Where It Went

Somehow days and weeks escape despite the intent to post a little update, story, picture, anecdote... yeah. So. There's all sorts of stuff that was intended for remembrance which will never be known because someone failed to post to the blog that has replaced those messy and time-consuming scrapbooks...

Gentle Reader didn't really miss that much, though.

Unless you wanted a play-by-play of the hours spent applying one sparkly little crystal at a time to Skater Girl's competition dresses? (A picture is worth a thousand words- and you'll be better off. Really.) It's pretty, though. And so shiny. Anywho. Placing each little stone... Oh. Hey. It's just like those scrapbooks...

Fitting

Ow. Skater Girl had five teeth extracted yesterday because there's not room in her mouth for all of them to fit. Eighteen hours later, our girl was back in the chair with her mouth wide open. Those newly spacious gums have been joined by brackets and wires on the remaining teeth. The application of full braces hard on the heels of the extractions were not originally scheduled quite so close together. The appointments were supposed to be a couple of weeks apart, but the orthodontist's computer somehow had the day of the braces installation listed as, "Available," though that was untrue since the date fell in the midst of the doctor's vacation. (Oops.) With skating competitions in June and July, the decision was made to cram the treatment into a whopping day-and-a-half.
This is good for skating, even though it means Wednesday afternoon through Sunday off the ice. (The dentist said so yesterday.) Even with explanations of dry socket (yuck), Skater Girl was already attempting to bargain herself back into the rink tomorrow. Her theory is that it would surely be okay to skate as long as she doesn't jump or spin. Eesh. Fortunately, her new skates came in yesterday (8 weeks to manufacture the boots!), and she will have her first fitting tonight. That may satisfy her jones for all things skating-related at least for today, and the promise of next week's accelerated training schedule with a competition on the 17th should cover the following week.

Utilization

In an effort to avoid the potential abandonment of belt/blanket because it stubbornly remains a belt verging on an extremely skinny scarf, the investment in a half dozen or so skeins of the Cherry Chip yarn have served to strengthen my commitment. (Not to mention the need to procure packages with a matched dye lot before they become unattainable.) Wastefulness is actually a pet peeve, so the time already put into the rows of stitches and the first skeins of yarn need to go toward a purpose.

Full utilization of resources is a must. "Waste not, want not." These are words that my Mammy and her mother, my Great-Grandma Zelma, carried forward post-Depression and post-War to the extent that it's quite possibly imprinted on our genetic material. We generally seek to be good stewards when this tendency is used for good, in its evil form we risk starring on Hoarders. That means that the half dozen skeins of Cherry Chip must become something. That something might as well be belt/blanket. Hopefully, the project will be completed before the brown, cream, and dark red variegated yarn is out of sync with our home decor.

Besides, in the spirit of utilization, crocheting is as good a project as any for multitasking during the time spent watching endless repetitions of this:

In case Gentle Reader has an inquisitive mind, Skater Girl fudges her first jump, and the second jump combination is a Loop, Loop, Loop series. She's currently enamored of Loop jumps, and stacking them one on top of the other in combination is her Happy Place. That's Skate Coach #3 explaining about the goofy arms in the jumps at the end.

