Nesting Place

Bird Watching

nester — Sun, 27 May 2012 00:36:35 +0000

One thing that will make your soul explode @ Chatting at the Sky

Amy’s Manifesto @ Miss Mustard Seed

If you want something badly enough you can usually find a way @ Money Saving Mom

How to work from home without losing your mind @ The Gypsy Mama

Where are the Compassion Bloggers headed next? Clue 1 @ Shaun Groves

I Went to Tanzania Don’t Ask Me About it M’Kay? :: my post this week at (in)courage. could I BE any more annoying?

Comment of the week from Ann::

your video reminded me why I do not miss having stairs one tiny little bit. It’s like having 15 little shelves that hold junk in the middle of your house – and you’re supposed to walk on them.

******************************************************************************************************************* Fun, quirky and artsy with that repurposed feel :: check out the new Redeemed Collection--from chevron wallets to overnight bags.

My Better Homes & Gardens Do It Yourself Magazine Photo Shoot OH MY WORD!

nester — Thu, 24 May 2012 13:25:25 +0000

Brie Williams : Photographer, Amanda: Photographer’s Assistant, Paula : Senior Associate Editor Better Homes and Gardens Special Interest Media (because she is fancy like that), Andrea : Regional Editor (who just happens to live about 20 minutes away I hope I don’t stalk her), Me : Spastic Renter

I know I didn’t let on at all, but I was a nervous WRECK about having four professional housey women over to come photograph my home. Somehow I will never learn that worry is a waste of time and that imperfection always puts people at ease.

How about some behind the scenes photos?

The rug from the playroom/guest room/bonus room whatever that room is got pulled down and paired with the stumps for an entry photo. (and Angela’s husband laughed all those months ago when I wanted those two stumps sitting outside their garage–we showed him!)

They also took pictures of our bedroom. I ironed my sheets y’all (with the help of a surprisingly willing 12-year-old boy). There’s nothing like knowing a camera is coming to make you go a little insane. Also, if you are wondering, it’s easier to iron your sheets once they are on your bed. The fact that they are featuring (hopefully?) this room kind of marks the end of an era. Because three years ago, this room was kind of a regret. I hadn’t cared to put much time into our bedroom but I knew a time was coming when I could. I’m glad it’s serving us well now.

Here are some piles of stuff they didn’t use. Isn’t it fun to see the photos of the OTHER half of the room? About half of that pile is stuff that I had or I bought, about half of it is stuff they brought. They came armed with a bunch of flowers, pillows, a few throws and bags and vases.

The photo taking part was a little anti climatic. I think I expected a loud “Quiet on the set! “ and a serious countdown “3…2…1…CLICK, FLASH, insert fireworks and marching band playing, maybe some easy to clean confetti in colors that match my house…” instead it was more like, “wait, they already took the picture?” I missed it. The photographer stands behind the camera when she’s setting it up and then she grabs her little remote clicky thing and is standing by the computer watching pictures come up and the rest of us are all talking and then Andrea and Paula go adjust a few things and somehow make what you have look magazine worthy and before you know it they’ve taken the photos and are picking out the best ones to use and it is OVER. These women are fast. And they did not once call my house a “set” although Andrea did say that I had good “props” which I took as a major compliment.

Also, they are skilled at Shopping The House. Andrea would come up the stairs with something I forgot I had and use it in a shot and I’d be all, oh my word I almost threw that AWAY yesterday and now I want to frame it in a glass box, boys don’t ever touch that again! She was fantastic.

They were so accommodating and I expected them to move around a lot more stuff than they did. Before they came I didn’t even have time to put thought into what was up on the mantle, I figured they’d want to play and tweak it anyway. So I just threw a bunch of stuff up there and they put some flowers on it and started snapping photos and I was all slow motion waving my arms and yelling “um, WAIT, don’t y’all want to change that a little?“ Really I was hoping that they would come up with some life altering mantle set up because my mantle drives me insane and I can never get it right. Unfortunately, they basically used what I had. Maybe I should just be happy the way it is.

So if you are wondering what they took photos of, here’s the rundown:: the stumps in the foyer, our bedroom, the family room with the gallery wall, the mantle, the painted furniture in the dining room/breakfast area, and they took a family photo in the front room with us all sitting on the sofa and the plate wall behind us.

It was fun to watch and learn from these super talented amazingly down to earth women that I now adore. And here are three quotes I want to pass along (I use the word quote lightly, I should have written them down immediately)

“Is that adding a layer of confusion?” –Paula

When you are taking photos if there’s something small that you can’t tell what it is, or a corner of something in the shot that is unrecognizable–remove it or else you are simply adding a “layer of confusion”. I love that. I also wonder if this can be applied to other areas of my life. Layers of confusion. This is gold.

