A Hungry Child Can't Wait!

Monday, September 19, 2011

a hungry child can't wait

Guest Blogger: Sarah Lenssen from #Ask5for5

Family photos by Mike Fiechtner Photography

Thank you Holly at Someborrowedthyme.blogspot.com  and nearly 150 other bloggers from around the world for allowing me to share a story with you today, during Social Media Week.

A hungry child in East Africa can’t wait. Her hunger consumes her while we decide ifwe’ll respond and save her life. In Somalia, children are stumbling along for days, even weeks, on dangerous roads and with empty stomachs in search of food and water. Their crops failed for the third year in a row. All their animals died. They lost everything. Thousands are dying along the road before they find help in refugee camps.

At my house, when my three children are hungry, they wait minutes for food, maybe an hour if dinner is approaching. Children affected by the food crisis in in Ethiopia, Kenya, and Somalia aren’t so lucky. Did you know that the worst drought in 60 years is ravaging whole countries right now, as you read this? Famine, a term not used lightly, has been declared in Somalia. This is the world’s first famine in 20 years.12.4 million people are in need of emergency assistance and over 29,000 children have died in the last three months alone. A child is dying every 5 minutes. It it estimated that 750,000 people could die before this famine is over. Take a moment and let that settle in.

The media plays a major role in disasters. They have the power to draw the attention of society to respond–or not. Unfortunately, this horrific disaster has become merely a footnote in most national media outlets. News of the U.S. national debt squabble and the latest celebrity’s baby bump dominate headlines. That is why I am thrilled that nearly 150 bloggers from all over the world are joining together today to use the power of social media to make their own headlines; to share the urgent need of the almost forgotten with their blog readers. Humans have the capacity to care deeply for those who are suffering, but in a situation like this when the numbers are too huge to grasp and the people so far away, we often feel like the little we can do will be a drop in the ocean, and don’t do anything at all.

When news of the famine first hit the news in late July, I selfishly avoided it. I didn’t want to read about it or hear about it because I knew I would feel overwhelmed and uncomfortable. I wanted to protect myself. I knew I would need to do something if I knew what was really happening. You see, this food crisis is personal. I have a 4-year-old son and a 1 yr-old daughter who were adopted from Ethiopia and born in regions now affected by the drought. If my children still lived in their home villages, they would be two of the 12.4 million. My children: extremely hungry and malnourished? Gulp. I think any one of us would do anything we could for our hungry child. But would you do something for another mother’s hungry child?

My friend and World Vision staffer, Jon Warren, was recently in Dadaab Refugee Camp in Kenya–the largest refugee camp in the world with over 400,000 people. He told me the story of Isnino Siyat, 22, a mother who walked for 10 days and nights with her husband, 1 yr-old-baby, Suleiman, and 4 yr.-old son Adan Hussein, fleeing the drought in Somalia. When she arrived at Dadaab, she built the family a shelter with borrowed materials while carrying her baby on her back. Even her dress is borrowed. As she sat in the shelter on her second night in camp she told Jon, “I left because of hunger. It is a very horrible drought which finished both our livestock and our farm.” The family lost their 5 cows and 10 goats one by one over 3 months, as grazing lands dried up. “We don’t have enough food now…our food is finished. I am really worried about the future of my children and myself if the situation continues.”

Will you help a child like Baby Suleiman? Ask5for5 is a dream built upon the belief that you will.

That something I knew I would need to do became a campaign called #Ask5for5 to raise awareness and funds for famine and drought victims. The concept is simple, give $5 and ask five of your friends to give $5, and then they each ask five of their friends to give $5 and so on–in nine generations of 5x5x5…we could raise $2.4 Million! In one month, over 750 people have donated over $25,000! I set up a fundraiser at See Your Impact and 100% of the funds will go to World Vision, an organization that has been fighting hunger in the Horn of Africa for decades and will continue long after this famine has ended. Donations can multiply up to 5 times in impact by government grants tohelp provide emergency food, clean water, agricultural support, healthcare, and other vital assistance to children and families suffering in the Horn.

I need you to help me save lives. It’s so so simple; here’s what you need to do:

1. Donate $5 or more on this page (http://seeyourimpact.org/members/ask5for5)
2. Send an email to your friends and ask them to join us.
3. Share #Ask5for5 on Facebook and Twitter!

