31 Days – Lunar Magic: Living Life with the Eyes of a Child

 

Do you remember being in awe of nature as a child? Did you ever sit beneathe a black-blue sky dotted with a milliion stars and gasp at the wonder of it all? Did you marvel at a sunset or watch the clouds float by in an array of shapes.

An alligator! An elephant! A one-legged dog!

I remember specifically being around nine or ten years old and we had gone on a camping trip to some Jellystone Park in somewhere Wisconsin. While my parents worked hard to crank open the pop up camper, my brother and I romped in the wooded fields around us as the sun sank lower beyond the trees. And then we both stopped and gasped.

 

The glow of the moon lifted above the treeline before the moon itself appeared. It was huge and orange and seemed to hover just above the ground, willing us to reach out and touch. I remember standing breathless for several moments. I wanted to step forward and cross the expanse of sky to enter the golden, shimmery world that seemed to be just steps away.

As a roaring fire cackled and we prepared to bunk down for the night, I stole continual glances at the moon, which continued to rise up above the Earth, the orange hue fading and morphing into a brilliant white. A diamond in the sky.

I remember the magic of that moment, and it’s not the only time the moon’s nearness has stopped me in my tracks. There is something so glorious about the moon and it’s nearness and proximity.

Saturday night, we were in Clearwater with the boys while Tia spent the night at a friend’s house. The boys played football outside while Lee and I enjoyed a few rare moments of adult conversation. As the sky faded to a dusky grey, both boys came tumbling into the condo, screeching and motioning us to come.

 

I didn’t want to.

 

I had a glass of wine in my hand, my feet were propped up and I was enjoying the grown up conversation. But something in their eyes beckoned me to set the glass down and follow them out.

“You halfta see this!” they cried, motioning wildly. Lee and I followed them out and we stopped and gasped. The moon hung low over the Earth, bright and orange and filled with a golden magic.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Sloan asked and I remembered that night in the campground, when I felt it entirely possible to step off of Earth and run amongst the stars.

This month, I believe in living life with childlike wonder.

Have you looked at the moon lately?

This month, I am participating in The Nester’s 31 Day challenge, in which over 1,000 participants have chosen to write about one topic for 31 days. I choose to spend 31 Days Believing I Can. If you are stopping by from Nester’s site, welcome! Let me know in the comments so I can visit your site in return.

31 Days of Believing I Can

We sat in the airport in Amsterdam, all still basic strangers to one another. Having missed our connection, we had a full eight hours to sit in the food court, to have small fish eat the fungus off our toes and to develop a fast bond with one another before sharing a unique and life changing week.

Sometime during that delirious, sleep deprived layover, Shaun gave us all our room assignments and I found out I would be rooming with Nester. I already felt like I knew her a bit. We had been emailing back and forth for weeks, sharing our own fears about the trip. We had been praying for one another and encouraging each other over email, so I was thrilled to get to spend the next week getting to know her in real life.

Seriously. Could she be any more adorable?

As warm and sweet and funny and sincere as she is online, Nester is all of those things in person.

She is just a delightful person to be around.

For the last three years, Nester has issued a challenge during the month of October. Write about one topic for 31 days. The topics are always multifaceted and provide ample room for personal growth and creative expansion. This year, I’ve decided to join in.

I decided last night, around 9:00, just as she put up the first link up. I have gone back and forth for weeks now about whether or not I should join in. I had a topic in mind and already had a mental list of all the ways I could expand on it, but I just wasn’t sure I wanted to commit. What if I couldn’t keep up? What if I couldn’t think of anything to write about? What if I couldn’t do it?

My topic?

31 Days of Believing I Can.

 

I’d like to introduce you all to my friend and constant companion. Her name is Irony. She’s a wily little bugger…

So after hemming and hawing around for long enough, I decided to go for it. I will spend the next 31 days believing that I can abandon myself and the useless doubts and laziness that hold me back. I will spend 31 days learning to embrace the qualities that show love to those around me and honor the God who knit me together with a unique set of skills and passions. I will write on a variety of topics including:

          – Believing I can see life through the eyes of a child.

          – Believing I can plan and execute a week of meals from scratch using whole or organic foods.

          – Believing I can exercise and take care of my body.

          – Believing I can finish my book.