“A big part of what we look for is a good story, if there’s no story we can’t run it” –Andrea

Andrea asked a LOT of questions before they decided to come here. I told her I hoped we had a story because if not I wasn’t sure what I’ve been writing about here for the past four and a half years. But I agree with her, no one wants to just see pretty pictures, we want a story to relate to and it applies to every industry.

“Most people are afraid to take risks”–Andrea

Amen. Andrea was talking about how it’s sometimes hard to find people to feature in the magazines. She blamed fear and risk. It’s stealing our dreams people, PLEASE, by all means take a risk, and there is no better place to start than in your home–it should be the safest place to take a risk.

I took a quick snap of the pillows they used on the sofa, before they styled it up. WHY don’t I have fun pillows on my sofa? I’m getting the black and white one and the blue ones ASAP. I think I’ve been a little afraid to commiting to such color but it’s GLORIOUS–why haven’t I taken more of a pillow risk? I love pillows?!

TIPS FOR TAKING RISKS IN YOUR HOME:

start small and pick a project that won’t take much time
don’t invest too much money
don’t force perfection
be open to changes and new ideas during the process

I’m still in shock that this House of Imperfection, this rented home, this motley crew of lived in, loved on thrifted, painted furniture is going to be featured in a magazine. It’s pretty much my childhood dream. I hope it inspires risk taking and hope and motivates people. I hope people everywhere believe that really it doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful. I hope you and I start to believe it.

Better Homes and Gardens Do It Yourself Magazine

Coming to newsstands near you, hopefully in February of 2013. Don’t worry, I’ll remind you.

Special thanks to : Karrie, for slaving away all last week for and with me, Angela for painting, wood gathering and fried pickle eating with me, Greta and Angela’s Neighbors for the lovely hydrangeas, Nate Felton from Felton Design Studio for inspiring my husband to rip out all our shrubs 4 days before cameras get here and then creating a lovely new front landscape, Dash from 3 Angels Bakery in Davidson for the delicious muffins and cupcakes and salted caramel brownies, (in)courage girls and my heart friends and Thursday morning group for getting excited with me. Mom for shopping with me and reminding me to use this as motivation to get things done, Dad for offering to be a model in every photo and Emily for laughing with me and encouraging me and helping me stage that hutch and everyone for putting up with me and pretending like they are not tired of hearing me talk about this. Three boys who have had a mom in Africa who came back a crazy person because cameras are coming and I need to make just one more trip to Home Goods–we are so staying at the pool all day on Saturday. My long suffering husband who was nothing but encouraging and willing to do whatever crazy thing I thought needed to be done, I owe you one, honey.

I am the Opposite of Cool Calm and Collected

nester — Tue, 22 May 2012 12:12:06 +0000

click here to watch on youtube

Oh my word, cameras are coming to my house tomorrow and I’ve turned into the anti-nester.

You see EVERYTHING, worse than even when you put your house on the market because you know there will be cameras, every smudgy door, every filthy window (I don’t think I’ve washed these windows in 3 years?! what kind of adult AM I?) My boys only have hockey and school uniforms to wear, think they’ll mind if they are wearing pants that are 2 inches too short and Great Wolf Lodge Tee shirts for the family picture?

Here’s what out house looked like two days ago. Just in case you want to know what a house looks like right before cameras come. Mercyness. Enjoy.

click here to watch the video on youtube

The {African} Elephant in the Room

nester — Wed, 16 May 2012 11:20:50 +0000

Now that I’ve come and gone I know what you all want to know. You want to know the exact same thing that I want to know. You want to know what one brave lady dared to put into words:

I love that it’s from Cindy, a fellow home blogger. She gets that there could be a disconnect. And I did respond to her in the comments but my first reaction in my head was::

I KNOW! Why in the world do you think I didn’t want to go? Because before I went all I could think of was “this is totally gonna ruin my blog and then I will have no business whatsoever”. Thanks a lot Shaun Groves.

and then I also thought…

If it wasn’t for Nesting Place I wouldn’t be able to sponsor 3 boys, I probably wouldn’ t even know much about Compassion, I certainly wouldn’t have gotten to meet Topiwo. Maybe Nesting Place isn’t such a bad gig?

and then I also thought…

How can ANY OF US continue to do what we do and go about our normal business? We all saw those children in need, not just me–hey, don’t put this all on me, we are in this boat together!

and I also thought,

maybe change isn’t a bad thing, maybe one can be changed without changing every single thing, maybe it just changes things about those things for the better–are you following my thinking?

And then I got back to the US on Sunday and GUESS WHAT?!

Everyone here still has the audacity to have houses! And they have the nerve to still live in them! They still procrastinate and don’t enjoy them and use them to their fullest potential because of fear. And I still feel called to be a voice that speaks into those fears and after learning from Topiwo I feel even more equipped.

And I think about what they would do. Because I know if our roles were switched these maternal ladies would sponsor my child in a heartbeat and they would do whatever it was that God gifted them to do in whatever crazy field that was in order to make that happen and make no apologies. And I think they would tell me to do the same.

