“When you make well, it is not easy.”




These are the words of Jean Marc. He gave me this nugget of information with his broken English after I had dealt with a particularly difficult situation in our school in Haiti. As I was working to bring truth to the forefront I came against some resistance, and Jean Marc did not want me to give up but to continue to work for justice and fairness and to be loyal to my cause.

Jean Marc knows a thing or two about life not being easy but choosing what is good and right.  He was born with multiple epiphyseal dysplasia, which leaves his joints disfigured and causes extreme pain when he walks.

The disease affects 1 in 10,000 newborns and many of those begin to receive treatment as soon as they are born. The disease is not curable, however, there are ways to alleviate some of the pain for younger patients. Jean Marc, however, did not see a doctor until he was 21 years old and by then it was too late for any kind of treatment.

His family lives in a rural village in Haiti where 100% of the population farms (often on the sides of steep mountains) and sells their goods in the capital city of Port au Prince, which is a 15 mile walk down the mountain.
Jean Marc knows that he will never be able to farm with his condition so he gives everything he has to his education….but what does that look like in Haiti? Handicapped buses? A wheelchair to get around?  Special considerations during tests because he needs to get up and move around during tests because of the pain? Physical and occupational therapy? None of the above.

It means he gets up at 5 AM to get to the road at 6 AM so he can get on a tap tap (basically a truck with benches in the back) before all the other students. School starts at 8 AM. He does not eat lunch most days. I got this text from him yesterday:
Hi friend! How are you? I’m not too well, because l have a pain in my abdomen , it’s very very harm.
Do I tell him the pain is from hunger? I don’t think my mouth can form those words….they are too hard for me to say. He is my son and I would do anything to make sure my boys do not go without…..but sometimes he does and I cry myself to sleep over it some nights.
But Jean Marc knows that his education is more important than anything, even food. He has amazing people here in the US who help with his education and for that he is so grateful. But he has to choose books over rice and beans. How many of us would do that? Not many. But Jean Marc gets it- his schooling will pay off in the end even if the pain in his abdomen now feels unbearable.
Jean Marc then gets home after 6 PM because he has to wait for all the other students to get on the tap taps before he can make his way on. By then his body is exhausted….but anytime I call him in the evening he is studying. He studies on vacation days, holidays….anytime he can. He craves knowledge.

 

And when he is not studying, he is making baskets for us to sell in the US to help pay for those tap taps he has to take everyday. They are not free.
Many people in Jean Marc’s situation would have turned to begging on the street, giving up, or finding illegal ways to make money. Many would have an entitled, bitter attitude because of this hard life. Jean Marc? Not a chance. Does he suffer and struggle? Absolutely. He has looked at me through tear stained cheeks many times and told me the pain is almost unbearable and life is so difficult. We have cried together over the suffering he endures but at the end of the day, he never gives up. He stays the course. He perseveres. Like he said…”When you make well, it is not easy.”
And so when the battery dies on my iPhone or my kids don’t like any of the 5 kinds of cereal in the pantry….I have perspective. And that perspective is Jean Marc. 
I don’t see anything the same since I have met him. I cringe at the mentality of so many Americans who are never content. Nothing is ever enough. Even the poorest in America do not know Haiti poor. Here we have free education, free lunches, and free transportation for our students. In Haiti they have none of these. Education is expensive and impossible for many.  If they can afford school, lunch is quite possibly out of the question. And transportation is called walking hours for many unless you cannot physically make it like Jean Marc.
So what can we take away from taking a small glimpse into the window of Jean Marc’s life? Be thankful we are not him and don’t suffer like he does? I don’t think so. I believe we take a long, hard look at ourselves, how we react to hardship, how we raise our children, and how we treat others and we decide to gain a new perspective. One filled with perseverance and a commitment to “make well” even when it is “not easy.” Choosing to do what is good and right and just no matter the cost. As we change, the world will be different.  I truly believe that.

How can we simplify?

I came home from this trip to Haiti in the worst “missionary fog” I have had to date- I have made about 16 trips in the past 5 years and never felt so displaced when I arrived back in the US.  Feeling completely disconnected to America with its Black Friday deals and elaborate Christmas trees, I have been finding myself slipping on a slope of unrest.  It is completely overwhelming to leave extreme poverty and after a 2 hour plane ride find yourself in the US with all its glitz and glamour. The distance between my two worlds is not far on a map but different in every other way imaginable. Lack and excess. It is really hard to put my brain around it most days.

