Crunchy Clothes and Memi's

We made it. Survived. Endured. Persevered. Flourished, even! Our first two weeks in Italy are drawing to a close and I am pleased to announce that we are adjusting quickly to our new life here, and pinching ourselves on a daily basis. The bedtime tears ended on about day four. Anna, especially, still misses home occasionally. However, in a complete 180 degree turn, she announced before bed a few nights ago, “I think we will definitely be coming back. I just love our apartment and how we know everybody in it, and just all of the stuff about Italy. I love it here.” Whaaaaat? Is this the same child who I thought was going to require serious psychological intervention for the trauma inflicted upon her by her wanderlust-filled parents?

You bet. My little old soul and her brother beg to be taken to the hours-long five to seven course dinners (aside from the first one where Grant fell asleep). They silently absorb the adventures and tales recounted by other professors about the years when they brought their children. They soak up the Italian and Slovenian and French and English accents of the other faculty and staff. They greeted the jet-lagged college students with an understanding of the shock and potential homesickness these young people are experiencing in their first days here.

Grant snoozed through his first five course dinner

Then there is the matter of food. The English language simply does not possess the words to describe the food here. La dolce vita, indeed. The sweet life. We have cooked dinner at home exactly one time thus far.  Sad, but true. With handmade gnocchi, freshly picked radicchio, melt-in-your-mouth cheeses, savory mushrooms, and sweet oranges from Naples at every meal, it’s hard not to take in all that Italy has to offer, usually at very affordable prices. We were going to cook our pasta at home tonight, but we were invited to yet another dinner of pizza with friends. Every slice of pizza eaten by Grant these past two weeks has been declared, “The best pizza I have ever eaten.” Some of the pizza menus have consisted of no less than 5-6 pages of gourmet pizzas (served with wine, of course, which is often less expensive than the soda). Unbelievable. Grant finally tried the pizza with French fries. Our apartment kitchen consists of a small refrigerator and freezer, a gas stove, and a small oven-type mechanism that is slightly larger than a toaster oven. Speaking of toaster ovens, Matt exchanged our toaster oven (yes, we had one of those, too) for the microwave in the apartment next door. Our neighbor was here briefly to teach an MBA class and asked us to return her keys since she had an early flight. We are learning that the items within the apartments differ, and are constantly being switched around. Thus, there was a microwave switcheroo before returning the keys. As we have a LOT of leftovers, this will be likely get much more use than the oven contraption. Our dishwasher is named Matt, Carrie, Anna, and Grant. J

Gnocchi with Radicchio and Walnuts in Cortina

We also have a moka pot. I learned that a bialetti is a moka (not mocha) pot. This explains my confusion over where the chocolate goes in this fancy, yet simple, little coffee pot. It makes a very strong pot of coffee, and we will likely be bringing one home in the spring.

Agriturismos are perhaps one of my favorite finds thus far. Agriturismos are restaurants that must produce a minimum of 60 percent of their ingredients on site. They are small farms with their own vineyards, pigs, cows, chickens… you get the idea. The food is fresh and the atmosphere is family friendly. We ate at Memi’s, and it felt like we were eating in Memi’s farmhouse. He even pulled up a chair to pour us a variety of very strong liquors. I wasn’t a fan of these, but his Prosecco? Divine. I could write an entire blog entry on this experience alone. In case you decide to pay Memi a visit, be forewarned: he is very affectionate guy, kisses on both cheeks for everyone.

Memi pouring limoncello, blueberry, and walnut licquor

Gnocchi with Smoked Ricotto

Memi's Agriturismo

We do not have a dryer or wifi in our apartment. Out of all of possible amenities to miss in America, these are the two that I miss the most. There is no surfing the internet in the comfort of our bed to plan out our next adventure. We must walk to campus with all of our cables and such, find an empty classroom, and pray that the wifi is having a good day.  We thought we were living in the lap of luxury when we had (spotty) wifi in our hotel in Cortina. And crunchy clothes and towels? Not exactly my cup of tea. “Wrinkle-free” and “wrinkle resistant” shirts are activated by the heat of a dryer, and skinny jeans? Once they stretch out, getting them “skinny” again without a dryer is one of our great challenges. That said, these little inconveniences are a small price to pay for our once-in-a-lifetime experiences here.