I’m looking for another 100 bloggers to share this post on their blogs throughout Social Media Week. Email me at ask5for5@gmail.com if you’re interested in participating this week.

A hungry child doesn’t wait. She doesn’t wait for us to finish the other things on our to-do list, or get to it next month when we might have a little more money to give. She doesn’t wait for us to decide if she’s important enough to deserve a response. She will only wait as long as her weakened little body will hold on…please respond now and help save her life. Ask 5 for 5.

Thank you on behalf of all of those who will be helped–you are saving lives and changing history.

p.s. Please don’t move on to the next website before you donate and email your friends right now. It only takes 5 minutes and just $5, and if you’re life is busy like mine, you probably won’t get back to it later. Let’s not be a generation that ignores hundreds of thousands of starving people, instead let’s leave a legacy of compassion. You have the opportunity to save a life today!

RESPECT THE GAUGE

I have run out of gas more times than I'd like to admit.
I should know that without gas, my car will suddenly quit.

My life is just so fast-paced and busy
that running out of gas really throws me into a tizzy.

Twice yesterday it happened to me.
TWO TIMES in one day, how can that be?

The first time I was running late to a show
I thought 4 gallons would be enough to keep me on the go.

The second time was later in the day
When it happened again, I had nothing to say.

Pushing the car really made me feel stronger,
But I'm not sure I could've pushed 3500 pounds for much longer!

I really wish I had a mobile refueling device,
because never running out of gas again would be super nice!

Rinse Your Strawberries in the Bathroom Sink

I've been going through some difficult things these days.  I don't want to publish them on my blog, but just know that life has been a struggle for me lately.

Today, as I was searching for the title to a vehicle, I came across a short article I had written for a magazine.  It was just the reminder I needed.  So while I'm still trying to find the title, I'm pretty sure I found what I was looking for.

I'd like to share it with you today....

I don't know about you, but God sure finds creative ways to talk to me in everyday situations, and most of them come right out of my own mouth, as I'm speaking to my chldren.  At these moments, I can instantly see the Lord standing beside me, tapping me on the shoulder, saying "Excuse me, I've been trying to tell YOU that for quite awhile now". Most times I just say out loud "Okay God, I hear you" and then my kids give me that "Mom's gone crazy look" again.

The day before Thanksgiving my husband and I were preparing for the big day in the kitchen, and my daughter, Olivia, was eyeing the strawberries and Cool Whip.  All morning she had been asking me if she could have some, and all morning I tried to explain that she could, but she'd have to wait until the chocolate pie was finished, so I would be sure to have enough topping. That opportunity finally came in the early afternoon.  I was filling the pie at the kitchen table, while my husband was making homemade chicken stock over the stove, and straining it in the kitchen sink.

I put Olivia's strawberries in a small bowl, and instructed her to rinse them off in the bathroom sink because Daddy was still using the sink.  Just as Olivia was reaching for the kitchen faucet, and not heading to the bathroom like I had told her to, I got her attention with a firm "No".  I then said "Olivia, I JUST told you to use the bathroom sink, and you're doing exactly what I said not to do."

 Her reply was "Well, it looked like Daddy was done."

I then said "You only need to do what I've told you, and not act on what you see.  Just because Dad appears to be finished, he's not, and I've already told you the best way to rinse your strawberries.  I am the parent and you are the child.  I know Daddy's not going to be finished for awhile, so I told you exactly how to rinse your strawberries, and you just need to obey."

As soon as those words left my mouth, I could hear the Lord saying to me "Holly, don't act on what YOU see either.  Just because things appear to be one way, they're not, and I already know what's in store for you.  I am the parent, and YOU are the CHILD.  You just need to obey, even if you think you have a better way of getting things done."

isaiah 55:8 says "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways declares the Lord."

I am so thankful for those moments when the Lord makes His word come to life in an everyday situation like this.  It's a great reminder that my Heavenly Father really does have my best interest at heart, and He is the parent.  Just like we know what's best for our own kids, how much more does Father know what's best for us, and wants to share that knowledge with us?

Even when we think we know what's really going on, Father is so good, faithful, and patient to point us in the right direction, even if it means we have to rinse our strawberries in the bathroom sink.

