Nature of a Servant

What Would Jesus Drive?

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Fri, 17 May 2013 14:48:00 +0000

Photo: John Snape, Flickr

If Jesus lived on earth today, what sort of vehicle would he use in ministry?

Granted, if he came to the planet today on my continent, he’d be living in the inner-city and taking mass transit. But what if he had a family of four and lived in the burbs? (Play hypothetical with me here.)

The car conversation comes up in our home quite often. Our family SUV seats 7, but drinks gas like it needs to go to a 12 step meeting. I want to do the right thing for the economy, the environment, and our budget. So what kind of car should someone striving to have the nature of a servant own?

I like our SUV. I do. It makes me happy when I can offer to carpool and take 6 kids with me. Edd’s dad worked on General Motors' line his whole working career, so driving the Acadia manufactured 5 miles away from my in-law’s house assures me we are helping their local economy.

On the flip side, the smaller car’s gas-saving qualities are tempting. With the driving around town we do, filling up the tank more than once a week does not bring me peace.

The “what ifs” scramble my brain.

What if we go camping and need more storage space? (It could happen.)
What if my parents are here and we all want to ride in a car together?
What if we all go somewhere and each girl wants to bring a friend?
What if we starve because all of our food money is going toward fuel? (This may be an exaggeration.)

What do you drive? Is the grass always greener on the other side? I’d love your thoughts on responsible vehicle ownership.

*Disclaimer-I know that even owning a car puts me in the elite class of the world as a whole. We are pretty darned blessed to be able to have “problems” like this one.

For more conversation on serving in your community, like the Nature of a Servant Facebook page or follow Andee_Z on Twitter.

How my Atheist Boyfriend Became My Christian Husband

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Wed, 15 May 2013 15:56:00 +0000

evan-ge-lism: the winning or revival of personal commitments to Christ

Edd and I met at work on a fall day in the early ‘90s. We chatted, flirted, and went to a few happy hours. By spring we were an official office romance. All went swimmingly until Holy Week.

Edd invited me to see a movie on Good Friday. “Sure,” I told him, “right after church.”

“Forget it!” His irritation confused me. “You go do your churchy thing and I’ll see you another time.”

Whoa. My new boyfriend definitely had a grudge against religion. Or God. Or something. This may be the deal breaker for our relationship.

After Easter we continued seeing each other casually. We had a great time Monday through Saturday, but on Sundays as I went to teach my Sunday School class, he took off elsewhere. Most certainly not with me.

I pestered. I pushed. I nagged. “Just try it! You may get something out of it.”

One day he gave in and came with me to church. Though only a member of this congregation for a short time, I’d grown up in this denomination. The Lutheran denomination in which my mother was raised. The same as my grandmother.

Edd’s first church experience didn’t go well.

“This is so cultish!” he accused. “You stand together. You sit together. You recite the same words together. (The Lord’s Prayer and Apostles Creed). You put money in a tray. It’s just so weird.”

Coming from my long generational line of Lutherans, I’d never thought twice about how liturgy looked to an outsider.

How could I get serious with this man if we didn’t share faith? He grew up in a family of non-believers. We didn’t have a problem of different faiths. We had a problem with any faith.

We kept our on-again/off-again relationship going for about a year. Then, I had a stroke.

You read that correctly. At 24 years of age, this non-smoking, non-drug using, goody-two-shoes girl had a stroke.

When we asked doctors if I would be paralyzed forever they said, “I don’t know.” When we asked doctors if I would live through the illness they said, “I don’t know.”

Edd never left my side.

Pastor Bob from my church made a house call. While hanging at my apartment, he and Edd talked. Not about God. About me. About football. About childhoods. About Portland.

“He’s pretty cool,” Edd acquiesced, “He doesn’t seem cultish.”

Pastor Bob visited again. He and my boyfriend talked some more. Not about God. More about me. More about football. More about every day life.

Before Pastor Bob left that 2nd time, he prayed for me. Edd bowed his head.

Without my knowledge, Edd continued to pray on his own. Months later, he told me something moved in his heart. Something he couldn’t explain and never experienced before. Something comforting. A presence of love and peace.

Over months, my health began to improve. Edd started taking me to church. Still apprehensive, he read the Bible from the pew holder in front of him while the rest of us sang hymns and daydreamed during the sermon.

Slowly, Edd let himself believe. If I became to excited and wanted more, he’d back off. This was his journey. Pressuring him to “accept Jesus” would only turn him away.

I continued to heal and Edd proposed marriage. Pastor Bob officiated our ceremony. After the birth of our first daughter, Edd was baptized. No longer did he deny faith.

He found Christ because of a relationship.

Edd started evangelizing. He didn’t beat anyone over the head with Jesus-freak talk. In fact, he didn’t even bring Jesus up in conversation. He just lived differently. Others began to notice the change. He conveyed more joy, more peace, more caring.

Noticing a difference in Edd, his non-believing mother, sister, niece, and nephew started attending church. Months later, we flew to Michigan to see their baptisms.

My husband’s family never participated in an alter call. No-one knocked on their doors asking if they knew where they would go when they die. They didn’t come to Jesus because someone holding a sign outside a grocery store asked if they were saved.

They found Christ because of a relationship.

A few Sundays ago, our church skipped the normal order of worship. Instead, the congregation spent the day renovating a needy family’s home. A 7-year-old boy painted and picked up scrap lumber.

When the boy returned to school on Monday, he shared with his class the fun he had serving the day before. That afternoon, the boy’s mom got a text from the mother of a classmate:

"We would like to go to the church where your son painted. If you wouldn't mind us going with you?"

A second grader serving and sharing the joy of helping others in the name of Christ. THIS, friends, is evangelism.

Last week, our church received a call. The woman that owns the newly renovated house? She wants more information about church and to know what it means to be baptized. THIS, friends, is evangelism.

What is the best way to show Christ’s love?

I don’t think you need an alter call at the end of every Sunday sermon. I don’t think you need to stand on street corners asking strangers their view of the afterlife. I don’t even think you need to bring up your faith in the first 5 minutes of conversation.

What does evangelism mean to you? Where have you seen effective evangelism?

Related Posts:
Jesus Didn't Die So I Could Argue on Facebook. Or Did He?
Judgey McJudgement

Motivation for Monday - The Importance of Boredom

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 13 May 2013 15:15:00 +0000

I’ve been known to over-schedule my kids. I once thought if every day didn’t have an extra curricular built in, they’d sit around watching tv after school. By the time they reached upper elementary age, this whole plan backfired on me.