Waiting

Dr. Seuss's Oh, the Places You'll Go!, refers to Waiting Places. (One does tend to wind up there from time to time.) Despite a range of dates, we're stalled in one such Waiting Place for answers as to when The Boy might be home.  The insurance company required a switch to their in-house pharmacy for I.V. medication infusions this year, and January saw a four day wait for the administration. February's wait is at a week and counting... That Waiting Place leads to the waiting room outside my doctor's office this morning to determine whether or not a cold has blossomed into an ear infection. Waiting on a friend's medical scan, is now waiting on an appointment with a Specialist because the scan revealed more questions rather than answers. These are the gloomier sorts of Waiting Places.
Thankfully, there are other sorts. Like waiting for the coffee to brew. The wait for Shelley-in-Poland and Laura-in-Honduras and I to catch up in person while they're on their furloughs to Pleasant Suburb. The wait for the belt/blanket to develop into a string, then a belt, and now onward to who-knows-what. The wait while Skater Girl practices her stroking, spins, and jumps toward her first big skating test and resuming competition. The wait for Middle Child to come home and launch into her play-by-play of an evening at Perfect's house. Or her day at school. Or why she loves purple. My turn for the next move in Words With Friends. The in-between days waiting for Wednesdays and Saturdays when the mister and I have our dates. Opening each morning's Bible study e-mail from the church to see what little gem is waiting inside. These are the best sorts of waits. These are the anticipatory Waiting Places full of promise and potential.
That's the thing. In these Waiting Places, there is no one simple thing. There is more likely to be a whole host of just about everything. So. I'll gather my things, and sit down to wait. Eventually, it will all shake out. If not, at least we'll know what becomes of the belt/blanket with the addition of a few more rows.

Blanket

Middle Child and I are planning to try our hands at quilting. My great-grandmas, grandma, and mom have all successfully created heirloom quality quilts. Middle Child has recently discovered a talent for hand stitching in her Technical Theatre class, and this seems like a fun project for us to take on together. My Mom (a.k.a. Grandma) is sending us a care package of supplies to encourage our new hobby.

Today, I ended up with a crochet hook and a skein of yarn because I'm in the mood to make a blanket now. (And it sounds like there's going to be a lot of preparation before quilting produces anything blanket-like.) By the time the kids were out of school, I had a nice start. Middle Child had some questions about my blankie-to-be.

She: "What are you doing?"
Me: "Making a blanket."
She:  "I thought we were making a quilt."
Me: "We are, but we can't start until the Care Package of quilting goodies from Grandma gets here."
She: "Grandma's bringing the quilt stuff Thursday."
Me: "I want a blanket, not patience."
She: "Are you sure that's a blanket?"
Me: "Uhmmm... maybe. Or it might be a belt."

Eyeing the variegated yarn with a raised eyebrow, She asks: "Would you wear that?"
Mirroring her expression, I can only respond, "No. Not even if one of my kids made it."

Development

There is a tendency for a crush on some unattainable adult to be the first experiment in the development of interest in the opposite sex. Personally, I was going to marry John Taylor who played bass guitar for the band Duran Duran when I was in third grade. Way Pre-Perfect, Middle Child was all about teen heartthrob Jesse McCarthy. In a similar vein, one of Skater Girl's best friends intends to one day marry Taylor Lautner of Twilight and Shark Boy and Lava Girl fame. (With the exception of Katie Holmes, this sort of thing rarely works out.)  In solidarity, the girls have formed the Taylor Lautner Club. (This news nearly caused Middle Child and I to suffer convulsions laughing after finally losing the battle to keep a straight face following the revelation of the new club.) The mooning over Mr. Lautner will allow the girls an opportunity to try out their feelings about boys and romance without actually having to deal with a boyfriend- and all that entails. It also means our living room is now the site of repeated screenings of his generally crummy movies and lots of pre-teen swooning.

Ovation

Ovation has been running their annual Battle of the Nutcrackers. My holiday heart goes pitter-pat for Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker Suite". There have been three opportunities to see live performances over the years, but anytime there's a televised version I'm either glued to the screen or at least letting the music play in the background. If we skipped the tree, cookies, and all the other hoo-ha, the one secular tradition that would be sorely missed is the opportunity to see the ballet performed and be immersed in the score.

A dirty, little secret: I do not like classical music. (That's a generalization. There are some specific pieces that do have appeal.) So, when there is a little something that I like, it's a surprise. Perhaps the Nutcracker's appeal is linked to the memory of dressing up in a so-unlike-me Laura Ashley fancy party dress in teal cotton that looked a lot like this: Not being a girly girl, it was a rare thing to wear such a garment. The feeling of twirling in that dress is forever linked in emotional memory to the Nutcracker. Even now, with gimpy knees, there's an irresistable urge to give in to the occasional twirl around the living room in response to the Waltz of the Sugar Plum Fairy. So, thank you Ovation for providing a near endless supply of Christmas Cheer and to my mother for splurging on That Dress and those tickets for that very first performance.

