The benefit of beginning my exercise regime pre-spring is that I have been able to slowly watch the season unfold in all its varied splendor. My morning runs through the dew-jeweled grass, my afternoon runs under the glorious flowering fruit trees, and my evening runs...potentially my favorite...with the warm spring breeze and a dazzling sunset or two; this running stuff is good for the soul.
However, all this exercise has a kind of counter-productive side effect.
I'm hungry...like, all the time.
So when I'm out drinking in the glory of a flowering peach tree, my thoughts naturally turn to pie.
More specifically, cobbler.
I can almost see my grandmother in the sunny kitchen many springs ago, turning out delightful, fruit-related dishes as they came in season. And one of the best things about fruit is that almost any of it can be turned into cobbler!! I'm just kidding...mostly.
For my international friends, "cobbler" seems a strange word. Basically, it is fruit baked over with a buttery, cakey crust.
In honor of the new season and the coming fruits of spring, I present my grandmother's cobbler recipe...and it is oh-so-lovely. Jonathan prefers peach, but my favorites are strawberry and blackberry. My grandfather enjoys pear!
And for all of my Weight Watchers friends, I'm also sharing a recipe for you! I would love for one of you to try it out and let me know how it goes!
Mimi's Cobbler
1 stick of butter or margarine
1 cup of self-rising flour
1 cup of sugar
1 cup of milk
1-2 cups of fresh or frozen fruit (or 1 large can with juice)
Preheat oven to 350. Place butter in a glass casserole dish and melt in the oven. When the butter is melted, remove the dish from the oven and pour in the other ingredients. Stir until well blended. If it is a little clumpy, don't worry. Cobbler isn't pretty! Bake for 30-45 minutes or until top is brown. Enjoy!
Weight Watcher's cobbler
1 box of yellow cake mix
1 bag of frozen fruit or fresh fruit
1 can of diet lemon-lime soda
Preheat oven to 350. Pour fruit into the bottom of a baking dish. Pour the cake mix over the fruit. Pour soda over the top. Bake for the 30 minutes!
I would love some feedback!
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Monday, March 11, 2013
My necklace...
I wear around my heart a necklace strung with many golden beads.
Each bead is a treasure, a moment, a memory, of pure joy.
Every now and then I stop to count them, and as the faces flash before my eyes and my body warms all over at the thrill of a remembered embrace, I feel like my heart will burst for longing.
Many, many of those golden beads were forged on the "mission field," by the aquamarine waters of San Rafael beach, worshipping God under a canopy of palms and stars, weaving through a Batey to find one special child, bumping in a bus and singing so loud it hurts.
There are those who would question the validity of short-term mission work.
Maybe it is true that I am not as committed as those who go and live immersed in the mission field.
Maybe it is true that my knowledge of culture would fill a teacup.
Maybe it is true that I am wasting funds that could go to people more equipped than I.
I just can't convince my heart that the work that is being done is useless.
You see, I really don't feel like I'm doing anything. I don't feel like I am a missionary. As a matter of fact, I feel like my heart is the mission field. When I am with the poor, the hungry, the helpless, they speak over my heart a truth that cuts through the hideous web of lies that keeps me from seeing myself as I truly am and God as He truly is. The poor are ministering to me. The gifts I take are earthly, temporal...good for a short time. But the gifts they have given me will last forever. Could the purpose of my week-long visits be for me to receive with grace the gifts the poor have to offer? Is it for me to remind them that they play a valuable role in this world? For me to let them know that I need them desperately and that my life has been forever impacted by their love?
They give me pure joy.
They show me pure, undefiled faith.
They show me unfailing generosity...truly cheerful giving not bound by a "tenth."
And oh, they show me love.
Honestly, it would cost me nothing to sell everything I have, pack up our family, and plant myself in San Pedro de Macoris or Mathare Valley or Cochobamba or Butare. I want it. I ache for it. I dream about the poor, think about the poor, all the time. I know hardship and hurt and want and suffering would follow such a decision. I'm not saying it is an easy choice.
For me, the harder thing is staying put. It is learning to bloom where I am planted. It is being thousands of miles away from a boy that is as surely my son as if he had been born to me. It is missing the smiles and hugs of friends and the satisfaction of meeting a true need.