At a certain point, both daughters began to balk at activities they normally loved. Huge tantrums would ensue...and not just from the girls. I wasn’t proud of my own behavior pushing my family out the door to piano, voice, tae kwon do, ice skating, theater, dance, and Girl Scouts.

So we stopped. We asked the girls what they really wanted to do. Each had her own ideas, but both agreed they wanted more down time.

Read this blog post on Clean, by Rachel Wolf The photographs and poetry are frame worthy. The sentiment describes my daughters to a “T”:

I don't need more lessons or activities or organized after-school-anything.

I need to wander out in the rain and the snow.

Aimless and dreaming. Exploring.

Where I will see fairies dancing in the mist.

Give me time for games without rules.

Give me space to run barefoot through the dew.

Give me a childhood unburdened so that I may be the person I am meant to be.

Read more

Last week in their down time, my girls built a cardboard doll house from boxes they found in the garage.

My youngest braided friendship bracelets. Strands of string scatter on the floor; evidence of rooms she’s visited.

They both started a fairy garden.

Again, a lesson learned from my offspring. In the boredom, the free time, creativity shines. I’m motivated this week to take a little more downtime for myself.

Do you allow your kids to be bored? What do they enjoy doing when they have nowhere else to be?

Related Posts:
Pep Talk
A lesson from the Kids: Everyone is Special

*Results from the weekend giveaway of Twice Cleansed Soap: Thanks for those who commented, I appreciate your feedback. Minda, Kaili, and Cheryl: I’m going to give each of you a bar to thank you for your support. You will love this product!

Twice Cleansed: Soap With a Story

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Fri, 10 May 2013 14:42:00 +0000

Recently, my friend Tiffany told me about an amazing product: Soap.

Yes. Soap. I know! It’s really hard to get excited about soap. Except now I’ve used the soap and know the story behind the soap, and so I must share with you.

Micro-financed project Twice Cleansed serves a sole purpose; to end sex trafficking. Hearts in Harvest manufactures in Lebanon and creates jobs in at-risk communities. Profits from soap sales help fund job creation and education for kids at risk for being trafficked.

Twice Cleansed makes it’s home base right here in Portland. Tiffany volunteered to sell the soap, so I have my own personal distributer nearby. The good news is you can buy from her, too. She doesn’t make any money selling the product. Funds go directly to the cause.

As if supporting the movement to save girls in danger weren’t enough, the actual cleansing product gives me hope for my skin.

I wash my hands. A lot. Because I have kids and I grocery shop and I shake other people’s hands and I am so aware of germs in everything. As a result, my hands are dry and I’m starting to see wrinkles. I don’t want my grandmother’s hands!

After one use of Twice Cleansed (one!), I was hooked. Of the 3 ingredients in this soap, olive oil is first. Just removing the dry product from the package I could feel something special. Oh. My. Gosh. I’m dying from the softness of my skin.

A single bar of Twice Cleansed is $6.95 and a four pack is $24.95. Buy some for gifts, but definitely buy some for yourself.

Mother’s Day is Sunday. If you are looking for a last minute present, Twice Cleansed will make Mom happy and the money you spend will go towards saving youth from a life of sex slavery. It’s a win-win. Contact Tiffany if you are in the Portland area at TwiceCleansed (at) Gmail (dot) com, or order directly off the Twice Cleansed website.

My First Ever Give-Away!

I know, I know...I once said I wouldn’t do “give-aways”. But I love this soap so much, I want to give one bar to a lucky friend so someone new can see how great this product is. Comment below with the answer to this question:

“What charity are you passionate about?”

On Mother’s Day, a commenter will be chosen at random and a bar of Twice Cleansed will be sent off to the winner. I can’t wait to learn what causes are important to you!

*This post is not sponsored or endorsed by Twice Cleansed, nor did anyone tell me to write what I wrote. I simply support the cause and love the product.

For Amanda, For Gina, For Michelle - We Give Thanks

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Wed, 08 May 2013 14:40:00 +0000

This is not the post I planned to write today.

Yesterday morning, eyes heavy, my fingers fumbled on my nightstand searching for the iDevice that would bring me my morning news. I tapped the CNN square, then immediately shot up and reached for the light.

The city of my father's family glared on the crimson and eggshell screen. Just 10 miles from my dad’s boyhood home, a horrific crime had been taking place. On Monday, three women held in captivity for a decade finally made their escape.

Kidnapped Teens Found! Women Reunited With Family! Neighbor Turns Hero!

When any tragedy strikes, a selfish focus envelops me. What if it were my daughter?

This is a photo of my daughters 10 years ago.

This is them now.

Ten years in captivity. It’s a long time to lie awake wondering what happened to your child. Ten months. Ten days. Ten minutes. Ten anything is too much to bear.

I once read the book, Room: a Novel, by Emma Donoghue. The story told about a kidnapped girl, her fathered-by-her-captor son, and their daring escape. Each turn of the page disturbed me further until I became nauseas. It was fiction.

Stories like this are not supposed to be real.

We all know a long road of healing lies ahead for these women. Let’s remain thankful for the joy we share because their families are whole once more.

No, this is not the post I planned to write today. Blogging about striving to live with a servant’s nature, I could not ignore this story or write about something insignificant in light of three women and a child now free.

All my heart wants to do is shout from the rooftops (or the inter-webs, as the case may be), Thanks Be To God!

For the hundreds of mamas out there who still don’t know where their missing babies are, may we keep praying for them until they, too, can make their families whole again.

Motivation for Monday - Ethical Shopping

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 06 May 2013 15:15:00 +0000

Buying ethically is not a new concept for me. I want to support fair-trade industry, truly I do. Then I see that tank top for $6 at the big box store and I cave. It’s a clothes buying roller coaster, I tell ya’.

The recent factory collapse in Bangladesh slapped most Americans into reality. Since last week articles about unfair working conditions across the world spring into our news feeds.

I want to stay strong in commitment to only buying garments ethically made. But I know my reality. Target sits right between school and theater rehearsal and I’ll need milk and laundry detergent then I’ll see this super cute skirt for only $10 so in a hazey rush I’ll buy it.

Back in January, blogger Jes wrote the ideal post for those of us wanting to make a difference:

I have never seen the sweat shops in India or China, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I have never talked with a child that is forced to work 12+ hours a day to make the shoes I’m wearing, but that doesn’t mean they don’t matter. I have been a slave, I do know what it feels like to not have a choice. I do know what it’s like to be forgotten by society. I can NOT continue to live as if the individuals in the other side of the globe don’t exist.

Read Jes' entire post, Financial Stewardship is Overrated, here.