          – Believing I can speak to my children with kindness and patience and self control. (whew)

          – Believing I can serve and pour into those around me despite the fact that life feels overwhelmingly busy.

          – Believing I can eat Nutella every day for 31 days and not gain an ounce…. (Alright. This one might be a stretch)

         – Believing I can model a faith in my Jesus by better modeling the qualities He displayed so freely. (Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-Control)

My desire in this series is to focus on all the ways that I can grow as a wife, a mother, a friend, a daughter, a homemaker, a neighbor and a lover of others. This morning, as I sat down to write and to further refine my topic, I flipped the calendar sitting on my desk to October 1. The quote for today was by Angela Nazworth.

 “When we replace our desire to believe in ourselves with the desire to become more like Jesus we take another step toward loving each other a little more like He does.”

There’s Irony again, stepping forward to slap me around a little bit…

The posts will probably be a little shorter and I will be chronicling not only how I’m being stretched as an individual, but also what I’m learning along the way as I make the choice to turn my back on self doubt and believe with full confidence that I can live in a way that honors others above myself. I hope you’ll join me!

If you’re here from the 31 day challenge, leave me a link in the comments and I will make sure I visit your sites and check out the ways you are growing and developing over the next 31 days.

And come back tomorrow for installment one in my 31 Days of Believing I Can. Lunar Magic – Living life with the eyes of a child.

On Being Intentional, Believing in Miracles and Punching Insecurity in the Face

My husband, God love him, is ornery. He takes a sick and twisted amount of delight in scaring the s*&$ out of me on a weekly basis. While I am busy turning out lights, whispering prayers over sleeping babes and shutting down the house for the night with grace and love, he is plotting evil.

I walk around the dark corners and he acts upon his wicked ways, jumping out at me from the shadows. And I usually yelp in terror and, more often than not, pepper my reaction with a four letter word or four, because honestly, when my heart skips like and that and my senses jolt and buzz I cannot be held responsible for the words that come out of my mouth!

(It is for this reason that I hold firm to my belief that my mansion in heaven will be bigger and shinier than his. And will be stocked with Nutella while his will be stocked with only radishes…and haggus.)

Insecurity does the same thing to me. I can be moving along, calmly taking care of business, then BOOM! I round a corner and insecurity is there waiting to steal my joy. Where moments ago I felt confident and secure in my path, insecurity works to instill doubt. I walk forward with trepidation, fear dictating which way I will turn.

Left unchecked, this fear can begin to order my steps, filter words spoken and limit opportunity.

I left last weekend for dotMOM with a lot of doubt and insecurity. I was part of a group of bloggers brought in by Lifeway for the conference and from start to finish it was everything I needed right at that moment. I entered completely unsure of myself and my abilities and I left with a fresh perspective about why I do what I do, and with the knowledge that there are some amazing people in this world doing amazing things.

I felt immensely loved all weekend by the other bloggers in attendance. They laughed with me, spoke wisdom into and over me and gave me all the courage to believe that this path that we’re on as a family – this path of adoption – is right. It’s good. It’s going to be great.

Every time I turned around this weekend, I met someone who has adopted and oh the grace they shared with me. They didn’t sugar coat things, they didn’t make it seem like sunshine and roses, but they did tell me that the process is beautiful and good and worth all of the effort.

I learned to be more intentional in all areas of my life. More intentional in parenting, more intentional in blogging, more intentional in wife-ing.

The amazing Jen Hatmaker in her sassy dress and boots...

There are so many women who blessed me this weekend. My roommate, Stacey, poured wisdom into me…and coffee. She bought me coffee in the mornings. I mean, that’s not why I fell in love with her, but it didn’t hurt, you know?

Jessica rushed up to me when she heard our adoption story and told me she wants to help. Then she spent the rest of the weekend making me smile and feel special.

Amanda encouraged me to be more intentional in mothering.

Jen amazed me with her grace and sweet, calm spirit. She’s raising quadruplets, people! Boy quadruplets!  It exhausts me just thinking of it.

Erin and Brooke speak directly to the hearts of mother’s of boys. Nish keeps it real and tells it like it is and in so doing requires you to stop and think about this journey called faith with a little more depth.

I heard amazing speakers like Jen Hatmaker who encouraged us to push our children toward courage. Don’t hover over them. Safety isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. “I don’t want to be the reason my children have chosen safety and comfort over courage,” she said.