It is harder to me to be here, feeding those who are full and teaching those who already know, being rejected over and over as I speak up for the suffering. Is it perhaps my mission field to be right where I am, reminding those who have of what they lack? To, through my own struggles, share the gifts of the poor with the rich? To be sometimes that "voice of one crying in the wilderness"?
I may not be a missionary, although I've heard it cliched that everyone is a missionary and everywhere is a mission field. But do you know what I am?
I am a disciple. A disciple is called to follow Jesus and to ultimately feel the heart of Christ beating in His chest, the mind of Christ within fueling his energies, and the life of Christ making him more new day by day. A disciple is called to spend His life pursuing heavenly treasure, and the only thing I know that lasts forever on this earth is people. So I am building relationships. I am pouring my life and love into vessels that are bound for heaven. Those vessels are scattered over the far reaches of this planet, from a Nairobi slum to an Ecuadorian jungle, to a Dominican beach paradise. I am emptying myself out in front of a group of American teenagers at school and congregartions of middle class Baptists like me. All these relationships are dear and important and valuable. And no matter how much I long for it, all the people I love will never all be together on this planet. But one day we will be sitting around a big table together where none of us will be encumbered with riches or fettered by poverty. We will laugh and dance and sing for joy together, me and all my golden beads. We will know that throughout our lives we were strung together by the love of Jesus Christ.
Each bead is a treasure, a moment, a memory, of pure joy.
Every now and then I stop to count them, and as the faces flash before my eyes and my body warms all over at the thrill of a remembered embrace, I feel like my heart will burst for longing.
Many, many of those golden beads were forged on the "mission field," by the aquamarine waters of San Rafael beach, worshipping God under a canopy of palms and stars, weaving through a Batey to find one special child, bumping in a bus and singing so loud it hurts.
There are those who would question the validity of short-term mission work.
Maybe it is true that I am not as committed as those who go and live immersed in the mission field.
Maybe it is true that my knowledge of culture would fill a teacup.
Maybe it is true that I am wasting funds that could go to people more equipped than I.
I just can't convince my heart that the work that is being done is useless.
You see, I really don't feel like I'm doing anything. I don't feel like I am a missionary. As a matter of fact, I feel like my heart is the mission field. When I am with the poor, the hungry, the helpless, they speak over my heart a truth that cuts through the hideous web of lies that keeps me from seeing myself as I truly am and God as He truly is. The poor are ministering to me. The gifts I take are earthly, temporal...good for a short time. But the gifts they have given me will last forever. Could the purpose of my week-long visits be for me to receive with grace the gifts the poor have to offer? Is it for me to remind them that they play a valuable role in this world? For me to let them know that I need them desperately and that my life has been forever impacted by their love?
They give me pure joy.
They show me pure, undefiled faith.
They show me unfailing generosity...truly cheerful giving not bound by a "tenth."
And oh, they show me love.
Honestly, it would cost me nothing to sell everything I have, pack up our family, and plant myself in San Pedro de Macoris or Mathare Valley or Cochobamba or Butare. I want it. I ache for it. I dream about the poor, think about the poor, all the time. I know hardship and hurt and want and suffering would follow such a decision. I'm not saying it is an easy choice.
For me, the harder thing is staying put. It is learning to bloom where I am planted. It is being thousands of miles away from a boy that is as surely my son as if he had been born to me. It is missing the smiles and hugs of friends and the satisfaction of meeting a true need.
It is harder to me to be here, feeding those who are full and teaching those who already know, being rejected over and over as I speak up for the suffering. Is it perhaps my mission field to be right where I am, reminding those who have of what they lack? To, through my own struggles, share the gifts of the poor with the rich? To be sometimes that "voice of one crying in the wilderness"?
I may not be a missionary, although I've heard it cliched that everyone is a missionary and everywhere is a mission field. But do you know what I am?
