Sticky Fingers

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I love waffles, but I hate sticky fingers. Sticky fingers lead to sticky pants and sticky faces. So yesterday when I was handed a bottle with syrup running down the side I was horrified. A mom at our church said, “Better get used to that”.

She was right. There are a lot of changes coming.

And we welcome all of them.

Instead of action adventure or romantic comedies, our television set will be dominated by educational programming and cartoons.

Gone are the quiet romantic dinners. They will be replaced by fast food chains will play places.

Sleeping in late: out. One more bedtime story: in.

Business casual will be replaced by what fights stains best.

“Don’t cry over spilled milk,” will soon be more than a cliché.

A goodnights rest will be ousted by all-out-searches for monsters in the closet or under the bed.

An interesting read will be ignored as a last minute science fair project is hastily pulled together. Perhaps the subject will be “the prolonged effects of sleep deprivation”.

Instead of the latest flat screen TV, we will be getting braces.

Forgive me if I sound like I am complaining. That’s not my intention. Perhaps I am just coming to grips with all the sacrifices and lifestyle changes that come with parenthood. And like I said, “we welcome all of them”.

Soon our refrigerator will be adorned with all sorts of misshaped finger painting portraits. Bring ‘em on!

In a few months, we will begin construction on massive Lincoln log skyscrapers and leaning towers of Lego. I can’t wait to be the foreman or the bricklayer.

Our TV room will be under siege with fortifications of cushions and blankets that will be erected.

There are Halloween costumes in our forecast.

Lines for Christmas productions will need to be memorized.

Loose teeth will need to be pulled.

Skinned knees and tears soon will be here.

And we can’t wait for with these things will come:

Laughter.

Giggles.

Hugs and kisses.

Hide and seek.

“I love you’s.”

So bring on the sticky fingers and the glitter and the piano recitals.

We just can’t wait.

 

A guest post by Ken.

I am Being Grafted In to “We Are Grafted In”

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A place I’ve found to reflect, connect with, and learn from other adoptive parents is We Are Grafted In, and today one of my posts is being featured there! Make sure to check out their website, especially if you or someone you love is in the adoptive process.

If you are joining Where In the World Are Our Kids from We Are Grafted In, welcome! My husband and I are still in the adoptive process, and have recently received a referral for two preschoolers who are in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Our story is best detailed in the first twelve posts of this blog, starting here, and updated in the “About” section and in the timeline on the right.

But no matter why you’re here today, we thank you for joining with us on our journey!

Making My Own Food Truck

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**I borrowed the idea for this week’s foodtruckalike meal when I saw the ingredients and immediately started salivating. I love the combination of sweet and savory, especially when a grill is involved. And just about anything topped with melted cheese has to be a winner.

Here are the ingredients that I used for a . . .

Sweet Buzzin’ Bacon Melt!

  • Ethio bread. (A thick fluffy break purchased at our International Market. A focaccia bread or other favorite hearty bread would work well too.)
  • Honey
  • Bacon (We prefer Smithfield. When I have coupons and it’s on sale, I stock up and freeze it for occasions like this!)
  • Ripe peaches
  • Brie cheese (We used brie, but thought other mild cheeses would work just as well — and be more cost-efficient)

Fry or oven bake the bacon until cooked but soft. Drain on paper towels. Meanwhile, cut peaches in half, remove pit, and grill flesh side down approximately 7 minutes, flip, then grill skin side down another 7 minutes until peaches are soft and carmelized. Remove from grill and slice into 1/3 inch slices.

Brush bread with honey. Layer one side of the sandwich with bacon, then peaches. Layer the other side of bread with peaches, then slices of brie.

Bake in oven at 375 for 5-10 minutes, or until cheese begins to melt. Finish with 1-2 minutes under broiler to make cheese bubbly. Stack halves together.

Eat in silence with a napkin and a heart of thankfulness for the goodness of God and this sandwich!

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**While saving for adoption, we’re bringing our love of food trucks home, and making our versions of our food truck favorites!

