I've been participating in Freecycle for just over two weeks. And I got my second major blessing tonight.
Freecycle is an e-mail network of people who believe in Recycle/Reuse/Reduce. We also believe that someones trash is another person's treasure.
My first experience with Feecycle was getting an aquarium for my son's pet lizard. Someone I had never met happily gave it to me. She even went as far as to say Thank You because it got it out of her garage. She gave us an aquarium with a fake palm tree, and heat lamps for our little guy. And the lizard has been a happy camper since then.
Today it was shoes. A young woman moved into our Ward right around Thanksgiving. She's a Congolese immigrant who speaks only French. Along with a few other people I've been acting as one of her translators. I'm not the best French speaker, by far, but I do try. This poor woman went into labor with her second child 2 weeks ago. She was afraid to go to the hospital because she felt she didn't have everything for the baby. And she was in labor for 2 days with her first. Finally we convinced her to go. I staid at church and communicated to the right people her need for supplies. And of course, those needs were met.
But today I noticed she was wearing very light weight sandals. With night time temperatures plummeting to the 30's I guessed that she was very cold. African people do not have the body fat that we do, and feel the winter temperatures worse than we can imagine. Until they've been here a few years and their body's adjust the fat levels. I asked her, aren't you cold with those shoes? Yes, very cold, was the answer. So I pressed on, what size shoe do you wear? Size 40. I had to stop and think for a bit about that one. I knew it was the European size. I nodded storing that bit of information away.
Tonight I put a posting on Freecycle for shoes in size 7 1/2 to 8, equivalent to her size 40. Within just a few hours I had a response. I've got a bag of shoes, if you would like them. I bundled my son up in a jacket and we rushed for the shoes.
I found a huge garbage bag full of shoes, and purses sitting on a strangers doorstep for me. I checked the address again to make sure this was right. I struggled to bring the bag back to my car. Once in my car I reached in. I pulled out a tennis shoe, brand new. In the car I started to cry. A stranger, who doesn't know us, doesn't even know why I needed shoes gave me these. I felt such an outpouring of love to this unknown woman who would offer such a gift to me. All she knew was that I needed shoes size 7 1/2 to 8, preferably warm winter shoes.
At home I took them all out. In all 9 pairs of shoes and 6 purses. I don't quite know what to do with a Ralph Lauren, and Dooney Bourke purse. Tomorrow the shoes will go to my dear friend in need.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Inferno
At 6am my alarm clock went off on a Sunday morning. I rolled over, contemplating how many times I could hit the snooze button. The kids were with Grandma and Grandpa, so I didn't need as much time as usual. But I was singing in choir and had to be there early. My eyes fluttered open as a slapped the alarm clock.
My room was bathed in orange light. Outside I could hear something. A car pulling out of the parking lot I thought. But the light was moving in the wrong way. I rolled back to the window and peaked open a blind.
It was a fireball. Total fireball. Flames were licking up out of burning vehicle into the trees. The trees framed the apartment building across from mine. And all the apartments faced in such a way that those people couldn't see the fire.
Took me two tries to dial 911. The dispatcher told me that her co-worker was on the phone with someone else about the fire. I hung up the phone and grabbed clothes.
I ran across the street. The elderly couple in the closest apartment was already awake. They were just coming out to their patio from where they could actually see the apartment.
"Do you know who's cars these are?" I shouted at them.
We looked at each other in stunned silence. The wife looked at the vehicles and shook her head.
"I think they belong to people on the back side of the building," the husband finally said.
"Okay, I'll take care of the people on the back. You wake up the people on this side. It looks like it could set the tree on fire."
The wife looked up at the trees that shade her apartment. She nodded, and moved back into the apartment building.
I ran for the back of the apartment building. I had to run very close to the heat of the fire. I tried not to look at it, not thinking about what it meant to someone. As I ran, a shoe fell off. I thought about leaving it there. But then I would be running barefoot, so I went back for it.
I banged on the first set of doors. Banged, loud, like the police do. I paced in between the doors, worrying that it was taking the people so long, worrying that the firefighters weren't there yet.
Finally two sleepy heads popped out of the doors.
"There's a fire in the parking lot. You need to move your car if it's parked close."
Eyes opened wide in fear. Each head nodded, and went back inside to pull on clothes.
Suddenly I heard a loud hissing. It was a tire, I realized. The fire had burned thru the rubber. Other things were falling and shattering. Glass fell out of the car.
