Monthly Archives: January 2016

When dreams grow bigger

IMG_20131225_150145 An unexpected rap at the door on a cold wintry night removed me from a cozy blanket cocoon. A sleepless night the previous evening prompted my unusual self-indulgence. Standing at the door was a dear friend, passing through town. Maybe it was the fogginess of a tired brain, but his appearance served as a beacon to remember – write that blog, write that blog.

Many times the teacher becomes the student. Watching this friend has been all lesson in my life as this man, and his family, have been the models of generosity.

Snow melted off of sturdy boots while we talked in my living room and old dog inched closer for extra rubbings behind elderly ears. The impromptu visit became a necessity because of a societal ill – never enough time. The last time our lives crossed paths was when my friend had been honored for being a Hometown Hero – a title more than aptly fitting.

What a blessing it was to surprise him with the bestowed honor and to be there among those who like us had been recipients of his family’s boundless gifts of love, time and resources. All in attendance were there to surprise him. But here is the thing about heroes, they never cease to amaze. After learning of the award and the monetary award to a charity of his choice, he stunned everyone in the room. He quietly explained how he had hoped to surprise all of us by awarding Special Olympics with a donation. The givers became doubly blessed as not one but two checks were awarded to some of his biggest fans. Not a dry eye could have been found in the room.

I have witnessed his family who models what it means to give generously – especially to those small, overlooked, and often without a voice. Special Olympics, Big Buddies, and the Ronald McDonald house were some of the bigger names. The others are too numerous to list, but among them are the grieving, the souls beat up by loss that while the rest of the world goes on they are trying desperately to make it to the next minute. It is a marathon for life’s breath. My family would be among the recipients of their beautiful commitment to loving others even when, at times, the world was falling apart around them.

Without their help, our dream of remembering Reed at the hospital where he died would have been nothing more than idealistic, swirling firings of neurons in my head. Their perseverance while waiting for just the right thing led to a beautiful friendship. Through their business the Reed-A-Cheetah program was born, allowing us to build a dream of bringing comfort to those who need it most, in their darkest hour. Through their love our dream became real. Reed would have been proud.

We were stunned last spring by their sad news. What happened that day still leaves me in awe! Salinated drops came pouring forth as my ears and heart did not want to hear their business was closing. They have given so much. Why is this happening? In a moment that was both surreally raw and beautifully poignant, even when their darkness was coming closer, they shone a light of incredible hope. The cheetah “business” could not – would not – die. Our friends had met as a family and decided the way to ensure the proliferation of cheetahs would be to give our family the stuff your own animal business. Do what? You are giving us the entire kit and caboodle? My knees were weak as I tried to protest. This was too large. Too generous. Too lavish a gift. My bitter tears gave way to the blessed tears of being loved, overwhelmed with thankfulness. Who loves like this? My feeble attempts to protest were met with a matter of fact it-is-done-this-conversation-is-over determination. Honestly, I think I cried for days.

Friends like this are rare to find.

This is not a gift to be squandered. We have had family meetings, talked, and dreamed, talked and dreamed some more. In the end, we have decided we want this adventure to reflect the generosity with which it was bestowed. Our intention is to have a Give It Forward model of entrepreneurship. With the purchase of one stuffed animal, we will give one away. Purchasers can stuff their own animals and the ones that will be gifted to charity. If someone has a charity or fundraiser they want to support, we will work with them to hopefully make that dream happen just as our friends did for us.

It doesn’t happen often in life, but through all our dreaming and planning, words fail us on one important aspect – a name for all of this goodness. How do you name a gift so incredible? We struggle decide on a name for this new venture. Adam was given the charge to name creation. We would have woefully failed in his duty.

What I do know is that no matter the name we will strive to live up the gift givers expectations, because our last see-you-soon, prior to our quick respite from the snowy day, held the parting words “The Ronald McDonald house could sure use some little animals.” Yes. Yes, I would guess they could. Because while we move forward in healing, hurt, needing comfort is always around the corner. We never lose sight of the comfort lavishly poured out in many different ways. His words were both a blessing and a reminder to live generously with a hope that no matter what darkness surrounds someone’s story – love will conquer all.