Matt has a very unusual teaching schedule these first few weeks.  It is very Italian in that he wasn’t informed of his exact schedule until we arrived. We then discovered that although he had meetings, etc., he had several lengthy breaks before his regular MWF schedule begins (which then changes to a Tuesday/Thursday schedule later in the spring). Thus, we have already been to Venice once and skied in the Alps of Cortina d’Ampezzo for two days. We almost made it to the top of Monte Grappa in our little Fiat Punto (nicknamed “Spot”), but were stopped just short due to the whiteout conditions. We have learned about the World War I battle on Monte Grappa that served as a turning point in the war, and the plague doctor’s masks in Venice. We saw the copper horses inside Saint Mark’s Basilica and the ski jump from the 1956 Olympics in Cortina. We took photos in Bassano del Grappa on the breathtaking Ponte degli Alpini bridge, designed by Palladio in 1569. We are living by the motto, “If we have a break, take it.” There are plenty of sights to see in the small villages surrounding Paderno del Grappa, so there is always something new to see on a lazy afternoon.

Speaking of lazy… The shops and restaurants in the small villages around here still close every afternoon from 12:30-3:30, and are closed on Sundays. Most restaurants are closed on Mondays.  In our first jet-lagged days, we would barely have pulled ourselves together by the time the shops were closing. Although it can be frustrating at times, I love that the Italians still value family time and long, restful afternoons together before returning to work.

I think we just might make it here! With olive groves and vineyards around every corner, inexpensive wine with every meal, mountain tops glazed with snow, and a backyard brimming with history, we’re going to be just fine in Italy and the rest of Europe.  Probably better than fine… even if we are wearing crunchy clothes.

Skiing the Alps in Cortina d'Ampezzo

Ski Bum

Breathtaking Views Around Every Corner

Downtown Cortina... Magical!

The Drive to Monte Grappa

It got a little sketchy at the top of Monte Grappa

Hot chocolate before heading down the mountain

World War I Memorabilia at the top of Monte Grappa

Ponte degli Alpini in Bassano del Grappa

Ponte degli Alpini

Just a few of the "Best Pizzas Ever"

Train Ride to Venice!

Grand Canal in Venice

Pigeons in Piazza San Marco

The Plague Doctor's Mask

The One Thing We Forgot

2:00 a.m. Wednesday, January 14, 2015

So here we are! We made it! Three planes and an hour-long taxi ride later… we made it. We’re in Paderno del Grappa, Italy… living the dream. And we’re in tears. It’s 2 a.m. in Italy (7 p.m. at home), and after the kids have had their share of homesick meltdowns tonight, while they (and Matt) are fast asleep, it’s time for me to have mine. Here’s the thing. We spent so much time over the past few weeks making all of the physical preparations for this trip that we forgot to prepare our hearts. Because it IS hard to leave friends and family and everything that is safe and known. We mistakenly thought that because we had traveled around the world before, we were totally prepared to set down semi-permanent roots for a few months.  After traveling for nearly 24 hours with only a few hours of sleep on a plane from Charlotte to London, it is VERY hard to be dropped into a world where you can’t even read the cereal box in the tiny market to know if anyone in your household will eat it. What seems exotic and fun on a vacation, suddenly seems overwhelming when you realize that this is going to be your day-to-day. I spoke with the kids about how this is just a taste of what it will feel like for our sweet Tai when we bring him home from Korea. My heart sank when we were told that “No, we don’t really have oatmeal in Italy.” Whaaat? I can totally survive a couple of weeks without oatmeal on a vacation if necessary, but it’s my standby to get me started for the day. Matt, too. Such a tiny, trivial thing, but it broke me anyway. I have no choice but to find an alternate fuel source in the morning before a long run, and a croissant with Nutella just isn’t going to cut it. It is all of the little things that, when jetlagged, begin to overwhelm.