And I remember she told me it took her two weeks to hand bead her necklace. Just that one small one–she’s wearing two in this photo the bigger one seems twice as big. We all seek beauty, don’t we? It’s a universal trait we inherited from our Creator. And most of us, even if we live in a mud hut, will make the time to create beauty. Meaningful beauty with purpose and balance.

And I think about that book I started writing in January. And how I’ve struggled with it and not even told you about it and wondered what it’s purpose was and suddenly after walking into a mud hut and seeing a declaration of faith I feel like I’m ready to tackle those words again with a fresh perspective.

And I think about how I am blessed and how they are blessed too and how we are different and the same.

And I think about this conversation between two women of great faith that I love and consider mentors, Darlene and Angela as they talk about creating beauty in the image of God.

So yesterday I went to super Target and I did not cry. I even *gasp* bought a Starbucks coffee and didn’t have guilt (ok maybe a little but not much). I wrote sponsor letter and gave a family gift to the three boys we sponsor and was thrilled I could. I cried in the car on the way to carpool. And today I’m getting ready for the magazine people to come to my home next week and I even bought some pillows for our bed (even though I self righteously told Shuan Groves I would not under any circumstances be buying anything for my house because of this shoot).

And I have a new passion to continue to think about my home and share it with you for as long as you will listen. Changed, but not changing everything. Although still, EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED.

Are we clear?

amen.

Rescued.

nester — Sun, 13 May 2012 16:54:42 +0000

Mothers everywhere love their babies and want them to grow up and to succeed in life. Partner with a mother (or if the child is an orphan, partner with their guardian) and help ensure that their child is cared for, fed, schooled, immunized, in community with other children, surrounded by mentors, clothed and given the chance to learn about God’s Word. Is there any better gift?

a little round-up of our week.music: Come by Here {Shaun Groves} (All proceeds go to Compassion)photos (the good ones) by Keely Scott

click here to pin from original source:: Shaun Groves

For children in need of release from poverty. For Americans like me in need of rescue from wealth.

–Shaun Groves

Don’t be average, (I know you already clicked over and looked at the children and your heart went out to one, and then you waited, because that’s exactly what I did for two years and then I regretted it) don’t be like me, sponsor that child today. Thank you all for reading and emailing and praying and supporting and sponsoring a child.

Decorating Truths from A 15-Year-Old Tanzanian Boy

nester — Thu, 10 May 2012 21:22:45 +0000

Warning:: Moms of boys may experience uncomfortable, unexplainable side effects while reading this post. Side effects are treatable with a prompt visit here to sponsor a teenage boy. In order to alleviate the discomfort, take one or two of those and email me in the morning–for real, you should email me after you do this.

Flashback about four weeks ago. I get in bed at my normal bed time one Sunday night (yes, it is actually still in the 8′s have I told you I am 97 years old?) and I happen to remember to bring my phone upstairs with me and I see a text from Caroline.

What luck! So I watch and I learn one thing about Tanzania; I learn what CBS decides to tell me about the Maasai Tribe. I mean, I didn’t even realize that Tanzanite comes from Tanzania–I really should have researched this country I was going to visit. I must have doubled up on art class and skipped Geography in school or something. But now I’m armed with a tiny bit of knowledge about Tanzania and it feels good. Note to self:: Maasai Tribe.

Amazing Race on CBS

Flash forward to today. It’s the day I get to meet our sponsored child, Topiwo. We just started sponsoring him right before this trip so all I have is a photo of him and a name I’m not sure how to pronounce so I call him “Topo” to myself and the initial information that Compassion sends, but we hadn’t corresponded through letters yet so, you know, we didn’t really know each other.

I was lucky enough to get to be there when Amy met her sponsored child and it was breathtaking. And I knew every meeting is different and I am a 97, I mean 38-year-old mom who has Wynonna Judd on her iPod meeting a 15-year-old boy in Africa. Worlds are colliding people. I was prepared for lots of awkwardness and maybe not even a hug or anything, maybe a thumbs up or something or a rock throwing contest at lizards or whatever. I’ve been around 15-year-old boys before at my own house, they are their own special people and I’m good with that.

So we leave the city of Arusha, and we drive an hour and twenty minutes into the most beautiful land I’ve ever laid eyes on–sorry North Carolina.

Vast green grasslands with big huge-attention stealing, Mt. Kilimanjaro quietly watching over the entire last 45 minutes of driving. Mt. Kilimanjaro is an introvert but one you can’t help but notice. It was breathtaking. And on the way, our guide, Mary tells us that many of the children at this Compassion location are Maasai. Wait, what? Maasai? I know that word! The ONE thing I actually kind of heard of about Tanzania? I have to put on my sunglasses on the bus and make Maggie tell me funny stories because how do I explain that I’m already tearing up that Topo might be Maasai?

