Free the Girls

Bras.

Let's discuss them, shall we?

What started out as a few bras here and there, quickly grew into a mountain of unmentionables that overran Kimba Langus' Denver basement.

Why, oh why, did this stay at home mom start collecting an insane amount of bras?

The answer: Two years ago, Kimba's friend, David, who lives in Southern Africa, approached Kimba about partnering together to form an organization that assists survivors of sex trafficking.

That idea is now Free the Girls (Get it? Get it? Bras? Boobs? Get it? Plus one for some serious creativity in naming this organization).

In many places around the world, second-hand clothing proves profitable, and bras are sought after items. Kimba works in Denver to gather bras, and then ships them to David, who distributes the bras to sex trafficking survivors in Southern Africa.

The women who receive the bras sell them and often make up to five times the average minimum wage in their communities.

Now, this isn't just about handouts. The women are given a starting inventory of bras and once that is gone, they pay a small amount of money for additional inventory.

Do you know what I love about this story?

It drives home what I believe in regards to living a generous life. Find a cause that moves you. Get involved in a small way (and sometimes that means pulling an old bra from the back of your drawer). Repeat. Practice this formula, and you will see change. You will be changed.

For more information on sending bras, finding or hosting a Free the Girls event, or buying yourself a snazzy T-shirt. Click over to Free the Girls website.

To hear Kimba explaining her journey in her own words, click here.

Always,

On Scooby Doo and Lent

Sister Josephine urged us to give up something meaningful for Lent, and since she also informed our second grade class that every thought that danced through our minds, was tapped out on a giant typewriter in the sky, I knew my Lenten sacrifice needed some punch.

I wanted to make up for my shortcomings. Like the teeny lie about throwing pinecones at those obnoxious neighbor kids and “misplacing” the hideous winter hat my mother insisted I wear or the forced apology I only pretended happened.

I needed to give God a serious sacrifice, and I knew what my sacrifice would be.

Easy choice, no Scooby-Doo.

See, before the age of entire stations dedicated to the nonstop play of children’s programming, there was an hour of after school viewing. Popeye at three o’clock and Scooby-Doo at three thirty.

I committed. No Velma, Shaggy, Scooby, and crew during Lent.

On my first day, I sat and stared at the blank screen and sadly imagined all the fun Scooby and friends were having in the Mystery Machine.

On day two, I turned on the TV and sat at the edge of the kitchen while the episode blared. 

On day three, I gave up.

Fast forward twenty years, and I don’t watch much TV, but I do have another addiction, numbers. I assign value based on numbers in my life. See, if numbers are high, life is awesome. If numbers are low, life is less than awesome.

Therefore, during Lent, I am banning myself from numbers.

No writing out our summer budget again and again.

No clicking over to that evil place called Blogger Stats.

No charting the no’s instead of celebrating the yes’s.

No counting how many times I’ve asked our oldest to clean her glasses.

No allowing the uncompleted items on life’s do-to list to weigh more than those completed.

No tallying the amount of times I’ve hinted at the husband to fix the bar in the closet.

Nope, nope, nopity, nope. Not this girl. For Lent, I am number free.

Questions for you: Your thoughts on Lent? Are you committing to any sacrifices or adding anything special to your life during this time?

Always, 

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Linking with Jen and Michelle.

Image credit.

Her View and Strawberry Font

As you may know, sometimes my nine-year-old daughter writes posts about ways she's growing a giving heart.

Here's a short write-up by Amelia. This post is totally unedited and because it is totally unedited, it may be helpful to know that the first words of her post "Holla Emigos" is actually "Hola Amigos". You know, just in case you can't read kid speak.

Here's my girl, Amelia:

Holla Emigos. We have 2 compassion kids. There names are Audry and Jillo. We send them money every month for stuff they need.

We also made a jar that we put money in for them and it is almost full! Audry was born Dec 23, 2004. Jillo was born Oct 30 1996.

Even though I never met them I pray for them every night. You could too.

P.s. I made this writing in pink special for you. It is called Strawberry.