Spending Thanksgiving in Haiti surrounded by sweet friends and microwave mashed potatoes and canned ham felt like the best place on earth. The majority of us decided it was the best tasting turkey day feast we had ever experienced.

Sitting on a bucket on top of a mountain surrounded by friends and family felt like the best escape from the hustle and bustle of the States.

Getting to experience Haiti with my husband and 3 of my 4 sons for the first time was amazing.

Being able to pull up 5 gallons of water from our cistern to serve each of the children in our school a cup of Tang was a blessing.

Knowing our students are getting lunch after 3 months when we could not feed them was a huge relief.

Seeing the first bathroom we have been able to afford to build for the 300 students in our school was exciting.

 Hearing my husband preach to a congregation hungry for the Word was…well, the best.

Watching my friend, Victoi, soak up the words of her Bible was humbling.

Seeing my children unite with the Haitian children around the game of soccer was very moving.

So how do I bring the lessons I learn in Haiti back with me? How am I different because of what I have learned there?

It starts with priority. What really matters?  1. Sharing the Gospel 2. Education 3. Clean water. 4. Food

Those are what matter to me for ALL people. They are essential. The rest doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. When it all comes down to it, we have more so we can be a blessing. Show love to others. Give sacrificially. Make a difference.  So my question to you is……

How can we simplify this holiday season? How can we teach our kids that Christmas is not all about them and their presents?  How can we be ok with less so others can have more?

I want to be different than the typical American family. I want to show love to the marginalized and the lonely. I want to go with less so others can have more.

Anyone else want to take the challenge?

What We Want in a Pastor

My husband has been a pastor for the 20 years we have been married.  Some denominations would not have considered him a pastor until he got his Masters of Divinity degree this year, however, I know his heart and he was a pastor.  One of our first dates was taking a group of middle schoolers to Night of Joy. All I can say is….I REALLY loved him to have stayed after that experience!

He has been a youth pastor, church planter, and now an associate pastor.  We have been in large denominational churches and small non-denominational churches.  They have all been in the same city surprisingly but the churches have all given our family a wide array of experiences in ministry.  As his wife, I have learned a lot and God has given me the grace at each stage to find my place.

I have really felt lately that I wanted to share my heart with pastors.  Why?  I have no idea. Am I reluctant?  Absolutely. But God is God and I am trying to be better about obeying that nudge of the Holy Spirit.  As I write, I cry with emotion…I guess this hits me at a heart level more than I thought it did. Not sure even what those emotions are at this point but God will show us as this unfolds.

As I was looking through some notes from a conference I attended, I saw this term- HERO SYNDROME.  As the church, we don’t need you to be our hero- blessing us with just the right Sunday morning attire and the perfect families and wives who are Mary and Martha all rolled into one perfect individual.  We have our hero- Jesus. And He was perfect but he was also humble. We need you to be humble too. Taking the low place. The role of a servant. Riding in on a donkey, not a throne of grandeur.

We, the church, also need you to be approachable. Not visible on Sunday mornings from a pulpit that you flee as soon as the message is finished but present at the coffee shop discipling others, at the auto repair shop picking up a member of the church who did not have a ride, and at the grocery store when you stop by on your way home to save your wife a trip.

We also crave your authenticity. If all your stories come from Chicken Soup for the Soul and none of them are from your real life, please re-read the previous paragraph because you are not approachable. We want a pastor who will share from the heart- brokenness and failures, as well as victories and growth. We want to know you are secure enough in yourself that you can tell us about who you really are. Not who you want us to think you are.

We deeply desire a pastor who understands that WE the PEOPLE matter more than committees, numbers, and denominational meetings. When we are in churches driven by campaigns and gimmicks, we notice and our hearts hurt.

We want your teaching to challenge us. Why do we want to come if we don’t leave knowing that God has used you to show us where we can grow?  Some of us have other people in our lives who will show us this too but some of us don’t because Sundays are the only time we make God a priority. We need you to not be scared of the fall out if you preach the TRUE Gospel and make us uncomfortable. We need to hear it and we need you to have the courage to bring it.

We need you to be real and every time you talk about your families as if they are borderline saintly, we feel a deep sense of failure. And deep down we know they are sinners too but it seems like so much of the time you try to convince us otherwise. It is not helpful to any of us.