We’ve Got Spirit

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A guest post by Ken

I don’t like birthday parties for me. It’s not that I mind getting older. A little grey around the edges is no big deal. It is more that I don’t know what to do with myself. The attention is somewhat unsettling.

So when the idea of doing a Chick-fil-A “spirit night” was presented to us (in which money is raised for our adoption) I was somewhat unnerved. I really liked the fund-raising portion, but being the center of attention makes me nervous. This may seem odd to those of you who know me. You may even say to yourself, “But you’re a pastor. You should be a people person.” This is true. I am (some what). However, in those ministry situations my role is always, “Let me tell you about Jesus.” My job is to take the attention off myself and to focus it heavenward.

This past Wednesday night we had our first “spirit night” at Chick-fil-A. I wasn’t sure what to expect. The first ten minutes were slow and I thought to myself, “The only thing scarier than a birthday party is a birthday party in which no one shows up.”

But those fears quickly went away as people started coming. And coming. And coming. At one point there literally wasn’t an empty table. Some even had to get their meal to go. I started to worry that they might run out of chicken. Thankfully they did not.

I was grateful for the money that was raised: $288.34 from food sales, and $70 in direct donations, in one night. However, there was a far greater benefit. The Chick-fil-A “spirit night” was an incredible outpouring of love and support from our friends. Sure we made 20% of every nugget, waffle fry and milkshake that was purcashed, yet the message that we received loud and clear was “WE ARE BEHIND YOU 100%!” Chick-fil-A provided a venue for people to come out and show their support for our adoption. And there were a lot of people who did just that – all at once.

It was a night of laughs, hugs, pats on the back… and chicken. But I also felt like there was a lot of encouragment that didn’t need words. A lot of questions were being answered that hadn’t even been verbalized.

I felt like our friends were saying to us:

We believe in you.

We know you will be great parents.

We can’t wait to welcome home the rest of your family.

Your children are going to be so loved and spoiled.

So yes, I am very grateful for the funds that were raised, but perhaps I am even more appreciative for everyone for being willing to stand with us. Or sit down and “EAT MOR CHIKIN” if that’s what it takes to help our adoption effort.

It All Began With A Business Card

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With me being an American, and Ken being Canadian, I’ve been asked a few times over the last few week: How did the two of you meet?

It actually all started with a business card . . .

 
Nearly 16 years ago, I got my first box of professional business cards. I was working at The Wesleyan Church headquarters in the Youth Department. I got 1000 business cards. Why in the world a writer/editor would need 1000 business cards, I’ll never know.

Our department had just finished Catalyst, a conference held annually for Wesleyan youth pastors, and I was settling back into normalcy when a tour group came through our office. It was a group of Canadians. As I got to talking to them, I realized that one guy in particular knew a lot of the people I knew. The rest of the group was moving on in their tour, but he stayed behind as we talked about common friends and young adult ministry trends. When his group came back to get him, I handed him one of my business cards. Maybe we’d finish our conversation later.

He got on a van, and headed back to Canada.

Ken had stayed in the Youth Department that day because he had seen headquarters before, and it wasn’t that exciting the first time around. And he met a girl who could use the word “dude” in a sentence and not sound weird. He got back on his van to Canada and headed out for the long ride back to Ontario.

When he was nearing the border, he decided to call his sister to check in on his mom. She was terminally ill with ovarian cancer, and though he had just visited her, he was worried. He was right. The doctor had just given the news that she would soon pass away, and he needed to hurry back to New Brunswick to say goodbye.

Ken boarded a plane in Detroit, and sat by his mom’s side that night. He described the conference, and without even thinking confessed that he met a girl named Robin, and somehow he thought she was “the one.” Feeling a bit silly, he tucked that away in his “we’ll not mention that again” file. He was by his mother’s side when she entered the gates of heaven on October 1, 1995.

As he sought out a way to sort through his emotions, he remembered the suggestion of a friend to journal his thoughts during difficult times. So he began to write. The funeral. The visits from friends. The meals brought by. The sadness in his loss and the mysterious joy for his mother’s crown of glory. At the end of the week, he decided he needed to share it with someone. Tucking his thoughts into a drawer somewhere just didn’t seem right. He should mail it to a friend. But he was at his parent’s house, not his own, so he didn’t have his address book.