Love Amelia

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Do you know there are loads of kids waiting to meet you? Don't believe me? Click here. A sponsored child receives educational opportunities, health care and health related instruction, life skills training and much more.

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Interested in more her view posts?

Click here or here or here.

Always,

Hats for Noggins and 4 Other Ways Your Family Can Love Others This Weekend

The weekend.

Do you see it? Right there, stretch. Almost, almost. 

Reach beyond that never ending Thursday. 

And grab it.

While you settle into weekend mode, take a peek at these easy ways your family can show others love in a few minutes, an hour, or even an afternoon.

1.  In Craft Hope’s Project 16: Littlest Warriors, crafters unite to make hats for kids with cancer. Alas, you know me, and I have zero crafting abilities, but I know you, and therefore, I know you can whip up a hat in the time it takes me to boil water. So, go grab those...um, needles? Right? If not, grab whatever crafting utensil you need to create a hat.

All sizes, styles, and colors welcome. Hats need to be received by March 12, 2012.

2. Encourage your teen to find a cause that fires her up. Check out "What's Your Thing?" at Do Something.Org.

3. Listen to this song. Fine, it won't change the world, and it's not even inspirational, but your kids really want you to find something new to sing in the car, and the hair. Oh, the glorious hair.

4. Read words from someone who saw hurt in the world and decided to do something about it. Then go buy things from her.

5. Take a minute and vote for some pajama clad tweens who are kicking behind in the Make a Difference Day Awards. Don't know how to vote? It is easy, peasy. Just go here.  Check the box that says you are over 13. Then, cast your vote for the Almost-Sleepover founders. It will say, Guilford, CT: Tween sisters' pajama parties for charity. Just click that box, and you are finished.

Image credit.

Always,

On Burning Candles

One of my life long friends bought candles she never burned. On an end table they sat. Stick your nose close to the wax, and you'd inhale dust instead of sweet fragrance.

"I don't want to use them," she'd giggle. "I'm saving them for a special occasion."

Unfortunately, special occasions don't always appear on a lazy Tuesday or a busy Wednesday.

So, the candles remained unlit, and the joy from the glowing wick unseen.

Recently, I read something about saving your writing.

One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like the well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes. Annie Dillard, Write Till You Drop

Sure this applies to writing, but wow, doesn't it apply to life?

We save the good tablecloth. Who wants to get it dirty?
We save the hard talks. Who wants to interrupt the day?
We save fun times. Who wants to stop homework?

Today I pray you see the amazing in a special Wednesday. Use up the good stuff. Remember to spend every kind thought, make homemade salsa and eat it with lime chips, and light those candles. Don't wait. Don't save it.

Question for you: Is there something you tend to save but should use? The idea that's floating around your head? The black dress? The free babysitting offered by the neighbor? The overdue apology?

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Image credit.

When Numbers Scream

Some unruly numbers spent last week screaming at me.

Number of publishers interested in my proposal in a four-week time period: 3. Utter awesomeness.

Number of passes I’ve had on my book in the last two months: 3. Utter crappiness.

Number of page reads on Letters for the Underloved: 110, 701. Bam.

Number of followers that dropped me the day after Letters to the Underloved went live: Six. Bam, again.

Number of times I planned to go to free yoga last week: 3. I’m so fit.

Number of times I attended free yoga last week: 0. I’m so out of shape.

Number of percentage points we were behind during the Make a Difference Day voting process: 23. Obviously, there is some major cheating happening.

Number of percentage points we are currently ahead in the Make a Difference Day voting process: 12. Love this voting process. It seems so accurate.

Number of times I thought about signing up to host an In Real Life meet up group with (in)courage: 1. I did it. I signed my little self up to host. Go me, what a go, getter. Bring on the party!

Number of people signed-up to attend my In Real Life meet up group with (in)courage: 0. Why did I do this? What a dork. Is it too late to back out? For real, I’m returning the T-shirt.

Numbers exhaust me.

Then, I start thinking about something an uber, smart friend said.

 "The world is all about numbers. I cannot live by the numbers while trying to live a life of sacrifice. Numbers make me hungry, not for the spiritual fruits, but the poisoned ones." 