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Name our Adventure contest: As the new proprietors and caretakers of a dream making adventure, we need your help! Reed-A-Cheetah and all his stuffie friends are waiting for a new name for their big adventure: bringing comfort and joy to those who need it most. Please submit your ideas for a name for this business adventure. The person who submits the winning name will be awarded a free stuffed friend and the opportunity to “bring him or her to life” as well as the donated friend. All submissions should be sent to mominmn@hotmail.com by January 31st. Children of all ages (3 -103) are encouraged to participate.

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You never know what adventure your stuffie will find!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Un-sale

The what?

Well, let me tell you, the best thing I did all holiday season (aside from hanging with my peeps) started from one of my BIG ideas. Only . . . I can’t really claim any originality in this one. A while back I had read a post by a Facebook friend who shared she was doing a blessings “sale”. The reason for the quotation marks – which my now eleven year old has mastered the use of the air version of these – is that there would be absolutely nothing for sale. All the items would be given away. I watched her pictures and her posts. Her garage was neatly organized; equipped with beverages and treats at the ready to bless her friends and neighbors. Longingly I admired her commitment to less – which is an ever elusive siren song for me – and unabashedly I’ve wanted to be her.

There, I said it.

I wanted to steal her idea and love with abandon – not my stuff but – people in my own village a little more than an hour away.

On some random Tuesday, God opened that door. A small group message among teacher friends started innocuously with a question about having some items of clothing to give away and mushroomed into an amazing-drop-me-to-my-knees-hands-lifted-in-praise-moment.

Anyone who has spent ten minutes with me immediately knows three things: I am a hugger. I have a story for everything. AND finally, I am a dreamer always swirling with ideas – BIG ideas.

I seized my opportunity and blurted out (okay through my fingertips) what my friend accomplished down the road and how I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THAT. After an impassioned explanation of my big idea, my sweet cohorts announced in their own Jerry Maguire moment I had them at “blessing others.”

The crazy thing though about less is you often come away with more.

We got to plan hatching (small confession: this is my favorite part of dreaming). We chose a date, a location, created posters (both online and on paper), asked other friends, neighbors, and students to help us give back. We delivered flyers to organizations that would be able to distribute them and left the rest to God.

Well, mostly.

We three teachers live among good people, who shine brightly in the dark of winter. Donations came pouring in – once loved items, treats to share, and amazing volunteers. The entire church basement was full. The original four tables were matched with another four and another four after that. No one wanted to utter the thought, but we were all thinking it. Mother Nature had begun to stir her wintry stew. What if we did all this and no one came?

Unsale

A couple students from my department joined us in the blessing of others.

 

 

Even in the blessing, we faltered. We allowed God to be less. I should have known better. I sent the original idea friend a message telling her what we were doing and asking for any last minute pointers earlier that morning. Her simple reply baffled me.

Be prepared to have your socks blessed off.

Do what? We wanted to bless others. Not the other way around. How could this be? Is it in the giving – the getting rid of the more to have less that would somehow result in more of something else?

Blessed we were. The formerly shod were humbly drawn closer to the soul of God.

Worry we should have not.

In came one. Then two. Then four or five more were followed by countless beautiful, amazing people in need of a blessing. God’s mighty hand was opening the bags we handed at the door but more importantly opening our souls to the power of possibility, the grace of the divine, the holy of giving and loving.

Those who had doubted if any would show up fought hard to hold back tears as new friends wrapped our necks with hugs. Glimpses of glory were savored as we overheard parents saying they were rushing home to wrap new treasures for their babes. Tiny grandmothers bowed in reverence, whispering in broken English – “Thank you, Teacher.” Sweeter words were never spoken – until later that evening – when through tear stained faces, we thanked God for the more we received.

More blessings

More faces that resembled God’s own

More love

More joy

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was swirling with visions of how much more I could give away, of how I never wanted to forget this moment because I wanted more of them, and of how much more of God I wanted to see in the everyday ordinary moments of life. Swollen eyelids heavy from the tears shed and from the busyness of the day took their toll.

For that one cold and blustery night, my heart was warmed while my feet were cold; my socks being blown away much earlier in the evening.