I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with Vicki Courtney who later encouraged us all at the conference to be aware of the dangers of media and how the internet, with all it’s goodness, can also be a crutch to both us and our children. “You need to lighten up from trying to be the perfect mother,” she encouraged.

There was so much good that came out of last weekend, so many wonderful people met, so much laughter and praise. But perhaps the moment that impacted me most came late one evening, after we had raised our arms in worship together. I met Amanda Jones, a fellow Compassion Blogger and a sweet woman with a deep heart for Jesus.

Amanda and I spoke of the adoption and the many times I sit back in doubt. Will God provide? I say with my lips that He is bigger than the funds needed, but do I believe it with my heart? As we spoke, Amanda reached forward and grabbed my hands. “Can I pray with you?” she asked.

And she did. And I believed.

And just like that, all insecurity fled and I came home filled with…peace – ready to face the dark corners and excited to see what comes after each next step.

What are you facing that insecurity threatens to ruin?

dotMOM

I’m leaving this afternoon for the dotMom conference and the timing could not be more perfect. It has been a long, emotional, trying week. I need the refreshment. I need to get away. I need to be reminded of so many things. I’m so grateful and honored (and a little flabbergasted, to be honest) to have been asked to come to the conference by Lifeway. I look forward to soaking in all the wisdom offered by the many amazing women who will be there.

I’ll only be gone for two days, but I think it’s just what the doctor ordered to lift me out of the funk. I have packed dresses and scarves and boots because by golly if ever there was a chance to dress cute, this was it. I don’t need my yoga pants or my tennis shoes for any reason at all!

Hot dang!

Are any of you headed to dotMOM? Find me, please? Let’s hang out and get to know each other in real life!
Happy Thursday!

Amidst the flames

Last night I smothered them all in kisses. Soft cheeks still ripe with innocence and youth. Noses dotted with the freckles of childhood, when life is secure and free and beautiful and each day can be met with wonder and imagination.

I don’t tell them about the fires. I don’t mention the lives lost and the political uproar, the fear for what tomorrow might hold. I don’t share the unrest or the prevailing hatred that threatens to overwhelm. While flames lick the embassies and grieving loved ones bury heroes, I play another round of UNO, wipe another runny nose and gather my chicks under my wing with nothing more than a prayer.

These are scary times. I look at my children sometimes and I wonder, what will they face? I think of the little girl who may already be waiting for us across the ocean and I long to gather her close, too. To protect her from the scary. To tell her it’s okay, everything is going to be alright.

I haven’tcompletely sheltered the kids. Sloan and I talked politics just the other day. He watched footage of the 9-11 Memorial and I did not try to hide my tears as I listened to a mother remember her son who perished in the flames of that awful day. He knows that evil exists. He understands that there are those who possess a hatred so fierce it causes them to commit the unthinkable.

But while these flames burn, I feel an overwhelming urge to keep my little ones near and to guard their innocence with all the ferocity I’ve been given as their mother. I whisper prayers over them each night. I pray for protection and peace and for days filled with the magical fantasy that only the youthful can possess. 

I pray this not just for my children, but for all the children. I think of Moses and Mwajuma and the different kind of innocence they possess. I pray for the little ones who are trapped right in the center of the flames, the ones burying their daddies and the ones who go to sleep at night to the sporadic sounds of gunshots.

In the nighttime hours, I study the candidates and dissect what they believe so that, when the time comes, I can use what little power I have to try and protect the future for my children. I learn and try to understand and ultimately I remember that in the end, it is God who places people in power and it is all for a reason.

I will fight the flames the only way I can and I will do so with as much education as I can to ensure I truly understand the choices I am making. Because those choices don’t just affect me – they affect them. They affect my children, the ones who are set to grow up in this beautiful, wonderful, scary, volatile world.

My vote and my prayers are the only weapons I’ve got and I take my responsibility to utilize them seriously.

 

Yesterday, I sat behind a woman and her three children who had that very morning said goodbye to a husband and a daddy. He had left in the early morning hours for a nearly nine-month long deployment to Afghanistan. I watched as she and her mother-in-law clutched hands through the worship set, each swiping tears from her eyes in a swift motion of strength and vulnerability.