I am a disciple. A disciple is called to follow Jesus and to ultimately feel the heart of Christ beating in His chest, the mind of Christ within fueling his energies, and the life of Christ making him more new day by day. A disciple is called to spend His life pursuing heavenly treasure, and the only thing I know that lasts forever on this earth is people. So I am building relationships. I am pouring my life and love into vessels that are bound for heaven. Those vessels are scattered over the far reaches of this planet, from a Nairobi slum to an Ecuadorian jungle, to a Dominican beach paradise. I am emptying myself out in front of a group of American teenagers at school and congregartions of middle class Baptists like me. All these relationships are dear and important and valuable. And no matter how much I long for it, all the people I love will never all be together on this planet. But one day we will be sitting around a big table together where none of us will be encumbered with riches or fettered by poverty. We will laugh and dance and sing for joy together, me and all my golden beads. We will know that throughout our lives we were strung together by the love of Jesus Christ.
My necklace and yours will be different. He who is crafting each of ours is a master artisan. Who are we to question how He chooses to work? But I do know that I will be very sad for you if there are only a few beads on your necklace, if you don't know and love each bead, if you don't hold it between your fingers sometimes and wonder how on earth you would have lived without such a person or such a memory in your life.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Gabriel...
This is Gabriel....
He is handsome.
He is playful.
He is ticklish!
He is curious.
He is vibrant and full of life.
He will soon be an orphan.
When you read his profile on compassion.com, You read that he lives with his mother and his brother. What you don't read is that his mother is 21 and dying of AIDS, and his older brother is only 8 years old. You don't read that he is need of HIV testing. You don't read that this is one truly vulnerable child whose world desperately needs nurture and stability.
I know these things because I held this baby, talked to this baby, pushed this baby on the swingset. While we are at DR302, this boy stole our hearts even before his story slowly unfolded.
You could be the one to provide security, comfort, and life-saving treatment for this boy. Sadly, you could be the one to unfold a letter from him that reads, "My mother died." But you can also be the one that steps in as a mother and father for this child, pouring in encouragement and the comfort of Christ.
Pray about it. When you decide, let me know. It will launch a small chain of events. You click the link on compassion.com and sponsor Gabriel. I send an email to my friend Nujerling, a graduate of DR302, who will then go to the center. What joy there will be at the center when Gabriel receives a gift in your name and the news that he finally has a sponsor! You will become the proud owner of my small stash of photos of Gabriel. And your heart will have opened to take in one of the least of God's children....one of the greatest in His Kingdom!
He is handsome.
He is playful.
He is ticklish!
He is curious.
He is vibrant and full of life.
He will soon be an orphan.
When you read his profile on compassion.com, You read that he lives with his mother and his brother. What you don't read is that his mother is 21 and dying of AIDS, and his older brother is only 8 years old. You don't read that he is need of HIV testing. You don't read that this is one truly vulnerable child whose world desperately needs nurture and stability.
I know these things because I held this baby, talked to this baby, pushed this baby on the swingset. While we are at DR302, this boy stole our hearts even before his story slowly unfolded.
You could be the one to provide security, comfort, and life-saving treatment for this boy. Sadly, you could be the one to unfold a letter from him that reads, "My mother died." But you can also be the one that steps in as a mother and father for this child, pouring in encouragement and the comfort of Christ.
Pray about it. When you decide, let me know. It will launch a small chain of events. You click the link on compassion.com and sponsor Gabriel. I send an email to my friend Nujerling, a graduate of DR302, who will then go to the center. What joy there will be at the center when Gabriel receives a gift in your name and the news that he finally has a sponsor! You will become the proud owner of my small stash of photos of Gabriel. And your heart will have opened to take in one of the least of God's children....one of the greatest in His Kingdom!
Friday, December 14, 2012
Keeps on giving...
What's the best gift you've ever been given?
Let us, for a moment, put aside spiritual gifts. What gift, from a human being, has brought you joy that just doesn't stop?
When asked this question, I found myself going over and over the myriad gifts I've been given in my life...
The Cabbage Patch kid, Gussy Odella, that my mom stood on line for hours to get, the one with green eyes like me...
The beautiful, poofy dress with bells in the skirt that jingled when I walked....
The stuffed dog my husband gave me the night he first said "I love you"...
