Booked

Abshire Girls in Puerto Lempira

We booked our return tickets for the next trip to Honduras on Christmas Day! This time there will be four of us going. It's going to be a different sort of trip than the last two, and not only because the mister will be joining us. The first was about an introduction to the world where our friends were going to live. The second trip was expanding our family's involvement to include Little Bit, meeting Familia Alastero and beginning the process of setting up sponsorships for the children and young people. This will be a visit. We go to see old friends, to hopefully deepen relationships with acquaintances, and to rejoice at seeing old faces and new ones who have all been as glad to hear we are coming as we are to pass on that news.

Katie and Chris who keep in touch via e-mail between visits

Morning Sunshine



Worship with Familia Alastero





 



 
 



Claudia and Romy at Mama Tara's



Me with Claudia

Not only will we be feelin' the love on Valentine's Day when we arrive in Puerto Lempira, but I will turn 37 during our stay. I cannot imagine any sweeter way to celebrate than sitting on the guest house porch as the littlest children wander over first thing in the morning. Or over at Mama Tara's where Laura has suggested we go for a daily Bible study with Claudia. (Claudia is a post all on her own.) I hope we will get to visit again with Familia Alastero, and to bring cards and small gifts from the children's sponsors. (Yes, we will also bring a little something for those who have yet to receive the ongoing gift of sponsorship.) To do whatever project or task needs doing, but to be there is really the closest thing to an itinerary we have prepared at the moment. Laura claims that the Waits are the Most Excited, but I suspect we can give them a run for that title!



The Waits! (left-right Adam, Alex, Aidan, Arlee, Laura, Aaron, Arnol)



Mystique

Today, I was making sure that I had the appropriate undergarment to wear beneath my dress for New Year's Day. I think there's a gold medal somewhere with my name on it based on the gymnastic performance involved in getting the one-piece "smoother" over all my, eh... junk. I used to think support hose were challenging. Right. This particular undergarment is flesh tone and it runs from just under the girls right on down to the thighs. This is ideal for holding one's goodies at bay under a fitted dress. (I seriously planned on something that would allow me to eat like a trucker, but the mister made this funny little sound low in his throat when I stepped out of the dressing one in the one that is going to require me to avoid breathing, so...)
I was half in and half out of the vise smoother when I heard a kid coming up the stairs. Looking down, I realized that my royal blue chenille socks and ratty bra were the only other garments currently on my body. Yanking and tugging the top of the unyielding elastic sheath upward with one hand while mashing the excess of my hips down into the depths with the other I hot-footed it to the bedroom door hoping to be either fast enough to shut the open door, or at least going to get the worst of this vision under cover before one of the children went blind. (Or worse: posted my predicament on Facebook.) Thankfully, the cat shot past headed downstairs buying me precious seconds while our youngest stopped her ascent to declare, "Hello, Zoey!" That was just the time needed to shut and lock the door long enough to finish the undergarment fitting. Eesh.
The good news is that my dress will fit properly Saturday, and my mister will be impressed. The bad news is that I'm going to have to get back into that blasted undergarment again. Last year, I had a wee tantrum  High Maintenance Moment proclaiming that it wasn't much of a date if the mister sucked all the mystery out of my feminine mystique by being present in the bathroom while I was practicing beauty secrets. He remembered this, and now he has already graciously pointed out that New House has more bathrooms and bedrooms than Old House. He seemed so pleased with this consideration of my delicate feelings. I'm just thankful that I'll be able to lock him out while I wrestle with my drawers.

Picture Post: Merry

The tree never did get so much as a single ornament on the branches.

Christmas Eve worship rocked. The bass player is hot.

Christmas Eve lunch with my parents, brother, and sister-in-law was yummy.

Bored with waiting for teenagers to wake up on Christmas morning, I started taking pictures with full flash. Middle Child's first waking words were, "Oh, this can not be good..."

Little Bit was very, very Nice this year.

The blanket and the coffee were both entirely necessary to ward off the chill despite last week's 80+ degree heat. It was feeling a lot like Christmas around here today.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!