Building

Green Girl wrote about how girls like Legos the other day. (Later, I saw a Lego Rep at Local Discount Store who was female, and there was temptation to suggest she Google GG and perhaps forward that post to the Powers That Be.) I, too, liked to build stuff as a kid, and found happy thoughts of not only my brother's Legos, but also their counterparts Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys pleasantly populating memories of playtime. These thoughts have been companions for days now as I see grown-up places where that same enjoyment is found. Because I still like to build. I'm a mom building up my kids. A wife building a marriage. A homemaker building a place far from Stepford. And a friend building on shared likes, dislikes, and history. A follower of Christ building on faith. Building is exactly what I do.

Is that desire to build a Mom Thing or a Chick Thing? (Funny question since this thread was teased out of the topic of Building Toys for Boys.) Maybe it is ultimately a Creative Thing? For example: I love to cook, but am generally not fond of recipe adherence because that sucks the creative element out of the kitchen. With much the same attitude, as a child I was mystified when my Boy Cousin lined his bedroom shelves with displayed Lego Creations built oh-so-precisely to the specs in each set. (I think his mother used to dust them.) That's just plain wrong. There are so many possibilities in a box of Legos waiting to be explored that it simply makes no sense to trap all that inherent opportunity.

Opportunity may just be the key to the appeal of building. And to creating. The adjustability, flexibility, and possibility of those Building Toys, of relationships, of crafting, cooking, decorating, designing, writing, gardening, and just plain old Making... taking what is and pursuing what might be.

Listing 2011, Part III

Thanksgiving was yesterday, but I'm continuing the list of things to be thankful for despite Black Friday:

50. I'm thankful for awareness:

Christmas Conspiracy from Christ Fellowship on Vimeo.

49. For the opportunities being offered through Reach Out Honduras that will open doors to those who live in need beyond what I have ever known.
48.  My son who has the potential to graduate from high school early if he can make the most of his opportunities.
47. Renewed relationships.
46. Giggling.
45. My mister. (He gets at least as many mentions as coffee... they're among my favorite addictions.)
44. Ally and Susan for backing up the theory that pumpkin pie is breakfast food.
43. Literacy.
42. Leftovers.
41. Being left-handed.

Listing 2011

This week Green Girl has been posting an ongoing list of things she's grateful for in honor of Thanksgiving. Today, I'll start my own list of the good stuff:

100. Quiet moments
99. Speakers that fill a room with bass and sound that wash over one with the mood and emotion of music
98. Perseverance... the stuff that drives one to just. keep. going.
97. The laughter around our dinner table
96. Snuggling against my mister on a chilly night
95. Sharpies
94. The Birthday Girls: Denise, Joanne, and Lisa
93. Breakfast Dates with Meera and Sylvia that last well past lunch.
92. Kindness
91. Seeing my children try.
90. And fail.
89. And succeed.
88. Coffee
87. Grace that makes the untenable surmountable
86. Purple
85. Freshly laundered sheets
84. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
83. History
82. The mister's jobs that allow him to work from home and me to be at home.
81. Possibilities
80. Avant's short-cycle church plant team in Gdansk, Poland
79. Elena. Our sweet sponsor daughter in La Moskitia who prays for us, humbles me, and is precious in every way.
78. Claudia. Our feisty sponsor daughter in La Moskitia who challenges those that would help her, has a smile that lights up my world, and has great potential should she choose to use it for good.
77. The Waits Family
76. Ally, Susan, and Marsha who have adopted me into their family and treat me like one of their own.