Sure, we were warmly greeted by the university staff here. We were given our little Fiat Punto (the kids now know the term “killed it” in relation to our driving of a stick shift and are keeping a running total- we’re a little rusty), taken to our sparsely furnished, yet clean, apartment, and told that we would learn more when Matt attends the orientation meeting on Thursday. This seems to be a standard answer whenever we ask a question. “Yes, we’ll explain that Thursday.” Actually, it’s more like, “Yesuh, we’lluh explainuh  thatuh onuh Tursday.” This does not jive with my “I-need-to-get-my-family-settled-and-make-this-all –seem-okay-to-them” brain. As expected, the views from the apartment of the nearby church and mountains are spectacular. Grant was especially quiet, huddled with his blankie in a chair. We were exhausted. When our campus liaison, Stephania, left, Grant burst into tears. “I thought it was going to be like a hotel, “ he sobbed into his blankie. “It would be a little better if it had carpet,” he moaned. Evidently the cold tile didn’t evoke the homey atmosphere he was envisioning. Meanwhile, every so often Anna would burst into tears because she had forgotten to say “bye” to certain friends, she missed her dogs, and she just wanted to go home. Living the dream, folks! Sheesh. We decided to drive around a bit to a few of the nearby villages to get a feel for our surroundings and try to keep the kids awake until at least 8:00.

We toured the beautiful campus, where there are basketball goals and soccer fields that will certainly get use by our G-force. Grant was awed by the ENORMOUS cypress trees, a smattering of palm trees, and gigantic evergreens scattered throughout the landscape. We then returned to our apartment to get ready for dinner.

Did I mention that it wasn’t just the tile that was cold in our apartment? The entire apartment was frigid. Upon arrival, we were told about the heating regulations imposed by the government and that our heat had been turned on, but it would only run during certain parts of the day. We fully expected our apartment to have warmed up after we explored the area a bit in our little car. Wrong. We finally alerted Stephania and she came to investigate. Another campus official was then called to the scene. Meanwhile, our children are starving and hanging on by a very thin thread. The repair man can’t come until tomorrow, so they bring us space heaters. This helps. A little. Except that the finicky, old Italian electricity keeps throwing a breaker every few minutes. We can’t use all of the heaters. The last straw was when we returned from dinner and the little apartment had retained zero heat. We didn’t want to risk the fire hazard of having a space heater in the kids’ room all night, so we called Stephania and informed her that we would need to find a hotel. At this point, it is 9:00 p.m. Tuesday night, and we haven’t slept in a bed since Sunday night.

One of the professors has not yet arrived. This is our saving grace tonight. Instead of packing up again and heading to a hotel, we were able to just move our bedding downstairs to the warm, empty apartment. We all agreed that we prefer our little upstairs apartment, so we are praying that it is fixed tomorrow (or today, I guess- jet lag brain). Grant and Anna both agreed that our first apartment is more inviting and home-like, so there’s that bit of perspective gained by them through this experience.

As I write this, I know that I will not be able to share it until tomorrow. We have no wi-fi in our apartment, which I thought would not bother me. Wrong. Suddenly, I long for interaction with the outside world and our little world at home. Also, the television in our first apartment does not work, so they swapped it with the downstairs apartment (which is where we are now staying- ahhhhh!). As we were going to bed tonight in our temporary apartment Matt looked at me and said, “Someday we’re going to laugh about this.”  I couldn’t help but giggle. We have been through some crazy times together over the past 14 years of marriage. Although we weren’t quite prepared for the tears today, we knew it would be an adjustment. We know it will get better. Easier. We are learning a new normal, and as soon as we are comfortable, it will be time to go home.

I have to end with a couple of highlights, so here they are:

I will never forget Anna’s face and excitement as she tracked our plane as it neared London. We arrived in the dark of early morning with the glittering lights of the city spread out beneath us. It was glorious. Tracking the plane as it flew over the Irish coast and neared London, she was giddy.  As for Grant, I never want to forget how much he savored every bite of his ham and cheese croissant on the flight from London to Venice. “This is a good sandwich! That cheese really stands out!” Ha! Yes, that was standout cheese, indeed.

