Molly Piper

You all know this is not a fashion blog. Some of you know that I can barely dress myself, especially if it means that the clothes have to be free of peanut butter handprints. But this is a blog where I write about whatever I want, so here goes.

I’d really like some non-dress pants that aren’t jeans (maybe some corduroys or something?) so I started bopping around on the old internet to see what’s out there post-Christmas.

I literally laughed out loud when I read the description for this one. This, my friends, is the person chosen to model Gap’s “curvy” jeans.

[break here for general laughter and guffawing]

Even granting the fact that there may have even been some airbrushing to the picture…still not curvy!

And while this woman may be a very nice person, she is definitely not (by any definition) curvy. I suppose she’s curvy in the sense that she’s not completely angular…

I have no problem with a woman who is healthy and skinny. I have a couple friends who are naturally skinny people. And I think they’re beautiful! But if any of them were chosen to model something curvy it would be the funniest thing ever!

So I’m guessing these “curvy” jeans are probably a non-option for me, since I look nothing like the person in this picture.

What brands sell actually curvy jeans? Especially for women who are about 5’4? (that’d be me!)

I had no way of knowing that asking a simple question about hand moisturizing would yield such response! Wow, y’all really came through on that one.

WORLD LEADERS! BE ADVISED!…you need some help out of a jam you’re in? Just ask a bunch of women.

(We would at least have lots to say about how they should deal with their dry hands anyway… And who doesn’t need help with that? Come ON!)

It just struck me funny that response came out of the woodwork! And the more I reflected on it, it reminded me of a couple things about people:

• They generally like to be helpful.
• They love to tell their experiences.

Isn’t that what communities do? They help each other and share their stories. Most times, they help each other by sharing their stories.

But seriously… I’m thankful for this little (maybe not so little?) community here. You all wanted to help me with my dry hands. It’s sweet. It really is. Thank you.

I hope you got as much help as I did from those answers. May we all have healthy hands this winter!

Who knows what we’ll help each other with next?

So I made these really yummy ribs in the Crock Pot today. I haven’t made this particular recipe in a couple years, just because I forgot about it! (Don’t you love when you kind of forget about a good recipe and then it crops back up?) Anyway… it’s super good, and the ribs are so tender that the meat literally falls off the bone.

I’m sitting here typing this, smelling the yummy goodness and already hungry for supper. Which leads me to ask:

If you’re cooking in your Crock Pot, do you eat more that day?

I feel like I’m smelling delicious food all day and salivating, and therefore I want to EAT!!! So far I’ve avoided a full-0n pig-out, but I don’t know if I can make it till 5:30. That’s HOURS from now!!!!

If I cooked in the Crock Pot regularly, I feel like I’d gain weight. Agree? Disagree?

Talk amongst yourselves.

About two months ago, a friend at my church had a 35-week stillbirth. Her placenta just burst, and that was it. All her 35 weeks of

love

care

protection

nourishment…just over.

And while I know it’s not truly over, but that her son has true meaning and value in this life (and in the next), I feel the rawness of her loss sometimes as though I’m re-living some of my first days and weeks. It’s been a hard, but good, thing.

Here’s something I’ve been reflecting on the past couple weeks:

When we say to grieving people, “Oh, I can’t imagine” we might be saying “I don’t want to imagine.”

I say that because, if we took a few minutes and put ourselves inside that person’s situation, we would (in part) imagine.

And I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that anything less than that is not love or care.

Now, there might be people who say, “But I’m not a mom…” or “I’ve never lost a baby…”

“…when someone loses their baby, I really can’t imagine, because I’ve never been there.”

(I’m using my example, a stillbirth, as the example here. You really could fill-in-the-blank with any tragedy or heartbreak you’re seeing someone through.)

And while that’s valid on some level, it really isn’t the whole story. I have dear friends who aren’t married, have never been pregnant, and yet are extremely sensitive and caring about things they haven’t experienced. It just means that they’ve taken the time to enter into someone else’s heartbreak.

And no, you won’t imagine it perfectly, because it is what it is–an imagining…an image. You will probably never understand what it’s like to labor for hours with a dead baby. You’ll probably never understand how it feels to have terrors in the night, horrified that you forgot the baby somewhere or awakening to imaginary baby cries.

And I’m not trying to be overly dramatic here. These are real things that really happen.

I think another reason we shy away from imagining is that it’s not going to be pretty or comfortable. It’s often horrific and terrifying and depressing. But it’s your friend’s reality.

Real love gets into the trenches of grief and suffering. It imagines. It lets it’s mind’s eye linger. Real love will not avert its eyes. It won’t say, “Your disaster is too much for me.”