These websites sell ethically made items. Cute stuff on these pages!
Global Girlfriend
SERVV
Looptworks

Or, if you’re meandering on Pinterest, check out my “Shopping That Makes A Difference” board for more sites I’ve found. If you have any more to add, let me know!

Let’s motivate each other to make a difference with how we spend our dollars. Will we use our money to help workers across the world make better lives for themselves, or will we comatosely buy as we have been, telling corporations unsafe working conditions are okay?

If you’re ready to make a change, I’m ready for some accountability partners.

*Edit = Just read this recent post on Frugal Living NW. Great suggestions for putting together thrift store items!

Related Posts:
Pep Talk
Teaching the Easter Bunny
Pursuing Justice - a book review

HomePlate - Feeding Hungry Children

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Fri, 03 May 2013 17:10:00 +0000

I should have known things wouldn’t go according my plan when the beef was still frozen and we couldn’t find a can opener for the multi-pack of black beans.

I look forward to serving dinner at HomePlate. Coordinating one meal a month, I pretty much have a handle on feeding the couch-surfing youth.

Note to self: Don’t ever think you have a complete handle on anything.

At the beginning of the week, we had a volunteer team of 8. But life happens and by Wednesday we were down to 3.

“No big deal,” I confidently thought, “We’ve got enough food and Sandy, Kim, & I are experienced. We’ve got it covered.”

We can handle anything!

Arriving at HomePlate, I met Shauntel, a college student who showed up for school credit. Awesome. Another set of hands.

Kevin and Carey dropped off food but ended up staying to slice and dice while Sandy defrosted ground beef in the microwave then browned it into taco meat. Shauntel chopped the lettuce, Kim put out the cheese, salsa, and guacamole and I warmed up tortillas.

See? Not a problem. Dinner service is from 6:00 - 8:00 p.m. We usually start out with about 5 teens coming through and then more youth filter in as the evening progresses. Slow and steady. Plenty of time to prepare food throughout the night.

Except at 6:00, instead of a few older teens lined up at the cafeteria door, there were 20ish elementary aged kids waiting for dinner.

Hungry.

And not understanding my words when I offered the crunchy taco or the soft taco. (The what?) The yellow or the white? (Huh?) This one or that one? (Oh!)

We served the first wave and took a deep breath. Where did all these kids come from?

In the weeks since I’d last served, kids from the apartment complex across the street found out about Wednesday night dinners. And here they were. Without parents. Little kids (and I mean little - one boy couldn’t have been more than 5 years old) who have homes, but still need to eat.

And what do kids without parents present eat first?

So we fed them. We gave seconds. We gave thirds. Some took leftovers. And my heart broke because there is too much damn poverty in this country.

The night began chaotic. I stressed because I focused on my needs and my comfort level.

Even so, we cooked and kids ate. I may have felt out of control, but it didn’t matter.

God had it covered.

Serving Behind the Scenes

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Wed, 01 May 2013 15:29:00 +0000

The congregants of our church didn’t meet at our normal spot on Sunday.

Instead of singing, they replaced house siding.

Instead of sermonizing, the pastor cleaned moss off a roof and donned an alien mask to look for rats in a crawlspace.

Instead of collecting tithes, donated chemicals doused the black mold infiltrating the bedrooms. (No photo. No one needs to see that.)

Instead of coffee and treats after the service, Kaleo Covenant paired with Catalyst-Partnerships Northwest to help a family in need make their home a safe place to live.

I am proud of my friends who selflessly gave last weekend to help this family. If you look carefully, you will notice I am absent from the group picture. I took it easy and served behind the scenes.

While parents painted, hammered, and scrubbed, I signed up to watch their children. Yes, I carry a bit of guilt not appearing at the construction site. Instead of sweating and back pain, I held babies, played blocks, and bonded with my friend Jessica, also on kid patrol.

I learned many lessons from my resolution/experiment last year. God has blessed each of us with individual gifts. My husband and our youngest are gifted with the desire to work outside and to not mind if dirt gets under their fingernails. Our eldest and me? Well, we’d rather play with babies.

The work Catalyst-Partnerships provides for our community benefits many families. If you live in the Portland area and are blessed with the gift of getting dirty, check out their website for future projects in the area.

If you live anywhere and are blessed with the gift of finance, donations for materials are always needed and welcome.

Maybe you’re blessed with the gift of golf? Join friends of Catalyst for their 2013 Golf Marathon on Saturday, May 18. You can fundraise yourself or pledge to pay someone else to play 100 holes. My friend, Kirsten, will sport golf clubs that day and I’ll be right behind her. In spirit. (Golf is another gift I have not been blessed with.)

What’s your passion in volunteering? Are you a “get dusty, dirty, and painted on” kind of person, or do you prefer less manual labor in your service activities?

Related Posts:
Catalyst Week 11
Catalyst with Kaleo 2012

*Many thanks to the Pastor's Wife who took the photos. She worked hard while I played with toy cars and plastic zoo animals.

Motivation for Monday - Are You Happy?

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 15:27:00 +0000

I say I'm happy.

True, I suffer from depression/anxiety, but it's just a little psychological/physiological brain wiring I'm working on repairing.

I do love my life.

So when my friend, Kaili, found 22 Things Happy People Do Differently and shared it on Facebook, I thought for sure I'd have most of these things covered.

Well, at least half.

One fourth?

Out of the 22 things on this list, I do 3 of them really well. (Numbers 4, 12, & 20) The rest? Not so much.

What about you? How many of these happy qualities do you possess? And which do you really need to put your efforts toward? (Numbers 1, 9, & 18 for me.)

22 Things Happy People Do Differently

Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions. – Dalai Lama

There are two types of people in the world: those who choose to be happy, and those who choose to be unhappy. Contrary to popular belief, happiness doesn’t come from fame, fortune, other people, or material possessions. Rather, it comes from within. The richest person in the world could be miserable while a homeless person could be right outside, walking around with a spring in every step. Happy people are happy because they make themselves happy. They maintain a positive outlook on life and remain at peace with themselves.

The question is: how do they do that?

It’s quite simple. Happy people have good habits that enhance their lives. They do things differently. Ask any happy person, and they will tell you that they …

Read the rest here.

Related Posts:
Jesus Didn't Die So I Could Argue on Facebook
It's Such a Good Feeling
Pep Talk

On My Bookshelf: The Language of Flowers

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 14:18:00 +0000

Truth: I stink at book reviews.

I love reading more than anything. I adore writing only slightly less than reading. Why, oh why, do I totally blank when conjuring literary commentary?