But eventually, all those gifts lost there appeal. The things that I really remember about those gifts are not really the gifts themselves. I remember my Mother's love, my Mimi's smile, and my husband's sincere gaze. Those memories turned out to be the true gift.
So my thoughts turned elsewhere. And suddenly, it came to me.
Sight.
In third grade, I sat in the front of the room. Even from there, I had to squint to see the board. Ashamedly, I took home my teacher's note..."Kimberly needs glasses."
With dread I was taken to the optometrist, intimidated by the rows and rows of shiny lens staring down at me from the shelves.
The exam was done.
My fears were confirmed.
I needed glasses.
I wasn't prepared for the feeling of trying on my shiny, gold and red rimmed glasses. I could see! I guess I had never really been able to before. My world got bigger, sharper, and brighter in a moment.
It is a gift that is with me every waking moment...a gift of beauty, a gift of emotion. With it I can see my children's faces, my husband's approval, the glory of nature. I can read and write. I can walk and drive. I can see need.
It's a great gift, this sight. And like with most great things, great responsibility comes with it. I can see more than the good things in life.
I can see sorrow, hurt feelings, hunger, nakedness. I can see sin and pain.
Yet, somehow, I can still choose to be blind to those things when I want to be. It has taken the work of the Holy Spirit to open my eyes, physically and spiritually, to the needs of others.
What might the gift of glasses mean to a kid who needs them?
Or the gift of dental care, to be able to eat for the first time without pain?
Maybe vaccines? To live free from fear of dying from a preventable disease.
And education, teaching a new mom how to treat diarrhea or training a farmer to better provide for his family? Or giving someone the power of reading God's Word for themselves and taking its message to heart?
These gifts keep on giving. They won't end up under the bed, buried in a closet, or broken the next day. They will keep on giving. They will multiply. They will last.
Compassion International empowers us to do something about the suffering we see. For me, it has also enabled me to see firsthand the impact my gifts have made and are continuing to make.
This is a photo of my sponsored daughter Jhoselin, from Bolivia, with her gift of letters. To her they are more than paper; they are the gift of worth and value. And Jhoselin, being confident that she is loved and cared for, will pass that gift along to others who need it.
Check out the link on the side of my page to sponsor a child like Jhoselin.
Follow this link to explore the Gifts of Compassion catalog, which offers a wide variety of ways you can give gifts that multiply. http://www.compassion.com/catalog.htm?ums=False&referer=128060
Let us, for a moment, put aside spiritual gifts. What gift, from a human being, has brought you joy that just doesn't stop?
When asked this question, I found myself going over and over the myriad gifts I've been given in my life...
The Cabbage Patch kid, Gussy Odella, that my mom stood on line for hours to get, the one with green eyes like me...
The beautiful, poofy dress with bells in the skirt that jingled when I walked....
The stuffed dog my husband gave me the night he first said "I love you"...
But eventually, all those gifts lost there appeal. The things that I really remember about those gifts are not really the gifts themselves. I remember my Mother's love, my Mimi's smile, and my husband's sincere gaze. Those memories turned out to be the true gift.
So my thoughts turned elsewhere. And suddenly, it came to me.
Sight.
In third grade, I sat in the front of the room. Even from there, I had to squint to see the board. Ashamedly, I took home my teacher's note..."Kimberly needs glasses."
With dread I was taken to the optometrist, intimidated by the rows and rows of shiny lens staring down at me from the shelves.
The exam was done.
My fears were confirmed.
I needed glasses.
I wasn't prepared for the feeling of trying on my shiny, gold and red rimmed glasses. I could see! I guess I had never really been able to before. My world got bigger, sharper, and brighter in a moment.
It is a gift that is with me every waking moment...a gift of beauty, a gift of emotion. With it I can see my children's faces, my husband's approval, the glory of nature. I can read and write. I can walk and drive. I can see need.
It's a great gift, this sight. And like with most great things, great responsibility comes with it. I can see more than the good things in life.
I can see sorrow, hurt feelings, hunger, nakedness. I can see sin and pain.
Yet, somehow, I can still choose to be blind to those things when I want to be. It has taken the work of the Holy Spirit to open my eyes, physically and spiritually, to the needs of others.
