300 brownies

There are things that bless me insanely...this is one of them. I had a sweet, sweet woman make 300 brownies for an event we have at church. Not prompted or requested, just a "hey I thought you could use this" thing. grateful for 300 brownies. 

In Defense of my Fangirl Passion

Inspired by Justin Roberts's recent post. This has actually been rolling around in my head for a really long time, and I'm just getting it down on paper/blogpost. A lot of people like to knock professional wrestling. To an extent, I understand some of the problems people have with it. People don't understand the whole transparency of the fourth wall thing that happens with wrestling, so they don't get it. And they don't get the fans, the business anything. So they knock it as 'fake,' they call the fans stupid or any other list of names.
I won't echo a lot of what Justin Roberts said in his post, but let me tell you about the impact it has on my sister.

If you now me in real life, you know I'm the oldest of seven kids (before anyone says "Didn't your parents know what causes that", five of them are adopted). My youngest sister, Ellie, is a lot of things.

She is a spitfire, full of personality.

She is goofy and sassy.

She is determined and tough, stubborn and opinionated (as Darth Vader learned).

She has an eye for catching pictures at 'the right moments'
Like this one of our friend Josh

Or this one of Ryback

                          

Or this one of Roman Reigns (okay, this is good in her mind...she calls it "Sassy Roman", please don't ask, there's no excuse for this child).

                               

The thing you might not know about Ellie is that, in addition to being a beautiful, sassy, strong willed, loving and amazing little girl, she also has spina bifida. If you don't know what SB is, it's basically a hole in your spinal cord that keeps the nerves from forming properly. She has to wear braces to keep her feet and ankles stable. She has to wear a back brace because she has scoliosis in addition to the Spina Bifida. She has special shoes that fit her braces and help her stay stabilized as she walks. She uses crutches and sometimes a walker to help her get around. Her bladder doesn't function normally and she has to use a catheter 5-6 times a day. We've had surgeries, doctor's visits, falls, scrapes, etc.
All that extra hardware leads to this: She looks different than other kids. It takes her a little longer to get places, and she can't play all the games at PE sometimes. 

When she was younger, around 1st grade, she started noticing HOW different she was, and she was upset. She'd have periods of depression where we couldn't get her to smile, sometimes for strings of days. One night, just as a random thought, I decided to watch old Smackdown episodes on Hulu. She looked over my shoulder and was immediately hooked. She cheered when Kane threw someone down in a chokeslam, and squealed when Sheamus Brogue Kicked someone else. She even wore all black to one show so she could be dressed 'like Kane', and would've painted her face like an Uso "if they'd been there to see it".  If she had to rank her top whatever, they'd be Kane, Sheamus, Goldust and Stardust, Daniel Bryan, AJ Lee, Dean Ambrose, the Usos, Roman Reigns, and Bray Wyatt/the other Wyatt Family guys. 

We've been to two shows together. Alberto Del Rio blew her a kiss, and she still brags about it. Lillian Garcia took the time to speak to her for just minute, and she decided then and there that she wanted to be a ring announcer. Justin Roberts waved at her and she giggled for twenty minutes afterwards. Vickie Guerrero said "Hi princess!" and I've never seen her smile so big. The story that gets  me is probably something Sheamus doesn't even remember doing. We were walking around a football game and she heard someone, a grown woman, tell the person she was on the phone with, "Oh my god an ugly little disabled girl almost stepped on my toe." We got to the car and she looked upset, then she smiled and said "I'll just get Sheamus to Brogue Kick her". I nearly died laughing and posted it to twitter, where he re-tweeted it. We got so many replies and encouraging messages from that, and she knew that people were going to accept her just as she was. 

She wants to be a ring announcer like "Justin and Lillian", or a commentator "like Renee on NXT and mean ol' JBL". Being a wrestling fan showed her that, even though she might not be able to do some things, there's still an outlet to be involved in something she loves. The small interactions she's had with wrestling personalities, which I'm sure none of them remember, still leave her talking about them and how happy they made her. But here's the thing that i think makes the difference for her: Kane is a different sort of character. Bray Wyatt sure as heck stands out, as do Luke Harper (personal favorite, just throwing that in there) and Erick Rowan. Sheamus doesn't look like everyone else, and neither does Daniel. AJ doesn't dress like the other divas. Goldust and Stardust sure as heck stand out. The Usos and Roman Reigns also have things that make them stand out, and Dean Ambrose is just his own person. Through wrestling, she gets to see that it's okay to be different, that it's okay for her to stand out and to march to the beat of her own drum. For that, I'm thankful. I don't know if she would've learned that had it not been for WWE.