We are already insecure about not knowing as much as you do about the Bible so when you talk down to us and quote all these different languages in an arrogant way we don’t even want to open our Bibles because it already seems too hard so we don’t want to try. We love when  you give us biblical background  and history but please remember most of us don’t know where Asia Minor is so keep it simple.

We don’t need you to inundate us with quotes from theologians because we want to know what God has shown YOU. And we certainly don’t need corny illustrations that you try to stretch to the ends of the earth to make a connection. Just say what you want to get across and God will handle the rest.

When it all comes down to it, it is all pretty simple. We need you to live your life in front of us being honest and genuine and showing humility and teachability.

We don’t need a businessman, a committee member, a CEO, an unapproachable preacher, a networker, or a Bible concordance.

We need a pastor.

When did we decide to JUST SURVIVE?

A Christian radio station has recently aired this sentiment:  “Three keys to surviving fall….” and then they add pumpkin bread or apple crisp as key #1, and then apple cider or pumpkin spice latte as key #2, and lastly the name of the radio station as key #3.  They have played it over and over again and each time the one word that stands out to me is SURVIVING. Why do I want to just survive fall? Why don’t I want to truly LIVE through this beautiful season? (And to think that the key to that journey is a piece of bread or a drink- both of which I like-but are undeserving of occupying the position of helping me through life.  But that is for another blog.)

One definition of the word “survive” is to endure or live through. Endurance is good in seasons that are difficult but what if are overall approach to life is one of just getting through it? We are missing out. On a lot. I have been through times when survive was all I could do. Post partum depression was one long waiting game, hoping I would pull out of it and survive. Literally. That I would still be alive when the anti-depressant started to work. I am thankful I did survive. Survival is understandable when circumstances stretch us to our limits for a time.
But what about when survival has become a way of life? When we check out from our own existence? We numb ourselves with shopping, volunteering, drinking, or traveling just to stay busy enough to not really think about truly living? When we are just going through the motions?
We were all created with PURPOSE. Not the kind the world tries to sell you- being beautiful, fit, and put together. I am talking about real purpose. The kind that calls us to action on someone else’s behalf. We were made to seek God and His best. But we settle for what the world sells us- BUSYNESS. Running in a million directions to meet all the standards of good parents and good spouses and somehow we lose our direction, our purpose. And we succumb to survival. Grin and bear it. Pull yourself up by the bootstraps for one more concert and one more baseball game and one more PTO meeting- none of which are bad things at all- but have we lost our way in the process?
How do we choose LIVING over surviving? I learned it from my friend, Kristen Milligan. She had terminal cancer for almost ten years and could have chosen many ways to spend it. But she understood the importance of being ALIVE even when she was dying. She reached out to everyone around her, loved the one in front of her, and started an amazing nonprofit organization, Inheritance of Hope. I used to tell her that she did more while she was dying than most people will ever do while they are living. 
To really live our lives, we have to stop numbing our pain. We have to get real with our past, our emotions, and our life circumstances and make true peace with them. Facing disappointments and hurts that we have carried like luggage with us everywhere we have gone. Not peace keeping but the kind of peace the Bible talks about- “peace that passes understanding.” And from there we move out into the world in strength.
And then we have to approach life with hope and expectancy. Maybe you feel like there is nothing to be hopeful about. I challenge you to find one thing. Even if it is super small. But please don’t make it a pumpkin spice latte or a piece of banana bread. Something like hope for a great conversation with a friend or a time of worship. God will come through for you.
And from there we need to get outside of our little lives and our little families and our little churches and BE LIGHT where there is darkness. Ask God to take you to the dark and He will. Guaranteed.
Why do we settle for surviving? Maybe because we are scared to step out and be different. Maybe we are too self absorbed. Maybe we just don’t want to. 
The world needs us to leave our comfort zone and stand for justice, goodness, and righteousness but we are too busy standing for status, money, and comfort.
Are you ready for a change?

There is no place for arrogance when it comes to education…..

These four characters could not be more different. Without selling any of them out, I will say one is laid back, one is very fiesty, one is honest as Abe and the other not so much. One loves school- every minute of it and the other three- not at all.  One loves guitar, the other baseball and writing, another the Army and the last one working and tennis. What do you do with all these differences when it comes to their schooling? So many choices.

Public school. Charter school. Magnet school. Christian classical school. Private Christian school. Between our four children, we have been exposed to all of them.  Four kids who have been through different stages with different needs and all these options fit at the time. For a season. When it was time to move on, we knew and we prayerfully made changes.