What might the gift of glasses mean to a kid who needs them?
Or the gift of dental care, to be able to eat for the first time without pain?
Maybe vaccines? To live free from fear of dying from a preventable disease.
And education, teaching a new mom how to treat diarrhea or training a farmer to better provide for his family? Or giving someone the power of reading God's Word for themselves and taking its message to heart?
These gifts keep on giving. They won't end up under the bed, buried in a closet, or broken the next day. They will keep on giving. They will multiply. They will last.
Compassion International empowers us to do something about the suffering we see. For me, it has also enabled me to see firsthand the impact my gifts have made and are continuing to make.
This is a photo of my sponsored daughter Jhoselin, from Bolivia, with her gift of letters. To her they are more than paper; they are the gift of worth and value. And Jhoselin, being confident that she is loved and cared for, will pass that gift along to others who need it.
Check out the link on the side of my page to sponsor a child like Jhoselin.
Follow this link to explore the Gifts of Compassion catalog, which offers a wide variety of ways you can give gifts that multiply. http://www.compassion.com/catalog.htm?ums=False&referer=128060
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Holding out hope!
So I have taken a little break from blogging...
A necessary break, I think.
A break to collect my life, my thoughts, and more stories.
Now the Christmas season is in full swing.
Lights, ornaments, Christmas carols on every radio station...
Gift worries, money worries, schedule worries...
The angels, the stable, the baby...
How is that Christmas started out so simply and ended up so complicated? What is the secret to making Christmas what it was to begin with? My heart desperately wants that.
I want to see no gifts under my tree and be okay with it. I want to lift a praise with the heavenly hosts of Luke 2 and feel the kind of joy that will make my heart burst. I want to live the verse from Psalm 119 that must haunt every Christian at what should be a sacred time of worship instead of a festive frenzy: "Turn my eyes from worthless things..."
During this season of joy, what is WORTH my attention? How can a reassessment of my priorities lead me to discover the delightful simplicity of Christmas? I can't deny that the whole doctrine of Christmas--the incarnation of Christ, the God-man--is intensely complex. But Christ's incarnation was also simple...
His backwoods parents got the message...
The uneducated shepherds responded to it with enthusiasm...
In fact, people who shouldn't have understood travelled for thousands of miles because the message was for everyone...
Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, the wise men--they were all hungry for something, and that something was hope.
Hope for a Savior to bring deliverance from oppression.
Hope for a King to rule all mankind.
Hope for a Priest, to restore a right relationship with God.
Hope for Immanuel to come healing, releasing, resurrecting, touching, holding...relating.
What is your hope this Christmas? What gift do you want to give?
The first Christmas was about God meeting the need of all mankind...a need for hope. It was for the highest king to the most humble.
At Christmas, we seek to honor God's gift by giving gifts of our own. But I fear that the gifts we give far from honor the original gift.
God's gift was not about excess...it wasn't God giving man his 35th pair of socks.
God's gift was about poverty...man's complete and utter desperation.
Out of the marvelous excesses of his incredible love, grace, mercy, and kindness, he gave a gift to us in our poverty. Scripture tells us that we have all received from His fullness.
How can you honor His gift?
Give some hope this Christmas. Out of your excess, bless someone in poverty.
Poverty takes many forms. Spiritual poverty, emotional poverty, physical poverty. There is always a chance to meet a need.
It is hard to break the cycle of excess. I know. I am fighting it even now. But Christmas is calling, and I am just not willing to dishonor my Lord's gift any more by celebrating His birth by adding to excess.
Here is one way of many to give a little hope this Christmas... http://www.compassion.com/catalog.htm?referer=12806
A necessary break, I think.
A break to collect my life, my thoughts, and more stories.
Now the Christmas season is in full swing.
Lights, ornaments, Christmas carols on every radio station...
Gift worries, money worries, schedule worries...
The angels, the stable, the baby...
How is that Christmas started out so simply and ended up so complicated? What is the secret to making Christmas what it was to begin with? My heart desperately wants that.