I don’t know the answer. When recommending a meaningful read, my monologue usually plays like this:

“It was just SO good, you know? So good. Like, you have to read it! It will change your life! It was just. So. Good.”

You see why Amazon hasn’t flooded my inbox with requests.

Which is a darn shame because there are a TON of significant stories in the world, especially for those of us trying to live with a servant’s heart.

I’ve come up with a solution. Periodically, I will share certain books I think you will appreciate diving into, but you have to promise not to judge my amateur descriptions. Mmm-k?

The Language of Flowers, by Vanessa Diffenbaugh

When I volunteered with Project Lemonade, a charity serving the clothing needs for local foster children, I received The Language of Flowers as a thank you gift. Little did I know then how much this book would affect my heart.

The story begins with Victoria, now 18, aging out of the foster system. Victoria’s social worker tries to help her establish with her new life, but the late-teen carries years of anger and the walls she’s built around her will not crumble.

Victoria possesses a floral passion, knowing symbolism of each bloom. Though she’s created a fortress around her, she communicates through her roses, her calla lilies, her cactuses. (Cacti?)

The novel brings love, hate, hurt, and heart to a subject not often addressed: What happens to emancipated foster kids?

Deep into her own book a few days ago, my 10 year old glanced up and asked, “Mom? Do you ever just get a main character so much you can feel her? Like when she gets hurt, you have pain?”

“Yes,” I answered, “And that character’s name is Victoria.”

Author Vanessa Diffenbaugh co-founded The Camillia Network, a non-profit dedicated to helping teens after aging out of the foster care system. Read about the program here. If you aren’t already touched by all this organization accomplishes, you will be motivated to help after finishing Diffenbaugh's fictional account of a girl who needs to be loved.

Related Posts:
Project Lemonade
Welcome Boxes for Foster Children

Website:
The Camilla Network

Too Scared To Do the One Thing

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 18:02:00 +0000

If you read my post a few weeks ago, you know it’s my goal to follow Eleanor Roosevelt’s advice:

I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone a ton in the past year.

I've served dinner in a soup kitchen.
I've conducted intake interviews for drug addicts.
I've wandered downtown streets giving food to homeless people.
I've coordinated dinners for couch-surfing teens.
I've attended a writers conference.

Only last Saturday, the one thing that scared me turned into a panic attack.

Earlier my husband, Edd, received an invitation for the two of us to attend a fundraising dinner benefiting Self Enhancement, Inc. I jumped at the chance to go.

You may think my excitement was due to the event taking place at The Nines, a chi-chi hotel in downtown Portland. I’ve been dying to dine in its upscale restaurant, Urban Farmer, since it opened. Justifying the money to eat a meal there hasn’t happened yet.

While the location appealed to me for sure, I was truly thrilled about attending an affair benefiting this non-profit supporting at-risk urban youth. I’ve never been to a high(ish) society fundraiser before. Local celebrities would fill the room, Portland Monthly would photograph the event, networking opportunities would... would...would...

Wait a minute.

Networking? Small talk? People with lots and lots of money? This isn't my kind of gig.

The realization hit me at noon on the day of the fundraiser. I panicked. I couldn’t breathe. I started crying. Bawling, actually.

Months of therapy unraveled.

What was happening to me? I prayed to God and to Eleanor Roosevelt. Why am I acting this way?

“It’s okay,” I tried to self-soothe, “you’re just apprehensive. It’s out of your comfort zone. You blog about ‘out of comfort zone’ . Get it together!”

I didn’t convince myself.

I admitted my anxiety to Edd. He comforted, “Sweetie, we won’t go. Nothing is worth the stress of this. Don’t worry about it.”

(I’m sure what he really meant was, “Thank God. Now I don’t have to get dressed up.”)

So last Saturday, instead of fine dining and rubbing elbows with the Portland elite, we ordered pizza and watched The Princess Bride with our girls. I wore my sweats and relaxed in my comfort zone.

But I can’t get rid of the feeling that I failed. I failed to do the one thing that scared me that day.

Sorry, Mrs. First Lady.

What do you think?

Did I totally blow it - making a mountain out of a molehill when I really had nothing to worry about?

Or is it okay to “just say no” sometimes? And if so, when is remaining in your comfort zone justified?

Comment below and don't worry about hurting my feelings. (If you don't want to log in, you remain anonymous.)

Related Posts:
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Asking People for Money and Other Stuff

Motivation for Monday - A Pep Talk

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 14:01:00 +0000

"Hey, hey, hey! C'mere, c'mere, c'mere!"

Edd brought the girls and I around his iPad. "You guys have to see this."

He pulled up the following video on YouTube. "Listen to him!"

5 seconds into it the girls stare at their father. I raise my eyebrows wondering if my husband is serious.

"What?" he defends, "Isn't this kid cool?"

"Uh, yeah," I reply, "But we all knew he was cool a few months ago when this video went viral."

Poor Edd. So behind the times.

He made us watch the whole video with him again. I'm glad he did. I think I need to watch it every day.

So whether you've seen this video 3,000 times, 3 times, or you're one of the 3 people who still haven't seen it: watch. Then watch again.

And be awesome.

P.S. If this is your first time viewing Pep Talk, comment below. Edd thinks there may be more than 3 people that haven't seen this yet.

10 Activities to Encourage Compassion in Our Children

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 20:38:00 +0000

When people learn the premise of my blog, 97% of the time I hear this question:
“Do you volunteer with your kids?”

My answer:
“Heck, yes!”

Helping others not only benefits those in need, but rewards our family as well. In striving to embody the nature of a servant, my kids continue to develop a better sense of empathy.

Here are 10 family activities to help nourish compassion in our children:

1. Make Meals: When a family welcomes a new baby, or a friend is hospitalized, or someone special just needs cheering up, make a meal and help alleviate the “what’s for dinner?” stress. Kids can easily help shop for salad fixings, put together a casserole dish, and bake brownies for dessert. Ask them to create cards including their best wishes.

2. Sponsor a Child: Non-profits abound seeking financial support for children around the world. Our family sponsors two youth, one from Compassion International and one from World Vision. For less than the cost of a restaurant meal, we ensure a boy in Columbia and a girl in El Salvador are fed, clothed, and educated. Quarterly, we receive letters from our sponsored children and our daughters send a response. When we share the blessings we are given, we learn others have a chance for a better life.