My friend was talking about numbers on our watch, the scale, our jeans, and that never-enough paycheck, and yes, when we chase those numbers, we end up hungry.

But here’s the thing, I hate being hungry. It makes me tired and cranky and snappy with those I love. So, I’m going to close my eyes for a bit. Yep, I'm going to ignore the numbers and just see what happens.

What about you? What numbers have you learned to make peace with?

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Totally teasing about backing out of (in)courage’s IRL. So, if you are near Asheville, NC, I might just have a teeny space in my group for you. Sign-up or drop me an email. Want info on meet up’s in your area? Click here. Want more details about the event? Click here.

Linking with Jen.

Delight and Party Guests

"Jesus is coming to my birthday party."

Hmmm.

"Did he tell you that?"

"Yep, he told me last Thursday."

Oh.

"His mom, Mary, said he could."

Sure.

"Babe, He's really busy. Will you be disappointed if He doesn't actually show up for cake?"

"Moooom (long drawn out whiney voice), it's Jesus. He'll come."

Lessons on the presence of Jesus from a just turned, three-year-old: Pure delight.

Written for Five Minute Friday where authors are given a topic, asked to write, and encouraged to forget the fear of it being just right. Today's topic: delight.


Also, did you know you can vote for the Almost-Sleepover to win the Make a Difference Day Award every day? It is easy, peasy. Just go here.  Check the box that says you are over 13. Then, cast your vote for the Almost-Sleepover founders. It will say, Guilford, CT: Tween sisters' pajama parties for charity. Just click that box, and you are finished. Right now, we are being pounded by frat boys.


Happy weekend, friends.


Always,

News on a Big Time Award

In October, our family hosted an event in conjunction with girls from twenty-six other states called an Almost-Sleepover. We held a party to raise awareness and goodies for the Rathbun Center, a local non-profit that provides free lodging to families seeking medical assistance in Asheville, North Carolina.

Oh, I’m sure you remember me babbling on and on about the party.

No? Let me catch you up.

Well, guess what? The Make a Difference Day Almost-Sleepover (not Amy Sullivan) is up for an award. Yep, an award to the tune of $10,000, kind-of-award.

Plus, here’s the best part. The $10,000 will go directly to one of the designated local charities girls across the United States partied it up for. This means that our charity, The Rathbun Center, could win $10,000.

Envision me making a really high pitched eeeek sound.

This is how real it is. About a month ago, a reporter from USA Weekend, as in the national publication, called me for details about our fab party.

Yep, that’s my life, talking to reporters from a big time news source about a big time project hosted by kids with big time hearts.

Do you know what else is my life? My three-year-old chasing me around the house until finally I lock myself in my room so I can talk to USA Weekend in peace. However, when the reporter could still hear my daughter yelling, he politely asked me if I needed to go. That’s when I replied,“Oh, no, she’ll eventually stop!” To which he didn’t laugh, and I soon after blockaded myself in my closet where the noise could no longer be heard. Then, I answered his questions in a polite, put together way.

Anyway, back to the award. I need you, and I’m not the kind of girl who asks for favors, but I need a favor.

Could you vote for The Almost-Sleepover to win this year’s Make a Difference Day Award? It is easy, peasy. Just go here.  Check the box that says you are over 13. Then, cast your vote for the Almost-Sleepover founders. It will say, Guilford, CT: Tween sisters' pajama parties for charity. Just click that box, and you are finished.

Oh, and if you Facebook and you’re up for it, could you share the story, or like it, or do whatever you people do on Facebook? Oh, and if you feel like Tweeting it or Google Plus-ing it, or letting people know by way of some social media I’ve never heard of, go for it!

Finally, if you want a bit more on why we decided to support the Rathbun Center, here's a glimpse at my daughter's story and stories from a couple other girls involved in our sleepover.

Okay, I’m finished. Now hippity-hoppity, please go vote and remember to check the box next to Guilford, CT.

Thanks!

Always,

And You Think You Have Nothing to Give

Tonight I spent time with ladies who are quickly becoming fa-vor-ites.