I want to see no gifts under my tree and be okay with it. I want to lift a praise with the heavenly hosts of Luke 2 and feel the kind of joy that will make my heart burst. I want to live the verse from Psalm 119 that must haunt every Christian at what should be a sacred time of worship instead of a festive frenzy: "Turn my eyes from worthless things..."
During this season of joy, what is WORTH my attention? How can a reassessment of my priorities lead me to discover the delightful simplicity of Christmas? I can't deny that the whole doctrine of Christmas--the incarnation of Christ, the God-man--is intensely complex. But Christ's incarnation was also simple...
His backwoods parents got the message...
The uneducated shepherds responded to it with enthusiasm...
In fact, people who shouldn't have understood travelled for thousands of miles because the message was for everyone...
Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, the wise men--they were all hungry for something, and that something was hope.
Hope for a Savior to bring deliverance from oppression.
Hope for a King to rule all mankind.
Hope for a Priest, to restore a right relationship with God.
Hope for Immanuel to come healing, releasing, resurrecting, touching, holding...relating.
What is your hope this Christmas? What gift do you want to give?
The first Christmas was about God meeting the need of all mankind...a need for hope. It was for the highest king to the most humble.
At Christmas, we seek to honor God's gift by giving gifts of our own. But I fear that the gifts we give far from honor the original gift.
God's gift was not about excess...it wasn't God giving man his 35th pair of socks.
God's gift was about poverty...man's complete and utter desperation.
Out of the marvelous excesses of his incredible love, grace, mercy, and kindness, he gave a gift to us in our poverty. Scripture tells us that we have all received from His fullness.
How can you honor His gift?
Give some hope this Christmas. Out of your excess, bless someone in poverty.
Poverty takes many forms. Spiritual poverty, emotional poverty, physical poverty. There is always a chance to meet a need.
It is hard to break the cycle of excess. I know. I am fighting it even now. But Christmas is calling, and I am just not willing to dishonor my Lord's gift any more by celebrating His birth by adding to excess.
Here is one way of many to give a little hope this Christmas... http://www.compassion.com/catalog.htm?referer=12806
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
16 days and counting...
16 days to go...
16 days before part of our little family isheaded back in the Dominican Republic. 20 days from now, we'll be at a beach, by a pool, or taking our dear boys, Jeffry, and Julio, to a baseball game. 21 days until my little Leah and Andrea will be celebrating their birthdays together.
While we are there, we are hoping to spread the blessing of sponsorship. I'm not really talking about the blessing that sponsorship is to the child you choose to take in as a part of your family...the child you choose to clothe, feed, and deliver the gospel to in Jesus' name. I'm talking about the way that your life will blessed through sponsorship...how God will use the little children to make your heart be more like His heart.
Our family will be visiting DR302 in the city of San Pedro de Macoris. In this Compassion partner church, over 100 children are waiting for sponsors. Here are a few of them. We would like to share with these children in person the good news that they have sponsors! If you choose to sponsor, we will make time to visit your child at his or her home and provide you with photos of their home and at the center. We will also take them a small gift and take a video thank-you from your child.
The cost of sponsorship is $38 per month. What a great gift for a child or family on Christmas morning, to be able to begin a relationship with a child like this!
Please leave a comment or email me if you are interested!
Olvis Enmanuel Mejia Paredes. His birthday is February 5, 2005. He is 5 years old. His bio is: Olvis lives with his mother. At home, duties include cleaning. His mother is employed as a laborer. There are 2 children in the family.
Playing ball games and playing group games are Olvis's favorite activities. In pre-school his performance is average and he also regularly attends Bible class.
Johan Elvis Batista. His birthday is March 30, 2005. He is 7 years old. His bio is: Johan lives with his father and his mother. His duties at home include cleaning. There are 4 children in the family. His father is sometimes employed as a laborer and his mother is employed as a laborer.
For fun, Johan enjoys playing group games. He attends church activities and Bible class regularly and is in primary school where his performance is average.
Reisy Esther Willians. Her birthday is August 5, 2005. She is 7 years old. Her bio is: Reisy lives with her father and her mother. At home, duties include making beds and cleaning. Her father is sometimes employed as a seller in the market and her mother is employed as a laborer. There are 2 children in the family.