God is good. He is here with us, and He has a plan for us right here in the midst of the chaos. He is teaching us, molding us, and stretching us. He has us here for a reason. Tonight I am praying for a warm apartment and eyes to see the opportunities set before us on this journey. Sending hugs and love to all of our friends and family at home! Ciao for now…

Tulsa Airport

Osprey should pay us for our advertising

One tired boy- even BEFORE we left Tulsa

Saying goodbye to the grandparents

The boys snoozed even after the lights came on as we cruised toward London

Soooo excited to be nearing London

Flying over the Swiss Alps- almost there!

A view from one of the many huge windows in our apartment

The gate to our apartment

Touring the CIMBA campus

Grant's dinner at the Hotel Montegrappa

Standing in our "yard" gazing out at the mountains

Update: After 14 hours of sleep (the kids awoke only because we finally decided to awaken them), fratelli (little donuts with chocolate inside), a visit to campus for wi-fi, and HEAT in our apartment, I think we can all agree... It will take some adjusting, but this is going to be one heck of an experience!

The Call...

On August 11, almost exactly 24 hours after blogging about going to Italy and the fact that we really had no news on the adoption front, we got THE CALL...

That morning, I arrived home from the gym all out of sorts. I walked into Matt's office and unloaded what was weighing on my heart, "I'm not sure we're supposed to adopt from Haiti right now. Maybe we should look closer at China. The wait time is so much shorter there. I just don't have clarity on any of it, and it stresses me out that we are reaching a point where we have to choose a country. I just really wish we would get a referral call and not have to make that decision." My stomach was in knots. I loved all of the babies in all of the countries. I didn't want to choose. By saying "yes" to one country, we would be saying "no" to all of the children in the other countries. Matt and I had decided that when we arrived back home from our trip to Florida, we would make a decision about countries. We were anxious to get our spot in line for a child, especially since some families wait years for the referral of a child.

I'm fairly certain that I didn't take a breath during that entire purging of thoughts. Matt looked up from his computer and calmly replied, "I think your blood sugar is low. You need to go eat something." And so I did. But while I ate, I prayed. I prayed for clarity. I prayed that we would receive a referral. I prayed that somehow we would just "know" which country and which child would be the best fit. I prayed for peace about all of it. And I prayed for our child.

About six hours later I found myself back-to-school shopping with Anna at the mall. She was trying on "the cutest dress ever" (her words) in the Dillards dressing room when my phone rang. It was 4:42 p.m. I didn't recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail. When I listened, I heard a familiar voice, "Hi Carrie. This is A (the Open Options director). I have B (the Korea program director) with me and we were calling to talk to you about a referral. We're going to try Matt's phone next." I immediately texted Matt that he needed to pick up his phone when the call came through. The next thing I know, Matt is calling me.

"Hey. I have A and B on the phone. You want me to patch you in?"

Anna is still admiring "the cutest dress ever." Gulp. I lean against the corner of the dressing room. "Sure."

And then I hear the words I shall never forget,

"Okay...We have a referral, guys. It's a boy! And he's cute as can be."

Like the child in one of my favorite children's books, Knuffle Bunny, I went boneless. I was numb. I tried to process A's words. She told me his birth date. I jolted back to reality.

"He's young." Much younger than we anticipated. We had just raised the age range on our paperwork to include up to a seven year-old. We fully expected to be bringing home an older child. But a baby? These days, most babies are adopted within their home countries unless they have significant special needs, which begged my next question.

"Any special needs we should know about?" I was expecting her to list one or more of the needs we had marked "yes" to on our checklist. A heart baby, perhaps? A missing finger or hand? Cleft lip?

"Nope. He's meeting all of his milestones and appears healthy. Would you guys like to see his files?"

Still numb, we responded with a definite "Yes."

We opted not to see photos and video initially. As Matt always says, "No one goes to just look at puppies. Once you see them, it's hard to leave without one." A added that when we read the files, there would be information about his birth family that we would probably want to integrate into his story someday if he was our son.

