Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 164
August 9, 2013
It Happens
We have a large lawn. It’s nice to mow with a riding mower and this is the beast which has been doing the job for the last few years.
My husband bought it second-hand and it has had a few issues. Most recently, each of the three blades on the mowing deck have taken to mowing at a different height. No matter how much time and effort my husband had put into adjusting them, it seems the lawn always came out looking like it had gotten a haircut by a first-grader.
When the belt started breaking, my husband decided he had had it with the beast. He borrowed my mom’s push mower.
Now there are certain advantages to a push mower. For starters this mower has one blade and it cuts all of the grass at the same level. Second because it is much more maneuverable than the beast, we can get at every inch of the lawn in a more efficient manner. Also, it is great exercise. Sure, the husband and I tag-teamed the job, taking turns mowing various sections of yard, but we got it done. I was also surprised at how quiet it is compared to the beast.
But there is one big disadvantage.
Yes, the Wonder Dog. With the vast amount of knowledge in his wee brain, he tends to forget that the entire yard really should not be used as his toilet.
With the beast, the surprises which Dino leaves throughout the lawn would be run over without much notice. With the push mower however, I found myself sometimes dancing in an attempt to avoid Dino’s many offerings.
I don’t know. I can’t say that I can decide which mower is better. If I had a choice, a new riding mower would be the best route to take. Until then, it appears we will be dodging lawn bullets.
Or maybe we should just replace Dino with a goat.
My husband bought it second-hand and it has had a few issues. Most recently, each of the three blades on the mowing deck have taken to mowing at a different height. No matter how much time and effort my husband had put into adjusting them, it seems the lawn always came out looking like it had gotten a haircut by a first-grader.
When the belt started breaking, my husband decided he had had it with the beast. He borrowed my mom’s push mower.
Now there are certain advantages to a push mower. For starters this mower has one blade and it cuts all of the grass at the same level. Second because it is much more maneuverable than the beast, we can get at every inch of the lawn in a more efficient manner. Also, it is great exercise. Sure, the husband and I tag-teamed the job, taking turns mowing various sections of yard, but we got it done. I was also surprised at how quiet it is compared to the beast.
But there is one big disadvantage.
Yes, the Wonder Dog. With the vast amount of knowledge in his wee brain, he tends to forget that the entire yard really should not be used as his toilet.
With the beast, the surprises which Dino leaves throughout the lawn would be run over without much notice. With the push mower however, I found myself sometimes dancing in an attempt to avoid Dino’s many offerings.
I don’t know. I can’t say that I can decide which mower is better. If I had a choice, a new riding mower would be the best route to take. Until then, it appears we will be dodging lawn bullets.
Or maybe we should just replace Dino with a goat.
August 6, 2013
To Prove I Have a Story About Everything
And also to prove that I will take a picture of anything . . .
With my mom downsizing, she is willing to give away a lot of her stuff. You should see the dishes and table cloths that I have brought home already. I asked my husband a few weeks ago if he thought that one of Mom’s chest of drawers would be better than the one he was using. I didn’t get an answer. Imagine that.
So, I proceeded to tell him the history of the piece of furniture I was referring to.
My dad had two sisters, Clara and Emmy. When she was 20, Emmy was diagnosed with some sort of heart valve disorder and at the time the doctor’s only recommendation was that she shouldn’t have children. I can’t remember if she was married yet, but I know that she and her husband, Jeff, never did have any kids.
They lived in a few different places and in 1954, he decided they should move to California. Before they left they got rid of most of their furniture, giving a matching chest of drawers and dresser to my parents. Emmy passed away from her heart issues two weeks after they arrived in California.
From the earliest age I can remember, I had use of that chest of drawers. The dresser was my sister Pat’s.
I told my husband this story and then told him to not let that influence his decision on whether or not he wanted the chest of drawers. (Did I mention that we had bought me a new dresser in 2004, and yes, I have a story about that if you want to hear it someday.) What he had been using up until this time was some second-hand store find. Or at least I hope it was because I hope no one paid good money for this thing new.