Two women with the young ones huddled securely beneathe their arms. A hero sent into the flames. My vote and my prayer all I have as back up.

 

 

I believe in the power of both.

 

I will utilize both my vote and my prayers with as much humility and wisdom as I have been granted. I will vote with passion and conviction, but I will not step into the voting booth with hatred.

Hatred ignites the flame.

I have a responsibility to guard my chldren – all the children – from the heat of those flames.

I urge you, my friends, to educate yourselves before this election. Don’t vote based on emotion or popularity or even based on what you’ve voted in the past. We cannot be lackadaisical in our knowledge of the issues. We must go forth with conviction and courage.

The heat of the flames must compel us forward in wisdom, grace and humility and, above all else, we have to protect the little ones who are coming up behind us.

Are you prepared to vote?

When life tangles

Life is messy.

It tangles and weaves and chokes and hurts.

 But somewhere in the tangle, beauty springs forth.

A cool breeze on a stifling day.

A blanket of snow on a frozen ground.

A tender giggle when the tears threaten to fall.

God has woven so much beauty into this world, but…

Sometimes you have to look through the tangles to see it.

Life is busy and the busy leaves us tangled.

So many plates spinning and every last one threatening to drop.

Can we catch them all?

Can we keep up the spinning?

Can we weave through the tangle?

Sometimes it takes a conscious slow down to stop the spinning.

Then we can see the beauty.

A deep breath on a hectic day.

A good book when the laundry climbs.

A phone call to a dear friend instead of a clean kitchen.

There is beauty to be had in the tangle.

Do you see it?

Can you weave through the tangle today?

Leave the plates to spin on their own for just a little while.

Take the time to breathe and see the beauty.

Tangled, beautiful mess.

Climbing the Mountain: Part 2

This week, I am beginning one of the first treks up the mountain as I kick start a few fundraising efforts. I have a first chunk of money set out before us to raise and I’d like to have it by mid-November. I have no idea if that is an unrealistic goal or not, but I’m setting it out there.

To be honest, I’m not overly comfortable talking about the funding on ye old blog, but I also know I can’t do this without a little help, so with that in mind, I have a few ideas up my sleeve to start traversing up this first peak in our journey to Russia. We would really love to have all the funds needed to complete all the paper work by early Spring so that we can get on a waiting list for a referral with the hope that we will be able to start our travels sometime late next summer or early fall. I’m willing to work for these funds, and we plan to work hard, but I’ll need some help spreading the word.

And I am entirely open to suggestions as well!

So without further ado, here are a few things I’ve set in place to kick off our fundraising.

Advertising

 

Do you have a small business or indie-biz that you would like to advertise? Are you selling products or in need of a boost in your site stats? I am opening up private ads for the first time and would love to chat with you about it. I’ve set very reasonable prices and there are a couple of different options that we can discuss in your advertising.

From buttons in the sidebar to sponsored posts, I am willing to discuss what your goals are for your business and work with you to increase your traffic through the solid network of readers that give me the honor of their time here at Minivan Are Hot. With that in mind, though, I have always tried hard to keep the content on this blog fresh and relevant to motherhood and parenting, so while I am open to increasing the sumbers of sponsored posts I write, I will also be working hard to make sure the content is new and engaging and real and honest and I promise not to talk only about the adoption!!! Contact me at kellistuart00 (at) hotmail (dot) com for more information.

Writing/Editing

 

Did you know that my actual job for the last ten years has been ghostwriting and editing books? I haven’t done too much this past year with the move, but I am ready to take on a couple of projects if you are in need of any writing/editing. Have you written an E-Book or a book for print and don’t know what to do with it next?

Email me. Seriously, I’ve practically made a career out of pitching book ideas to publishers and have learned quite a few tricks and tips along the way. Do you just need a fresh set of eyes to go over the manuscript and help polish it? I would love to help! The super nerd in me gets giddy over editing. Giddy, I tell you!

Do you have a website that is in need of some fresh content? Let’s talk and see if we can work out a way to help one another out! Whatever your writing/editing needs are, I would love to help out. Email me at kellistuart00 (at) hotmail (dot) com.