We quickly bought "the cutest dress ever" at Dillards and left the mall. There would be no more shopping that day. I'm not even sure if "the cutest dress ever" rang up at the sale price. I didn't care. I couldn't concentrate. I could barely remember my PIN number for my debit card as I paid. I'm sure the cashier thought I was on a controlled substance. Every few seconds I felt tears bubbling to the surface and tried to suppress them.

I was obsessively checking e-mail on my phone for the files to come through. I couldn't remember where I parked. And when we reached the car, I remember thinking, "Concentrate, Carrie. You have your daughter in the back of the vehicle. Just drive." But I didn't. I still hit the refresh button for my e-mail at every stoplight. About one mile from home, the files came through. I started scanning at the last stoplight. I read his name, the one given by his birth parents... and its beautiful meaning. I started reading his story. And I started to cry.

Every adoption begins with loss. In a perfect world, there would be no need for adoption. We will not be sharing his story with the general public. It will be his story to share if and when he decides to do so. What I will say is that he was loved with a love beyond what most of us will ever know. Our prayers were answered. We prayed every night that he would know that he was loved. Most of us, if we are lucky, know the love of two parents. Our son was loved by his birth parents, his foster parents, and now us. Parental love times three.

We reviewed the rest of his medical records. It was official. We wanted photos. And video. I turned to Matt after we watched the video. "I think I already love him." A few days later, when Anna watched the video for the first time, she said the exact same words. He is one big chunk of Korean cuteness with smiles that melt a mama's heart. I just want to snuggle his little roly-poly body. He is almost twice the size that my other babies were at his age. As an adoptive mom, seeing those chubby cheeks and smiling eyes makes my heart soar. One of adoptive moms' biggest fears is that our babies are starving. Our family prayed every night that our new addition would have a full belly. Matt burst out laughing when I reminded him of this. Our baby boy has obviously been well fed. One more prayer answered!

I was still trying to wrap my mind around a Korean baby. South Korea. Halfway around the world. Fourteen hours ahead of us. I had thought that Korea was not an option for us. Some of the babies coming from Korea have had alcohol exposure, sometimes very high levels of it. Every family has certain lines it won't cross, and for us, alcohol exposure is one of those. We knew we should just accept him for the amazing blessing that he was, but we couldn't help but ask the question, "Why us? Why didn't a Korean family adopt him? Why didn't someone in the Korea program match up with him? What have we done to deserve this healthy baby boy?" Children only become available to those of us in the Open Options program if someone in their country program does not match up.

We asked. We were told that lots of Korean babies are coming to our agency lately, and that this little guy needed a family who was both "paper-ready" (nearing the completion of the home study) and matched up with his special care conditions.  His special care conditions were related to his family history rather than his physical condition. We were a match on both items. As A reminded me, though, "The only real explanation is that it was God." Yet another reason I love our agency.

Only weeks before, we had met with our agency about another child. This is rarely spoken of in the adoption world outside of those in the trenches, but many adoptive parents have had to say "no" to a child (or children) before they were able to say "yes" to another. It is heartbreaking, but part of a process that brings prospective parents one step closer to the child who God has planned for them. We knew very quickly that this was not our child, and I felt completely at peace about our decision. However, the dialogue we had with the program directors led us to alter our special care conditions checklist. Had we not changed one item in particular, we would not have been a match with our little Korean cutie.  I pulled out the checklist and looked. I had scribbled through the "no" box and switched the response to "maybe." All year I have praying that I would be intentional in all aspects of my life, and open to whatever God has planned for me. I'm so glad that I listened to that nudging from Him. God is in the smallest details. Even the checkmark in a box.

Please keep up us in your prayers as we begin the lengthy process of waiting. Our paperwork is headed to Korea, and we are told that it will be between 16 and 22 months before we are able to bring our little man home. Sigh. In the meantime he is no longer in an orphanage, but in arguably the highest quality foster care system in the world. Korean foster mamas love their foster babies, and he is currently in what appears to be a very loving family. We are preparing our first care package for him (and them). We appreciate them more than they will ever know. He will likely be at least two years old when he comes home, and we will be facing the added adoption issues of grieving for his foster family and learning a new language. The process has been speeding up slightly as the country has gotten into the groove of implementing new laws. Please pray that this process is expedited, as we would love to have our baby home as quickly as possible.