Receivers

A package arrived today, and it could have been the mister's birthday gift. Except that it was not. This reminded him that right around my birthday earlier in the year, he brought home a bass guitar amplifier. (I do not play bass guitar. He does.) I'd completely forgotten about the timing on his amplifier addition, but he remembered because, just in time for his birthday, "we" have added these to "our" collection:

Questioning

Hmmm... Someone asked this morning in a poll if couples have had a casual conversation about fonts. Um. We've had several in the past couple of weeks. So I responded in the affirmative. Then it occurred to me that perhaps the questioner wasn't actually referring to the type face sort of font that immediately comes to my mind. Just for grins, I entered the term into my browser. The first three definitions in multiple online dictionaries showed the following:
font 1 (f nt) n. 1. A basin for holding baptismal water in a church. 2. A receptacle for holy water; a stoup. 3. The oil reservoir in an oil-burning lamp.

Perhaps one of these top three fonts were what the question related to, and, if so, then I'm not so sure there have been casual conversations about any of them. Unless it was in relation to the use of such a word in a song? Or maybe we had some long ago trivia question about religious ceremony? Or a chat about historic light sources? No idea.

On the topic of fonts in relation to characters of specific size, shape, color, etc. we have had multiple conversations. Most recently this hot topic had to do with selecting the fonts for our Christmas Cards and in relation to some options proposed for Reach Out Honduras related to changing the logo. Is this weird? Surely the first three definitions listed for a word are likely to be the most common? Why don't I know whether that last statement is true? Good grief. Maybe the definitions are listed in chronological order of use beginning with the oldest and proceeding to modern usage? I wonder about these things sometimes... Then I wonder why I have so many questions, and we're off again...

Vegging

The mister's boss embraces a vegan lifestyle. Middle Child's best friend is a vegetarian. While the Boy and Middle Child would likely opt in for an all animal-based meal plan, Skater Girl's radar has gone up in response to the possibilities of a vegetarian diet. She's requested a week-long experiment with vegetarian menus. I suspect her carnivorous sister will launch a full-scale rebellion, but the idea holds interest. I suspect that this suggestion is not simply borne of curiosity about a couple of individuals' lifestyles, but also because of some recent community opportunities to increase awareness of hunger.

A couple of local churches have recently participated in programs intended to raise awareness and funds for hunger relief, and that has brough the topic of the financial and ecological costs of red meat in particular to our discussions. One church suggested eating only beans and rice for a week to gain understanding of what it's like for those at Village of Hope to receive beans and rice for every meal. The grocery savings likely for many American households can then be donated to Village of Hope. Several local youth groups have been participants in the 30 Hour Famine in order to experience hunger personally while raising funds for another group in Africa combatting hunger. Pleasant Suburban Elementary is focused on hunger closer to home as the school children collect cans of fruit this week to supply our local food pantry. The food pantry also participates in an annual program called, "Scare Away Hunger," where trick-or-treaters collect canned goods. These different means of responding to the looming problem of hunger each has merit, and each one has been a topic in our home.
Skater Girl has heard how more rescources are required to produce a serving of beef than would be required to produce a serving of grain, fruit, legumes, nuts, or vegetables. Maybe this ecological reality is on her mind? Or is she thinking of the children she met across town who rely on food stamps in order to eat most meals? Is she remembering those we met in Honduras who would not have had food to eat without the efforts of Reach Out Honduras and  Send Hope? Has she been listening to her mother's fussing over the grocery budget and comments regarding the lower cost of vegetarian meals? Did she overhear her dad saying that Oreos are vegan and ice cream is vegetarian? There's no telling what has ultimately influenced the request to experience a week of vegetarian dining. Whatever piqued Skater Girl's curiosity, it will make an interesting challenge to prepare meals to suit this family and meet their nutritional needs without meat. There is definite relief that she didin't ask for a Vegan Week.

RSVP

The simple art of responding properly to an invitation has been lost. Fortunately, Little Bit's teacher is British. (Well, she's a U.S. citizen as of last month, but she got to keep her awesome British accent.) She has invited the whole fourth grade glass to dress smartly and attend a tea party in honor of Prince William and Kate Middleton's wedding tomorrow. The class's homework assignment was to write an appropriate R.S.V.P. for the party tomorrow. Love it.
Now to get back to watching Charles and Di get married over and over again on TLC. I cannot work the DVR, but the girls can so we will now be able to endlessly watch Di's bridesmaids attempt to get her 26 foot train into the church and speculate on Kate's dress. My mister finds it funny that there's an awful lot of sighing and, er, squealing coming from the living room. Anywho... I must get back to the countdown on t.v. that I'm watching with my youngest child who is wearing ice skates (blade guards on in the house, of course) to practice her arabesques while we watch our fill of fairy tale wedding while mostly ignoring the unfortunate end to the nightmare marriage in anticipation of tomorrow morning's festivities.