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

If we were neighbors, I would borrow things.  Probably many things.  Hence, the inspiration for my blog title of Some Borrowed Thyme.  I'm pretty sure I currently have thyme in my spice cabinet, but here are a few things I don't have, or haven't had in the past, causing me to turn to my faithful neighbor and friend, Kim.  She has always been able to help me in a pinch.

1. A humidifier
2. Sugar
3. Flour
4. A can of cream of chicken soup
5. Eggs (of course!)
6. An air mattress
7. A tire pump
8. Jumper cables

I'm sure there are more things I've borrowed from Kim, but because she's such a wonderful friend, she wouldn't even be able to tell you what they were.  Nor would she probably be able to list 5 of the 8 things I just listed.  She simply loans without blinking an eye.  She is a great neighbor!

We moved recently, and I lost my wonderful neighbor.  I am so very glad she is still my friend, though!  We're trying to work out our schedules so that we can get together more, but it's not the same as being able to just walk out my front door when I see her van drive down the street. 

If we were neighbors, I could also loan you some things.  Here are the things you could count on me having to loan you:

1. Milk
2. Butter
3. Canned tomatoes
4. A shoulder to cry on
5. A listening ear
6. A walking buddy
7. A joke
8. A funny/embarassing story to tell you
9. A short-notice babysitter
10. A pet sitter
11. A Friendship (well, you can just keep this!)

I don't know any of my neighbors right now, but hopefully I will be able to get out and meet them soon.  Surely I will run out of SOMETHING, and will have nowhere to go if I don't.

Won't you be my neighbor?

Childhood Blog

Long before the World Wide Web, we had blogs, but we called them something different.  We called them diaries.  My first diary, really, my only diary was a Christmas gift on Sunday, December 25th, 1983.  I was 10 years old.  It was a one year diary that I somehow made last for 7 years, with room to spare.

During this recent move, I found my diary again.  It's a pretty sage green, with a picture of some horses in a misty field on the cover. It locks, and I still have the key.  However, I now know that any toothpick can unlock it, but in 1983 I was convinced I could lock away my deepest thoughts and secrets.

 Most of the entries are simply records of the mundane, yet others contain encrypted secrets that only those very close to me could decipher.  I want to share a few of them with you, not because I think they are really wonderful or anything like that, but just because I think it's fun.

Tuesday, 12/27/83-  Today I watched A-Team and Remmington Steele.
~For the record, I had a HUGE crush on Pierce Brosnan (and I'm pretty sure my mom did, too).

Thursday, 12/29/83- Today I was in a bad mood so I played with my Lite Brite then I took a bath.
~I wonder if that would help if I was in a bad mood nowadays. If I still had my Lite Brite, I might give it a try!

Friday, 1/6/1984- Today nothing happened.
~I somehow thought I needed to write in my diary every single day, even if I didn't think there was anything worth writing about.  I would let days go by and then go back and try to fill in the missing dates.  I was only successful at this for about 35 days, then I gave up.  This would explain why my 1-year diary lasted 7 years!

Saturday, 2/11/1984- Today I went to Gina's wedding.  Darin likes me but I hate him.  I think so does Rob and Chris and I don't like them either. Except Rob.
~This is a good reminder of how I felt about boys.  Before reading my diary, I could have sworn I didn't start noticing boys until I was 13 or 14, but clearly, I wasn't quite 11 when I started writing about them in my diary.  I now have an 11 year old daughter, so maybe we should include my diary in our bedtime reading choices. I think she would find my entries funny, but she may also feel that she could talk to me more candidly about things like this, knowing that I had the same feelings she may be having now.

I remember thinking what a dumb gift my diary was.  I hated writing at the time, and thought the diary was just schoolwork in a disguise.  Now, I treasure my childhood thoughts and hope that I can use them to help me become a better mother.

Just Another Day at the Gym

This story may or may not be true.

Prerequisite to reading: Women who have bore children must stop right now, and go potty.  Then come back RIGHT AWAY to read this...don't get distracted and do something else. Come back immediately!

I like to get the most out of my possessions.  I will wear my shoes until they just cannot be worn anymore.  I have shirts from ten years ago.  If something works perfectly fine, I don't replace it just because a new one would look nicer.  You just need to know this about me.