Now it is your turn. Which is Himey’s new dresser and which is his old one?
With my mom downsizing, she is willing to give away a lot of her stuff. You should see the dishes and table cloths that I have brought home already. I asked my husband a few weeks ago if he thought that one of Mom’s chest of drawers would be better than the one he was using. I didn’t get an answer. Imagine that.
So, I proceeded to tell him the history of the piece of furniture I was referring to.
My dad had two sisters, Clara and Emmy. When she was 20, Emmy was diagnosed with some sort of heart valve disorder and at the time the doctor’s only recommendation was that she shouldn’t have children. I can’t remember if she was married yet, but I know that she and her husband, Jeff, never did have any kids.
They lived in a few different places and in 1954, he decided they should move to California. Before they left they got rid of most of their furniture, giving a matching chest of drawers and dresser to my parents. Emmy passed away from her heart issues two weeks after they arrived in California.
From the earliest age I can remember, I had use of that chest of drawers. The dresser was my sister Pat’s.
I told my husband this story and then told him to not let that influence his decision on whether or not he wanted the chest of drawers. (Did I mention that we had bought me a new dresser in 2004, and yes, I have a story about that if you want to hear it someday.) What he had been using up until this time was some second-hand store find. Or at least I hope it was because I hope no one paid good money for this thing new.
Now it is your turn. Which is Himey’s new dresser and which is his old one?
August 4, 2013
God give me the words.
“When you are put into their hands, do not worry what you will say or how you will say it. The words will be given you when the time comes.” Matthew 10:19 New Life Version
Yesterday, I attended the second annual Country Memories Farm Writers Conference. After attending last year’s conference and getting my book published, I emailed Becky McLafferty, who hosts the conference, and asked if she was looking for speakers for this year. I told her that I would love to share the journey I traveled while writing my memoir and getting it published. That silly girl. She took me up on the offer.
There I was at 1:05 Saturday afternoon, having eaten too much for lunch, standing at the front of the classroom with nine sets up puppy-dog eyes watching me, waiting for me to spew out vast amounts of knowledge. I wasn’t nervous. Honest I wasn’t. I just started talking and sharing and answering questions. And they acted like they thought I knew what I was doing!
Of all the fears in the world, getting up and talking in front of an audience is high on the list. One website I found ranked it as number 2, another website had it as number 1.
I don’t know why, but getting up in front of a group of people has never bothered me. Maybe it’s the clown in me. Maybe some deep-seeded need to be the center of attention. Whatever the case, it was still much easier for me to speak in front of those conference participates than it would be to speak to those Jesus is referring to in the scripture above.
He is talking about a time when we will be persecuted, when we are led in front of our accusers and asked to give a testimony of our actions. Will we be able to stand before those who would flog us, beat us, crucify us, and testify that we know Jesus as our Savior? Those would definitely have to be words given to me directly from God.
Lord, God, Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of Your Son. Be with us in our time of need, strengthen us when we are persecuted. And grant us Your peace. Amen
Yesterday, I attended the second annual Country Memories Farm Writers Conference. After attending last year’s conference and getting my book published, I emailed Becky McLafferty, who hosts the conference, and asked if she was looking for speakers for this year. I told her that I would love to share the journey I traveled while writing my memoir and getting it published. That silly girl. She took me up on the offer.
There I was at 1:05 Saturday afternoon, having eaten too much for lunch, standing at the front of the classroom with nine sets up puppy-dog eyes watching me, waiting for me to spew out vast amounts of knowledge. I wasn’t nervous. Honest I wasn’t. I just started talking and sharing and answering questions. And they acted like they thought I knew what I was doing!
Of all the fears in the world, getting up and talking in front of an audience is high on the list. One website I found ranked it as number 2, another website had it as number 1.