But what makes a school amazing? Teachers. Educators. Paras. Coaches. The ones who come in day after day, week after week and have the task to make learning come alive to a room of mismatched students who may or may not want to be there. The ones who teach and then coach a sport on the side. The ones who email me at 11:30 at night as they are just getting around to grading papers. The ones who welcome me into their classrooms to teach about the life cycle of the butterfly or life in the third world. Easy? No way. Is it a calling? Absolutely.

If my math is correct, (which I will not assume to be true but has nothing to do with teachers like Mr. Kendrick in 7th grade who tried his darndest to teach me), my children have had 85 different teachers between them. That is a LOT of teachers……their success academically clearly shows what they have learned from these teachers but I have recently asked the question- what have I learned from them?

Everybody has opinions about schools, but I have seen many people haphazardly stereotype schools without real knowledge about them. We generalize, make assumptions, and put them in categories which are often based on unrealistic conclusions. Why are we so quick to bash the type of schooling where our children are not? I believe it is because we desperately want to convince ourselves that the schools where are children are exceed all others to ease our minds that we are doing the right thing. So private schoolers bash public schoolers, homeschoolers bash private schoolers and we all walk around being prideful and unapproachable when it comes to education.  I have been shamed so many times by people who disagree with our choice of schools that I don’t even want to talk about it with people.  I have had people assume my children are homeschooled because they are so grounded. Huh?? There are many avenues that lead to good kids. Seriously.

We, as parents, need to stay teachable. Being arrogant will get us nowhere.  What happens when we need to change our child’s schooling and we are too prideful to do so because we have spent so much of our time slamming the very school our child now needs? Not good. At all.

Quality teachers can be found in small schools, large ones, private and public. I would say that 90% of my children’s teachers shared our Christian faith without crossing any ethical boundaries in the classroom. The ones who have not been Christians have indirectly taught my children how to respect someone with a different faith and we have had teachable moments at home about what that looks like.

The classroom is like a microcosm of the real world.  Learning to get along, sharing, waiting for a chance to speak, following directions and trying to hold to a schedule- everyday our children are challenged with mastering these life skills. Priceless lessons that we need for the rest of our lives. We need teachers willing to work patiently with our children as they learn these life skills at their own pace.

Do they all do it successfully?  No. So what about the teachers who have not been what my children have needed? I am thankful for them too. My children need to learn to adapt to different personalities and environments. We have had the school years when the pieces do not seem to be falling into place and in those moments, my children have learned to respect, even when personalities may not mix very well. Not always easy lessons, but one day it will be a boss, a co-worker, or a college roommate and they will need to know what it takes to find common ground with someone and work together.

I am not discounting that there are teachers who do a disservice to education.  Some make horrible, ethically disastrous decisions and I am certainly not supporting that kind of behavior. We have not personally faced that but I am sure some have- that is a whole other category and I am sorry for anyone affected by those teachers.

As I have thought a lot about education lately, I asked each of my kids to name their favorite teachers. They could have named many but I had to narrow it down to two each just so this does not go on all day.

Here is what they said:

Kobe:
Mr. Morgan- McKeel Academy….wrestling coach and health teacher
“Mr. Morgan was a best friend looking out for me and holding me accountable.  He was caring, spirited, and passionate about his faith.”
Mrs. Grant- Dixieland Elementary, 5th grade
“Mrs. Grant was strict with love and always there to help.”

Connor:
Mrs. Maurer- Lakeland High School, 10th grade English
“Mrs. Maurer is very smart and hardcore but I learned the most in her class.”
Mr. Cleveland- Lakeland High School, 11th grade English
“Mr. Cleveland relates well to his students and is very insightful.”

Coleman:
Mr. Strawbridge- Geneva Classical Academy, many grades and subjecs- first of all, Coleman can barely put Mr. Strawbridge into words…the only ones he could get out at first were “the bomb” and “JUST SO AWESOME!!”
Then he said, “He is very down to earth and he is young, relates well to students, and is a very capturing teacher.”
Dr. Phillips- Harrison School of the Arts, 9th grade guitar
“He is awesome because he is very determined and is an excellent guitarist so it is not hard to trust him. He is fun but strict.”