Adoption Bug

 

One of the organizations that works tirelessly to help families fund adoptions is Steven Curtis Chapman’s Show Hope. I frequent this site often for encouragement, wisdom and tips on how to take this journey well. In an effort to kick start our fundraising, Lee and I have set up an Adoption Bug store, which is a free service offered to adoptive families through the Show Hope foundation.

There are six styles of t-shirts that you can choose from, and I tried to select a variety of styles and colors, all of which I would wear myself (and will, since I plan on ordering some of them!) We receive anywhere from 35%-45% on each sale of the shirts that come directly from our page and that money will go straight to adoption costs. Would you consider purchasing a shirt today?

And if you wouldn’t mind, would you spread the word about this Adoption Bug site? You can simply post this link (http://www.adoptionbug.com/stuartfamily/) to your Facebook, Twitter or blog to send people directly to our page where they can purchase the shirts we have chosen to sell. I’ve also placed a widget in our side bar that you can click that will link you directly to our Adoption Bug site.

Thank you for your help, my friends. This means so much to us.

Garage Sale

 

I have big plans over Labor Day weekend. Huge plans, indeed. I plan to ransack my house for each and every thing we do not use on a frequent basis and begin setting up shop for a gigantic garage sale sometime in late September/early October.

I know, it sounds like SO MUCH FUN. Don’t be jealous…

If you have tips or tricks on how to throw the perfect fundraising garage sale, I am all ears. If you live in the Tampa Bay/Clearwater/anywhere in Florida area and have items you would like to donate, please shoot me an email and let’s try and set up a time to meet. I will happily drive to you to pick up any items you might have to donate.

I am intimidated by this idea, but I’ve heard of so many people having great success with large garage sales, so I plan to roll up my sleeves and give it the old college try. The kids, for their part, are super excited because I’ve told them they can sell lemonade and cookies during the garage sale. Party!

Suggestions Welcome

 

Our home study is in two weeks. Once that has been completed and submitted, we will have a little more freedom to pursue other options for fundraising. We are all ears when it comes to this piece of the adoption puzzle and we welcome any suggestions you might have. I know that so many of you have climbed this mountain ahead of us so if you have something that worked for you, please feel free to share and thanks in advance!

There are a lot of things to consider and a lot of options out there for adoptive families. I even thought about selling spray painted curtain rods in an effort to raise funds.

No I didn’t…

The biggest piece of this fundraising puzzle is pray, pray, pray!! I can’t tell you how many people have told us that somehow, when they needed the money for the next big payment, it was always there. We are trusting fully that our hard work, paired with the grace and provision of the Lord, is going to result in met goals and we look forward to rejoicing in that with you all!

And if I may be so bold to ask, would you all be willing to share this post with others? If I can spread the word a bit on what we’re trying to do and hoping to accomplish, I think I could have a little more success in accomplishing these goals. Thank you. Seriously, I know I say it a lot and I’ll be saying it more and more, but thank you. Thank you for helping us make this happen.

Happy weekend all! I pray you have great fun awaiting you!

Climbing the Mountain

He walked up to me and tugged on my sleeve, his eyes peeking out from beneathe a mop of white blonde hair. I knelt down so we could be eye level and he jabbered something unintelligable to my untrained ears. With no one to translate nearby, I sat down and pulled him into my lap and did the only thing I knew to do.

I counted his fingers, one by one.

Odin, dva, tre, chiteri, pyat, shest, syem, vosyem, devyet, decyet…

I don’t remember his name or anything else we did that day. I just remember sitting on the floor of the orphanage with a little boy in my lap, counting to ten over and over. I left that day with a seed planted deep in my heart to go back and to bring one of those precious children home with me.

That was nineteen years ago.

We are at the bottom of this mountain called adoption – base camp. The peaks that stand above us are daunting and intimidating. Had we chosen to make this climb ten years ago, or even five, it would have been much easier, much less intimidating, less expensive and less scary.

But we were to climb  the mountain at this time, and by faith we take each step forward knowing that reaching the summit is only hoped for, but is not promised.

Though I am not much of a mountain climber myself, I love to read stories of people conquering the world’s greatest mountains, particularly Everest. The dedication that they put to training and preparing for the climb fascinates me. Climbers go to Everest with a dream. To most of us, it’s a crazy dream. Why put yourself at that much risk for a mountain? It doesn’t make sense.