I don’t know why, but getting up in front of a group of people has never bothered me. Maybe it’s the clown in me. Maybe some deep-seeded need to be the center of attention. Whatever the case, it was still much easier for me to speak in front of those conference participates than it would be to speak to those Jesus is referring to in the scripture above.
He is talking about a time when we will be persecuted, when we are led in front of our accusers and asked to give a testimony of our actions. Will we be able to stand before those who would flog us, beat us, crucify us, and testify that we know Jesus as our Savior? Those would definitely have to be words given to me directly from God.
Lord, God, Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of Your Son. Be with us in our time of need, strengthen us when we are persecuted. And grant us Your peace. Amen
August 2, 2013
A Good Excuse?
I have a good excuse for not blogging yesterday. I drove to Chicago (300 miles from home) to pick up my baby girl at the airport. She is home safe and sound from her three month stay in Kenya. And did you hear the news this morning? That the United States has issued warnings for American citizens traveling anywhere abroad, but specifically for northern Africa and the Middle East. There has been an al Qaeda threat that is being taken very seriously.
Coincidence that my daughter just arrived home safely? I think not. Once again, Someone is watching out for my girl.
Talking to her Granma, shortly after we picked her up.
Coincidence that my daughter just arrived home safely? I think not. Once again, Someone is watching out for my girl.
Talking to her Granma, shortly after we picked her up.
July 30, 2013
The Meaning of Friendship
Every night when I go on the internet, to check email, Facebook, this blog and various other social media, I also click on the websites for the two funeral homes in town. Does that make me old or morbid or both? You just never know who may have passed away.
One night last week, on my usual tour of the world wide web, a name caught my eye. My mouth dropped open and my breath stopped. “No, it can’t be,” I said out loud to Dino and the cat. Kathy’s dad had died. Kathy, my best friend from high school.
Whenever I saw her parents, which was pretty frequently, they always stopped to ask how I was doing, how my mom was. And I’d ask what Kathy was up to. I had just seen them the week before and her dad had seemed fine. What could have happened? It’s probably called old age. At age 91, every day is a blessing and each day could be your last.
I hadn’t seen Kathy in over twenty years, but her face lit up when I walked into the church on Saturday. She couldn’t wait to tell me how much she enjoyed my book. When she introduced me to her husband and daughter, they immediately knew me as the author. Even her brother recognized me right away.
I felt pretty guilty. This was certainly their day and not mine. A few hours after I got home, it dawned on. The middle of Chapter 7.
I was no stranger to being left out.
One day shortly after I had started the seventh grade, my two best friends said they wanted to talk to me. We had been together since second grade, but now they had decided it was time to move on. They no longer wanted to be friends with me.
I was crushed. What had I done to them? Nothing. They just felt we were growing apart and had little in common anymore. My knees went weak, and I saw black spots in front of my eyes.
I was an awkward, insecure twelve-year-old. What was I going to do? Who would be my friend?
There was a girl named Kathy who was in most of my classes. I hadn’t known her before, but she was quiet and shy like me. She also got good grades like me. Maybe we would click.
Trying not to seem pathetic, I approached her the next day. “Would you be my friend?”
She was relieved, and a smile lit up her face. Evidently, her pals from previous years had left her as well. We remained best friends until we left for separate colleges many years later.
I don’t know what to say after that, what to write. I just wanted to share part of my weekend with you.
Halloween weekend our senior year in high school. Sal, Kathy, Lori, Brenda and I spent the night at Sal's parents' cabin. It looks like it was rather cold out that October. Good thing that Sal stayed up all night stoking the fire. Those were fun times. But we are getting older. Besides my dad and Kathy's dad, Brenda's dad and both Lori's parents are gone. Sigh.
One night last week, on my usual tour of the world wide web, a name caught my eye. My mouth dropped open and my breath stopped. “No, it can’t be,” I said out loud to Dino and the cat. Kathy’s dad had died. Kathy, my best friend from high school.