Playing with dolls and playing group games are Reisy's favorite activities. In primary school her performance is average and she also regularly attends church activities and Bible class.
Carlos Alfredo Rodriguez Galvez. His birthday is January 17, 2005. He is 7 years old. His bio is: Carlos lives with his mother. He is responsible for making beds, running errands and cleaning. His mother is employed as a laborer. There are 8 children in the family.
Basketball and playing group games are Carlos's favorite activities. In primary school his performance is average and he also regularly attends Bible class.
Brenda Bautista, 2/20/08
Lisauris Velasquez, May 28, 2007
Crismery Reyes
Born on 19 November 2006 her father died she lives with her grandparents.
Yeiri Escarlet Sano
Born on October 1, 2007
Aleudy Augusto González.
He was born on February 23, 2007, lives with his mother and brother. His mother works as a janitor.
Santiago Santana
He was born on October 15, 2007, lives with his mother and four brothers is the 3rd of 4, his father died and his mother does not work
1286 Elvis Daniel Augustus
born on May 7, 2007
Johan Del Monegro
Born on June 3, 2006, lives with his father and grandmother
Glerialdy Aislin Perguero. Her birthday is October 9, 2005. She is 7 years old. Her bio is: Glerialdy lives with her grandfather and her grandmother. Her grandfather is not employed and her grandmother is employed as a laborer. Glerialdy works at home running errands and cleaning. There are 2 children in the family.
For fun, Glerialdy enjoys playing with dolls, running and playing group games. She attends Bible class regularly and is in primary school where her performance is average.
16 days before part of our little family isheaded back in the Dominican Republic. 20 days from now, we'll be at a beach, by a pool, or taking our dear boys, Jeffry, and Julio, to a baseball game. 21 days until my little Leah and Andrea will be celebrating their birthdays together.
While we are there, we are hoping to spread the blessing of sponsorship. I'm not really talking about the blessing that sponsorship is to the child you choose to take in as a part of your family...the child you choose to clothe, feed, and deliver the gospel to in Jesus' name. I'm talking about the way that your life will blessed through sponsorship...how God will use the little children to make your heart be more like His heart.
Our family will be visiting DR302 in the city of San Pedro de Macoris. In this Compassion partner church, over 100 children are waiting for sponsors. Here are a few of them. We would like to share with these children in person the good news that they have sponsors! If you choose to sponsor, we will make time to visit your child at his or her home and provide you with photos of their home and at the center. We will also take them a small gift and take a video thank-you from your child.
The cost of sponsorship is $38 per month. What a great gift for a child or family on Christmas morning, to be able to begin a relationship with a child like this!
Please leave a comment or email me if you are interested!
Olvis Enmanuel Mejia Paredes. His birthday is February 5, 2005. He is 5 years old. His bio is: Olvis lives with his mother. At home, duties include cleaning. His mother is employed as a laborer. There are 2 children in the family.
Playing ball games and playing group games are Olvis's favorite activities. In pre-school his performance is average and he also regularly attends Bible class.
Johan Elvis Batista. His birthday is March 30, 2005. He is 7 years old. His bio is: Johan lives with his father and his mother. His duties at home include cleaning. There are 4 children in the family. His father is sometimes employed as a laborer and his mother is employed as a laborer.
For fun, Johan enjoys playing group games. He attends church activities and Bible class regularly and is in primary school where his performance is average.
Reisy Esther Willians. Her birthday is August 5, 2005. She is 7 years old. Her bio is: Reisy lives with her father and her mother. At home, duties include making beds and cleaning. Her father is sometimes employed as a seller in the market and her mother is employed as a laborer. There are 2 children in the family.
Playing with dolls and playing group games are Reisy's favorite activities. In primary school her performance is average and she also regularly attends church activities and Bible class.
Carlos Alfredo Rodriguez Galvez. His birthday is January 17, 2005. He is 7 years old. His bio is: Carlos lives with his mother. He is responsible for making beds, running errands and cleaning. His mother is employed as a laborer. There are 8 children in the family.
Basketball and playing group games are Carlos's favorite activities. In primary school his performance is average and he also regularly attends Bible class.