Joy

Last Christmas was a little weird. This Christmas has been hard to even recognize. A pep talk from Walker kick started the conversations with the fam identifying just what needed to be a priority as the Advent Calendar dipped from double digits into single with alarming speed. Still, it's been a challenge to find the joy in the season. And then, it was here. Our church opted for two Christmas Eve services. The first Christmas Eve Service ran December 23rd earning it the title "Christmas Eve Eve".
Turns out that was just the thing. Traditionally, the 23rd is the day and evening for running crazy to finish up grocery and gift shopping. There are eight One Last Trip drives to the store with each one involving impulse purchases in hopes of avoiding the subsequent trip. There was still some of that with a couple of small gifts still on the list, milk and coffee both needed, and the mister and I trying to finish up holiday party attire for the Company Christmas Party (that has conveniently rescheduled to be a Company Holiday Party on New Year's Day). Little Bit's shoes were also trashed and her foot is growing. Anywho. The point here is not all the running around during the daylight hours. After dark, we left the main streets and the crazed drivers to join those arriving at the church building.
There, we greeted our loved ones exchanging hugs, chatter, and Christmas wishes until the lights began to lower with the filling of the sanctuary. The music swelled. It filled the room transforming from notes into Worship. The congregation became Worshippers. After a month spent examining the names of Jesus,  the final name "Yeshua" was woven into the narrative of the Christmas Story as Shakespeare's Juliet was quoted asking what was in a name. The answer was that the name we celebrated last night was not any ordinary name, but that brought on Angel's mighty lips from Heaven itself. A name spoken first to Mary and then to Joseph, and last night proclaimed again and again.
I lay awake until just past midnight thinking of God's Son on a night usually given over to the worldly and cultural trappings of Christmas. And even though all is not right in the world, there is peace in it because the day when we celebrate the birth of the Mighty King is upon us. And in the dark and stillness, there was a sweet, quiet joy that had been missing. If you wish to join in the celebration with Christ Fellowship, a live online service will run tonight at 7:00 Central.

Greetings

In today's mail, there was a card from the Boy. Not that he has access to a store or funds to buy such a thing. Yet, there was unmistakeably a card with the Boy's return address mixed in with the less interesting pieces. I opened the slightly mangled envelope to see a deep blue card featuring Mary, Joseph, and a donkey headed up a hill where a star shown brightly (if a smidge prematurely). A church group had been to visit the young people, and they brought candy and Christmas cards. Our Boy, who had no card to send us, chose to write his own greeting on the blank left side of the card he received so he could pass it on to us. (The value of those things least available... and he chose to give us from what little he had received. Oh. My.) It is quite a gift to have this folded rectangle of paper that he held in his hands just days ago.

If you happen to be someone who visits those who are alone this Christmas, thank you. It's a gift not only to those who are alone, but also to those who are lonely for them.

Festive

Because this is Texas, the temps were in the 80's yesterday. This made our Christmas tradition of walking through neighborhoods to look at the light displays entirely reasonable since it was still 68 well after dark. We wandered up and down the streets of new neighborhood pointing out the spectacular and the strange alike. This year had a couple of memorable moments including a Christmas Tree made of lights with a bizarre strobing effect that looks like the star is shooting lasers at the grass a la Star Trek, a creepy light-up reindeer that looked more like a llama with a head that turned to follow us in our progress, and an inflatable Santa and reindeer who (thanks to under inflation) appeared to be wrestling in one of the yards.
As we attempted to uneventfully move on by a house where Middle Child wished to remain unobserved by the Mean-Girl-Who-Lives-There (who probably wasn't watching or listening, but...), Erin proceeded to ask in her best outside voice, "Who lives there?! Who did you say?!" Repeatedly. A few houses further along the same street, I noticed an intriguing ornament above a garage door. I stated, "Oh, look... a cat in a... bucket? How... festive." This blond moment perplexed the mister and the girls initially. On further inspection of the decoration in question, they laughingly informed me that the cat-in-a-bucket was actually a pair of bells with a bow. Which made more sense, but kind of lacked originality.