Whenever I saw her parents, which was pretty frequently, they always stopped to ask how I was doing, how my mom was. And I’d ask what Kathy was up to. I had just seen them the week before and her dad had seemed fine. What could have happened? It’s probably called old age. At age 91, every day is a blessing and each day could be your last.
I hadn’t seen Kathy in over twenty years, but her face lit up when I walked into the church on Saturday. She couldn’t wait to tell me how much she enjoyed my book. When she introduced me to her husband and daughter, they immediately knew me as the author. Even her brother recognized me right away.
I felt pretty guilty. This was certainly their day and not mine. A few hours after I got home, it dawned on. The middle of Chapter 7.
I was no stranger to being left out.
One day shortly after I had started the seventh grade, my two best friends said they wanted to talk to me. We had been together since second grade, but now they had decided it was time to move on. They no longer wanted to be friends with me.
I was crushed. What had I done to them? Nothing. They just felt we were growing apart and had little in common anymore. My knees went weak, and I saw black spots in front of my eyes.
I was an awkward, insecure twelve-year-old. What was I going to do? Who would be my friend?
There was a girl named Kathy who was in most of my classes. I hadn’t known her before, but she was quiet and shy like me. She also got good grades like me. Maybe we would click.
Trying not to seem pathetic, I approached her the next day. “Would you be my friend?”
She was relieved, and a smile lit up her face. Evidently, her pals from previous years had left her as well. We remained best friends until we left for separate colleges many years later.
I don’t know what to say after that, what to write. I just wanted to share part of my weekend with you.
Halloween weekend our senior year in high school. Sal, Kathy, Lori, Brenda and I spent the night at Sal's parents' cabin. It looks like it was rather cold out that October. Good thing that Sal stayed up all night stoking the fire. Those were fun times. But we are getting older. Besides my dad and Kathy's dad, Brenda's dad and both Lori's parents are gone. Sigh.
July 27, 2013
Assignment: gather all your pictures
As you should know by now, I have been sponsoring a child through Compassion, International, for eight years. Just a few weeks ago, I lost my first child, Neela from India, and was given a little waif Mueni from Kenya. I received my first letter from Mueni this week, and I am so excited to build our relationship.
In the meantime, Compassion has got me involved in something else. Blogging. Imagine that! Every so often Compassion emails an idea for a blog post to all of its Bloggers. Sometimes I can do it, sometimes not. This month, I thought, I can do this. So here we go.
The challenge was a Scavenger hunt, finding a whole list of items that are in some way a part of life for many children in third world countries. Believe it or not, I already had pictures of most of these things, taken in my world travels.
A Baby Scale
I really did not think that I had a picture of baby scale, but thought that this picture was even better. It was taken at the clinic in Ayacucho, Peru, and shows the developmental milestones your baby should be making. But then I looked down in the bottom left corner.
The device behind the blue train looks like a baby scale to me.
Braided Hair
This is my daughter with Beautiful Anna, taken when I was in Kenya with her this May.
Children playing Soccer
This is at the Compassion center in Nairobi. Mwazunga is from Mombasa and made a 12-hour bus trip to meet his sponsor, Kari. (Their story is in chapter 6 of my book.)
A Church sign
Ayacucho, Peru, is known as the city of churches. Evidently it is not the city of church signs. Of all the pictures of the churches that I took, this is one of few with any sort of sign. You'll have to trust me that that is a sign above the door and another one to the right of the door.
Flag of a country where Compassion works
This is the flag of Uganda. This picture was taken at Lifest this year. It is in the Compassion Experience, where you walk through different rooms set up like life experiences your Compassion child may be going through.
A farmers market or food vendor
I had such a selection of farmer's markets and food vendors from my travels to Peru and Kenya, but none of them really showed the food. But this is still from my travels. It is at the airport in Amsterdam, where we had a six hour layover. Lots of time to look at Bread.