As I’ve watched friends walk through tragedies like mine in the past few years, or some others walk through tragedies very different from mine, I’m trying to be really mindful to not say, “I can’t imagine.” Because in some cases, it’s all I have. It’s the only window I have, with my puny little brain, into prayer, into continued love and care for that person–imagining their pain, imagining their grief or loss, imagining their ongoing need and brokenness.

Imagination is what will take you closer, even when you feel very distant from the situation.

I think we underestimate imagination. We shut it down too quickly, afraid we’ll either presume too much understanding or that it’ll just hurt too much.

You might be wondering

What do I say in that uncomfortable moment, when all I want to say is ‘I can’t imagine?’ What are some alternatives?

I think it would be okay to say, in the most heartfelt and heartbroken way, “I can only imagine.” And then go on from there, telling them some things that you’ve been thinking and feeling on their behalf, how it’s led you to pray, whatever. This communicates a love, a presence in their pain–even if from a distance.

Let’s gather the grieving in our imaginings. You might find it to be a powerful point of connecting, doing what you can to understand.

Most people post Friday Funnies or something like that. I’ve not been in a very funny mood today, so these were the posts that grabbed me and I found myself wanting to share:

• My husband wrote a really thought-provoking piece on his blog that I thought some of you would enjoy reading. Sometimes his wanderlust scares me, sometimes I encourage it. It’s part of who he is, and I love him. So…I live with a husband with a serious case of wanderlust. Regardless, this is a great post. And also kind of ironic, since he takes a couple lines to hate on having a car, and we’re in the market for a minivan.
• My friend Elizabeth Esther wrote a gut-wrenchingly honest post about losing our joy in motherhood. I can so relate today. And knowing that she’s a mother of twins, it’s a sobering thing for me to read. But it’s also good for me to have people like her in my life who don’t pretend that everything’s peachy-keen. It helps me pray and prepare for the hard days ahead, as well as the joyful ones.
• And lastly, my dear internet friend, Mrs. MK, lost her baby at 18 weeks yesterday. I’m crushed and devastated every time I think about it. She lost a daughter just after I lost Felicity, and we’ve grown to love each other over these here internets. I was so excited that she and I were pregnant at the same time. Perhaps you have some time to drop over and share an honest condolence. And if you don’t have one to give, then don’t feel obligated. I just know she’s hurting. So many of you have reached out to comfort me. Let’s share the love with my friend Mrs. MK.

It would seem weird to say “Have a good weekend!” after all that heaviness. But that’s life, isn’t it? Not all of us are having “a good day” today. I want to live honestly and share openly, even if it’s a Friday.

Time for true confessions: I don’t drink coffee.

[insert audible GASP!]

I know, I know, I know. Will you still be my friend? I can drink tea! Or even a chai tea latte (see… SEE? I’m getting closer, right?)

But seriously, all funny business aside, I’m at peace with my distaste for coffee. I can still be a grown-up! I can still do all the things that responsible adults do!

I figure, if I made it through college and graduate school without resorting to coffee, then I will probably do just fine for the rest of my life (with a cup of caffeinated tea from time to time). You know, they say “It’s an acquired taste.” I just chose not to acquire it. I love the way it smells, can’t stand the taste.

So, with that fumbling preamble out of the way, I had to pass on this adorable (yet informative) cartoon about… coffee!

I like this cartoon because:

• It’s so cutely illustrated.
• The points are short enough to keep my attention (that of a non-coffee drinker).
• So much useless information (but could probably be of use in Trivial Pursuit someday)!

So if you actually like the stuff, you’ll probably be doubly entertained.

(via Wesley Hill)

I was very honored that Mandi at Organizing Your Way asked me write a post in her series this month “More Than Resolutions.”

And then I read the topic that she wanted me to post on—“Volunteer More”—and I almost laughed out loud. I probably guffawed. Because I don’t think of myself as a big volunteer. And that’s because I’m not. But I accepted anyway. “Why?” you’re probably wondering.

I suppose if you count how much I volunteered in 2008, and compare that to 2009, then my volunteering efforts increased dramatically—they went from zero to one!

See, I totally dropped off the map from 2007-2009, after the stillbirth of our daughter at 39 weeks gestation. All organized volunteering was completely off the table. We spent the entirety of 2007 & 2008 surviving (and having another baby—a son—born 11 months to the day after his sister).

I spent 2007 and 2008 being the recipient of peoples’ volunteering: meals, cleaning my house, babysitting my kids. I can’t even begin to communicate how thankful I was and am for people volunteering for me. It’s humbling.