A couple of years ago I had this workout bra that was a little faded, but it was functional.  The elastic on it was not as tight as some of my newer workout bras, but it stayed in place when I moved around, so it was just fine with me.  As a matter of fact, I often wore it simply because it was so soft and comfy.  Now, I am a modest woman (most of the time....I have another story that would dispute this_ maybe you will get it later down the road) and I don't work out in just a sports bra.  I always wear another top over it, but I hate to work out in a  
T-shirt, so the top is usually a tank of some sort.

I also have this thin, soft, bright pink top with spaghetti straps.  I usually use it for a night shirt, or just housecleaning, but this particular day, I thought it would suffice as a work-out top, to be worn over the navy blue worn out sports bra.  Hot pink and navy blue do go nicely together at the gym.  As it turns out, this was a deadly combination.

The group exercise room is pretty big. Two of its walls are mirrored, top to bottom, they are perpendicular to each other.  A third wall is all glass, looking over the lower level of the gym, and the fourth wall is also glass, with the cardio machines on the other side.  The gym is just like church.  Everybody has their "spot". Mine was in the back of the room, in the corner where one of the mirrored walls and the windows overlooking the lower level met.  I figured this was the safest place to participate with the least number of people watching me. Fortunately for me, on this day I had arrived early enough to snag my usual spot.

Everyone in the class had their benches assembled and we were moving into the chest press.  Our benches were all set up so that when we were lying down, our feet were towards the mirrored wall that I was next to, so during this exercise I was actually at the front of the group, and the instructor was to our left. I hope you have a really good visual here....  I'm at the front of the room, wearing my soft, comfy, worn sports bra AND soft, comfy worn pink shirt.

For this lift, we put our mat on our bench, and lie down.  We do 4 sets of 12 reps with our bar loaded up.  I was really working hard, and was very sweaty!  Some women say they "glow".  Not me, I am a downright mess!  No makeup on, hair in a ponytail, red-faced, and sweat pouring down my face, and dripping off my elbows.  It's not pretty. 

We finish the set, and I have sweat pooling in my eyes.  I know from past experience that when I open my eyes, the sweat is going to burn!  I decided to go ahead and wipe my eyes before opening them, so as I sat up, I grabbed the pink top and wiped my eyes.  Nothing seemed unusual.  Nothing felt odd.  The shirt just pulled up and I wiped my eyes. 
It wasn't until I opened my eyes that I realized something WAS unusual.  Something WAS odd.  Even more than that, something was TERRIBLY WRONG!

You see, my soft, comfy sports bra, and my soft, comfy pink shirt felt the same to me with my eyes closed.  As I pulled up on the neck of my pink shirt, I was actually pulling up on my sports bra, and what happened was something I'd expect to see in some juvenile T&A movie that I would NEVER pay money to go see. 
Yes, as I opened my eyes, stinging just a bit from the sweat that was already in them, I looked into the mirror I was facing and saw myself sitting there with sports bra in hand, and my right boobie hanging out.  Not just a little bit, but COMPLETELY out. It was almost as if the bottom of my sports bra and the top of my pink shirt framed my boob perfectly.

I stared at myself for just a moment, and then noticed the young lady beside me.  She looked about 20-ish, and I had never seen her there before.  I think she was home from college, and had come to the gym with her mother.  As you can imagine, her body was perfect! Her bosom had never nursed two children, and the look on her face was pure shock!
I smiled at her, tucked my mushy boob back in place, and said "I'm so sorry you had to see that." and went on with my workout. I burst into random laughing throughout the rest of the class, and afterwards explained to the instructor (who was also my friend) what had happened.  She about peed her pants!

I don't really know if anyone else saw me that day, but I do know that young girl is probably scarred for life, and I'm pretty sure she'll be bottle feeding her child.

About 2 years have passed since that happened, and I am proud to say I am the owner of some VERY tight fitting Nike sports bras.  There is no way in H-E-double toothpicks that I will ever be able to mistake my sports bra for my overshirt ever again!

I repeat, this story may or may not be true.