So we pull up to the site and they sing to us because they want to make us cry.

And we get out and we start shaking hands and laughing and introducing ourselves and I make my way around scanning the crowd for a boy that looks like this …

our youngest holding our photo of Topo

And finally, I make my way around to a group of boys and a sassy girl with some kind of transition lenses glasses…

and they are all circled around and pointing to a boy standing in the middle of the group with his head down….and he is smiling. And I ask him his name and it starts with “Top” which is the only part of his name I know how to pronounce.

And there he is. Wearing the same clothes as in the picture.

I hope he could tell I was happy to meet him?

And I am so happy that I didn’t cry (Maggie was praying for that specifically) because who wants to meet a 38-year-old mom with Wynonna on her iPod who is also CRYING? No one! Everyone would much rather meet a 38-year-old mom with Wynonna on her iPod who is making a face like they are going to eat them.

So he is absolutely adorable (15-year-old boys everywhere now hate me but whatevs, they are not my demographic anyway and he was TOTALLY adorable, people!). I pulled out a little photo book we made for him and showed him pictures of my family.

He loved this one…

Then it was time for them to sing another song because they wanted to see me cry again here’s a 25 second clip if you want to hear.

back row, right corner, a little off rhythm, purple sweater, yellow shirt–oh wait they all have that on

Then we went into the Compassion office and, y’all, he grabbed MY HAND. I promise I did not in any way try to hint for him to hold my hand, I wanted to make sure I gave him space to be his own personality (clearly, I held back all of my emotions which you can tell by the stoic look on my face in the photos) but oh my word he held my hand and sat by me in the office and he looked at the photos about 23 times while running his finger over parts of them and asking me what that thing was (a street light) and then he raised up the book and kissed it–right on the photo of our dog!

Next we got to go to Topiwo’s home. And this part needs its own series, people and I’m going to do my best to cram it into one long, everwordy post. So grab a coffee, run to the bathroom and get ready to be astonished…. this is gonna be worth it, as long as I don’t wreck it all up. I will never forget this as long as I shall live…

And for the record, I’ve always said, you never really know a person until you’ve been in their home or at least I’m saying it starting today.

After four days of walking over urban dirt roads and paths littered with trash, visiting children in concrete homes crammed close together we found ourselves in this pristine, pure, open plain at the foot of some mountains…

here’s a few seconds of our walk – it’s shaky but you get the idea::

And then we get to his home.

A handmade home.

And it is breathtaking. He LIVES here. And it’s a simple hut made of stuff of the earth and it is humble and glorious all at the same time. OH my goodness this child lives in a mud hut! A real one!

And we meet his aunt (I think?) who he lives with. Topiwo’s mother died when he was young. His aunt is absolutely wonderful and we do not speak the same language in words but we do have an interpreter and I can tell by how she speaks and her eyes and her face that she is nothing but maternal and I am in love with her. And disclaimer: they do not smile when they pose for photos so even though she looks a little stern as soon as she started speaking and the camera was down she came alive.

So Topiwo had a sponsor since 2005 (before our family) but for some reason they cancelled so now we get to be his sponsor.

She talked and talked and told us how Compassion has helped their family over the last seven years, and oh my goodness this is the part where I tried to hold back tears. That area of Tanzania has experienced drought so Compassion has supplied the family with food. Maasai live off the land so they are immediately affected by drought. Even though Topiwo is the one sponsored, Compassion visits the home of all their children (his last home visit was in April) and they assess any needs of the family because they want to make sure that no one goes without food and basic health care.

Because of Compassion, now Topiwo can go to school, have a uniform and a pair of shoes and even get tutoring for his studies. I ask her what she hopes for Topiwo’s future and she says for him to do well in school and succeed in life. And Compassion gives him that chance.

Meanwhile all the neighbors and family have gathered. There are babies and children and men and women and they all seem to know that Topiwo’s sponsor is here and they want to meet us all and shake our hands and they are so gracious and mild mannered. I am so grateful for the community that Topiwo is surrounded with–there are so many people here that know him and love him! Such a different feel from the home yesterday.

We went inside the circular mud hut, it had a fire pit in the middle, a damp dirt floor, no windows at all–just a small hole and it’s really, really dark. There were two rooms and you could see thick branches like pillars holding up the structure from the inside and twigs and grass on the roof. This is where they live.

he tried to look stern but this man was a sweetheart, patting Topiwo on the back from time to time

And we walked outside and you know what? As we were getting ready to leave I didn’t feel sad about where Topiwo lives. I actually was incredibly happy for him because he is rich with love and community and joy and gracefulness. Richer than a lot of people that I know.

Now if you have read this far this is where it gets worth it. On the outside of the home Topiwo had painted Psalm 23 and then his name and the names of others who live there.

Topiwo lives in a mud hut.

Do you remember how the 23rd Psalm starts?