In 2009, however, I was given the opportunity to serve and volunteer. Because of my blogging, I was asked to participate in one of Compassion International’s blogger trips to see their work and write about it. So I guess that leads me to my first point about volunteering:

1. Do Something That Interests You

I love kids. I love working with kids (I’m a pediatric speech language pathologist). I love blogging. I love travel. I love the thought of children being released from the grip of poverty. So many of my interests and passions came together on this trip!

If you get asked to volunteer in the kitchen at your kids’ school and you HATE being in the kitchen, maybe you should ask for a different opportunity. Chances are there are other things to do. (There’s always work for a willing volunteer.) If you make your interests known, you’ll probably end up doing something you actually like and will therefore thrive in, instead of dreading.

Of course there are times when you kinda have to die to yourself and just do the thing that needs to be done. I’m not saying we should turn our noses up at things we don’t like or things that aren’t glamorous. There’s always going to be jobs that no one wants to do, and sometimes we should accept those. Sometimes there will even be joy in doing the things we didn’t think we liked doing.

But for any ongoing, long-term volunteer work that you’d be expected to care about…probably something that interests you would be best.

2. Do Something Possible

All of us have to figure out what works for us and our families. The Compassion trip I took was only 5 days long. It fit nicely into our family schedule without disrupting too much. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have gone if it had been a longer trip; it just meant that fewer things had to be juggled around, and that made the trip feel more possible for me and my family.

Also, I already had a blog. And I was pretty sure I could write a decent post for what they were doing. It would’ve been silly of me to accept an offer to do something outside of my skill set, like be the tech support for the trip. That, my friends, would’ve been a disaster, an epic FAIL.

If you’re horrible with numbers, don’t volunteer for an accounting opportunity. That would be really silly, right? But that’s often how we respond when we hear about those gaping volunteer opportunities. We talk ourselves (or let others talk us) into jobs that don’t match up with what we can actually do, just because the need exists.

3. Pace Yourself

If you’re already an exhausted, overwhelmed mother of young children, you probably feel like you have very little margin in your life to be giving much more (because you’re giving all day long). Maybe you only have one hour once a month—that’s honestly what’s possible for you. Be okay with that. Be willing to give more when you’re in a season for giving more.

Perhaps for some of you, this is the year of more time, more margin, more availability. Be on the lookout for what you can do with that time!

If we try to do the impossible in volunteering and overextend ourselves, not only will we overwhelmed and rue the day we ever thought that volunteering was a good idea, but we’ll burn out and be of no use for an even longer period of time. (Because you’ll probably swear off of volunteering all together!)

For me, at the end of 2009, I was finally willing and able to step into a volunteer role again. I wanted to be there. I felt ready to be there. And I did one thing in 2009. And it was an awesome, life-changing one thing.

4. Volunteer Under the Radar

You can give of yourself in a million ways every day. Just because you’re not signing up for a regular slot on a schedule with a specific company or organization, doesn’t mean it’s not valuable.

Be your own organization!

• If you love making meals for new moms, be that person that shows up six weeks after all the other organized meals have stopped coming and bless someone’s socks off!
• Be the person who secretly drops off flowers for someone who just lost a loved one.
• Show up randomly for the graveyard shift in the hospital room, giving the parents of a sick child a chance to go shower and sleep in their own home.

When I was in my darkest hours of need, this type of kindness was exactly the kind of volunteering that saved my life.

I think it’s right and good for all of us to have volunteering in our minds at the beginning of 2010. Who knows what that will look like come February or May or September? For some, you will have jumped in with both feet and be volunteering to your heart’s content. For some, you’ll still be looking for just the right thing. To be honest, I don’t have a plan for how I’ll volunteer in 2010. I just know I want to be open and available when opportunities come my way. I’ll say no to some and yes to others.

But I do know that I’m more likely to accept an opportunity if I get a chance to use my interests in a way that feels possible, and at a pace I can handle.

*               *               *

I’d love it if you read about my trip to El Salvador with Compassion. And, more importantly, I’d love it if you sponsored a child. 2010 is your year!

No matter how much I wanted to, I didn’t wake up in El Salvador today. My week with Compassion International is over, and I’m grieving that.

I got home Friday night around 11pm and woke Orison (our then-4-year-old) and he greeted me very drowsily. In the morning he didn’t even remember it! But when he woke up Saturday morning, he was FIVE! That’s right, I got home just in time for his birthday.