Chronicle of a Cheesecake

I think I can do anything. Seriously, I do. If another human being has ever done it, then I see no reason why I can't do it too.  This line of thinking has been beneficial most of my life, and detrimental on occasion. 

In the case of the cheesecake, it turns out I was right. 

Many years ago, I was visiting with a friend about an annual fundraising event she and her husband had been attending through the years.  It was a dessert auction that raised money for a worthwhile charitable cause. As she told me about the lives that had been changed through this organization, I was moved to help in some way. 

My husband and I weren't able to attend the function and bid on desserts, but I knew I could donate a dessert at the very least.  My friend told me that many different desserts were donated, but the ones that brought the most money were cheesecakes. 
Now, I was not particularly fond of cheesecakes, and certainly had never baked one before, but hey, I could read and follow directions.  I pulled out one of my favorite cookbooks that I knew would have a great recipe in it, and I found just the cheesecake to bake.  It was a chocolate truffle cheesecake. 

Sure enough, I followed those directions to a tee, and baked the most beautiful, delicious cheesecake I had ever tasted! 

Wait a minute!  If I was donating this cheesecake, how did I know it tasted so good you say? 
Well, I also know myself well enough that I was pretty sure I couldn't just make one and donate it without even knowing what it tasted like, so i made two! If the one I donated was anything like the one I kept, then it was truly "to die for" good!
Auction night came, and although I wasn't in attendance, my friend told me my beautiful, luscious chocolate truffle cheesecake sold for $275!!

That was the start of my cheesecake career.  Through the years, I have made more cheesecakes than I can keep track of.  My favorite cheesecakes to make are the ones where I can be creative with their garnishings and decorations, like the pretty red swirls of a strawberry cheesecake, or the beautiful pattern on a tropical cheesecake.  My very least favorite cheesecake to make is plain.  I mean, come on! Plain?  That's so boring!

Since I probably don't have too many followers of my blog, I will let you in on a little secret...the key to baking a perfectly done cheesecake is having mushy thighs.  Yes, you read that correctly.  It's all in the thighs.  You see, when a cheesecake is ready to be taken out of the oven, you have to "bounce" the cake while it's still in the oven, to see how it feels.  If it feels like your mushy thighs, then it's done.  I don't mean the muscular part of your thigh, it's the upper part of your thighs, where your leg almost meets your hiney....I'll give you a minute to check your own thighs, because I know that's what you're doing right now.

Ok, have you got it?

That slightly firm, slightly bouncy feeling is what you're looking for in a perfectly baked cheesecake.  After you pull it out of the oven and let it sit for an hour, it will continue to cook and firm up to the perfectly creamy texture that makes a cheesecake so great.

So there you have it. That's how I started making cheesecakes.  I LOVE to make them now, and unfortunately, I LOVE to eat them, too.  I guess you could say I'm just making sure that I never forget how a cheesecake should feel when it's done. 

Phidippides needed a cardiologist

Do you know the legend of the marathon?  Well let me tell you...

The traditional origin of the marathon comes from the story how a herald named Phidippides ran the 26 miles from Marathon to Athens to announce the Greek victory and died on the spot. Phidippides was sent by the Athenians to Sparta to ask for help; a man named Eukles announced the victory to the Athenians and then died. Later sources confused the story of Phidippides, also called "Philippides," with that of Eukles. Although most ancient authors do not support this legend, the story has persisted and is the basis for the modern-day marathon. 

A few years ago I had this gradiose dream of running a half marathon.  I'd seen pictures and videos of friends and unknown strangers crossing a finish line, and I wanted to experience that. Sweat-soaked shirts, expression of angst on their faces, yet radiating this undescribeable glow of accomplishment that I wanted.
So I began to run.  It started with my son, in 5th grade at the time, complaining that they had to run a mile in PE.  Just one mile.  I told him that wasn't so hard, and that I would come and run it with his class.

Sure enough, on "mile day" I checked in at the office, got my neon green sticker with a photo of my driver's license on it, and went to PE.  Yes, I ran around the field with 30 or so 5th graders, and ran one mile in just under 12 minutes.  It's a good thing I didn't start my running endeavor now, because I'm pretty sure my son would be HORRIFIED if I showed up to run with his football team, now that he's in high school.  It is a thought, though.  Anyways, back to the topic at hand.
One mile at PE became 2 miles at the gym, and before I knew it, I was participating in my first 5K.  I actually PAID to run over 3 miles. My friend, Michelle, and I ran together and we had two goals: run the whole thing, and pass a man.  We accomplished both.