But he did have a business card of a girl named Robin at headquarters. She’d likely think he was crazy, but she lived in another country. It was completely possible, if not likely, that he would never see her again. He put a note to her at the top, and dropped it in the mail.

A month after the Catalyst conference, a hand-addressed envelope arrived in the mail at my desk at work. It was a thick letter. Curious.

As I read the words that were beautifully written about a man experiencing his mother’s death, I had two emotions: sadness for his loss, and bewilderment on why he would share this loss with me. I went to my boss to report this unusual letter.

“Oh, Ken Jewett. Yeah, I know him. He’s a really solid guy, I’ve known him since he was a kid. His mom and my sister were close friends. I’m a little surprised that he wrote that to you, but you should get to know him.”

A Youth Department secretary’s husband, who was a traveling speaker for the Wesleyan Church, had known Ken since his early teenage years. He had so admired Ken’s spiritual walk that he asked him to autograph his Bible, so he’d always remember him. “You should get to know him. He’s a solid guy.”

And so I called him. And Ken called me back. We began to exchange letters, phone calls, and faxes. Friends who knew us both began to say we would be perfect for each other.

On December 24th, 1995, on our second date, Ken asked for my hand in marriage. Saying yes was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Somehow God had brought us together, given us assurance of His plan, and mutual friends to support us.

And it all began with a business card.

Shopping for Diversity

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One of the things I love most about Nashville, apart from the people, the Preds, and the food trucks, is the cultural diversity that is represented here. I didn’t know until several years after we moved here that Nashville is a major refugee intake area in the United States. Somali, Kurds, Egyptians, Mexicans, Burmese, and many many more have come to call the Nashville area home. In fact, one in six Nashvillians is foreign-born. We’ve come to love cuisine from all different regions of the world. After eating at restaurants like House of Kabob, Wild Wasabi, Café Bosna, and even Mas Tacos Por Favor, we’ve realized that the best thing about many ethnic foods is not the complexity but the simplicity of the foods.

One such unique combination that we’ve loved is the Middle Eastern cuisine of House of Kabob. Cucumber, tomato, and onion drizzled with lemon. Naan bread with feta and cilantro. In fact, this snack has become a favorite in our household. The one problem is that naan bread is as hard to find as it is delicious.

In search of our precious naan, we began to search out different stores, and finally decided to venture into an international market that is located about 5 miles from our house. We quickly learned that it has great freshly-baked bread of many different types in stock, all at great prices. We’ve come to realize that they have good deals on produce as well, including some more unusual selections that we might not see elsewhere. And spices are dirt cheap! Our favorite aspect of the international market, however, is the atmosphere.

Many times when we walk in, other customers are hugging each other and conversing in other languages. Though I don’t understand the verbal language, I can easily recognize the language of love. If you speak English in the International Market, you are in the minority. But not just one ethnic group shops there. We find Hispanics, Africans, Middle Easterners, and Caucasians browsing the aisles amongst each other.  Families shop together, as parents show their children products from their home countries.  The sights and smells are different from what we are used to, and are fascinating. And indeed, we are becoming increasingly brave at trying new items. The owner greets each customer, and frequently asks about jobs, home countries, and other news. As he rings up orders, he declares the price to be paid with conviction, in a thick Middle Eastern accent, and in cents. “Eight hundred and forty nine cents for you today!”  It doesn’t take long to become a member of the extended family of the International Market.

In fact, our third visit was this week, and the owner remembered us. We were buying freshly baked bread and a small selection of vegetables – cilantro, onion, tomato—as well as a few peaches. He rang up our order for the bread, cilantro, and peaches, and then picked up the onion and tomato and held them up and said as he looked us in the eyes, “For you.” Then he tucked them into our bag and pronounced, “Five hundred and twenty three cents!”