We will be making two trips to Korea. During the first trip, we will appear in court before a judge and answer several questions. We will be able to see our son for two one-hour visits. You read that correctly. We will fly around the world to see our son for two hours.  Approximately 5-9 weeks later, we will return to bring him HOME.

At a time when the world seems to have gone mad, please pray for the continued safety of Baby Bowler in South Korea and all of the other children waiting for their forever families. Every night since we began our adoption journey, we have prayed that our child would be safe, have a full belly, and know that he or she was loved. Please join us in this prayer as we work to bring our chubby baby boy to his forever home.

A Gift for Anna

Our first baby turns eleven today. She told me last week, "I can't wait to read what you write for me for my birthday this year!" Yikes. The pressure. I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I guess I do write a little something for her every year. Last year was the first time I published it on my blog (with her permission, of course).

This year, I'm doing it a little differently. I'll probably still write her a letter about how she has grown and changed this past year, along with a little motherly advice. I may or may not share it with the world. But this. This needs sharing.

You see, my sweet Anna has been agonizing over what to she "wants" for her birthday. Everyone asks, "What would you like?" Last year, our aspiring veterinarian requested items that could be donated to a dog shelter. This year, she has toyed with the idea of donations to an orphanage that has captured her heart. As she astutely acknowledged last week, "I have a lot of stuff. I really don't need anything." If only I could remember this myself as I walk the aisles of Target needing only one item. Suddenly, POOF! I am magically at the checkout with a full basket. Ahhhh, I digress. Just like in Target.

While in the shower last night (I do my best thinking in the shower and while running), it occurred to me that perhaps the perfect gift for Anna was sitting in the corner of my room. I just need YOU to make it happen. You see, I have the great privilege of advocating for three special children during the month of October. I am partnering with Compassion International for their Release3 campaign, as each of us works to release at least three children from poverty. I am the ONLY person working to find sponsors for these three children this month. The enormity of this privilege and responsibility does not escape me.

Which brings me back to Anna. No one prays more fervently for our sponsored children than Anna. Our little girl possesses both the gift and burden of extreme empathy, especially after having visited Guatemala two and a half years ago. It has been a joy to receive the letters and photos from our little Rudy and Estefany. In the most recent photo we received from Estefany, she is pictured with her mother and sister... grinning from ear to ear while the items they purchased with a little extra gift we sent are pictured in front of them. Her smiles get bigger and her letters are signed with more "hugs and kisses" every year. She wants to be an attorney in Guatemala when she grows up. Time and again over the past 60 years, Compassion International has proven that one-to-one child sponsorship works.

Estefany and Her Family

So... my great big dream for Anna's birthday is that I am able to tell her at the end of the day that we have found sponsors for all three children. She would sponsor them all if she could.  She was beyond excited when I pitched the idea to her this morning. For only $38 a month, you can provide educational opportunities and mentoring, healthcare, hygiene training, supplementary food if necessary, and a caring and safe Christian environment. The program attends to the child's physical, emotional, social, and spiritual needs. Many of you have told me that you have thought about adopting a child, but aren't sure that is where God is calling you. Guess what? You can be a part of keeping children with their first families when you sponsor a child through Compassion. Orphan prevention at its finest.

So who are these sweet kiddos? I will give you a brief overview of each child's current situation. I have additional information in a packet that I will send to you when you fall in love and can't resist their cuteness. I apologize for the photo quality. They were taken very quickly this morning before Anna headed off to school. I think you get the idea, though. :)

Anna with Bekalu, Francisco, and Purnima in front of her birthday streamers

Purnima Mree... (PRIORITY- lives in a country with a high risk for child rights violations and has been waiting 8 months- IMMEDIATE sponsor needed)

Purnima lives with her father and her mother in Bangladesh. She is responsible for running errands. Her father is sometimes employed as a laborer and her mother maintains the home.