So, while i get the whole misunderstanding of it, don't knock wrestling or wrestling fans. It has its flaws, like all companies do, but look at the good. Look at the fact that John Cena holds the record for granting the most wishes ever (and a heck of a lot more than Justin Bieber, you can have that tid-bit for free). Think of the B.A.Star campaign against bullying...and then think that somewhere, there's a little girl practicing calling wrestling matches with her Rumblers, knowing, through her favorite people, that it's okay for her to be different and that she can do great things just the way she is. 

26

I've been on the earth for 26 years. I hope I've made a difference

50 Pounds of Chicken Salad

Recently, I've been in the process of taking over the WMU (Women's Missionary Union for my non-Southern Baptist friends) and one of the tasks is planning the mother-daughter luncheon.
I'm not a planner by nature.
I'm not good at these things.
I also don't know how to make 50 pounds of chicken salad.
Or how many boxes of jello it takes to feed 100+ people.

But I'm thankful.
I'm thankful for the ladies that came to help cook.
I'm thankful one of them has the decorating know-how to make things look gorgeous.
I'm thankful that my church babies were happy with their blue jello.
I'm thankful that a couple of my 'girls' were ready and willing to help.
I'm thankful for the wisdom of the past generations (mostly the wisdom that says to not plate chicken salad until 30 minutes before lunch).
I'm thankful for friends that will help me untangle the belt of my dress.
I'm thankful for sweet inspirations to remind me who I do it all for.
I'm thankful for reminders that it's okay for me to get frustrated, as long as I don't get angry.
I'm thankful for the smiles I saw on the faces of the women.
I'm thankful that I got to spend time talking to several non-members. I love people.
I'm thankful that God provided the speaker we needed to hear.
I'm thankful for the older ladies who didn't criticize, just offered suggestions and did their best to help me.
I'm thankful for a cousin who can sense my stress and jumps in to help without being asked.

And I'm thankful someone knows how to make 50 pounds of chicken salad.

You Don't Know Her

That single, teenage mother in the corner of your church, your classroom, etc? You don't know her.

You don't know that she's seen more life than either of us will ever see.

You don't know that she's fought to have a good  life for her child.

You don't know that she works hard, very hard, to keep her grades up so she can have a chance at college and give her child a better life.

You don't know that she gets upset, just like any other person, when people write her off. 

She is a person. She loves. She's been hurt. She's been knocked down, and she's gotten back up.

It's not your place to judge her. It's not your place to keep bashing her because you don't agree with something that happened in her past. 

It's your place to build her up. To equip her to face a future that's not going to be easy. To encourage her walk with Christ. 

Teachers, Youth Leaders, everyone, when we're gifted with teenage mothers in our rooms and classes, we're given a gift. They have the ability to reach more kids than we ever will, and teach us things that we'll never learn otherwise. Their value is immeasurable. Their insight is invaluable. Don't take them for granted. And for the sake of all things holy, DON'T TEAR THEM DOWN. 

Dear Little Me

(This has been rolling around in my head for a while, after an experience at a chinese place that made me want to cry)

Dear Little Me,
I saw you recently. You were skipping around the buffet lines at the Chinese place, mumbling to yourself about whether you wanted soup or salad or jello or dumplings or that chicken that looked like it had peanut butter stuff on it. I deftly suggested the dumplings because you could get jello and salad anywhere and you mentioned how you could eat 'like, 25' and not get full.
I saw you again, getting chicken on a stick and beef, and avoiding the broccoli because 'everyone knows cooked broccoli is icky'. that was the first time he yelled at you, and I felt my heart break. the yell that pierced an entire eatery. you brushed it off, just as I would have, and skipped back to your mama. The second time I heard it was when you nearly bumped into me. My heart shattered for you, little me, because I watched your eyes break as he screamed at you. Even with your little smile, your eyes broke and I know a piece of your heart broke too.
We met again at the ice cream counter; you were wondering about if you should get the rainbow sprinkles, chocolate sprinkles, or cookie dough pieces. I said you should do all three, just because. You laughed when you told me it looked like a rainbow threw up on your ice cream. Then he yelled at you again when you skipped back, making a comment about how you were going to be 'big as a house' and trip and make a mess.
Oh. Little me. My heart hurts for you, because i know your pain. I know how your spirit gets destroyed when things get yelled at you about your weight, your imagination, your perky attitude...but don't let them hold you down. you are still beautiful. You are still wonderful, imaginative, and great. Little me, you are fantastic. Your mind works in ways that others can't fathom, and certain people, even some of the ones who are charged with fostering that creativity, that imagination, won't like it because they don't get it. And that's okay. They don't have to like the way your mind works. You're worth so much more than they know. Don't let them steal your shine, little me. Keep on being you. Be wonderful. Skip everywhere you go. make it look like a unicorn puked on your ice cream.
And don't change. For the love of God, don't ever change.