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.

Priorities

Pretzels... only better.

Because I have discovered a distinct inability to do it all, I asked the family to please indicate just what specifically was most important about Christmas tradition/celebration/revelry/expectations so that I could prioritize appropriately.  Little Bit's unequivocal statement was "baking and making treats," followed by a request for chocolate-dipped pretzels.

My mister steered me down the baking, candy, and chip aisles at Super Store to toss bags of white and milk chocolate chips, Starlight mints, and regular M&M's in the cart along with a bag of great big pretzels. My inner Grinch grumbled about how we could have picked up the conveniently prepackaged M&M variety that already had a pretzel inside and a package of peppermint bark with similar results, less cost, and way less mess.
Back at home, the makings out on the counter, I called the girls to the kitchen saying I needed some help. They actually showed up despite the likelihood that chores would be involved with such a summons. Those two were instantly certain of what the particular ingredients laying on the counter signaled.
As "The Nutcracker" played on the living room t.v., we melted the chocolate in small batches. The girls were delighted to take a hammer to ziploc bags of candies to produce the finely crushed consistency needed for adorning our chocolaty treats. The mess-making commenced even as Herr Drosselmeier was tossing the wooden nutcracker offstage so he could pop back up on stage as a real boy complete with tights and poufy hair. The task went quickly, and we had a line-up of pretty munchies before the herd of dancing snowflakes could fill the screen with their whirling tutus.

Holiday Home Tour

It's beginning to feel a little like Christmas around here. The signs of the Season are everywhere in the community, but have been sort of ho-hum around the house. The girls identified shopping, wrapping, and exchanging gifts and baking as priorities. Okay. Will do. I wanted at least one Nativity displayed, and the mister felt the tree was a necessity. So we pulled out the bare basics. Stockings were hung by the chimney with care, a garland draped here, and some snowmen stuck there... but we just sort of lost interest. I have no excuse. Nor any real explanation for the absence of full place settings of Spode on the dining table. Though, I am secretly a little amused that the ziploc baggies where we stow the kids ornaments are still parked by the fireplace while the tree sits bare but for the garland and lights. It's a weird year.

We did send out Christmas Cards. Middle Child and I watched the Nutcracker at midnight over the satellite feed on a school night, and I've been humming the beloved strains ever since. The mister is practicing to play at the church's Christmas Eve and Christmas Eve Eve (12/23) services, and the worship inspired by the set list is already awesome so I can only imagine what it will be like with a whole congregation to share it. We are not without joy for the celebration of Christ's birth. We're just a little lacking in the trappings that so often add to the celebratory feeling of this sweet season.

That said, on with this year's Holiday Home Tour (as seen at Green Girl's and Fannie's where one can find all sorts of inspiration) despite the incomplete nature of our festive preparations we still managed to at least give a nod to Christmas...

The snowmen and a few poinsettias at least brought a bit of festive to the nook where Little Bit likes to read and play on the computer.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, and a batch of choice pretties all gathered there....

This Nativity is my favorite. It's made of FIMO clay and the bottoms are rounded so the figures need the rice to stabilize them in their little terra cotta planter. Sort of Southwestern perhaps?

Our tree sits unfinished... We keep suggesting the girls hang their ornaments, but it just has not been done. Maybe tomorrow?