A Flip phone
Ok, so probably my least creative. My very own flip phone. Please don't ever break on me. I am not smart enough for a smart phone.
A food staple common to the developing world
Maasai making chapati at Mosiro in Kenya. Chapati is common throughout India, East Africa and many other parts of the world.
A goat or cow
The herd of goats we bought at Mosiro. Every day one of these guys left the herd. To show up later in our stew.
A sewing machine
Can you find all three sewing machines? These are the WEEP women of Mathare Slum. (You can read about them in Chapter 4 of my book.)
Seeds or grain
These are seeds and other things at a market in Ayacucho, Peru.
A stethoscope
Yes, I had lots of options for a picture of a stethoscope. I wear one around my neck every day. But I had to be more creative than that. Of course. This is another picture taken in the Compassion Experience. Here, the Compassion girl from India is telling how Grandma was very sick and in the hospital. The rest of the family was praying to thousands of Hindu gods, while the little girl was praying to the one true God which she learned about through Compassion.
So, how did I do? Here is the Compassion link of the assignment. I will tell you this blog took the longest of any to compose. You can probably imagine. And I hope no one considers me a cheater because I didn't take any new pictures. I think it is an even more amazing accomplishment that I had them all!
God bless you this week. Now get your camera out and start taking pictures!
In the meantime, Compassion has got me involved in something else. Blogging. Imagine that! Every so often Compassion emails an idea for a blog post to all of its Bloggers. Sometimes I can do it, sometimes not. This month, I thought, I can do this. So here we go.
The challenge was a Scavenger hunt, finding a whole list of items that are in some way a part of life for many children in third world countries. Believe it or not, I already had pictures of most of these things, taken in my world travels.
A Baby Scale
I really did not think that I had a picture of baby scale, but thought that this picture was even better. It was taken at the clinic in Ayacucho, Peru, and shows the developmental milestones your baby should be making. But then I looked down in the bottom left corner.
The device behind the blue train looks like a baby scale to me. Braided Hair
This is my daughter with Beautiful Anna, taken when I was in Kenya with her this May. Children playing Soccer
This is at the Compassion center in Nairobi. Mwazunga is from Mombasa and made a 12-hour bus trip to meet his sponsor, Kari. (Their story is in chapter 6 of my book.)A Church sign
Ayacucho, Peru, is known as the city of churches. Evidently it is not the city of church signs. Of all the pictures of the churches that I took, this is one of few with any sort of sign. You'll have to trust me that that is a sign above the door and another one to the right of the door. Flag of a country where Compassion works
This is the flag of Uganda. This picture was taken at Lifest this year. It is in the Compassion Experience, where you walk through different rooms set up like life experiences your Compassion child may be going through.A farmers market or food vendor
I had such a selection of farmer's markets and food vendors from my travels to Peru and Kenya, but none of them really showed the food. But this is still from my travels. It is at the airport in Amsterdam, where we had a six hour layover. Lots of time to look at Bread. A Flip phone
Ok, so probably my least creative. My very own flip phone. Please don't ever break on me. I am not smart enough for a smart phone. A food staple common to the developing world
Maasai making chapati at Mosiro in Kenya. Chapati is common throughout India, East Africa and many other parts of the world. A goat or cow
The herd of goats we bought at Mosiro. Every day one of these guys left the herd. To show up later in our stew. A sewing machine
Can you find all three sewing machines? These are the WEEP women of Mathare Slum. (You can read about them in Chapter 4 of my book.) Seeds or grain
These are seeds and other things at a market in Ayacucho, Peru. A stethoscope
Yes, I had lots of options for a picture of a stethoscope. I wear one around my neck every day. But I had to be more creative than that. Of course. This is another picture taken in the Compassion Experience. Here, the Compassion girl from India is telling how Grandma was very sick and in the hospital. The rest of the family was praying to thousands of Hindu gods, while the little girl was praying to the one true God which she learned about through Compassion. So, how did I do? Here is the Compassion link of the assignment. I will tell you this blog took the longest of any to compose. You can probably imagine. And I hope no one considers me a cheater because I didn't take any new pictures. I think it is an even more amazing accomplishment that I had them all!