Purnima is not presently attending school. Art and playing with dolls are her favorite activities. She also attends church activities regularly.

Bekalu Kassu... (PRIORITY- lives in an AIDS-affected area and has been waiting 6 months- IMMEDIATE sponsor needed)

Bekalu is from Ethiopia. In his home, Bekalu helps by running errands. He lives with his mother. His mother is sometimes employed. There are two children in the family.

Soccer and hide-and-seek are Bekalu's favorite activities. In pre-school his performance is average and he also regularly attends church activities.

Francisco Guerrero Perez...

Francisco lives with his father and his mother in Mexico. He is responsible for making beds, running errands, and cleaning. His father is sometimes employed and his mother maintains the home.

As part of Compassion's ministry, Francisco participates in church activities and Bible class. He is also in primary school where his performance is average. Art, reading, and playing group games are his favorite activities.


I ask that you join me in prayer for each of these children. They are so vulnerable and in need of stability. Our pastor shared last week that according to a recent study, people are 40% less compassionate now than they were in the 1980s. Let's prove them wrong, friends! True compassion demands action. It requires giving up something we love (in this case money), for something we love even more. When it seems as though the world is crumbling around us, remember that it only takes one person to change the life of another. Each of us can do SOMETHING to ease the burden of another. When you sponsor a child through Compassion, you are part of generational change. When our little Estefany goes to college (and she will go to college), she will change the future of her children and generations to come. And it all started with a letter and $38 per month.



As for Anna, don't worry. She's not Mother Teresa. She'll be getting a few other gifts that will be cast aside within a year. I'm a mom. That's my job.

Look Up

Matt at the Cathedral of Segovia

Matt and I returned last night from a fabulous trip to Madrid for Matt's work. I knew he would need moral support for his presentation, so I graciously agreed to accompany him. Or... I really wanted to spend time with my husband and see Madrid. Whatever.

While we were galavanting around Spain, our children were cared for by their amazing grandparents. They were still in one piece when we returned (grandparents and children), so we'll count that a victory. It may take the grandparents days to recover, but they persevered when it counted. As any parent knows, you do not ease into life after time away. When there are kids involved, you hit the ground running... even if you started the day at 2 a.m. over 5,000 miles away.

So this morning after doing a few loads of laundry, contemplating the rest of the activities for the week, assessing the refrigerator situation (Can we make it one more day before I go to the grocery store? I say "yes." Mac and cheese is a meal, right?), packing snacks and water bottles, locating missing shoes (and the dog's collar and a handful of other items), my mind began to wander.

On our last day in Spain, we made a spur of the moment decision to take a train to Segovia. The beautiful old city is known for its Roman aqueducts, its fairytale castle where Queen Isabella was crowned and later married Ferdinand (It is also supposedly an inspiration for Cinderella's castle at Disney World.), and its cathedral. Construction on the cathedral began in 1525, but was not completed until 1768. It was the last Gothic church built in Spain. As I marveled at the painstaking attention to detail, my eyes were drawn upward to the intricate ceiling. One of our travel companions remarked that the ceilings were built incredibly high (108 feet) so that you couldn't help but look toward Heaven. Yep. It worked. They were mesmerizing.

As I loaded the dishwasher and folded laundry this morning, I thought, "I could use one of those ceilings." Not the extravagant opulence of a cathedral ceiling, but a reminder to LOOK UP. One of my favorite things about Europeans is the way they take their time. Meals are an event. Shops close for a few hours in the afternoon. Great value is placed on family. So, in the midst of the day-to-day rushing that is American life, I am vowing to slow down and look up. God hasn't gone anywhere. He's still there...waiting, longing for us to see Him in our own cathedrals. The ones with smudged handprints on the glass and spilled milk on the floors. The ones with miniature princes and princesses longing for an extra snuggle or one more book. If we are so intent on looking straight ahead, hitting our marks, checking the boxes, we just might miss it. After all, there is a beautiful life to be found and lived when we LOOK. UP.