But to them it does. It’s a singular passion that drives them to grueling training sessions, thousands of dollars raised and spent and all is done with the very real knowledge that they could never actually make it to the summit. There are so many factors that could come into play to end their quest for the top, yet on they push because passion ignited is impossible to put out.

This is the place that Lee and I are in. We are standing at the bottom, looking up, a fire burning inside to reach the top but we know we must take it one step at a time. First, set up at base camp, get acclimated to the surroundings. We are reading and researching, filling out paperwork and communicating with those who have gone before us, who know the path and can tell us what to expect with each turn.

We are leaning on our adoption Sherpas.

Perhaps the most daunting peak that looms high before us now is the cost. It is the piece of this puzzle that shakes my faith the most. And yet, every morning as I pray and lay my fears down before the One who ignited the passion, I hear a very small whisper deep in my soul.

I Am bigger than the mountain. I Am bigger than the cost. I Am the one who still does miracles so great. I Am bigger than your fears and doubts. I Am bigger than the impossible.

 

I cling to these promises like a lifeline.

 

Jen Hatmaker wrote a post this week that opened my eyes to so many of the challenges we are yet to face. Before reading her post, I held the likely false assumption that our summit moment would come when we finally step off the plane in Tampa with our daughter in our arms, but I don’t know that this is the case.

That will be a beautiful moment and the view will likely be astounding, but there will still be more mountain to climb. There will be adjustments for us as a family, new dynamics to get used to, new routines to follow and a new person to learn and know.

The summit is still a ways off and there may be some rough climbing ahead before we reach it. But I trust that we will reach it.

Right now, all I see are paperwork and deadlines. Keeping the summit in view is crucial to getting through this phase of the process. Without that hope, without a picture of what might be, we would give up. Because this is really hard.

When I was pregnant with Sloan, I held a picture in my head of what I thought he would look like. He was our first born so I really had no idea, but there were loose images that would float through my dreams. I remember clearly holding him in the hospital after he had been all cleaned up and we’d been transferred to our new room.

I knew him. His face was so familiar to me. All those loose images came crashing together to form the face of this tiny child who seemed to have always been buried inside me all along. It was as though I’d known him my whole life.

I have a similarly loose picture of our daughter. There are no distinct features, of course. Russia is not like many other countries you adopt from. We have no guarantee of a skin color, eye color or hair color and none of those things matter to us. But there is this vague image that is floating and swimming and I cling to it with the hope that sometime in the next year I will walk into a worn building and lay eyes on a face that has been waiting for us since the beginning of time.

I’m climbing the mountain for her.

We are all climbing a mountain of some kind. Ours happens to be adoption and we would love prayer for the process. How can I be praying for you in return? Perhaps your mountain is the need for employment or a financial burden? Perhaps it is life changes or illness? Whatever the mountain you are facing, I would love to join you in prayer.

 

No one should climb the mountain alone.

And then there were six?

This guy has been asking to do this for awhile…

Photo by Lulu Photography (LuluPhotog.com)

This girl told us a few months ago that she was praying very specifically…

This guy gets to play a new role and he is thrilled…

This girl is stepping onto a path toward her dream come true…

Photo by Avodah Images.com

And this guy is the one who has listened closely to the Lord’s calling and taken a giant leap of faith, leading our family down a very new path…

Big changes are headed our way. The path will be bumpy and rough and beautiful and scary and each step is taken with a gigantic measure of faith. It’s a path full of unknowns and we’re excited to see what the bend in the road will produce.

Have you guessed it yet?

Through God’s grace and His Provision alone, our little family of five will become a family of six.

 

We are in the process of adopting a little girl from Russia.

 

Pray with us, please?

This journey will not be easy and a child in our arms at the end of the road is not guaranteed. The adoption situation in Russia is tenuous at best and there is every possibility that the door could close so we take each step with great faith and prayer for protection for us and our children.

We are elbow deep in paper work and some days I feel so excited and filled with anticipation. Other days I feel discouraged and worried and afraid. I’m told this is normal.

Your prayers are most appreicated and coveted. We have a lot of work to do, a lot of money to raise, a lot of faith to develop and cling to.

I’m so glad to have you all by our side.

Happy Thursday, friends.