Tidbits: Sticky

• I totally forgot about that roll of "self-adhesive" gift wrap that was lurking in the midst of the pretty papers. That stuff is no less likely to cause a hissy fit this year than last. Waste not, want not... but...
• I am officially in the know on how a week in Honduras during the school year could draw the unwanted attention of truancy court. Fortunately, we have lots of wiggle room thanks to no absences for Little Bit at all and only one for Middle Child of the allowable ten before things get messy. The week I hoped to go to Honduras has a 4th Grade Writing TAKS Test scheduled, and it would be mean to keep our kid out the day of the test all her writing teachers for the past four years have been working toward... We'll have to go a week sooner or later. I wish we could just go now.
• Travel is not a good idea today. My Bronchitis may also be Strep after all. After two days of an antibiotic not ideally suited to treat Strep, the giant q-tip is failing to show positive despite what the doc's little flashlight and my nerve endings are proclaiming. If the sore throat is still blazing away in the morning, we'll have to piggyback a second antibiotic. Yuck.
• Despite the Illness du jour, my great uncle passed away today. I'm wondering if the antibiotics will kick in in time to make the trip for his funeral service. His widow is a great lady who hosted our wedding shower. He was a giant of a man (as is true of all my Mammy's brothers), and he will be missed by many. Oh, and no one in our family aside from the grands and the immediate aunties and uncles knew The Boy was gone last year. Or that he is gone again. That might get sticky.

Tidbits: Posted

• The Boy left at 5:30 a.m. yesterday to go to an interim location where he will be evaluated for the next 30-45 days. Last night, it was 10:00 and I couldn't really picture where my kid was even though I have been given an address. This is not okay.
• Little Bit finished up her Intro to Skating class last night. Her teacher recommended skipping the Beginner level, so Alpha classes (pretty foot work and spins on one foot) begin January 4th. Walker commented yesterday that the skates were definitely not a waste.
• The mister's passport has arrived. Funds to cover the mister's and my airfare have been allotted. We're going to have to decide whether or not the girls will be going. They would be unenthusiastic about being left behind. I would like for the mister to not only be introduced to the Honduras that draws me, but also to see how our girls are similarly drawn.
• On the way home from ice skating, I suggested a stop at the Urgent Care Center. Good thing. My "sore throat" and "drainage" have settled into my lower left lung. Bronchitis treated right away is less likely to turn into a case of Christmas Pneumonia. While my plans were to have my arms full of babies at the children's emergency shelter today, I am instead cradling a cup of hot tea and lounging in my jammies until the nurse can get here later today to administer some I.V. meds. Boo. Well, the tea is lovely. It's just less snuggly than rocking and praying blessings over babies.

Torn

We were wondering whether or not to go forward with a return trip to Honduras in the next couple of months. There is not inconsiderable expense involved in such travel, and there are real needs that could be met in Puerto Lempira with the same dollars that might go to plane tickets and travel expenses. Except that I keep seeing how there are funds that are simply not mine to allocate.
Last week, the mister had to make a business trip to splashy, trashy Las Vegas. The excesses of every sort there bothered him, and he was all-too-aware of the costs involved for his company to cover the expenses involved in the trip. Then again, the funds are the company's to allocate. So the mister flew across the country, ate the meals provided, slept on high thread count sheets, and accepted what was given to him.
He returned home Sunday to hear that there was a 6 month old baby in Honduras who weighs only 8 pounds, and that there were issues with getting enough formula to feed the babies in the milk program at House of Hope. The contrast between an opulent dinners for my mister and his coworkers and the hunger of malnourished babies a continent away was stark. We are fortunate to be able to choose to be part of the solution that meets the needs of those babies.
We again wrestled that night with the question of travel to Honduras for short-term outreach compared to the relative expenses of meeting needs for food, clothing, clean water, and education. It is not solely a question to be answered by finances, though. The Boy's situation remains challenging, and the questions of how to carry on our ministry to the children who grew under my heart is no less important to ask than those questions related to the children who capture my heart across town or across the world.
Yesterday, we arrived for the meeting that would see the Boy's disposition set for the next year or two. The professional team making determinations for the Boy's future completed the task of deciding What To Do in about two hours. (It was difficult to avoid shrieking as people lined up to tell the mister and I what great parents we are... because great parents don't have to let others make decisions for their kids. Or be separated from them before those kids are adults.) One of the professionals assisting had yet to define his fee. We expected to pay a substantial sum, but were instead told to apply the entire fee to our next short-term mission trip as his donation. This is unorthodox to say the least.
Even in a time of great challenge, we are blessed. And we see further confirmation of our likely plan to return to Honduras in the near future. I wonder if we will see Honduras or our son next? Both feel so very far away this morning. But neither is out of God's reach.