These ladies live at a women’s shelter.

At one point, these women hashed out details of how they will serve others tomorrow.

Let me repeat that.

Homeless women, who live at a shelter, made plans to take gloves and homemade Valentine’s to people who have less then they do.

Dang, people. 

Tonight reminded me of words I heard in this video about having love for people you don't know.

 

(email subscribers, please click here)

My Valentine wishes: Here’s to the hope that you find a way to shrink the gap between well-meaning Christians and the hurting, you turn off the cell phone and just listen, you hurl yourself outside your comfort zone, you feel dreamy when you look at your spouse, and you find a way to love someone who needs it.

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Congrats to Shelia on winning the Valentine read recommended by Michele. 

Linking with Jen and crew.

Did you read Love Letters to the Underloved yet? It's received over 50,000 page views. That's just plain crazy.

Always,

My One Minute Moment

Do you have a one, minute moment? A tiny slice of time from your life in which someone shared words that seared your heart and impacted you forever.

I bet we can all think of one, minute moments.

“Our lives are an accumulation of moments. And much of who we are today can point back to those stirring and striking moments that started to shape our idea of who we are, what we want to be, the value we carry, the importance of our life in this world.”

—Brianne McKoy

One of my moments involved finding Christ through a Navajo medicine man.

Running from my world, I ended up on a Navajo Reservation in New Mexico. I hoped six months of teaching in a desolate section of the Four Corners would give me perspective. I learned after six hours in an empty boarding school that silence, especially the haunting kind, isn’t always good for perspective.

U2 front man, Bono said something once about Christians making him feel “itchy”. I understood that feeling. Uncomfortable, like a bad sweater you wear because it looks good, but not because it is warm or comfortable or something you need.

Honestly, I didn’t need God; I knew people who needed him, but I wasn’t one of them. I found my way through life leaning on few, and that’s why I planted myself in the desert, to figure things out without all of life’s noise.

And that’s when we met.

No, silly, not me and God.

Me and a medicine man.

Now, I understand God can use anyone to lead someone to Christ, but I never saw the old, Navajo guy with dirty jeans and long hair as a potential evangelist.

So when talk at the boarding school turned to skin-walkers and spirits and strange happenings inside our apartment, my roommate and I knew exactly who to go to with our questions—the big guy.

No, silly, not God. We sought out the resident medicine/handy man who worked at the school.

While painting, he patiently listened as two college girls babbled tales of suspected specters and reoccurring nightmares. When we finished talking, he held his paintbrush in one hand and looked directly at me.

“Do you believe in God?”

And there it was, the big question, and the big question came from someone with no agenda. Someone I didn’t know, and someone I was pretty sure didn’t care what my answer would be.

“Yes,” I replied with an unexpected certainty.

“Then you need to pray to him.” 

Then he turned to my roommate. He pointed his paintbrush at her.

“Do you believe in God?” he repeated.

“No,” she replied.

“Then you need to get some cedar and burn it.”

And we left.

We drove to town where I promptly bought a NIV Bible, and she quickly acquired some cedar. Twelve years later, I’m pretty confident I ended up with the better purchase.

One moment that changed me forever.

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Our family sponsors a child through Compassion International, and I also blog for Compassion, which means I signed-up to share regularly about Compassion happenings.

Recently, the president of Compassion International, Wess Strafford, wrote a book called Just a Minute. Just a Minute pushes readers to think about how long it takes to make a difference in someone's life. Interested in hearing more?

  
Question for you: Can you think of a minute, either as a child or as an adult, that someone said words that left you changed?

Be My Valenteen and Inspiration for Teens and a Giveaway

My friend, Michele, maintains a scandalous and very public love affair. Oh, there's no man involved. 

She's wooed by books, and not just any books. My friend, Michele, loves books from the library. She blogs at The Great Read with such passion that after you click away, you frantically dump out your purse to make certain you know where your library card is located.

Michele visited us before, and wrote a smashing post on 10 books that inspire teens, and guess what? She's back. Now, because I'm all about inspiring action, I asked Michele to put together a group of inspirational items for teens that she's discovered at her library.