.41¢

I took the boys with me, a Mama and son date. Tia spent the weekend having her girly tank filled with her cousins. They did hair and played dolls and giggled and laughed. And so it was that I was alone with the boys for three days and errands were an unwanted necessity.

The kid’s school requires uniforms so I’ve been on a quest for the cheapest shirts possible however, the color shirt they’re required to wear is not very common, which lead us to the uniform shop in a rougher part of town to pick up several shirts specific to their school.

We rolled to a stop after exiting the highway and Sloan saw him first. He was standing back from the road a bit, his thin slice of carboard offering a two word plea.

HELP PLEASE.

 

Had I been alone, shamefully, I would have ignored him. I would have stared straight ahead so as not to make eye contact and avoid the awkward. I would have said no to the least of these.

But I wasn’t alone. I was in the car with a nine year old who is determined to change the world – a nine year old who just might do that someday if I don’t mess him up.

“Mom, give him some money! He needs help!” He said this as he rooted for loose change and reached for my purse. But I didn’t have any money. I never have cash on me. Cash means Starbucks to me so I rarely carry it to avoid the temptation.

“I don’t have money, babe,” I said, regret lacing my words.

“Yes you do,” he cried, holding up a handful of coins triumphantly. One quarter, one dime, one nickel and one penny. Every coin represented.

“Honey, that’s not really much money. It won’t help him. You can’t do anything with .41¢.”

“Well, he can save it, then, until he gets a little more,” Sloan replied and really, how could I say no? My child was asking me to do good. Like I said, here’s to hoping I don’t mess him up…

I rolled down the window and motioned the man near. He walked with a limp to the car window. “I’m sorry it’s not more,” I said, my face flushing a bit. Why was I embarrassed? Why do I still feel like I must do something big for it to hold any lasting impact? “It’s all we had and we wanted to help.”

The man took the four coins with dusty hands and his eyes filled with tears. “Ma’am,” he said as he separated the penny from the rest of the group and held it up in the sunlight. “If you had just given me this one penny, it would have been enough but you chose to give more. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

I smiled and blinked back my own tears. The stoplight was soon to change, I knew this, so I turned quickly and pointed to my freckle-faced boy. “It was his big heart who wanted you to know that we see you and we love you and we will be praying for you.”

Sloan leaned forward so he could see out the window and the man looked at him deep. “You’re a good young man,” he said. “Listen to your Mama and stay in school, you hear me? And don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not good enough, because you are.”

Sloan nodded and then spoke, his words filled with a grace beyond his years. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I will be praying for you every day.”

The light turned green and we moved forward. The man stepped back from the road and as we made our left turn, I looked back to see his face buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving. In his clutched fist, he held tight to .41¢.

We pulled into the uniform store a few minutes later and Sloan looked at me with heavy eyes. “We should do more for him,” he said and I nodded. I felt it, too. “Like, can we buy him a house or something?” he asked. Just like his Mama, he thinks big.

I smiled and ruffled his thick hair. “We can’t buy him a house, but we could buy him a meal,” I said and he smiled. So that’s exactly what we did. After picking up shirts for the next school year, we swung through a local restaurant and ordered a meal and a bottle of water then rushed back around to the spot where we first met him.

He was gone.

Sloan’s face fell as he clutched the bag of fries and burgers. “Where did he go?” he asked, his face scanning left and right. “Oh I see him!” Landon screeched from the back seat, excited to be a part of this moment with his brother. Our friend sat under a bridge with another man. He was smoking and speaking animatedly.

“How are we going to get to him, Mom?” Sloan asked and just then the man stood up and started walking back toward our corner. We didn’t have long. I grabbed the food, jumped out of the car and waved at him, setting the food on the curb then rushing back to the car. He hurried over, his face registering shock.

“I was just telling my friend Peter about how much you blessed me and now this?” He looked genuinely surprised. The light turned green and I pulled forward. “God Bless you!” he called as we rounded the corner and he disappeared. A few minutes later, as we merged on the highway, Sloan spoke up again. “Will we see him again, Mom?” he asked.

“Probably not,” I said.

“Can I pray for him now?” Sloan asked and I nodded my head yes. And with eyes swimming, I drove us home while my nine year old demonstrated a faith that moves mountains. The faith of a child.

Did you know that .41¢ could change the world?

Yeah, I didn’t realize it either…