Did I happen to mention that Topiwo lives in a mud hut? And that his family lives in Tanzania and didn’t have any food until Compassion stepped in? This young man quietly declares his faith and I wondered about what message I am sending people when they walk through my front door? Do I really believe that I have everything I need, or do I immediately launch into declaring what I don’t have and what isn’t good enough as soon as someone walks into my home?

This 15-year-old Tanzanian boy who lives in a mud hut is teaching me about how I think about my home and my life.

So I might get in trouble with Shaun Groves for doing this, I don’t know if we are allowed to be partial to a certain group of children but, I remember that Shaun said teenage boys are always the last to get picked for sponsorship. So, as a mom of 3 boys in tween and teendom I stand on my soap box on behalf of the teenage boys who don’t currently have a sponsor and ask my fellow moms of boys :: will you and your boy sponsor a teenage boy today?

They are the near future of their community and are patiently waiting for us to release them from poverty.

And they also might teach you a thing or two about decorating.

**Photos by the fun and quirky and photogenic Keely Marie who does a great Kip voice.

Pin It

What’s Your Plan for Tomorrow?

nester — Wed, 09 May 2012 20:34:12 +0000

*photos courtesy of the ever so funny and wonderful Keely Scott

Oh mercy, how are you?

I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.

Can I just tell you that when you are on one of these trips you get up early, eat, leave for a Compassion site, laugh really hard, pee in a hole, sob uncontrollably and try to hide it, hug on the most joyful children, get back, eat dinner, shower, then you forget your google password that you’ve had for 4 years then you continue to forget it for 45 minutes, once you remember it you try to put words together in a manner that makes sense and is compelling, hit publish, try to tweet your husband and sister, put your breathe right strip on so you don’t wake your roommate because it’s hard for her to throw a shoe at you through two mosquito nets and then fall asleep because it’s 2am and you have to get up in five hours and then you get to do it all again. All that to say, it’s killing me not to respond to more of your comments super fast–especially the questions–responses are coming, promise.

But for now, let me try to put some letters together in a manner that makes words…

each child had his own binder full of information

The church/compassion office we visited was the most established, longest running site we’ve seen this week. The difference a few years can make is stunning. They even had a room with glass in the windows with computers for teaching the children! That brought tears to this momma who knows the power of the ‘puter.

Every compassion site has a focus on vocational training for each child. So as well as getting food and Bible teaching and health services and loved on by parents and volunteers they also learn skills that they will use the rest of their life. Skills like sewing, farming, leadership in the community and sometimes like at this site, computer skills.

Then, we visited little 10-year-old Mwajuma’s house. She quietly led the way, and we finally walked up to a little U-shaped area of four or five doors covered with sheets opening into concrete rooms.

But the very first thing you noticed was the two tiny toddlers outside. They were just toddling around by themselves, one had some bread in her hand. Neither one was older than 3, maybe 2 and a half and 18 months I can never tell? They looked too close in age to be siblings but not close enough to be twins. We waved at them and I figured the mother would call for them or something but they just followed us about 8 feet to the door where little Mwajuma was leading us too.

She went inside her house but her mom wasn’t there so she ran off to look for her. Meanwhile the toddlers watched us and smiled and acted all precious and toddlery. Nearby there was another mom sitting outside with a baby and a young boy washing out bowls, just every day neighborhood happenings I guess. About three minutes later Mwajuma came back with her mom. Immediately, the toddlers ran to her--ohhh, she was their mother too. They are siblings.

We walked inside. And I do not have words. There are none. It was the smallest home? room? enclosure? I’ve ever been in. It’s about the same size as my youngest child’s closet. Only I’d rather live in his closet. Kelly and Keely and Mary, our guide, along with Mwajuma, her two siblings, her mother and another Compassion volunteer–that’s 8 of us–barely even fit. I sat on a stool but my shoe came off and there was no way I could get it back on until we got up to leave, there was no room to really move.

Mwajuma in her home

The room rents for 7000 shillings a month–I think that’s about $3.50. There’s no mattress to sleep on, it looked like rags and some clothes filled the wooden bed frame. I guess the four of them sleep on that one makeshift bed.

So as we talked (actually, Kelly and Keely talked because they are good at that and have composure and can think and make people feel so comfortable, and I sat there in stunned, introverted, I cannot breathe, hold-back-the-tears-silence) Keely asked about the two toddlers, who keeps them? It turns out that the mom needs to go buy fish at 5am so she can resell them in the market in the evening. So she leaves the children and then I guess Mwajuma leaves for school later in the morning and at times, like today, the tiny toddlers, are just kind of there to fend for themselves for a little while. LITTLE BABIES. There are neighbors around but it seemed normal to just leave your children and trust they will not wander off and if they do that someone will bring them back.

I guess that’s what one does when eating depends on leaving.