I ran to more doors, banging and delivering the message. People ran out. One man walked back in. He looked at me.
"Thanks man. Wasn't mine." Such a look of relief on his face.
As the firetruck sped into the parking lot, I ran to the parking lot. Their long hoses sprayed into the inferno. It seemed to have no affect on the blaze.
"My car!" One woman walked over to me. "My lovely little Jetta!"
The car on fire was large, a van probably. I looked trying to figure out what she was saying. Then I realized her car was parked right next to the burning vehicle.
I grabbed her, and we held on to each other, crying. Strangers, but it didn't matter. She sobbed, "My car!" I held her.
Finally she asked me how I had known to wake her up. I explained that I had seen the fire from my window, and come running. She told me thank you. What reason was there to thank me. I had done nothing to save her car.
After that, things are a bit mixed up in my memory. The burning van, with the flames going sky high is seared in my brain. The awful smell of burning rubber, and so many other things. The woman, sagging in my arms as she cried that her car was damaged.
I am so thankful that no one was hurt. No lives were taken in that fire. But two single mothers lost their cars to the fire. One single mother had her car melted on the side. Hard working women, just like me.
Later someone pointed out to me that it was 22 degrees outside, and I ran around in sweats, no gloves for over a half an hour. Adrenalin. Pure Adrenalin. I never felt the cold. All I knew was someone had to do something.
All that was left of the vehicle were the bones. Metal bones of seats, wires were the dashboard once was. It is gone. And the tree above is scorched, blackened. Thank goodness it was greenwood and didn't catch fire.
My room was bathed in orange light. Outside I could hear something. A car pulling out of the parking lot I thought. But the light was moving in the wrong way. I rolled back to the window and peaked open a blind.
It was a fireball. Total fireball. Flames were licking up out of burning vehicle into the trees. The trees framed the apartment building across from mine. And all the apartments faced in such a way that those people couldn't see the fire.
Took me two tries to dial 911. The dispatcher told me that her co-worker was on the phone with someone else about the fire. I hung up the phone and grabbed clothes.
I ran across the street. The elderly couple in the closest apartment was already awake. They were just coming out to their patio from where they could actually see the apartment.
"Do you know who's cars these are?" I shouted at them.
We looked at each other in stunned silence. The wife looked at the vehicles and shook her head.
"I think they belong to people on the back side of the building," the husband finally said.
"Okay, I'll take care of the people on the back. You wake up the people on this side. It looks like it could set the tree on fire."
The wife looked up at the trees that shade her apartment. She nodded, and moved back into the apartment building.
I ran for the back of the apartment building. I had to run very close to the heat of the fire. I tried not to look at it, not thinking about what it meant to someone. As I ran, a shoe fell off. I thought about leaving it there. But then I would be running barefoot, so I went back for it.
I banged on the first set of doors. Banged, loud, like the police do. I paced in between the doors, worrying that it was taking the people so long, worrying that the firefighters weren't there yet.
Finally two sleepy heads popped out of the doors.
"There's a fire in the parking lot. You need to move your car if it's parked close."
Eyes opened wide in fear. Each head nodded, and went back inside to pull on clothes.
Suddenly I heard a loud hissing. It was a tire, I realized. The fire had burned thru the rubber. Other things were falling and shattering. Glass fell out of the car.
I ran to more doors, banging and delivering the message. People ran out. One man walked back in. He looked at me.
"Thanks man. Wasn't mine." Such a look of relief on his face.
As the firetruck sped into the parking lot, I ran to the parking lot. Their long hoses sprayed into the inferno. It seemed to have no affect on the blaze.
"My car!" One woman walked over to me. "My lovely little Jetta!"
The car on fire was large, a van probably. I looked trying to figure out what she was saying. Then I realized her car was parked right next to the burning vehicle.
I grabbed her, and we held on to each other, crying. Strangers, but it didn't matter. She sobbed, "My car!" I held her.
Finally she asked me how I had known to wake her up. I explained that I had seen the fire from my window, and come running. She told me thank you. What reason was there to thank me. I had done nothing to save her car.
After that, things are a bit mixed up in my memory. The burning van, with the flames going sky high is seared in my brain. The awful smell of burning rubber, and so many other things. The woman, sagging in my arms as she cried that her car was damaged.
I am so thankful that no one was hurt. No lives were taken in that fire. But two single mothers lost their cars to the fire. One single mother had her car melted on the side. Hard working women, just like me.
