxed our weekly grocery budget in short order and I was shocked at the prices.  It was the first time I had ever really paid attention to the cost of food in Canada...because this time I was paying.

I spend $80 a week on groceries in the states, and try very hard not to go over-budget.  I rarely do, though there are weeks I have to wonder how I managed to pull it off.  I am currently looking into coupon stacking which will potentially lower my weekly costs by even more, but for now, I browse the flyers and plan my menu by sales.  I have NEVER paid more than $1.99/lb for meat.  It's all about stockpiling and buying enough to last until the next sale.

Anyway, when I expressed my surprise to my parents, we thought it would be fun to see how much of a difference there REALLY is by making the aforementioned "fake" list and writing down the prices to find the total.  It took a while to get around to doing this, but on Thursday, we finally wrote a list, and the results are in.

THE RULES

We agreed to buy the cheapest brand in each category, rather than worry about labels and name brands.  I shopped at Shoprite and Produce Junction.  My parents shopped at Zehrs.  If the item was on sale, we noted the sale price, NOT the regular price.  

OUR GROCERY LIST

1 liter 2% milk
1 dozen eggs
16oz block cheddar cheese
16 slices processed cheese
1 carton cream cheese
16 oz sour cream
large container of vanilla yogurt
1 lb butter
1 qt vanilla ice cream
1 liter orange juice
1 tin coffee
3 lbs chicken breast
1 lb ground beef
3 lb roast beef (cheapest cut)
3 lbs green pepper
5 lbs apples
4 lbs bananas
1 head romaine lettuce
1 head broccoli
10 lbs potatoes
3 lemons
1 avocado
5 lbs white flour
5 lbs white sugar
spaghetti pasta
28 oz can diced tomatoes
28 oz can tomato sauce
small can tomato paste
1 loaf wheat bread
Oreo cookies
16oz peanut butter
1 can tuna fish
2 cans baked beans
1 pkg long-grain rice
ketchup (average squeeze-bottle size)
1 bottle salad dressing
'medium' box of Cheerios
laundry detergent (small bottle)

THE RESULTS


The GRAND TOTAL was....

$153.89 in Canada

and...

$70.22 in the USA

Life is Beautiful

One of the things were were planning to do yesterday, following our second Armenian Christmas dinner, was visit Aunt Roxie.  She is in a nursing home about an hour from here and we wrapped a bunch of leftover food for her.  Of course, big gatherings like this aren't wrapped up as quickly as the leftovers (nor would I want them to!) and by the time we could actually leave the house, it was too late.  Everyone was tired, still had to drive home, and... it just wasn't going to happen.

John had today off, so we decided to take the leftovers to Aunt Roxie and visit her.  She's a dear, sweet lady whom I have met twice before: once at my wedding and later when we went to visit her with baby Joshua, only a year old at the time.  She lived in an assisted living home at the time, but has since injured herself and been transfered to a nursing home indefinitely.  

Honestly, this was my first time in a nursing home.  Before that, all my elderly relatives were in assisted living homes or hospitals or in their own home.  This was a whole new experience; one that you hear about and don't fully understand until you get there.  The first thing that struck me was the smell.  It turned my stomach.  And then my eyes took over.  The hallways were lined with people in wheelchairs.  Some of them were living bodies whose souls appeared to have died long ago.  Others just sat and stared into oblivion because they were doing the same thing this afternoon that they did every day all week long, and for weeks before that, too.  And then there were the people who looked up and saw Joshua.  They reached out their hands, beckoning for him to come.  They waved.  One man winked.  The sight of a fresh young face seemed to cheer some, and for others it seemed to cause a lonely ache.  There's plenty of germs in a place like that, and I found out a virus has gone though recently, so I kept Joshua close to me.  It kind of hurt to do so.  A little boy, toddling along in his fluffy winter coat, carrying a toy train in his hand and flashing shy smiles as he walked by seemed to them a ray of sunshine and I felt like the cloud, keeping him pulled close to my side.  I smiled too, and some smiled back, but really there was nothing better than Joshua.

Aunt Roxie- I didn't even recognize her.  She was in a wheel chair with her eyes half shut, looking so dull and sleepy.  It wasn't until we were close and she looked up that I saw her bright face.  She didn't recognize us at first and thought we were asking for money.  I don't think she ever recognized us, actually, but she did eventually realize that we were 'friends' just coming by to say hi.  She talked to Joshua, her face lighting up every time he looked at her.  He showed her his train and told her we didn't bring flowers.  We couldn't find a florist shop and Joshua was disappointed because he wanted to give them to her.  We gave her the food and though she loves the taste of her heritage, I don't think she quite understood that it was for her.  John gave the food to the nurse at the desk.  Who knows if she'll ever get it.

It all got me to thinking about how precious life is.  I walked out of that place with tears in my eyes.  They were once children, running through the grass barefoot and carefree.  Then young parents with babies, working, cooking, cleaning, having fun.  People with a past and a story, and who worked hard for what they had.  People that we could respect, admire and learn from.  And it all ended in a nursing home.  Where the hallways smell of urine and echo with the sounds of pain, while those in less pain sit, just staring at the floor, waiting for a nurse to come by and take them to bed, so that in the morning it can start all over again.

What we work for and what we put our time and efforts into, they really matter.  If we work for riches and fame and we achieve the greatest success, it still ends, one way or another.  Everything ends.  The only things that last are the things we take to Heaven.  

If I am to be perfectly honest, I don't want to get old.  Not like that.  I want to live in my own home, and when I can no longer do that, I don't want to be around.  I'd much rather go hang out in Heaven.  Forever.  But if I do end up in some nursing home where my family visits as much as they can, but not nearly enough to kill the long hours, and there's nothing I can do but sit and stare and stare and sit, I hope I can think back (if I CAN think at the point in my life) and know that I invested my life in the best way I knew how, to last into an eternity with Christ.  Nothing else will matter.

I know there are other people who can express these thoughts much more eloquently than I just did.  I'm not even sure that I've done a good job, here, but do know that today changed my life.  It reaffirmed what I already know and often forget: life is PRECIOUS.  It is BEAUTIFUL.  It is full of MEANING and PURPOSE if we choose to find it.  We should LOVE and LAUGH as often and as much as we can.  We should SERVE God.  We should take CARE of our bodies.  And maybe we should even spend a little bit of time lending some sunshine to the lives of those who will be spending the last weeks and months of their lives staring at the bleak tile floors of a nursing home.  Sharing with them the love of JESUS so that when they die, they can LIVE again.  Forever.  

Joshua's Story- "Butterfly and Me."

Joshua makes up creative stories every day while he plays with his trains.  Sometimes, when we are driving in the van, he asks us to tell him stories, and other times, he'll tell one to us.  Tonight I asked him to tell me another one so I could write it down.  He didn't understand what I was doing at first.  He made up a "title" and I wrote it down.  I read it out loud, pointing to the words, and his face lit up with excitement.  He got it.  Here's his story, word for word:

BUTTERFLY AND ME 

Butterfly and Joshua were playing football game outside.  And a big car outside and it drive fast and it drived slow first.  And it CRASHED!  And it said, "Oh no, Joshua!" said butterfly.  And then it come back up and it got fixed.  It got some tape.  

And it come back and crashed.  And then Daddy said, "OH NO!"  

"We need some measuring tape Daddy," said Joshua.  "We need, I need to come back up again Daddy."

The End.