Cooper:
Mr. Groff- Cleveland Court Elementary, 5th grade
“Mr. Groff is an incredible teacher and he takes the time to explain things to his students.”
Mrs. Myers- Cleveland Court Elementary, 2nd grade
“Mrs. Myers is the best teacher because she is extremely nice and loves kids!”

The teachers who have personally taught me the most are:
Pam Norris, who taught Connor and Coleman in 2nd grade at Rochelle School of the Arts, is one of the most precious people I have ever know.  Kindness exudes from her and my boys knew she was one of their biggest fans.
Doug Smith, retired Navy and teaching math at Genenva Classical Academy, was able to somehow weave so many life lessons into math that I learned from them second hand!

Naomi Wilson….the most precious teacher I ever had. It was 2nd grade at Cleveland Court Elementary in 1977. She was there for me when I really needed her.  Losing her this year was heartbreaking.

So…..we keep on keeping on.  Knowing we don’t have all the answers and continually seeking the best options for each of our children, we must humbly choose the path best suited for them and appreciate the educators who give their lives away to them every day.

Bring on the rain…..

I have complained at least 10 times a day for the past few weeks about the constant rain.  The pool is overflowing, our road is flooded, the grass is growing too fast, baseball games cancelled, and my hair turns into a frizzy hot mess!  
Then this morning it hit me….

Water.  A necessity but a scarcity for so many.  Walking hours just to fetch water.
And then only having the amount that you can carry on your head.

Contaminated water.
Sometimes just a trickle of water coming out of the source.

Most not having a simple rain barrel.

Washing clothes and dishes conserving every drop of water.


In Haiti we have a school that has grown from 40 students 5 years ago to 300 children currently and there was not a way to catch the rain until recently.  We had a cistern built but no gutters.

Then we built a gutter system.

The cistern had been empty for months but we waited and prayed for rain.
The team was ecstatic about the new gutters but still no rain.  We waited and prayed for rain.

Then it came and it did not stop.  And we hoped it wouldn’t.  In that moment, we knew the importance of the rain.  That is sustains life.  That it is essential to living.  We were not thinking about the inconveniences of the rain or the slippery mountain mud that we would have to endure after the storm.  We were only grateful for the fresh drops of cool rain that poured from the sky.  We were content and not complaining.  
We knew the blessing of the rain.
And the next day the community had water in the cistern that saved them a 3 hour round trip hike to the water source.
So today I have a new attitude about the rain.  As I see it come down, I think about my friends in Haiti who count on it to survive. To boil their rice, to drink a few sips, and wash their few bowls and forks.
I pray one day every single person in our village in Haiti has a rain barrel.
I am hopeful that my inconveniences won’t consume my thoughts but that I would be radically changed because I have seen the need.  Once you have seen you can’t stay the same.  I slip into my little pity parties and God drags me out and reminds me that there is work to be done and there is no time for being consumed with what does not matter for eternity.
Bring on the rain.

Adoption through my eyes

This is my adoption story.  I am not a spokesperson for or against adoption and nothing I share should be taken as a generalization about adopting.  Every story is unique and has its own qualities that make it what it is.  It is time for me to share mine.  It is difficult, emotional, and some parts are hard to admit.  I know it is a piece of my own healing process no matter what else comes of it.

We adopted our son when he was almost 13 years old.  We had never talked about adopting and had not prepared ourselves for it but we felt strongly that God spoke to us to adopt this particular child. And we did. He became our oldest child by 2 1/2 years, which we never heard anyone recommend.  The “experts” say that you should take a child younger than your birth children, but we felt God was bigger than expert opinions no matter how hard it might be.  We did not have anyone really who thought it was a fantastic idea because it would clearly come with a cost to me, my husband, and our 3 children.  We also did not know a single person who had taken this on before. No one.  But we went forward because it was what we were called to do.

The next 5 1/2 years were very demanding- the adjustment, the sacrifices made by the 5 of us, and the mere exhaustion of 4 boys in our family. We only had those 5 years to train our son up for the world- we had missed his first 13 and there was so much for him to learn.  Lessons came at a cost, discipline was constant, and the push back from him was ever present. But we stuck it out.  No matter what. That is what we signed up for when we became his parents.

I have probably had a  hundred people say to me, “I bet he is so thankful he got you!” I would smile politely, without a response.  There is no response to that statement because he did not know how to be thankful. He came to us with so much hurt, disappointment, and anger that there was no way he would let down his guard and think about what he had. It would leave him vulnerable and he had been through too much to open himself up to that.