Here's the fun part. Although it's my hope that you scamper off and embrace materials your local library offers, I also plan on giving away one of the items listed below.

Yepper. Why? Because I want to shower you with a little Valentine's love, and well, no offense, but I'm certainly not lending you with my library card. I mean those late fees are killer, and I already check out books in my nine-year-old's name. Don't ask. Anyway, here's Michele on suggestions for our sweet and often hormonal Valenteens.

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"When I look back, I am so impressed again with the life-giving power of literature. If I were a young person today, trying to gain a sense of myself in the world, I would do that again by reading, just as I did when I was young." ~Maya Angelou

This Valentine's Day consider giving the gift of borrowed beauty to your teens. Your local library has everything necessary to inspire and encourage.

Through My Eyes

Facing The Giants

Toby Mac

Kisses From Katie

Soul Surfer

Valentine's Day

Open your valenteen's heart to the ultimate role model of service, the Library.

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Thanks, Michele.

Here's how you get the goods.

Leave a comment telling me which of these recommendations you'd like for that special teen in your life. Oh, and if a teen is missing from your life, tell me why you want it for yourself. 

So, that's it. Whatcha, whatcha, whatcha want? Comment away. Leave multiple comments for multiple goodies. I will run this until, hmmm, Saturday-ish.

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Speaking of Valentine's Day, have you had a chance to peek at this?

Image credit.

Always,

To Those Whose Dreams Do Not Take Flight

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Dear Friend,

Sorry about that dream of yours, the one you gathered up with Queen Anne's Lace and tossed into your chipped-up wagon since childhood. I know you planned to hold that dream and mold it into beautiful, but now it sits shriveled and useless.

See, life got in the way of your dream.

Addictions raged. The ring fit the finger of another girl. The baby went to the couple who already had three. Your arm gave out when the scout showed up. School became another unfinished item on life's to do list. The job found itself in the hands of someone more qualified. Money never walked its way to your house. Even now, the cursor sits as a blinking reminder that your words don't resonate with others.

Failure lingers, taunting you from the dark, and you hadn’t counted on failure; it was never penciled in. Nope, girl, you had dreams.

I had dreams too. Dreams I held too close to my chest. Dreams I suffocated. Dreams I tried to force to fly.

But I tell you this, my dreaming friend, sometimes regardless of our actions, dreams don’t take flight, and when this happens, you may want to hold onto anything your desperate fingers can grab, but don’t. Resist the urge.

Take some time, take months, or years if you need it, but find a way to brush off the dirt, give those dreams a pat on the back, and send them on their way.

See, sometimes the dreams we want to fly need to crash so we can make room for new dreams. We need to mourn lost hopes, and then quit trying to resuscitate them.

Will this be easy? Hell, no. Think of leaving your hand on a hot stove. It burns, and sometimes scars, but it’s time to clear the runway. New adventures line our paths, and it’s time to give something else a chance to fly.

Go for it, dreamer. I believe in you.

Always,

The above letter is from a collection of letters written by nine different authors in Love Letters to the Underloved. Letters included offer love and encouragement to those who often go unseen. Want to read more? Peek  here:

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Have trouble reading? Try this direct link.
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Photo credit: Laura Henderson.

Love Letters to the Underloved

The idea: In celebration of Valentine's Day, gather twelve passionate people to honor those who line our lives, but often go unseen by writing love letters.

Who did we write? Moms who adopt, parents of kids with labels, the homeless, those who have lost loved ones, victims of abuse, defeated dreamers, parents of girls with eating disorders, our kids, and military wives.

The hope: To bring encouragement.

The result:

Clapping my hands, jumping up and down, thrilled to share with you!

Should you want to download, embed, share, or print, go for it. It's free. Like what you read? Please visit the personal sites of the contributing authors and photographers.

Thanks for showing up. Thanks for reading.

Love you.

*Once you click on the ezine, please use the tools at the top of your screen to adjust publication to your monitor. If you have trouble reading, try using this direct link. 

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Linking with Jen.