A few months later, we signed up for a 10K race, and again paid money to run even farther than before.  As the race drew near, I came down with the flu.  My training took a backseat as I tried to get better.  Race day approached, and I was not fully recovered.  Determined, I ran the race and came in....you guessed it....DEAD LAST.  The only person behind me was the guy driving the golf cart collecting the orange cones. That was awesome.

A few months after that, Michelle convinced me that we could go ahead and set our sights on the half marathon.  THE race I had been dreaming of running.  We again started training, but many times our schedules conflicted, so we had to run on our own.  This one particular Saturday we were going to do a 10 mile run together.  It was on a day that I had to work, so I was up at 4am, and worked on my feet all morning until 10, and then we were going to run as soon as I got home.  We started out, and at first, it wasn't so bad.  However, the grey clouds overhead started raining on us, the wind came up, and I was miserable.  I was cold, tired, and so incredibly sore.  I thought my knees were going to explode!  That day was too much for me, and I quit running.  Michelle continued on, and ran the 1/2 marathon that we had trained for. Looking at her finish line picture was painful, knowing that I had been THIS CLOSE to crossing that finish line with her.  I was THIS CLOSE to having that sense of accomplishment that was written all over her body. 
That was in February 2010.  For the remainder of that year, the Half Marathon Monster would tease me on a monthly basis. It would say taunting things like: "You could have done that",  "You gave up too soon" , or even "Running wasn't really THAT bad". 

I knew I needed to overcome this monster once and for all, so in January of this year, I set my mind to running again.  I found a training schedule that looked like it would work for me, and I stuck to it!  April 10, 2011, I ran the Big D Half Marathon, with my friend, Michelle, (whom I affectionately call my Running Doula) at my side.  It was everything I had hoped it would be.  Fun, exciting, nerve-wrecking, painful, deplorable, fulfilling, and thrilling all at the same time. I crossed that finish line, crying, in pain, and my face full of angst, yet I know my accomplishment was radiating from me. Aside from childbirth, it was likely the most difficult thing I have ever done. 

Last week, I was at the Dr's office with my daughter, for an ear infection.  I mentioned to the Dr. that I was having hives from some medicine I had been on, and she offered to give me a steroid shot.  She gave me a quick check, and listened to my heart before the shot, and said "Hmmm....I think I hear a heart murmur."
I actually had an appointment set for the next day with my Gyn, so she told me to ask him to listen to my heart and ask him his opinion as well.  So I did.  Sure enough, he heard it.  Faint, but still there. 
I made an appointment for the cardiologist for the following week, and now here we are.
Sitting in Dr. Santos' office this morning, he looked at the printout from my EKG.  There was an abnormality on the printout, so he asked me some questions.  Exercise was one of the topics, of course, and so I told him I had just completed a half marathon last month.  His head perked up, and his eyes got bright.  "Well that might just be it" he says.
Turns out, running like that can cause "temporary heart damage".  What??  All of this wonderful cardiovascular exercise I had been doing may have actually caused damage?

Yes, Virginia, running something like a half marathon may cause heart damage.

All I could do was laugh. 

Whether the origin of the Marathon is accurate or not doesn't really matter. Maybe if Phidippides had seen the cardiologist, he would have known that running from Marathon to Athens wasn't such a great idea after all.

I think that as part of my cardiovascular recovery, I'm going to sit on the couch and eat donuts. 

Moving stinks

We are moving.  It's just 4 miles down the road, but it might as well be 1000 miles.
 My back is sore.
My feet are sore. 
I'm grouchy with my family, and it's not fair.
I'd really like to have a glass of water, but my glasses are still at the other house. 
It's been over a week since I've actually made something more homemade than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I am SO SICK of eating out!
I think tomorrow might be the point at which we "turn the corner" and actually live more at the new address than the old one.
There's some corn on the cob in the refrigerator, and I'm bound and determined to cook it for dinner tomorrow night.  Corn on the cob might be all we eat, but by golly, we're going to eat SOMETHING home cooked!