Babysitting Survival Guide (Part One)

Okay, I've been told that I need to write this for a while.
I've been babysitting since I was about 13, plus I'm the oldest of seven (oldest kid=built in babysitter). So here's part one of, basically, Whit's helpful hints to survive babysitting.

1. Know the kiddos, at least a little. They need to be familiar with your face. Imagine that you're around 2-4 and all of the sudden mama's leaving for date-night with daddy and some strange person is walking into your house and mama leaves. I'd suggest doing like one family I sat for did: Pick a day with your family and let that be a 'getting to know you session' between you and the child. Just play. Find bubbles. Watch their favorite show. Make a snack. Play their favorite game. It's simple, and it should help save you some of the initial awkwardness...and hopefully, if the child's a little older (like around 3-5), they'll see your face and associate you with fun. 
2. Talk to your parents. This seems like a no-brainer, but I've sat for some parents (none currently, mind you!) that were poor communicators. Be sure that they make their expectations clear. If there's something you're not sure of, ask. Some parents have mom-brain or dad-brain and totally forget some things. Be sure you know about medication schedules, sleep schedules, allergies, certain eccentricities (if they HAVE to have the red cup to go to sleep or if their room needs to be perfect before they go to bed), what they can and can't have for a snack (like if they can't have drinks with caffeine) or anything else. Make a list if you  have to, or ask the parents to make a list. I'd say DEFINITELY make a list if there are serious allergies to things like bee stings, peanuts, red dye, etc, just so you remember.
3. Know your surroundings. Let's be honest: Explosive diarrhea happens. When it happens, it's best to be prepared. Where are the spare pajamas? Where are the extra pairs of underwear? Where's the immodium or the pedialyte? I'd suggest getting the parents to let you know where certain things are in the event of an emergency. That includes both of their cell numbers (several moms I know are famous for leaving their own cells in the car during dinner when they don't carry a purse), and possibly other emergency numbers. Also get them to tell you how things work...some tv's (most tv's) don't just have a simple on-off switch...I've seen some that require a voodoo ceremony to switch them from the DVD mode to satellite mode. Get someone to show this to you. Know where the trashcan is if you have little kids (diapers sitting on the counter are not fun). Little things like that make a difference in stress-levels. 
4. Some things aren't worth a battle. Blatant disobedience is one thing. A kid wanting lemonade at supper instead of Coke (especially if there's lemonade in the fridge) is not a big deal. Pick your battles. Save yourself some energy. 
5. Know the rules. This can go some with number 2, but it's important enough to go by itself. If mama doesn't let them have laffy taffy and they want laffy taffy, say no (plus you have to deal with the stuck-in-the-teeth aftermath). If mama doesn't let them play on their tablets/i-pads/what have you but for an hour, enforce that. Respect is earned; you get more when you try to keep the rules as close to mom and dad's as possible. 

So that's it for now, I'll probably do another part to it at some other point! 

A journey through making popcorn with Whitney.

Get some kernels.

Get a pot (and a lid so you don't burn yourself)

Some cooking oil.

Pour about an eighth of an inch of oil in the pot, then
Turn it on medium heat.

Spilling kernels on your computer is optional. 

Tormenting the cat is also optional. 

When you think it's hot enough, throw one of your little kernels in there (okay don't throw but you know what I mean, right) 

When it looks like this, you're ready to rock. 

(Note: It popped out of the pot. Don't try to grab your first baby kernel. You will hurt yourself)

Next thing you're gonna do is lay out a layer of kernels on the bottom of your pot....depending on how big it is will depend on how much you use, so measuring is like no good here..plus, I'm southern. We just pour until it looks right)
Slam the lid on that sucker (Please, use a lid and don't hurt yourself):

And then you shake. Shake shake shake senora. Shake it don't break it cause it took your mama nine months to make it. Shake ya tailfeather. Not your tailfeather, but shake the pot. use the handles. If you don't shake it it's gonna burn and then you have burnt popcorn and no one likes that...well, there's probably someone but that person is also probably a little weird. 

It's gonna look like this when you're done. Yay! Half the battle is won!

Next thing you'll prolly wanna do is throw it in a tupperwear or rubbermaid thingy: 

And shake some topping on it...unless you're making something like caramel corn...in that case, you go on with your bad self. I like topping mine with either salt or with cinnamon and sugar.  

Final step: Enjoy your snack. In your Chipper Jones shirt if you need to. 

And now you know how to make popcorn in a pot. THis might be helpful if you have something against microwave popcorn and you want to control how it tastes, butter levels, etc. 

I'm a really crappy Wednesday night teacher.