Momma also leaves at night to go to the market to sell her fish. She usually gets home at 10. This mom has to leave her tiny children just so she can go make enough money for food and rent. When she came home after Mwajuma went and found her for us, the tiniest baby wanted to nurse and be held and wanted her mom. It was heartbreaking.

And I’m still processing it all and will be for a long time. I don’t have any fancy finished shiny words that make it ok.

But then, Mwajuma got out her letters from her sponsor. Actually her mom had them in a crisp white envelope (you can see her holding it two photos up) and I couldn’t help but wonder how in the world anything could be so crisp and clean in such a dusty, dirty place. She had a stack of letters from her sponsor family in Germany who had corresponded over the years encouraging her to study hard and attend the local church and to help her mother.

They asked questions about her favorite subject, science and she even had a stack of photos of the family. She proudly passed them around so we could look at them. Those letters were the most cared for item in their home, they were treasured and I suddenly really saw the power of sponsor letters. And I suddenly wondered why I haven’t written our sponsored boys more. WHY?! And I suddenly vowed to write them immediately when I get home.

When Keely asked what Mwajuma wanted to do when she grew up she immediately said she wanted to be a doctor. And you know what? I believe that she can be. And you know what’s even better? Mwajuma and her mom believe it too. Her mom just nodded when she talked about her love of science and growing up to be a doctor. I think they are so convinced that can happen because every year Compassion helps the children set goals and also if you are lucky enough to have a sponsor who writes you letters, you are getting encouragement from them as well. Once a child turns 12 they fill out an official paper called “My plan for tomorrow”. I know a lot of adults who could use a little “My Plan For Tomorrow” worksheet–and these children are already encouraged to think about their future at such a young age. It really can change the course of how a family envisions their future.

Here’s an example of a child’s binder full of all sorts of records for classes and health and their family information and well-being and their goals and their “My Plan For Tomorrow” sheet. Every Compassion site is incredibly organized and they tell us to pull any folder we want and look through them and ask questions.

We took some photos together, Keely left them a Polaroid photo of their family for them to keep and then we walked back. And after leaving a situation like that, seeing how shockingly horrid the living conditions are, knowing that no one should have to live like that I could hardly stand it or deal with it. And then after talking with Keely she reminded me that the only reason we can possibly begin to deal with it is because of the fact that they have the one thing that can make it better and they are getting that through Compassion.

They have a future. Not just food for now. Not just a handout, but the tools that Compassion equips the children with through their sponsors make all the difference in helping create a generation that is moving away from poverty one child at a time.

Compassion and Sponsors :: Releasing Children From Poverty in Jesus’ Name

Click here to start the releasing and sponsor a child

The world’s way of pursuing riches is grasping and hoarding. You attain my riches by letting go and giving.

–Sarah Young, Jesus Calling

Nail Polish, Bubbles and $38

nester — Tue, 08 May 2012 21:22:52 +0000

Today I want to tell you simply everything and then I keep sitting here looking at the computer and typing nothing. It’s just too much. And I can’t conjure up a great post and tie it neatly with the proverbial imperfectly beautiful bow. I wish I knew some really great new, fancy, space age words that could somehow convince you beyond a shadow of a doubt how life altering it is for a child to be sponsored through Compassion International. Because when you see everything that we’ve seen in the past few days all you can think of is how much you want to do anything to make life better for these children living in poverty. And right now for me, that means using my words to help them and my computer clock says it’s 2:59 and my body clock says it’s too jet lagged and my Tanzania clock says it’s 9:59 and I know I cannot do this.

I can’t write a compelling enough, good enough, worthy enough post of what we’ve seen. I wish my sister were here so she could make me laugh and then she could crank out a really beautifully crafted post and I could pretend I wrote it. But I also know you and I know you can make a decision to sponsor a child whether or not I use magical words because heart changing isn’t my job. It’s His.

I’ve walked on roads filled with trash, stepped over a muddy dirty bra on the ground, saw a baby crawling in 3 inches of mud (next to some kind of black duck squawking around) and then the baby grabbed a handful of mud and stuck it in its mouth.

I think tears have blurred up my eyes a thousand times today as children have greeted us with singing and grabbing for us to hold their hands. One pretty little girl politely punched another pretty little girl a little taller than herself just so she could get to hold my hand, and then smiled the most adorable smile {it’s exciting to have visitors}. Every person in our group had a swarm of little children around them grasping for hands and hugs and smiles–the children we met today were an extremely affectionate bunch.