Later someone pointed out to me that it was 22 degrees outside, and I ran around in sweats, no gloves for over a half an hour. Adrenalin. Pure Adrenalin. I never felt the cold. All I knew was someone had to do something.
All that was left of the vehicle were the bones. Metal bones of seats, wires were the dashboard once was. It is gone. And the tree above is scorched, blackened. Thank goodness it was greenwood and didn't catch fire.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Crying over Christmas presents
Tonight I had a melt down. Bawling, heaving sobs, melt down.
My son is a curious little guy. And he's discovered where I stash unwrapped things in my closet. I don't know how, but he's capable of climbing up to the top of my closet in search of the wonderful things hidden there at this time of the year.
Tonight as I was putting the two of them to bed, my daughter discovered that he had left a little something on her pillow. I looked at her in horror, and then she reported that her brother had put it there. I asked him to get me what ever was in his bed. He looked at me with wide-eyed feigned innocence, pleading there was nothing in his bed. This big game we play with Mom to con some toys out of Mom. Well, his sister let the cat out of the bag: "He has the pirate ship in the closet."
I wanted to go thru the roof. The special thing that I knew he would love, bought especially for Christmas, he had it in the closet. I demanded that he get it. Out came the half built pirate ship. He looked slightly sheepish, caught in the act, but not very remorseful. I was totally horrified. I wanted to hit something and cry. The box was ripped open, and the contents half pulled out.
"That's your Christmas present!" I finally said, tears welling up in my eyes. I don't know if it was frustration, or anger. "What am I supposed to put under the tree for you?"
My tears began to flow in earnest. My son looked sick. His face fell. Suddenly what had been a fun game of "stealing" from Mom became something totally different. It was stealing from himself. He looked at it, and looked back at me, realizing exactly what he had stollen. But more importantly, I could see him asking, what will I get for Christmas.
I had him put everything back in the box. I finally left the room, sobbing. What do I do for Christmas? Do I just give up and let him have the toy? Do I wrap it, and put it under the tree? Do I drop it off at Goodwill, and buy something different? I didn't know what to do, and sobbed big gulping sobs myself, confusion and anger welling up inside of me.
My son brought me the box, ripped in half, and all the items. His eyes were bright red with tears. He didn't say anything. His face was totally crushed. After handing me the box he ran back to cry in his room. The sight of Mom's anguish was simply more than he could bear. And yet I knew at the same time he needed my comfort. He needed to know that I still loved him. That we were grieving the loss of our Christmas together. Because that's what was going on. Christmas presents are supposed to be a surprise. They are new toys you have never seen before, and now that had been ruined. So I called him back in. He sat on my lap as we both cried. He snuggled up close, wiping the tears from his face.
Finally he was calm. "Sweetheart, do I need to get a lock for my closet, or will you stay out of it?" I asked. Hey if we are going to have a learning moment, might as well take full advantage of it!
"I'll stay out," he said, eyes red and puffy. I pulled him back close to me.
Later once he was in bed, I taped the box together. I decided that he will get the toy for Christmas. He will see that it really is a Christmas present. He will get the joy of playing with it in the open instead hiding in shame in his closet, sneaking around to play. I will finish this lesson on a good note.
But meanwhile I really want to cry some more.
My son is a curious little guy. And he's discovered where I stash unwrapped things in my closet. I don't know how, but he's capable of climbing up to the top of my closet in search of the wonderful things hidden there at this time of the year.
Tonight as I was putting the two of them to bed, my daughter discovered that he had left a little something on her pillow. I looked at her in horror, and then she reported that her brother had put it there. I asked him to get me what ever was in his bed. He looked at me with wide-eyed feigned innocence, pleading there was nothing in his bed. This big game we play with Mom to con some toys out of Mom. Well, his sister let the cat out of the bag: "He has the pirate ship in the closet."
I wanted to go thru the roof. The special thing that I knew he would love, bought especially for Christmas, he had it in the closet. I demanded that he get it. Out came the half built pirate ship. He looked slightly sheepish, caught in the act, but not very remorseful. I was totally horrified. I wanted to hit something and cry. The box was ripped open, and the contents half pulled out.
"That's your Christmas present!" I finally said, tears welling up in my eyes. I don't know if it was frustration, or anger. "What am I supposed to put under the tree for you?"