3. Serve at a Clothes Closet: Donating garments no longer worn to children in need is generous, for sure. Sorting donations and choosing outfits for the recipients make the generosity a bit more personal. At our local children’s items donation center, my daughters “shop” for an individual and pick out just the right jacket, or toy, or pajamas to create a care package. Though the girls will never meet the children they choose for, to this day they remember each bag they’ve packed. I constantly hear, “I wonder if she liked the Minnie Mouse t-shirt.” or “I hope he liked the teddy bear I picked.”

4. Food Banks: Volunteering at food banks provide an opportunity for our daughters to see what is donated so others may put food on the table. Whether they are sorting carrots and green beans into baggies or delivering a week’s worth of groceries to those needing a helping hand, it causes pause the next time they complain about eating meatloaf. (Ok, maybe I have to remind them to take this “pause”, but the thought gets into their heads one way or another.)

5. Visit Retirement Homes: Often when my kids were in Scouts they would find a time at Christmas to carol at senior centers or retirement homes. Our culture severely lacks the respect for our elders most other worldly cultures revere. Make arrangements to deliver home-made cookies to a retirement home or have your children color placements for your local Loaves and Fishes center. The same kid driving you crazy one afternoon may be the joy and delight to grandparents missing the grandchildren in their lives .

6. Visit National Parks: While caring about others leads to mercy, showing respect for our environment also promotes a compassionate heart. “Take only pictures, leave only footprints” became our girls’ mantra after a year of visiting our country’s protected lands. When we care for our earth, we grow aware of how little acts make a difference in preserving the flora, fauna, and creatures around us.

7. Help level the playing field: Life isn’t fair. We get it. But when my kids need more bookshelves to house their tomes while most kids living in poverty don’t even have a book to call their own, there is a problem. When my kids get a safe place to sleep at night after being tucked in, water given, and kissed 100 times while at the same time children somewhere are taken by social workers from abusive parents, there is a problem.

Instead of purchasing another piece of furniture, I have the kids purge through their personal libraries. Chosen titles are donated to a local non-profit whose volunteers erase marks, repair tears, and pass them on to students attending Head-Start and Title-1 schools.

The next time you run errands, give the kids $10 and have them shop for coloring books, markers, toothbrushes, hair-ties, candy, or anything else which may give foster children comfort after leaving their homes. When abused kids are taken to social services, they often aren’t given a lot of time to pack their things. Welcome Boxes like these have necessary items as well as brief distractions to hopefully make their first night away a tad more bearable.

8. Raise Money for a Cause: Writing a check can be mindless for adults. Asking others for funds to help an effort impacts kids. If you live in a populated area, you will for sure have access to a cause needing fundraising. What is personal for your family? Is it a bike ride collecting money for diabetes research? Maybe a Big Climb earning funds for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society? It could be handing out fliers asking grocery shoppers to donate meals to the homebound elderly. Choose a non-profit your kids will connect with. Have them be a part of something big.

9. Make Sandwiches: Choose a day. Make sandwiches in the morning. Pack a Ziploc with the sandwiches, a water bottle, a protein bar and (if it’s safe), take the lunches where the homeless hang out in your area. Here in Portland, our downtown street population is pretty mellow. My kids show no apprehension approaching people to ask if they’d like a free lunch. If this is too far out of your comfort zone, make the lunches anyway. Deliver them to a shelter serving your homeless neighbors. Each time we deliver food to those on the street, my children become vocal about their blessings. It’s a good reminder for all of us to not take what we have for granted.

10. Apologize and Forgive: I’m not sure how it started, but when our daughters were toddlers and we encouraged them to say, “I’m sorry,” we always asked the offended party if the apologizer was forgiven. Now, at 13 and 10, the girls are distraught if they don’t hear “I forgive you,” after showing remorse. Don’t get me wrong - they are sisters. They argue as most siblings do. But they are never malicious and would never call each other names or put the other down. Asking for forgiveness may be the most humbling act to encourage compassion within the family.

What did I miss? How do you encourage compassion with your kids? Comment below so we can all gain ideas beneficial in raising the next generation with tenderness and mercy.

Related Posts:
Children's Book Bank
Welcome Boxes for Foster Children
NCompass

Motivation for Monday - Beauty in Tears, Music and Community

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 15:26:00 +0000

A tale about crying doesn't seem like a motivator to get the week going. Tears cleanse my soul. After a good cry and 2 Advil, I'm ready to tackle what lies ahead.

I shed many tears last week; a few in joy, a gush in vulnerability, and a truckload in sadness. As I scrolled through my blog reader this weekend, I came across Ann Voskamp's post in which she included the following video:

I cried again, this time a salty mix of joy, vulnerability, and sadness. There is beauty in one sole player, but it pales when compared with the congregation of gifts brought together.

Last week I watched as a woman asked for prayers for her dying son. The prayers of less than 500 have turned into the prayers of 7,678. (At this exact moment. It will grow.)

Who will you gather with this week to turn your own voice into a choir?

Related Posts:
Why God Created Bloggers - Prayers for Gavin
Still Following Chasing Rainbows

Still Following Chasing Rainbows and Remembering the Babies Gone Too Soon

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Fri, 12 Apr 2013 23:11:00 +0000

I had an idea I was going to write about today, but after following Chasing Rainbows for the last 48 hours, nothing I have to say sounds all that important any more. Because a mama is loosing her son.

I know today thousands of other mamas are loosing their babies, too. And I’m just so distraught. I wish I could take away the suffering.

21 years ago this month, my cousin lost her 12 year old baby. Not a day goes by that she and her husband don’t long to be with their daughter. I was 21 when she passed away. Old enough to grieve but nowhere near knowledgeable enough to understand a parent’s love.

Looking at my own daughters now, ages 13 and 10, I pray every day that God spares me from the excruciating pain that my cousin had to bear. The pain Kate Leong experiences at this very moment.

Friends, I ask that you take time this weekend to pray for the children who have left this earth too soon. On Facebook, Kate promises there will be a way we can help rather than sending flowers. I, for one, am looking forward to whatever cause will honor the life of 5 year old, Gavin.

Why God Created Bloggers - Prayers for Gavin

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 03:16:00 +0000

A Google search shows there are 873gazillionbajillion bloggers on the internet. And that’s just in the U.S. If you have wifi in your home, chances are, there’s a blogger living there.

My point being, blog posts will be in cyberspace way past the times of Revelation.

So why then, even attempt to blog when the market is pretty much saturated?

My reasons are this: to inform and to inspire. Even if it’s just one lone reader affected by the words God gives me.

There is one serial on the blogosphere I look forward to seeing in my Bloglovin’ reader every day. Chasing Rainbows.