Ahead

Mama Tara and Commando

Walking with Claudia

This morning an e-mail arrived from someone headed to Honduras on a mission trip. This particular someone is the contact person for our family's sponsorship of Claudia at Mama Tara's Miskito Orphanage. In describing her upcoming trip, the writer mentions that she will be visiting the young woman who her family has personally sponsored for the past seven years. This visit will differ from past visits, though. The sponsor will not see Biborly at Mama Tara's Orphanage in Puerto Lempira. This trip will require a detour to Copan. There the sponsor will be reunited with Biborly who is now away at school to further her education. They will enjoy visiting the Mayan ruins at Copan, and it will no doubt be a sweet reunion.

Mariza receiving a gift from her sponsor during our February trip

Biborly's present circumstances excite me.
I see in Biborly's present, the possibilities for Claudia's future. Not only Claudia, who is sponsored through Mama Tara's as Biborly was, but also the list of children who are gaining opportunities for assistance with basic needs and receiving educational opportunities through Reach Out Honduras. I wonder what avenues God will open up for these children in a future that came into being through the kindness and gifts of virtual strangers a world away?



Carol looking at the photos and message from her sponsor with Laura

There is a humbling effect to being part of the administration of Possibility. Of Opportunity. I wonder if the children will have answers to questions like, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" when there is no longer a question of, "What are you going to eat/drink/wear today?" The gift of some small security in their present circumstance and the awakening of potential that will lead to some unknown future is what I pray for the Alastero children to receive through our efforts on their behalf. When I doubt, or feel that the needs are too great, there will be Biborly and her sponsor who provide testimony to the great things what God can do with our small gifts.

Tech No

In my mind there exists a line that cannot be crossed. The line between those with technical skills and those without such. Feet firmly planted on the "without" side, I tend to peer over into the realm of the technically adept with something between awe and frustration. Frustration because those like my mister make it look very easy to navigate through the strings of gobbledy gook referred to as code. Except that there are occasionally incentives that push me over the line by a hair's breadth.
A hair's breadth that feels like a mile to the inept. (That would be me.) Except that Laura had a teensy break with reality today. More importantly, she knows the key to motivating this particular stubborn, technologically illiterate individual into at least trying. The Sponsorship Page  through Reach Out Honduras did not reflect the latest new sponsors, and our links were not gong to the proper places. This seems like a big thing in my head. (Likely a bigger thing than it truly is, but in my mind there are dozens of potential sponsors cruising the page trying to determine which child... and we're not up to date! Um, yeah. I know. But, still...) My mister has access to the web site, and Laura suggested that I, "...just make the changes. If you are okay with that..."
Waaah. I do not know how. There is no way. As the wails reached a new high, my mister e-mails me a link. He then tells me to click on the link with a misplaced calm rationality. (Perhaps he does not grasp the futility of me + code?!) Then he directs me to a side bar where I click on "Pages". Oh. The page is a blog. Really?! I make the changes. I click "Update", then feel foolish for freaking out. Pshaw. Ditching foolish, I am feeling remarkably technologically literate. Literate enough that I agree when the crazy lady asks for several other changes to the website. And I think I can. If not, I will learn.