God bless you this week. Now get your camera out and start taking pictures!
July 25, 2013
Are you average too?
“I am so average – I am a woman, I have type O+ blood, I live in a 3 bedroom 2 bath ranch which is owned by the bank…. “
I wrote those words many months ago, oh, probably six months ago. I had a plan at the time where those words were going to go. Good thing I had written them down or they would have been lost forever.
This is what the average woman has done in the last eleven months. Decided to publish a book. Published a book.
Decided to go to Kenya. Went to Kenya.
Decided to run a 5K race. Ran a 5K race.
What is left you wonder? What could possibly remain on my bucket list? Maybe that is why I feel as if I haven’t done much the last few months. I had been thinking it was because I was burned out from keeping up such a pace, but now I wonder if it is because there is no big goal out there, being held like a carrot, up for grabs if I strive hard enough.
I don’t know. All I do know is that at one time I kept my focus on what I wrote in this blog by writing about a person, a pet or a place on Tuesdays; a saying, a song or a sign on Thursdays; and a devotion on Sundays. That fell by the wayside quite a while back. I am going to try to resurrect that practice. Maybe if I don’t have a big goal hanging out there, I can at least have these little thrice weekly goals.
Until Sunday, then, remember there is nothing wrong with being average.
I wrote those words many months ago, oh, probably six months ago. I had a plan at the time where those words were going to go. Good thing I had written them down or they would have been lost forever.
This is what the average woman has done in the last eleven months. Decided to publish a book. Published a book.
Decided to go to Kenya. Went to Kenya.
Decided to run a 5K race. Ran a 5K race.
What is left you wonder? What could possibly remain on my bucket list? Maybe that is why I feel as if I haven’t done much the last few months. I had been thinking it was because I was burned out from keeping up such a pace, but now I wonder if it is because there is no big goal out there, being held like a carrot, up for grabs if I strive hard enough.
I don’t know. All I do know is that at one time I kept my focus on what I wrote in this blog by writing about a person, a pet or a place on Tuesdays; a saying, a song or a sign on Thursdays; and a devotion on Sundays. That fell by the wayside quite a while back. I am going to try to resurrect that practice. Maybe if I don’t have a big goal hanging out there, I can at least have these little thrice weekly goals.
Until Sunday, then, remember there is nothing wrong with being average.
July 23, 2013
In the Bubble
I know, it has been ten days since I returned from Lifest, I should move on, huh? But I really haven’t blogged about the festival at all. I have instead been in a down mood and fighting a migraine for nearly a week. Kind of not feeling so creative. Or social even.
A friend of mine who had been to Lifest with me a couple of times says that being there is like life in a bubble. Everything is safe, everyone shares your point of view, there is no stress. Life is easy at a place like that. You get to hear positive uplifting messages in word and song. During the three days we were there I don’t remember anybody having a bad attitude. I was probably the worst one, when I butted to the front of the line at the bathroom because several stalls had run out of toilet paper and I naturally had a supply in my backpack. The Christian thing would have been to share it with those who had been waiting longer. I am such a miserable sinner. Sigh.
Then we get home and life is one long series of bathroom stalls without toilet paper and I am not nearly as prepared as I thought I was. How can I supply the world with toilet paper when I am down to just a few sheets for myself.
(Has this analogy come to a useless end? Let me think a minute while you look at pictures.)
Our little campsite in the Bubble.
The three girls who joined us in our Bubble at our campsite.
His Little Feet, a group of former orphans from around the world. I don't think they ever had the chance until now to live in the Bubble.
Only God can make a Bubble this big, filled with this many people all singing His praises.
I guess that even in the Bubble, manure will happen. And outside of the Bubble the Sun can still shine. It truly does depend on what you make of it.