Kate Leong journals the daily happenings with her, oh my gosh there can be no cuter boys on the planet, sons. Gavin, born with special needs, gets closer every day to keeping up with his brother, Brian, by golly.

This week, I read Kate’s posts about Gavin’s slight fever. Is it a cold? Maybe not. Yesterday’s dentist appointment alerted the family that 6 year molars are on the way. Phew.

But today. Today. Today, I read mass Facebook posts to all Chasing Rainbow blog followers:

Ummm. No.

No. No. No.

God, this can not be happening. Can it?

I don’t know Kate personally. I’ve read about her struggles and joys. There have been a lot of struggles. Her joy is her two boys.

Praying for Gavin tonight, a God thought entered my head. I think I’ve figured out the reason the Holy Almighty One created those who blog.

Community.

When Kate emailed Glennon Melton of Momastary for prayer warriors, the Monkee leader sent the message. And Kate sent her own messages. And others, and others, and others, and me. And now there are 946 mazilliongajillionbitrillion prayers shooting straight to heaven.

Gavin,

We are praying for you. We are crying for you. We want you here with us on earth, do you hear? And even if I never meet you in person, Gavin, I will know what you’re up to because your mama is so proud, she tells us every triumph you gain. We rejoice with you!

Kate,

We are praying for you, Ed, and Brian. We are crying with you. We want to read stories about those boys and watch them grow. Thank you, Kate, for sharing yourself with so many of us strangers.

We will not stop praying.

Motivation for Monday - Inspired by Wm. Paul Young

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 08 Apr 2013 16:43:00 +0000

If you read my blog last week, or follow me on Facebook, or Twitter, or called me, or went to my Bible Study, or overheard me at Trader Joes - you’ll know I stepped outside of my comfort zone to attend the Faith & Culture Writer’s Conference at Multnomah University.

My mind is blown.

So much information. So much inspiration.

I heard my social justice role model, Ken Wytsma, speak twice and mustered up the courage to introduce my fangirl self. I met with one agent and attended seminars by 2 others. I teared up listening to writer, David Jacobsen, teach how to use compelling, creative non-fiction prose. And, oh man, for the first time I heard poet, Phil Long, recite his words so beautifully, there is no painting or sculpture that could come close to the emotion he stirred in my soul that evening.

But if you pinned me down and made me choose one thing I heard, one nugget I took away, one person’s words that resonated with me the most - I’d tell you it was the conversation with William Paul Young.

I say “conversation” like I personally spoke to the author of The Shack and Crossroads. I didn’t. I sat and listened intently as did the hundreds of authors in chairs around me. But I swear, the man spoke directly to me. How did he know exactly what I needed to hear?

I am among the 2% of the earth’s population that did not love The Shack.

(Mr. Young. If there is any chance that you are reading this post, please continue. I promise, I am not a hateful person.)

My Dad loved the best-selling novel and asked me to read it also. I flipped through the first chapter. Eh. Some guy and a mailbox? Not my thing.

“Did you read it yet?” Dad nagged over the following weeks.

I tried again. I read a few chapters until I learned the tragedy of the main character’s daughter.

“Oh, hell no!” I told Dad. “No way am I putting myself through this pain on purpose!”

“Read,” said Dad.

6 months later I tried again.

I finished the book. Yeah, yeah, the images of the Trinity were transformed in a way totally contradictory to what most of us are raised to believe. Whatever.

“Wasn’t it amazing,” Dad didn’t wait for my reaction, “how Young took the image of a mean, old, white guy with a beard and turned God into a loving black woman? How he wrote the story in a way we could understand God’s love for us?”

“Dad, the mean white guy? That’s not my image of God. I’m pretty comfortable understanding God’s love for me.”

I really didn’t understand my Dad’s obsession with this novel.

During Friday night’s opening conference session, I eagerly soaked in the words from Ken Wytsma. I developed a love for Phil Long’s poetry. Exhausted by the break, I contemplated leaving before hearing Wm. Paul Young speak. I decided to stay. And in the next 20 minutes, my outlook on life altered.

Mr. Young came to the stage and instantly drew me in with his humble personality. He told of his background, working 5 jobs (including cleaning toilets) to support his family of 8. He shared childhood stories about his missionary family. He lovingly spoke about his 6 children and how he wanted to write a story just for them. A tale about the Trinity and unconditional love.

Those few copies typed on 8 1/2 x11 sheets of paper and bound at Kinkos served as the family Christmas gift one year. Friends and family shared their love for the words; yada,yada,yada... 15 copies turned into hundreds of millions of copies worldwide. Talk about loaves and fishes!

All of this humility in success is admirable, but not what lead me to fall in love with Wm. Paul Young on Friday.

I am changed because of this message:

Young emphatically stated, “This book did not make me complete. I was content and whole before I wrote this. I didn’t expect to sell copies. I didn’t expect anyone but my family to read it. I could have continued cleaning toilets and been totally happy with my life. This success does not define me.”

In a writing world of Facebook likes, re-Tweets, and comment numbers on blog posts, Young reminded me who I am.

I am content and whole because I am God’s child.

I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend - and that is more blessing than I deserve.

I am a minister. True, it’s been over 10 years since I’ve been employed by a church, but the desire to spread Christ’s love is in my soul.

After a night with Wm. Paul Young, my eyes opened to what others have been seeing for so long. I understand my own father better. I comprehend now his love of the story that makes God a black woman. I will re-read The Shack and then begin the author's new book, Crossroads.

In this life that becomes my own story, when I see Jesus in human form? I want him to look just like William Paul Young.

Who have you been inspired by of late? If you do see Jesus on the streets today, who does he look like?

Related Articles:

The Shack Houses a Multitude of Believers - Oregon Live

Faith & Culture Writers Conference - Oregon Live

HomePlate - Ya' Learn Somethin' New Every Day

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 18:24:00 +0000

Grandpa always said "Ya' learn somethin' new every day."

Here's what I learned at HomePlate on Wednesday:

I learned from one couch-surfing youth that carbon nano-tube elevators are the most cost effective, efficient ways to enter space. (I don't even know most the words I just typed.) But this guy read the article in Scientific American and is pretty knowledgeable on the subject. I also learned that it is very easy for me to look like an idiot when speaking science.

I learned that volunteering at HomePlate is not only a great opportunity to bond with youth, but also the crew you are working with.

I learned that core-volunteer Hannah makes a darn fine cake.

I learned that Pastor Troy is just as good a dishwasher as he is a preacher. Maybe better, even. He should come do dishes at my house for a week so I can really evaluate.

I learned that "Chicken Bowl in a Jar" probably won't go over as well as "Cookie Mix in a Jar" for Christmas gifts.