Gifted

Middle Child's Christmas observance was all about the gifts. She wants to make lists of potential gifts and recipients, shop-til-she-drops (which is way past when her middle-aged mother drops), wrap lots of gifts in festive paper, and make piles of pretty packages. This year, when I cry, "Uncle!" opting for gift cards, has seen multiple trips out exhaustively searching for just the right items to suit Middle Child's gift-giving penchants. Not that she's been monetarily extravagant, but she is particular. She's one of those gifty sorts (I read Gary Chapman's Love Languages, and that chapter was written about this girl child.) who shows love through gifts. Which also means she receives love through gifts.
Have I mentioned that I wimped out and went with the universally easy and likable gift cards? Even Middle Child will find a gift card or two tucked amongst her goodies, but they were oh-so-carefully chosen to reflect her personal preferences. Because an inappropriate or poorly chosen gift is worse than no gift at all for her. (No pressure, though. Really.) Of course, the item she most wants to find under the tree is a plane ticket to Honduras.
Speaking of gifts and Honduras, today our family received a surprise gift. We received a Christmas Gift that speaks directly to our hearts. A gift was given to the Reach Out Honduras Education Fund in our name. This was given by the same friends who have heard me lament, whine, fuss, and try to work out an answer to how on earth a group of children who live at subsistence levels can possibly gain an education. About the kids who dream of going to school that is out of reach financially. About the tias (aunts) who prefer that funds from sponsors go to provide education before other basic needs. About the individual stories of this one who would be a doctor, and that one who wants to learn about Social Studies... It is the gift of hope for these children who we love that we have received for Christmas.

Faces

It has been a long couple of weeks, but we are now three days from our departure. The girls and I will join our team at the DFW airport on Saturday afternoon to begin the journey to Puerto Lempira. There may be a child we meet during that journey who is waiting for us. The pictures of the Familia Alastero children who will benefit from sponsors are up on the Reach Out Honduras site. There is a twelve year old girl whose face brings a smile to my face. I don't know Elena. She resembles Baticia who was the much quieter little friend tied to Rodrigo who we met on our last trip.



Rodrigo



Baticia and Rodrigo have a history as something of a daring duo. My favorite story of the pair was a tale involving a jar of powdered milk stored protectively on a high shelf. A little monkey named Rodrigo climbed fearlessly to the height where he prized open the container to eat the powdered milk. Baticia did not climb up to gain the goodies like Rodrigo. She simply remained below where her friend could toss down a shower of the powdered milk for his hungry little counterpart to scoop up.

I wonder if Elena is quiet? Or silly? Bright? Would she scramble up to the heights like Rodrigo to gain the treat? Share the ill-gotten gain with her friends? Or would she wait for one of the two tias (aunts) caring for her to offer her a portion of food at the appropriate time? Does she have a deep, full laugh? I know nothing much about this young lady, but I so hope to meet her and discover the story behind the photo.

Passenger

There's an old song with a line that says, "I am a passenger, and I ride and I ride." At the moment, there's a familiarity to the rider in the song who is observing the world as it speeds along outside the windows. Not that I realized that I was observing anything specific. Last Spring, Walker and I completed a 10K to benefit the homeless shelter in our city. It was a first experience with any such event, and the planner's mind was fascinated by how it differed and was similar to the sorts of events that have fallen within a planning experience that previously ranged from meetings to parties to conferences. That's organizer's eye is usually watching, even if it is subconscious. That eye took in the details around the big kids' Cross Country season and the annual elementary school fun run fundraiser this year, too.

It was the idea behind the 5K Evan and Katie ran to benefit the school in Uganda a couple of weeks ago that brought the images that had been collecting into increasingly sharper focus. The similarities between Reach Out Honduras and the group to benefit from the event were enough to gain my full attention. The day the kids ran, I was fully present cheering them on, but each aspect of the race was being cataloged in my mind (and with the more objective camera) for later consideration. Research and online requests followed as the idea of such an event to benefit Reach Out Honduras ministry and increase familiarity with the name and needs of tiny Puerto Lempira. Last week, a meeting with one of the organizers of the established event that Walker and I participated in earlier this year yielded the incredible opportunity to observe in meetings as the team prepares for their 2011 event. Tomorrow, there will be a meeting with the organizer of the smaller Fun Run for the Ugandan school. There will be a more balanced perspective between the two similar yet disparate groups and events as well as growing knowledge of contacts, important details, and the dreaded what-not-to-do that usually is only revealed through those twins Trial and Error.