A friend of mine who had been to Lifest with me a couple of times says that being there is like life in a bubble. Everything is safe, everyone shares your point of view, there is no stress. Life is easy at a place like that. You get to hear positive uplifting messages in word and song. During the three days we were there I don’t remember anybody having a bad attitude. I was probably the worst one, when I butted to the front of the line at the bathroom because several stalls had run out of toilet paper and I naturally had a supply in my backpack. The Christian thing would have been to share it with those who had been waiting longer. I am such a miserable sinner. Sigh.
Then we get home and life is one long series of bathroom stalls without toilet paper and I am not nearly as prepared as I thought I was. How can I supply the world with toilet paper when I am down to just a few sheets for myself.
(Has this analogy come to a useless end? Let me think a minute while you look at pictures.)
Our little campsite in the Bubble.
The three girls who joined us in our Bubble at our campsite.
His Little Feet, a group of former orphans from around the world. I don't think they ever had the chance until now to live in the Bubble.
Only God can make a Bubble this big, filled with this many people all singing His praises.
I guess that even in the Bubble, manure will happen. And outside of the Bubble the Sun can still shine. It truly does depend on what you make of it.
July 18, 2013
Words of Wisdom Written Down
My husband and I attended Lifest again this past weekend.
I see that when I was there two years ago, I wrote long-winded - I mean - detailed blog posts about the various speakers and performers I witnessed there. I looked back over my notes, scribbled into my little pocket-size notebook, and noticed that I had actually taken NOTES while attending the different seminars. Taking NOTES? When I don't have to? I don't know what possessed me two years ago, but this year? Well, to be honest, I didn't even take my notebook.
I know, how does someone who claims to be a writer, forget to take her notebook? Ok, I had scrap paper, which worked very well, and my laptop to catch up on things each evening. And the laptop idea didn’t work out so well, but I won’t go there now.
So with all of this bad preparation, did I get anything out of Lifest this year? Oh, of course. Maybe I didn’t take notes and document every minute of the three days, but maybe it is about more than that. Maybe it is more about being in the moment. What’s meant to stick with me, will, without writing it down.
Sounds deep, but makes the whole aspect of being a writer a little less appealing. Huh.
Chad Moses - “Guilt is feeling bad about something you did; shame is feeling bad about who you are.”
Tiffany Thompson - “It’s going to be ok in the end; if it’s not ok, it’s not the end.”
Troy Murphy - “It’s not seeing is believing; it’s believing in seeing.”
Ok, so I did write some stuff down. What can I say?
I see that when I was there two years ago, I wrote long-winded - I mean - detailed blog posts about the various speakers and performers I witnessed there. I looked back over my notes, scribbled into my little pocket-size notebook, and noticed that I had actually taken NOTES while attending the different seminars. Taking NOTES? When I don't have to? I don't know what possessed me two years ago, but this year? Well, to be honest, I didn't even take my notebook.
I know, how does someone who claims to be a writer, forget to take her notebook? Ok, I had scrap paper, which worked very well, and my laptop to catch up on things each evening. And the laptop idea didn’t work out so well, but I won’t go there now.
So with all of this bad preparation, did I get anything out of Lifest this year? Oh, of course. Maybe I didn’t take notes and document every minute of the three days, but maybe it is about more than that. Maybe it is more about being in the moment. What’s meant to stick with me, will, without writing it down.
Sounds deep, but makes the whole aspect of being a writer a little less appealing. Huh.
Chad Moses - “Guilt is feeling bad about something you did; shame is feeling bad about who you are.”
Tiffany Thompson - “It’s going to be ok in the end; if it’s not ok, it’s not the end.”
Troy Murphy - “It’s not seeing is believing; it’s believing in seeing.”Ok, so I did write some stuff down. What can I say?
July 14, 2013
I Promise . . .