We spent the day pretty quietly together as a family. But Abraham and I were so tired that by about 5pm we both knew we needed to get out of the house or we were going to be miserable until bedtime. In some random moment of insanity, Abraham suggested that we take Orison to ride a few rides at the Mall of America (something he’s only done a couple times and would be totally thrilled by).

So… it was Saturday night at the Mall of America. Not for the faint of heart, my friends. I don’t think we’d ever been there on a Saturday night before. It was so.stinkin’.busy. So full of people with waaaay too much.

As we were talking toward the amusement park area, I told Abraham, “I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach.”

“Literally?” He asks. (All too often I’m actually sick to my stomach, so he has to make sure….)

“No… more heartsick.”

“So, you’re sick to the stomach of your heart?”

“Exactly.”

I mean, the day before I was still seeing tin-roofed, dilapidated shacks that people call homes. The day before I was still in the thick of El Salvador and it’s poverty. And I was still there in my heart and mind. But somehow my body was travelling through the Mall of America.

Walking paradox, no?

I keep thinking about objects in space, and how they have to very carefully calculate how the object will reenter the earth’s atmosphere, or else any number of catastrophic ends will result (blowing up, exploding, catching on fire). Perhaps a trip to the Mall of America wasn’t the best reentry strategy.

I’ve already cried a few times today, my emotions just barely below the surface. I feel okay with that, though. If I were just pushing it all down and refusing to let it touch me, that would be unhealthy. My mentor tells me, “Don’t be afraid of tears. Tears are often a sign that the Holy Spirit’s at work.”

So that, for now, is my reentry strategy. Try to let the tears come as they need to. Remember what I saw. And try to avoid the Mall of America.

My El Salvador Posts

• “This Child Deserves to Know Jesus!”
• More Than Just Beautiful Faces, but Beautiful Nonetheless
• A Hero’s Welcome Given by Heroes
• Mothers Becoming Moms: Child Survival Program in Action
• You’ve Been Cordially Invited to Break Your Heart

When we were in Santa Barbara, California last week (a place that has recently been added to my mental list of “Favorite Places”), I got my first pedicure.

I know, I’m thirty years old and I’ve never had a pedicure. I honestly had no idea what the big fuss was about. But I’m happy to report that 45 minutes of pampering to my tired old feet was something spectacular that I wish could happen on a frequent and regular basis.

We strolled into this nail place around 7:30pm in the funky, fun shopping district of Santa Barbara (State Street, for those of you who know it). I was hesitant to spend the money (of course), but Abraham insisted. It wasn’t that it cost all that much, I just have issues with spending money on stuff like that. Anyway…

There were two Asian women working that night. One spoke decent English, but the other one spoke almost none. But she didn’t even need it—she was speaking some unknown foot love language that is kept secret from the population at large. She was the pedicure master.

I had a difficult time picking out what color I wanted, so picked a few finalists and had Abraham pick his favorite from those. He chose a deep burgundy red that I liked a lot. So I went with it.

The pedicure was nothing short of fantastic. There was lots of rubbing, snipping, filing, polishing… my toenails have never shone like that!

I was transfixed by the pretty color and how professional they looked. I never thought of my at-home toenail jobs as unprofessional, but I had now seen a whole new level of potential for my piggies, and I was diggin’ it! Imagine my sadness when I discovered a chip in my polish just two days later!

For all you pedicure veterans, is this normal? Obviously I can’t go back to Santa Barbara (as much as I’d like to) and get it fixed, but do pedicures usually have such a short life? Will nail salons fix it within a certain window of time?

I was definitely thinking it would last a week. Were my expectations totally overblown?

Please read the following segment in the most cheesy infomercial voice you can muster:

Ever feel like there aren’t enough hours in a day?
Do you struggle to get through your to-do list?
Are all those tasks piling up on you and making you feel perpetually behind?

Well… do we have the answer for YOU!

It’s called “Start Living in a Different Time Zone!” With “Start Living in a Different Time Zone!” there’s no need to move, just adjust yourself to the time zone one or two behind you and—BAM!—instant time! Now you can give yourself the gift you’ve always wanted… more time!

[end cheesy announcer voice]

We got back from our  California trip on Thursday night. Every night since then I’ve been up until at least 1am. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just going to start living on Pacific time.

I mean, it’s not working out as well at the morning end of things, but hey, I’m always tired then so… it’s cool.

Here’s how it works: when I wake up I’m living in Central time (real-time for me). I do all my normal tasks in my actual time zone. Then, after the kids go to bed, I just started telling myself, “Well, it’s only 6pm California-time.” I’m seriously getting so much more done!

Just wanted to impart this amazing discovery to all of you.

We’ll see how it works out tomorrow at work.