I learned that awesome Outreach Worker, Sean, is leaving HomePlate to return to his Chicago home. But first he will spend a few months backpacking from eastern Glacier National Park to the Olympic Peninsula. Which means now that he just spent his career helping kids to NOT live out of backpacks, he will do just that. And sleep on the dirt. With bears.

Whatever, Sean.

I learned that whatever mood I'm in, however tired I may be, or no matter the amount of work waiting for me at home - volunteering at HomePlate always lifts my spirits and my day is brightened by each person there.

(Ok, I guess I already knew everything in that last paragraph. But I wanted you to know.)

Related Posts:
HomePlate
Couch-Surfers, I'm Thinking of You
Proof that HomePlate is Excellent

Motivation for Monday - Ok. I'm Scared.

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 21:54:00 +0000

Eleanor Roosevelt has been my hero since 3rd grade. I'm not exactly sure what turned me on to the First Lady, but every time I had to turn in a biography for a school assignment, it was about Mrs. R.

My role model's words are posted in our kitchen for all to see.

I've tried to live by these words on a daily basis. Sometimes I try things a little scary. Sometimes I try things a lot scary. But every day, I try.

A few weeks ago I did something a little scary. On my Twitter feed I read about the Faith & Culture Writers Conference in Portland during the first weekend in April. This is something a bit out of my comfort zone, but I'm curious and I want to learn. But, really, who do I think I am? A writer?

After I tried something a little scary, I felt bold and did something really scary. Like, really.

Like, I'm scared to even tell you how scared I am to do this scary thing.

But I will. Okay, ready?

I signed up to meet with a literary agent to discuss a book proposal.

Ohmygosh, Ohmygosh, Ohmygosh. What was I thinking?!?

At the time I registered, I felt brave. Now I'm wondering what I got myself into. I know I have to go through with it. It's who I am. It's what Eleanor Roosevelt would want me to do, gosh darn it.

Think of me on Friday and Saturday and know that wherever I am at that conference, I will be scared. Want to know the great part about doing something scary every day? I know now that scary things mold me, mature me, and force my mind to open a little more.

What about you? What will you do today, or this week, or this month that will scare you enough to grow into a better person?

Jesus Didn’t Die So I Could Argue on Facebook. Or Did He?

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 15:17:00 +0000

A few mornings ago my father came to the house for coffee. We chatted about my blog, then delved into the conversation of Facebook, Twitter, and other sites in which this 68 year old man takes no interest.

“I don’t use social media,” Dad said, “I like being happy.”

“Ugh, Dad!” I responded exasperated, “You just don’t get it!”

I was wrong. He got it perfectly.

That afternoon, I scrolled my Facebook news feed to read a friend's location post.

That was it. A picture of a pin dropped on a spot in Portland and few words about going to see the once minister of a mega-church, now author of a few controversial books. But oh, man, did the replies to that post explode!

Some people were envious.
Some people were angry.
Some people had never heard of the speaker.
Some people claimed the speaker was a false prophet.
Some people sang the speaker’s praises.

I decided to add my 2 cents on my friend's wall.

One reply posted directly to me. The message came across so condescendingly that I didn’t even think. I typed in my gut-reaction rebuttal as fast as my fingers could fly across the keyboard. (Mistake #1)

I made my case for my beliefs all right. But with no gentleness, only in harsh defense. (Mistake #2)

Remember, all of this took place on my friend’s wall. Even though his thoughts did not reflect mine, anyone reading his status may see my words and ascertain that our beliefs were the same. (Mistake #3)

Later I discussed the situation with my pastor. “Stop arguing on Facebook,” he said, “it’s not worth it.”

“But, but, but,” I stammered back, “I can’t handle closed minded opinions!” Not admitting that I can be just as closed minded as the guy with the opposite viewpoint.

“That person”, Pastor explained, “has a story that makes him feel this way. You have a story that makes you view things your way. We are not issues, we are people.”

My pastor speaks truth. There were plenty of controversial issues present in Jesus’ day. What did he do when he was confronted with a tough topic? He told a parable. He used his followers’ personal experiences. He took the argument out of the issue and dove into the heart matters of those around him.

Social media doesn’t help when one strives to live like Jesus. Without the face-to-face conversation it is too tempting to be cruel, to jump to anger, to argue with people you don’t even know.

Today is Good Friday. We remember the ultimate sacrifice Jesus made for us; crucifixion for our sins. “Blessed are the peacemakers,” he said in his Sermon on the Mount, “for they will be called children of God.” (Matthew 5:9)

He did not die for war. He died for peace. He sure as heck didn’t die so I could verbally clobber others on Facebook. He died because when I do slip into a passionate internet attack, I know I am loved by the One who matters.

And forgiven.

Many who celebrate the Easter weekend focus by fasting from food Good Friday to Easter morning. This weekend, I will take a social media fast. No Facebook. No Twitter. No blogging or blog reading. This will be my time to focus on my Savior. I pray this will give me time to re-group and remember the true significance of Easter.

What do you think? Is social media the right venue to rant and argue? How do you manage to constructively reply to views that conflict with your own?

Have a blessed weekend.
He is risen, for you and for me.

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Spring Break = Serving

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 14:47:00 +0000

Oh, sure. Most of our friends decided to beat the clouds and get out of Portland for Spring Break this week. Mexico. Hawaii. Southern California.

To that I say, "HA!" We are having MUCH more fun here in town serving our local community.

(Yeah. There's no way to say that without a bitter, envious undertone. Lord, I need sun!)

No matter. We are here and we will volunteer!

On Friday before school let out, my friend Tara and I took our home-schooled girls to 5 public schools collecting cafeteria leftovers for the Sunshine Food Pantry.

I love Fork it Over for the ease of serving, but also because I know that food otherwise thrown out will go to needy families.

But I can't let my 10 year old have all of the fun. I also planned an activity that we could do with my teenager. Through Hands On Portland, I registered the 3 of us to volunteer at Children's Book Bank, cleaning and repairing donated books for new owners.

Two of my favorite people spearheaded our book cleaning efforts. MyNameIsEarl (how can I NOT call him that) and Robin always make my day brighter. Seriously. Others who are passionate about social justice and discuss books. What's not to love?

How totally fortunate that also volunteering that day were an international group of high school English teachers touring our country, getting ideas about our educational structure and library systems. We spoke with representatives from India, Nigeria, Poland, Costa Rica, and Azerbaijan. I would have paid for the experience to have my girls sit and talk with these folks, and here we all were. 2 hours of working together and discussing various cultures.