It’s interesting that for as much cultural diversity that is represented in that market, those who shop at the International Market have much in common amidst their dissimilarity. They are from all different corners of the planet, but they are all far from home. Not looking like typical Nashvillians, or sounding like typical Nashvillians, they have come together to celebrate the commonality of diversity.  And being far away from their own communities, they have created their own sense of community in a pocket of Nashville along Nolensville road.

In the not too distant future, two little ones will be joining our family who will be from another corner of the world. We won’t look like the typical Nashville family, or sound like them either, but we love the fact that we already know that we’ll have a place to shop where being different is the norm. They may not have the selection of products that Kroger has, but their diversity of experiences make all the difference in the world.

Gettin’ Chickin’ Part 1

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Tonight was our first Gettin’ Chickin’ for Adoptin’ Event! It was fabulous! So many people came out. We laughed, we hugged, we ate chicken! At one point, it was standing room only in Chick Fil A. I’m thankful for all who were willing to get food to go!

Thank you so much for all who came out to support us in our adoption efforts! Our kids have no idea how much love is waiting for them when they get here!

Hopefully we’ll get totals tomorrow!

Whirlwind

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The past week has been a whirlwind of adoption activity. Paperwork has been flying around our household. Emails exchanged in rapid-fire sequence. We’re trying hard not to let anything drop!

Let me see if I can catch you up.

  • We unofficially accepted the referral for the sibling pair last week.
  • We’ve been working on putting together our referral packet to officially accept the referral, including notarization of documents (thanks Willard!) and writing one of the largest checks we’ve ever written.
  • Our home study was finished by Catholic Charities yesterday.
  • Our adoption agency approved our home study today.
  • We prepared our I 600a to send with our home study and supporting documents to immigration in Texas for preapproval for our adoption.
  • We’ve been working on a t-shirt design with the Hollingsworths at Brush of Air. (If all goes well, our t-shirts will be done for tomorrow evening!)
  • Tomorrow night is our first Gettin’ Chickin’ for Adoptin’ event at the Hermitage Chick Fil A! We’ve got a plethora of marketing materials!
  • We’re redoing our adoption prayer cards, since the ages of the children listed on the current cards are wrong. We’ll have them done tomorrow night . . . I hope.
  • We’ve received much support from family and friends. We’re honestly not quite sure where we stand financially at this point, as some money has been pledged but not received. Everything that we or our agency has received is reflected in our thermometer on the right.

Suddenly we feel like we’re in fast-forward mode! We’re excited about all that God is doing!

Making My Own Food Truck

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Inspired by some of our recent food truck adventures, but short on cash, I’ve been attempting to replicate some of our favorite food truck dishes while adding my own twist. I’ve not been entirely successful in the past, but tonight’s Jamaican Tacos were a huge hit, if I do say so myself (which I may since I am 1/2 of the total number of people who ate them).

The main components are: Honey coconut curried rice, jerk-spiced chicken, tortillas, and spicy slaw.

Honey Coconut Curried Rice

  • 3/4 C Coconut milk
  • 1/4 C water
  • 3 Tbs honey
  • 1 tsp curry
  • 1 C white rice

Bring first 4 ingredients to a low boil, add 1 C rice. Cover and simmer until all liquid is absorbed.

Jerk-Spiced Chicken

  • 2 chicken breasts
  • 2 Tbs Jamaican jerk spice

Bake in crockpot on low for 4 hours until done.  Shred.

Spicy Slaw

  • 2 C shredded cabbage (I used packaged slaw mix)
  • 1 C crushed pineapple, drained
  • 1/2 C dried cranberries
  • 3 Tbs vinegar
  • 1 jalapeno, finely chopped (I used jarred slices)
  • 3 Tbs red onion, finely chopped
  • Handful cilantro

Mix well.

Tortillas

If you think I’m the sort of person who makes her own tortillas, you would be wrong!

Pile tortillas with rice, chicken,  and slaw. The sweet warmth of the rice contrasts nicely with the spicey crunchy slaw. The cilantro cools fire of the jalapeno and onion. Yummilicious.

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We’ll definitely be making this one again!