The highlight of the day was being there as Amy met her sponsored child Mektreda and then getting to go with them to visit Mektreda’s home. It was a cinder block home that they rent and had a mattress and two plastic chairs and I think a table. Mektreda is one of five children, four of whom still live at home with their parents. The 17-year-old brother moved to the city to try to find work. Anyhow, Amy’s writing all about meeting her sponsored child at her blog so I beg of you, go read her story. Really, all I want to do today is not write and tell you to go to Amy’s place.

a 30 second video of Mektreda and her new baby doll–her big sister ran and grabbed a wrap so she could wear the doll on her back just like all the real mammas click here to watch on you tube

And all I can think of is that if everyone could have witnessed that meeting and that home visit, everyone would immediately sponsor a child YESTERNOW . The impact is unquestionable. Children sponsored through Compassion can go to school (complete with uniforms) receive health care and learn about the biggest life changer–Jesus. They have hope for a future and the parents have great hope for them as well–it really affects the entire family.

We spent a few hours with Mektreda’s family and learned how her mother helps to provide for them by roasting and packaging beans to sell at the local market. The daddy is handicapped but is able to repair shoes to help support the family too. But still it’s not enough.

As for me, I feel like today my introversion has come out in full force. I was able to be a fly on the wall and just watch the unfolding of great story. And while Amy was inside giving a few more gifts to Mektreda and her family, I stayed outside with a bunch of adorable children. I blew bubbles. They blew bubbles. They popped bubbles tirelessly. Then they popped more.

Then I pulled out the big guns–my blue nail polish.

I’ve never had so much fun painting nails in all of my life. I painted the tiniest, darkest, sandiest little toenails you’ve ever seen. It’s something I’ve never gotten to do, you know, since I have three boys. I never actually painted a child’s nails before. But today I painted little girls’ toenails, little boys’ toenails, infant toenails and a young mother’s toenails. It was glorious. And for some reason is one of the highlights of the trip so far.

I feel so helpless with my keyboard and blue nail polish and measly $38 sponsorship. But I also feel so happy that my $38 is made HUGE when it’s in the hands of Compassion International.

I know you’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you? I know you’ve been meaning to talk to your husband or let your kids help pick out which child you want to sponsor. I know because I put off sponsoring our first child for a year. I had great intentions, I followed the bloggers and read the posts and thought, “YES, this is AMAZING, I am so going to sponsor a child tomorrow!“ But time passed and good intentions were forgotten and it wasn’t until a year later, when I followed the next blogger trip when I realized that if I didn’t just go right then and look at that page full of waiting faces and pick out a little child to sponsor that it would never happen. Don’t be like me. So go ahead and do it now, because I promise you will thank me later. Click here to sponsor a child through Compassion International.

A Ten-Year-Old Preacher Man, Fanta and The Giraffe that Made Me Cry

nester — Mon, 07 May 2012 20:50:29 +0000

New around here? I’m currently in Tanzania with Compassion International. Read more about why I’m on this trip here and read about our first day here.

It feels weird being here. Not because we are sleeping under mosquito nets or drinking Boysenberry Fanta (out of a GLASS BOTTLE, mind you!) and not because we are in Tanzania, a country that I couldn’t even point out on a map 5 months ago– but because our little group of 11 is being treated like royalty at these centers. The people at the Compassion Centers are thanking us and feeding us and showing off their grounds and clapping for us and singing for us and the children are smiling and waving as if we are famous or something.

And today. Today they lined up our entire little group and told us to “stand right there and face us” then all of the parents and teachers huddled together at the back of the center of the room and then turned to us and started singing some beautiful song (loudly and happily) and moseying/dancing/clapping their way up to us and then they handed us each a gift.

A gift? They gave us each a gift and told us thank you? I could hardly take it.

These leaders of the church, of the community of the Compassion Center working with people who live in poverty, some living in poverty themselves are giving us gifts? It was unfathomable, unthinkable, and other un words that conjure up tears and emotions that just don’t add up.

I immediately started bawling because the entire experience was humbling and overwhelming and I think that the guy who gave me my wooden giraffe was startled and confused yet ultimately secretly pleased with my reaction. He came back and took a photo of me in tears.

But then I remembered, they really aren’t thanking us. They are thanking you. They are thanking every sponsor in every country who has or ever will sponsor a child. We are just a teeny tiny representation of all the sponsors whose contributions have impacted lives in their community. So they really didn’t care that not one of us in the group actually sponsors any of the children in their particular center. It wasn’t about that.

It was about gratitude.

Because the work that compassion is doing is making a difference and they know it. And now I know it too.

Today, we were told we’d get a tour, sit with the children and listen to a message, play with the children, have some home visits, you know the regular stuff you get to do when you are on one of these trips. Well when the man got up to preach I was a little surprised.

He was 10. His name is James and he spoke with confidence and boldness while Samson, the Project Director held the mic for him. The volunteers and leaders and staff at these centers LOVE these children. They know what’s going on in their families, they pray for them, they lead them and teach them how to be leaders. That’s what was happening there, one of the adults could have made a fancy speech or preached a stirring sermon but instead they gave the opportunity to James so he could be trained in leadership. It was profound and moving and a beautiful picture of mentorship, manliness and discipleship.