The ROH Board has not yet voted on the idea of a fun run. The full proposal is coming together, and one member is seeking leads within our community for potential corporate sponsors to help determine feasibility. It's challenging to know that for less than $100 a family in Puerto Lempira could receive a chicken coop with two chickens and their own garden to provide ongoing sources of nutrition. The funds that could pay for those items pale in comparison to the overall costs of race-related items. That was a difficult thought, but after praying about it, I believe sponsors who would want their business logo on a t-shirt or banner to help put on a running event in our local community are looking at a marketing expense for their company. That may represent a different group than those who would choose to give directly to the humanitarian programs that Reach Out Honduras hopes to administer as a testimony to Christ's love.

It's not yet certain if I'm just riding along checking out the scenery in passing. Or if I'm headed for a transfer that could require recognizing the route along which others have already traveled. Despite feeling insufficient to the task at hand, I know that God's infinite power and grace are more than enough to take those on board far beyond the limitations of the horizon in view. The trepidation is not a lack of faith, or worry over the unknown. It is simply the waiting that comes as one moves toward a destination wondering "Are we there yet?"

Giddy

For months Reach Out Honduras has been awaiting the I.R.S. approval of 501c3 status that would give donors a tax deduction for their contributions. The designation has sometimes felt like asking for a worldly stamp of approval for this organization that serves God, but it is also a set standard that indicates a certain legitimacy. It's been challenging to be patient with the dreams and ideas waiting for word of the approval. Yesterday, the ROH Board of Directors was scheduled to meet, but the 501c3 application that was still pending was casting a long shadow over the meeting agenda.
At Laura's request, I placed a call to the representative yesterday. The ringing was met with his voicemail and I left a message hoping against hope that he would call back. Or that the letter with our approval would appear in the Waits's post office box. That somehow the news would come in answer to so many prayers for this status to be granted.
At around 1:00, my cell phone rang downstairs. I tore down the stairs as the idea that it could be the representative with an answer. Heart-hammering, but too late, I saw the area code that was either the I.R.S. or a sales call that was going to get answered. The phone dumped the call to voicemail while fumbling fingers tried to unlock the touch screen. I had to wait while the caller left a message before calling back, but did so without listening to the message.
The representative answered the call back, and he looked up Reach Out Honduras's information. Stomach in knots, heart hammering, and forgetting to breathe, I heard him say, "Oh, that was approved on on October 1st... Haven't you received our letter yet?" EEEEEEEE! (Fortunately, the shrieking was kept internal.) I thanked him, and was given the address where the letter was sent and a phone number to again change the mailing address listed. He assured me that the letter was a formality, and our group was welcome to proceed with any plans. Even as we have been praying for the approval over the past weeks, God had already provided exactly what was needed. We just did not know it yet.
Hanging up the phone, I, um, ran, laughing out loud at desperately praying for what was already given, through the house as animals scattered seeking cover from which to peer out at my apparent loss of sanity. The sheer relief and celebration of the moment was utterly overwhelming. After the initial reaction, I found the phone numbers for our friends in Honduras, and phoned one number only to fail in reaching a person. The second call yielded Alex who heard the news, and passed it along to Laura with the phone. They totally got the "EEEEEEEE!" from which I'd felt the need to protect the I.R.S. representative's ear.
There are so many possibilities open to Reach Out Honduras. Even with the U.S. economy still shuddering from the contractions of the last couple of years, there are people choosing to give to fund the ministry in Puerto Lempira. With the 501c3 designation, those givers will receive a small worldly return in the form of a tax break. Last night's meeting brought new opportunities that will no doubt be detailed here in the future in hopes that Gentle Reader will pray for and potentially partner with us in some way to benefit the children of Puerto Lempira who are still vulnerable in so many ways, but who have a team of people who are praying for them and now have increased potential to help fill the bellies and minds of those children who have already heard that Jesus wants to fill their hearts.