Brenda Bautista, 2/20/08
Lisauris Velasquez, May 28, 2007
Crismery Reyes
Born on 19 November 2006 her father died she lives with her grandparents.
Yeiri Escarlet Sano
Born on October 1, 2007
Aleudy Augusto González.
He was born on February 23, 2007, lives with his mother and brother. His mother works as a janitor.
Santiago Santana
He was born on October 15, 2007, lives with his mother and four brothers is the 3rd of 4, his father died and his mother does not work
1286 Elvis Daniel Augustus
born on May 7, 2007
Johan Del Monegro
Born on June 3, 2006, lives with his father and grandmother
Glerialdy Aislin Perguero. Her birthday is October 9, 2005. She is 7 years old. Her bio is: Glerialdy lives with her grandfather and her grandmother. Her grandfather is not employed and her grandmother is employed as a laborer. Glerialdy works at home running errands and cleaning. There are 2 children in the family.
For fun, Glerialdy enjoys playing with dolls, running and playing group games. She attends Bible class regularly and is in primary school where her performance is average.
Friday, October 26, 2012
The Family Bed
I like waking up to a giggle.
I like the sun on my face, gradually prying open a reluctant eyelid.
I like toes touching toes, the snugly warmth of knowing that my bed is shared...
And suddenly invaded.
Saturday morning is a rare delicacy. A lot of things have to "click" for it to be just right. Sometimes, Jonathan works. Sometimes, the kids wake up at 7:30. But on the ideal Saturday, the 10 o' clock sun and a tousled head are my alarm clock.
It's usually Lori first. She always looks delightfully surprised when she clambers onto our sleigh bed and finds both me and daddy there. It's an automatic invitation to cuddle, tickle, snuggle, and sing. The little ruckus eventually stirs up Ben, who marches up to the bed, a secret smile behind his sucked thumb, and plants himself just so under my arm. No chatting for him...just pure studly loving. Leah usually arrives last, crawling up to the door and peeping in, quiet as a mouse, until we notice her.
And then, for maybe thirty minutes, we wake ourselves up slowly. Many kisses, hugs, cuddles, and wrestles later, we eventually roll out of bed one at a time.
These Saturday mornings sometimes make me think that life with just one bed might not be so bad. All five of us, piled up warm and happy, just delighting in each other for a few minutes, looking forward to a day filled with moments of joy, moments of together. Of course, I know that the arm thrown across my face and the kicks to the gut would get old quick, and five people in one bed would not really be fun. I like to know, though, that if there ever comes a time when our family needs to live more simply, with fewer luxuries, that we would be able to find the little delights...like the Saturday morning family bed.
I like the sun on my face, gradually prying open a reluctant eyelid.
I like toes touching toes, the snugly warmth of knowing that my bed is shared...
And suddenly invaded.
Saturday morning is a rare delicacy. A lot of things have to "click" for it to be just right. Sometimes, Jonathan works. Sometimes, the kids wake up at 7:30. But on the ideal Saturday, the 10 o' clock sun and a tousled head are my alarm clock.
It's usually Lori first. She always looks delightfully surprised when she clambers onto our sleigh bed and finds both me and daddy there. It's an automatic invitation to cuddle, tickle, snuggle, and sing. The little ruckus eventually stirs up Ben, who marches up to the bed, a secret smile behind his sucked thumb, and plants himself just so under my arm. No chatting for him...just pure studly loving. Leah usually arrives last, crawling up to the door and peeping in, quiet as a mouse, until we notice her.
And then, for maybe thirty minutes, we wake ourselves up slowly. Many kisses, hugs, cuddles, and wrestles later, we eventually roll out of bed one at a time.
These Saturday mornings sometimes make me think that life with just one bed might not be so bad. All five of us, piled up warm and happy, just delighting in each other for a few minutes, looking forward to a day filled with moments of joy, moments of together. Of course, I know that the arm thrown across my face and the kicks to the gut would get old quick, and five people in one bed would not really be fun. I like to know, though, that if there ever comes a time when our family needs to live more simply, with fewer luxuries, that we would be able to find the little delights...like the Saturday morning family bed.
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