As we finished our duties for the day and began to clean up, I overheard MyNameIsEarl share this thought with Robin, "Isn't it amazing that with our different backgrounds, our different cultures, we can all find a common bond in books?"

Well said, my friend. Well said.

We Zomermans may not have visited exotic locations this week, but the educator in me will take learning opportunities whenever I can. Even on Spring Break. Don't you wish you were my kid? (Insert sarcasm font here.)

Related Posts:
Fork It Over
Children's Book Bank

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Motivation for Monday - It's Such a Good Feeling

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 25 Mar 2013 21:10:00 +0000

It's Holy Week. A time we reflect on Majesty. On Death. On Resurrection. On Jesus.

So it may surprise you that my motivator this week comes from Cracked.Com. Not normally the holiest of all websites, but last week an article posted about a man who lived with a true nature of a servant. And though this man was a minister, he didn't spend his time preaching the Gospel in front of an altar. His pulpit resided in our television sets.

This disciple taught about being a good neighbor. About being happy we are alive. About liking others just the way they are. For Cracked.com, Brendan McGinley shared 5 Moments that Prove Mr. Rogers was the Greatest American.

Really, can anyone argue this fact? And if you think you can, please read McGinley's message. If you don't have time to view all video clips, make sure you watch those under the #1 moment: He Understood the True Meaning of Religion. If the clip with Jeff Erlanger doesn't bring tears to your eyes, you don't have a heart.

It's such a good feeling to know you're alive.

It's such a happy feeling: You're growing inside.

And when you wake up ready to say,

"I think I'll make a snappy new day."

It's such a good feeling, a very good feeling,

The feeling you know that we're friends.

*Lyrics from PBS KIds

Judgey McJudgement

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 17:51:00 +0000

This is the name my childhood BFF called me yesterday. I was not offended for 2 reasons:

She’s known me since we were 9.
She’s right.

How can I - the girl who spends her time trying to learn to serve like Jesus, the girl who faces fear of stepping outside her comfort zone every day, the girl who strives to feed those who are hungry and clothe those who are naked - bear the accusation that I am judgmental?

Last year when I made the vow to explore social justice in my community, my goal was to get over my selfishness, my judgement. I’ve done a pretty good job. No longer do I immediately judge those on the street, those who turn to alcohol or drugs for support, those who make decisions that don’t align with my own values. As long as they are strangers.

There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you - who are you to judge your neighbor? James 4:12 NIV

The thing is, it’s not my “neighbor” that’s the problem. Strangers do not affect my daily life. I am not in a relationship with them. I can let the choices they make stay with them.

But if you are a dear friend, part of my family; someone I have invited into my heart, I still judge.

Seems a little ironic, yes? What happened to the unconditional love teachings of Jesus? Having the nature of a servant?

It’s a huge problem, letting the choices of those close to me come into my own soul. Sometimes, the hurt of others' choices becomes too much and I build a wall. When the wall is constructed, it appears I no longer care. I become a bitch. Exactly the opposite of what God wants. And it’s all to protect me.

I think I've figured out the next level in my quest to obtain the “nature of a servant”. Jesus didn’t only come to serve/save strangers, he came to serve/save friends and brothers. Even when said friends and brothers betrayed him. Hurt him. Denied him.

Today I make the decision to “take the plank out of my own eye”. It won’t be easy and I won’t be perfect. With judgement comes anger. It’s time to release that energy to the One who cares for all.

Even Judgey McJudgement.

Teaching the Easter Bunny to have the Nature of a Servant

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 15:59:00 +0000

Easter should be my favorite holiday. The religious significance of the celebration sings to my soul; I base my life around the belief in Jesus' resurrection.

But there is one, little, stupid thing that gets in my way of enjoying my Spring Sunday to the fullest.

The Easter Bunny.

Since my eldest was a teeny tiny, the Easter Bunny (with strong encouragement from my spouse) thought it necessary to load a basket with candy. Chocolate eggs, Whopper eggs, jelly beans, M&Ms. If it could be found at Target, it would be in the kids' basket.

In 2008, I had a talk with the Bunny. I made sure he only brought natural, organic products that year. The girls awoke Easter morning, scurrying to find hidden eggs only to open them and find a grayish, gummy substance supposedly blueberry flavored.

They both looked at me in shock. "Where are the M&Ms?" "Where are the Whopper eggs?"

There was no whining. Just a genuine concern that the Easter Bunny forgot important things. The laser glare my husband shot went straight to my heart. Stupid candy.

After church Edd needed to stop by Target for a quick errand. When we arrived home, I took the girls on a walk around the block. Returning through the front door, what did we see?

Well, lo and behold, the Easter Bunny had accidentally left a trail of chocolate eggs, jelly beans, and other random crap through the hallway to the guest room and he left the window open.

"Huh," Edd pondered quizzically, "it looks like Easter Bunny was startled this morning and went out the guest room window! I wonder if he heard you and needed to make a quick get-a-way?"

The girls breathed a sigh of relief. Of course the Bunny didn't forget the critical candy!

Meanwhile, I'm in the corner stewing over the slave labor that went into picking those cocoa beans and the amount of poison dye that is now making it's way through my offsprings' digestive system. Happy Easter, indeed.

This year, it is time to teach the Easter Bunny to have the nature of a servant!

With some careful planning, I mentioned to the Bunny that there are Fair Trade ways to give my kids a sugar rush. Websites like SERRV sell fair trade food items and handmade goods that benefit the low-income communities from which they originate. This year, Easter Bunny will bring chocolate that will make the kids happy and make Mom happy. (Dad may still be whining about the M&Ms)

Easter Bunny also thinks the girls will enjoy these hand-made headbands for their Spring wardrobes.

Trying to have the nature of a servant myself, I'm trying to make a conscious effort in how I shop lately. I've been pinning ideas on Pinterest, and would love to hear of more sites if you are aware of any.

*SERRV did not endorse this post. I'm just trying to help make a difference in the world.

Motivation for Monday - Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (Andee Zomerman) — Mon, 18 Mar 2013 14:49:00 +0000

I saw this video a few days ago and knew I had to share it with you all this week. You know why? Because this. is. me.

At times I get so caught up in my own life, my own discomfort, my own "poor me" attitude and completely shut out the plights of others around me.

This is why I must continue volunteering in my community, in my country, in my world. If I don't, I become completely inward focused and lose all perspective. Entitlement leads to selfishness.

You may have items on your "to do" list this week that you are grumbling about. I hope this clip by Soul Pancake causes you to view these tasks in a different light.