His therapist said to him, “When are you going to stop pushing your parents away?”  The answer- up until this point…..never. The pain of those first few years made  him into a survivor- a child who can make himself exist in any situation and not be bonded. Bonding is too much.  Too personal.  Too deep.

So we were left with knowing that we would not get from him what he had hoped for. A parent/child relationship. One that involves the give and take of love and acceptance. We were a means to an end for him and after he turned 18 he just left. Took off for somewhere he thought was better. No real explanation or reasoning. Leaving just because he could. Not really leaving much behind because he is a survivor and he can make life work wherever he is. It was the most crushing experience of my life. Watching my son walk out and not look back.

My son graduated from basic training in the U.S. Army and we were able to celebrate the graduation with him.  We were so proud and so excited for his future. We were overwhelmed with his courage and strength to work so hard for something so honorable. We got back from his graduation two days ago and I was beaming with pride. He had become a respectable, honest, young man with credibility and integrity. But I still did not have a son who wants me to be his mom. That crushes me deep to the core. It burns from the inside out.

But here is where my journey has led me.  The picture of this angel is called the “angel of freedom.” I found it today and it spoke volumes to me. In order to be free, I have to let him go and stop trying to find something in him that he does not have to give away. It is not fair to him and it only hurts me. I pry and almost beg for answers I want to hear from him. I wait for the gratitude, love, and acceptance. And then I am devastated when it is not there. 

I pray God will give me freedom from my expectations. Freedom from the constant disappointment that I don’t have with him what I have with my birth children.  We cannot give away what we do not have. 

I have prayed for 6 years now that it would be “well with my soul.”  It is not yet but I am hoping that as I grow I will find the peace that passes understanding. That will be a time of amazing freedom.

It is just hair…..to me.

I can look at pictures and know about how old I was by my hairstyle.  Here I am in the 80’s sporting the BIG hair.  All I can say is WOW.

Then college days….

Wedding…..

Babies…..
and NOW……
So much has changed!  It is with great hesitation that I post ANY of those pictures from the younger years and my children would die if they saw them but I do so with a greater purpose- loving people.
I have learned a lot since I turned 40…..and I have been set free by the realization that 
appearances really don’t matter.

The days of hair spray, Sun-in, and perms are OVER!  Now it is a good day if I get out the diffuser on my hair dryer.  I confess that I do color my hair slightly and get it trimmed……if I did not like my hairdresser so much I might not even do that.
So where am I going with this?  IT IS JUST HAIR- TO ME.  But what could it mean to someone else?  Millions of children suffer from hair loss because of cancer treatments or alopecia. Some of them feel like they can rock the bald look or a cute hat but others want to have hair- real hair.  
 That is where we come in.
See, my hairdresser decided I should grow my hair out because it would look better-  I am of the thought process that short hair is less to fool with so the shorter the better.  I told her I would grow it out under one condition….that I donate it when it grows to 12 inches.  There began the journey.
As you can see, I am at about 4 inches now- if it is straightened and pulled.  Ok maybe 3 inches.  I figure that in one year it will be 12 inches if I am nice to it.  But I don’t want to just donate my hair- I want to get enough people together to make at LEAST one wig, which is 12 ponytails and $1500 to subsidize all the costs that go along with providing a child with a wig.
I started doing my research and came across Children With Hair Loss. It is a small non profit organization that makes wigs for children for FREE.  Did you know a lot of other organizations charge for the wigs?  I called them on the phone and had the best chat ever with one of their volunteers.  
It is that simple- 12 ponytails and $1500 and a trip next summer to meet them in person in Michigan. 
Why did I pick this project?  Because long hair drives me crazy and it is one way I can die to self and give it away.  Those who know me understand I do not do this without whining- it is hot, it is frizzy, it is a pain, it is….blah, blah, blah.  This whole experience has been one of God changing how I see things…..thanksgiving that I can grow hair.  That I have a shower to wash it in.  That I have the utmost privilege to give it away.
Children With Hair Loss takes color treated, bleached and gray hair!  I need at least 12 people from anywhere in the world to join me in this cause.  You have a year to grow it out…..and God will take care of the rest of the details.
Will you join me?  Really- it is just hair.  It grows back.  It has noteternal value.  And someone needs it a whole lot more than you do.
Please leave a comment if you are IN and I will get in touch with you.  
12 people. 12 inches.