Hard to believe that it is nearly two months since I returned home from Kenya. Also hard to believe that I am still dragging out blogging about it. But I promise, these are my absolute final thoughts – part two of my final thoughts.
1) Always carry a supply of toilet paper and hand-sanitizer. I don’t know what the statistics are, and I honestly don’t want to look them up, but I bet that of the entire world’s population, more people don’t use toilet paper than do.
It’s a good idea to always carry a water bottle on you, too, because you just never know where you can find water to drink and you sure don’t want to drink it out of the tap.
2) Speaking of water, I generally drink a lot of it. Working in health care, I appreciate staying well hydrated. Water is about the healthiest thing to drink. Unfortunately, the more you drink, the more you have to go to the bathroom. In a third world country, you don’t want to visit the bathroom more than you have to. So it’s a trade-off, abuse my kidneys for two weeks or go to the choo on a regular basis. I chose to take the chance on making my urinary track mad at me. We both survived.
3) Hang your clothes on the line inside out. Because the sun is so much stronger in Kenya, near the equator, it will fade your clothes quickly. Oh, and don’t expect to throw your clothes in a washing machine. If you need to do laundry, you will wash your clothes in a bucket, by hand. Or you can always pay a kindly Kenyan woman to wash them for you.
4) Did I tell you about the brooms? These are the kinds of brooms everyone uses. Yes, you can buy a modern broom at the Nakumatt, but these are the only ones I saw in use anywhere.
5) For seven years now I have struggled with the prosperity we have in America versus the lack of everything in Africa. What can I possibly do to make a difference in the lives of all those kind, happy people living in poverty in Kenya?
It all comes back to the story of the starfish on the beach. You know the one. Where the person is walking down the beach and hundreds of starfish have washed ashore, so many that just one person can’t possibly throw them all back before they die. So you pick up the ones that you can and throw them back into the sea. No, you didn’t make a difference in the lives of all of them, but you made a difference to that one. And that one. And that one.
And you know what? A lot of those starfish you saved today are going to wash up on the shore again tomorrow. Sometimes all you can do is make a difference in one life for one day.
1) Always carry a supply of toilet paper and hand-sanitizer. I don’t know what the statistics are, and I honestly don’t want to look them up, but I bet that of the entire world’s population, more people don’t use toilet paper than do.
It’s a good idea to always carry a water bottle on you, too, because you just never know where you can find water to drink and you sure don’t want to drink it out of the tap.
2) Speaking of water, I generally drink a lot of it. Working in health care, I appreciate staying well hydrated. Water is about the healthiest thing to drink. Unfortunately, the more you drink, the more you have to go to the bathroom. In a third world country, you don’t want to visit the bathroom more than you have to. So it’s a trade-off, abuse my kidneys for two weeks or go to the choo on a regular basis. I chose to take the chance on making my urinary track mad at me. We both survived.
3) Hang your clothes on the line inside out. Because the sun is so much stronger in Kenya, near the equator, it will fade your clothes quickly. Oh, and don’t expect to throw your clothes in a washing machine. If you need to do laundry, you will wash your clothes in a bucket, by hand. Or you can always pay a kindly Kenyan woman to wash them for you.
4) Did I tell you about the brooms? These are the kinds of brooms everyone uses. Yes, you can buy a modern broom at the Nakumatt, but these are the only ones I saw in use anywhere.
5) For seven years now I have struggled with the prosperity we have in America versus the lack of everything in Africa. What can I possibly do to make a difference in the lives of all those kind, happy people living in poverty in Kenya?
It all comes back to the story of the starfish on the beach. You know the one. Where the person is walking down the beach and hundreds of starfish have washed ashore, so many that just one person can’t possibly throw them all back before they die. So you pick up the ones that you can and throw them back into the sea. No, you didn’t make a difference in the lives of all of them, but you made a difference to that one. And that one. And that one.
And you know what? A lot of those starfish you saved today are going to wash up on the shore again tomorrow. Sometimes all you can do is make a difference in one life for one day.