That's my open confession. I'm a terrible, god-awful Wednesday night teacher.
I teach 3, 4, and 5 year olds on Wednesday nights at church. And I'm pretty sure I'm terrible at it. I took over for a lady who was deathly ill for many months. Now...I feel that this is vital to mention: I'm not called to 3, 4, and 5 year olds. You know what kinds of kids I like? I like youth kids. We can have conversations about the tough stuff, like dealing with parents who aren't believers, or how to stay pure in a dating relationship...wanna know what I talk about with 3, 4, and 5 year olds? It ranges, friends. "My doggie threw up and it was pink and smelled like popcorn." "My mama made some stuff and it was nasty but daddy said we still had to eat it." "my poop smelled funny today."
I sometimes think I just don't have it together when I'm in there.

Maybe it's the screaming that they're doing when I've said "Okay, let's quiet down."
Or the fact that they won't stay in their seats.
Or that I have to regularly take one to his mother.
Or that i have a couple who cry every week.
Or that I can't get through a lesson or an example without 5-10 side stories and questions.
Or that occasionally I just say "Let's watch a movie" because I don't know if my nerves can take doing a full lesson and craft.
Or that I've been known to tell my helpers "I need a minute" and I go pray/cry/spin in circles/combination of all three until i have myself together.
Or that when our deacon that counts our attendance walks by, he's heard me say loudly "PULL UP YOUR PANTS JESUS DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN WE SHOW OFF OUR BOOTIES IN PUBLIC"
Or that I have one kid who I have to constantly ask to repeat what he's said because I can't understand him.

Nope. I don't have it together. And I've been praying for a REALLY long time that God would completely heal the original teacher of that class so she could take back over. Selfish, right? And recently, my loving Father showed His ever-so-stubborn child how selfish it really is. He reminded me that it doesn't matter what i think...but what He thinks. I was reading through 2 Corinthians again, and got hit in the face with 9:7... Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. I wasn't being very cheerful. I was giving my time reluctantly. Ouch. That's not the commitment God asked for me to have.

I have to think of the blessings.
The one who I have to walk to his mom gets it...he knows he's important to God, that God has a plan for his life, and that we have a big God who can take care of our big problems.
One of my 'criers' came right to me and sat in my lap as if that's what she did every day.
Two that I struggled to connect with initially run through the door to hug me.
One that I struggle to understand likes to hug me at the most random times.
Another of mine that I struggled to connect with likes to sit in my lap and kiss my cheek at the most random, yet needed times.
I get blessed when they sing the Fruits of the Spirit song to me and tell me that they have the apple (love) in their hearts or that their friends need peaches (kindness is a peach).
I get blessed when they say 'I'm taking my picture to daddy', because several of them have dads who aren't active in church.

So, maybe I don't have it together. Maybe counter deacon is still going to walk by me while i'm reminding someone that Jesus doesn't like it when they show their booties off in public. Maybe I'll still hear about their poop. But they're getting it. And I might be a crappy teacher. But I have a big God, and as long as I'm doing what He's asked me to do and doing it selflessly, he'll be there to guide and help me.

A Facebook Challenge That I Can Actually Do

My dear friend Alyssa posted this: "To start this year off in a loving way I'm participating in the "Pay-it-Forward Initiative" - The first five people who comment on this status with "I'm in" will receive a surprise from me at some point in this calendar year- anything from a book, a ticket, a visit, something home-grown or made, a postcard, absolutely any surprise! There will be no warning and it will happen when the mood comes over me and I find something that I believe would suit you and make you happy. These five people must make the same offer in their FB status and distribute their own joy. Simply copy this text onto your profile, (don't share) so we can form a web of connection and kindness. Let's do more nice and loving things for each other in 2014, without any reason other than to make each other smile and show that we think of each other."

Naturally, I'm in and posted it to my status. I have 7 replies, and i'm an overachiever, so I'll do it, and i'm going to post pictures of the gifts/things/stuff i'll be sending to my six...which I'm upping to 8 because reasons. My six are:

1. Alyssa, the friend who posted it because I feel like we should reconnect and this is perfect.
2. Dana, a friend from church who actually expects an honest answer when she asks how I am.
3. Joann, an older lady from church who I'm kind of surprised commented.
4. Katie-Beth, a teen I also know from church who probably could use some extra love.
5. Lindsey, my cousin.
6. Heather, a friend from high school
7. Stephanie, a friend from church camp and a military wife.
8. Elaine, a former teacher/drama coach.

Just added: Debbie, a friend of mom's from church who named mom the legal guardian of her girls when they were teenagers (they're older than me). 

So that's the thing, I have a couple of ideas on about three of them, the others I'm just lost on, but I Have a year to do it!