My tears began to flow in earnest. My son looked sick. His face fell. Suddenly what had been a fun game of "stealing" from Mom became something totally different. It was stealing from himself. He looked at it, and looked back at me, realizing exactly what he had stollen. But more importantly, I could see him asking, what will I get for Christmas.
I had him put everything back in the box. I finally left the room, sobbing. What do I do for Christmas? Do I just give up and let him have the toy? Do I wrap it, and put it under the tree? Do I drop it off at Goodwill, and buy something different? I didn't know what to do, and sobbed big gulping sobs myself, confusion and anger welling up inside of me.
My son brought me the box, ripped in half, and all the items. His eyes were bright red with tears. He didn't say anything. His face was totally crushed. After handing me the box he ran back to cry in his room. The sight of Mom's anguish was simply more than he could bear. And yet I knew at the same time he needed my comfort. He needed to know that I still loved him. That we were grieving the loss of our Christmas together. Because that's what was going on. Christmas presents are supposed to be a surprise. They are new toys you have never seen before, and now that had been ruined. So I called him back in. He sat on my lap as we both cried. He snuggled up close, wiping the tears from his face.
Finally he was calm. "Sweetheart, do I need to get a lock for my closet, or will you stay out of it?" I asked. Hey if we are going to have a learning moment, might as well take full advantage of it!
"I'll stay out," he said, eyes red and puffy. I pulled him back close to me.
Later once he was in bed, I taped the box together. I decided that he will get the toy for Christmas. He will see that it really is a Christmas present. He will get the joy of playing with it in the open instead hiding in shame in his closet, sneaking around to play. I will finish this lesson on a good note.
But meanwhile I really want to cry some more.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
My son's new pet
See the Long Tail
Originally uploaded by Sunflower Central
Yep, it's a lizard. He actually caught this little guy at my aunt's house. I think it's called a Green Anole. They are native to this area.
I'm not sure if it's going to make it or not. They require alot of specialized care. I don't know if I have the time or energy to put into it like that. Really this guy needs heating lamps, Humidity dusting, crickets that are "gut loaded" and so on. He is part of the Iguana family, and basically needs all the things an iguana would need to live inside.
He's not a hand pet, and never will be. And my son wants him desperately to be. At first the lizard was in the bedroom. But the kids kept taking him out, and letting him run around the bedroom. They were torturing the poor little guy. I put him in the dining room so I can moniture their behavior. I'm not sure at all what I want to do though.
He is a delightful little guy. I found myself sitting at the dining room table just staring at him. He looked at me in mild interest. And then went back to climbing the walls of his cage. They naturally dwell on leaves, shrubs and trees.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
New Christmas tradition
Last night was one of those perfect Christmas memories. We hit the ideal, and it was wonderful.
We had FHE, Family Home Evening. And we watched parts of the movie The Nativity Story. My son curled up on my lap and watched it with me. He really enjoyed it, and seemed to get alot of out it. And plus I enjoyed being curled up against him.
We came home to our house glowing in Christmas lights. The kids begged me to read them The Night Before Christmas. I agreed to once they were changed into pj's. Quickly they got changed, and raced back into the front room. We turned off the house lights, and read by the lights of the tree. I don't think the kids had heard the whole poem before, and they really enjoyed it.
My daughter was not in the mood to go to bed yet, and begged me to sing Christmas songs. We sang a few Christmas carols, and secular songs. Their faces glowed with happiness in the multi-colored Christmas lights. It was a happy little moment, that I can tell they will beg me to repeat. I think we've made a new Christmas tradition, read stories, and sing songs by the light of the Christmas tree!
We had FHE, Family Home Evening. And we watched parts of the movie The Nativity Story. My son curled up on my lap and watched it with me. He really enjoyed it, and seemed to get alot of out it. And plus I enjoyed being curled up against him.
We came home to our house glowing in Christmas lights. The kids begged me to read them The Night Before Christmas. I agreed to once they were changed into pj's. Quickly they got changed, and raced back into the front room. We turned off the house lights, and read by the lights of the tree. I don't think the kids had heard the whole poem before, and they really enjoyed it.
My daughter was not in the mood to go to bed yet, and begged me to sing Christmas songs. We sang a few Christmas carols, and secular songs. Their faces glowed with happiness in the multi-colored Christmas lights. It was a happy little moment, that I can tell they will beg me to repeat. I think we've made a new Christmas tradition, read stories, and sing songs by the light of the Christmas tree!
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