I’ve trusted Compassion for years. I’ve followed other blogger’s trips, we sponsor three boys through Compassion, my sister’s been on a trip with Compassion, she sponsors children–I have never questioned anything about them. But still, I never had any idea how deeply life changing the compassion program is for these children. Compassion brings True Hope to a community that most probably feels hopeless–it’s the most valuable gift you can give. And I’m convinced that it’s the best $38 you can spend.

As of 2011::

The Compassion Center that we visited today is only about a year and a half old. Some of the children that we met today are waiting to be sponsored. Some children have been waiting for almost a year. I wonder if you feel that tug right now, you know the one.

OH, there are many children throughout Tanzania eagerly waiting for a sponsor click here to sponsor now.

and….not only are they precious but they are really good at choreography, just in case you were wondering….

I taught them 16 counts of the Justin Bieber flash mob moves I had to learn for Caroline’s 40th birthday. So happy I could use my skills.

Have a few minutes? Click here to read what the other bloggers have to say about our Tanzania trip.

**Images from the beautiful, talented and funny Keely Marie Scott

Well I Didn’t Expect to Meet HER in Tanzania

nester — Sun, 06 May 2012 21:09:16 +0000

*Special thanks to Photographer Keely Scott for capturing the stories through her photos.

I met Hospitality today. Yep, her.

I’ve always known the requirement for being hospitable isn’t about finally getting to the place where you love where you live and can have the most up to date flooring and look cute in the Anthropologie apron while making that delicious meal Ina Garden made on TV when Jeffrey was out-of-town. We all know that. But few of us live that.

Well, I’m reporting to you live from Africa, Tanzania to be exact and you very well may already know what we do here while on this Tanzania trip with Compassion but I’ll give you a quick recap. We travel (what seemed long enough to reach the moon) and then we travel more and just when we think we are done? We travel more. And then finally, when we reach our destination with our greasy hair and bossy intestines we get in a bus and head to a church.

We get out of the bus and wind our way around a well-worn 12 inch dirt path (don’t fall off) until it opens up to the biggest collection of children you can imagine. Smiling children. Children who are sponsored (or waiting to be sponsored) by someone like you and someone like me. It was a sight.

We split up our group and a few of us go to little Jennifer’s house. She’s 6 years old and lives with her grandmother. Her grandmother, who if you saw her randomly, walking around New York City, you would naturally assume she’s an African runway model with her beautifully patterned dress that I’m sure has a proper name and gauzy head scarf and stately features. And she smiles and greets us and asks us to come into her home. Her home that is made of concrete that is beginning to come apart. You can see holes in the roof.

I watched her face as she invited us in. It was pure joy. There was no shame. It was as if she was honored we were there. What? You mean she wasn’t all “I’m so sorry I don’t have a rug, I’ve been meaning to repair my concrete floors, try to ignore the fact that 12 of us sleep in a three room house the size of your family room”… How many of us do that on a daily basis when we sheepishly invite someone into our homes?

There was absolutely none of that. I cannot even imagine a word of ungratefulness even coming out of her mouth. She was simply thrilled we were there. I want to be like that. When I invite someone in, am I more worried about what they think of me and my stuff or do I put the focus on people? That is Hospitality.

She doesn’t have much, a table covered with a floral vinyl table-cloth, a plastic flower arrangement set centered on the table, a few random wall hangings, a sofa, a sheet covering a doorway to a bedroom. She is one of twelve people who live in the three room house. She sells tomatoes. And her dream? Not too unlike my own, her dream is to be able to buy her own home. Then she’ll be able to have her own land and hopefully grow more tomatoes to help her family.

But for now she has a huge load lifted off her shoulders because Jennifer is one of the children sponsored through Compassion International. Someone, someplace in the world spends $38 a month and somehow the Compassion people are able to magically make that little bit of money transform into something that is life changing. Which in turn can affect the entire family. So no one has to fret over making sure Jennifer gets the medical attention, nutrition, schooling, and Bible teaching that will shape her future. And because Compassion works with the local church, a two minute walk from little Jennifer’s rented home, when the family had some extra needs recently, Compassion stepped in to help. Compassion has a special fund set up especially for families who experience extreme circumstances like famine, illness, and natural disasters.

There are 50 Children at the Center/Church that we visited today that are patiently waiting on a sponsor. Have you ever considered sponsoring a child? I’d love for you to click over and just find out a little more information about the children patiently waiting on a sponsor, you can choose a boy or a girl or a birthday or find the child who’s been waiting the longest for a sponsor (my personal favorite).

I’ve just traveled further than I thought was possible without getting right back to my house and you know what I found? Moms and dads and grandmas and families just like me. They love their children, dress them in their best when company’s coming, have dreams for tomorrow, live in community, put flowers in the center of the table on a special occasion, and have a hope for a better future for their children.

Be sure to read all the posts from the other bloggers I’m here hanging out with.

To be continued…