handle with care.

i went to the post office today. opened up the PO box and found a little pink slip - not the kind that sends you to the principal's office, but the kind that says, "you got a package and it doesn't fit in your mail box!" so i waited patiently in line while the postmistress helped other patrons, until finally it was my turn. i proudly presented my slip, and she handed to me a worn envelope with a big sticker on the front that read, "HANDLE WITH CARE."

i smiled at the thought of that statement - little does the United States Postal Service realize the amount of care that went into preparing the package. i hurried outside and ripped open the envelope. (i also bought a sheet of Mark Twain stamps.)

i'm not really a cryer, but as i sat outside the post office reading through the brightly colored & stickered & crayoned & markered cards from the kids at Swan Lake Vacation Bible School, i couldn't help but tear up. (i called my mom. and she cried, too.) you see, a couple of months ago, SOMObeads was contacted via facebook to partner with a VBS in the midwest as their mission of choice. we had been thinking for a while that it would be incredible to work with kids and foster in them a desire to help other kids who haven't had as many opportunities. and then we didn't move forward with it. so God took over.

after a series of emails, an eventful phone call and a frantic summer, i now sit with 111 cards in my lap and the most sincere gratitude in my heart for the children and families that set time aside to say, "i care about Gulu, Uganda."Not only did they pray for us and raise money for H.E.A.L.S., they also shared many beautiful words with us. these are just a few ...

"you are special." - Hannah

"God will always be there for you! He loves you no matter what!" - Luc

"dear Uganda, i hope u are all safe and God does to, because He made u, He listens to u, and he watches over u." - Kaylee

"Jesus loves you!" - Jessica

"i won't you to have more mune." (Translation: "i want you to have more money.") - Zoe

and little Ty, who has blond ringlets and shared a pretty snazzy crayon picture.


apwoyo. thank you. thank you. thank you.

i'm a person.

the last couple of weeks have been a real challenge. and i mean a real challenge. a series of Jonah days, dare i say? (if you catch the reference. like, i didn’t want to and i tried not to but then i got swallowed by a fish so things really aren’t working out for me right now.)

so i’ve been trying to strike a balance between being useful and productive and being good to myself. because it’s easy not to be good to yourself these days. especially if you have a heart for justice ... you know the feeling. you tend to write yourself off, because you have things pretty good after all, and it isn’t like your life is on the line every day. it isn’t like you might not eat tomorrow. it isn’t like you’ve lost everything.

but then again. you’re a person. period. you have these things – i think they’re called “needs” – that must be met. that must be acknowledged if you are to be whole. an entire being capable of loving and giving to others. and it kind of levels the playing field, doesn’t it? it’s not like i don’t have problems. i’m not super human. i need relief just like my neighbor. we could all use a little help now and again.

so i've pulled out some origami paper and gotten to work on a little crane project i’ve been envisioning for some time. and as I carefully fold creases, i let myself let go of the day, the week, the frustrations. i put my mind to the little delights of hearing a friendly voice over a long distance line, the cool night air rustling the papers on the kitchen table, the dancey beat of Santigold on the speakers and the smell of Howdy’s leftover supper. (Howdy is my housemate, childhood friend, and newest SOMO addition – you’ll meet her next week.)

we give a lot, people. and that’s a good thing. a really, really good thing. we make the world a little better. we try. we fail. we try. we succeed. and sometimes we take a little break. and that’s a good thing, too.

(and if you find yourself having a jonah day, watch Mushishi. it’s a lifesaver. but do the subtitles, because Japanese is too beautiful.)

so what's the deal with hand made?

oh, you mean besides being totally awesome?!?

i never knew a time before machines made the majority of the goods produced in the world. chickens are plucked by robots, vehicles are made by mechanical assembly lines, my clothes are sewn by the distant cousins of Edward Scissorhands. it's a little freaky when we stop to think about it.

don't get me wrong. i would be a miserable mess without modernity. i am a cowardly hypocrite. i complain about what's wrong with the world, but i don't make as many sacrifices as i should to effect change. why don't i? because they're sacrifices. they're hard. and i make the mistake of thinking like so many others, that i don't have the power to make changes that change the world.

but why does this matter, really? well, i guess it depends on who you talk to, but in my book, there's just something je ne sais quoi about owning something beautiful and knowing it was created by a fellow human being. and not just some stranger, but a woman with a life and a family and a history. and a future. a future she's inviting me to become a part of if i choose to take her hand and walk with her.

see, we're all really just looking for a connection. life sometimes feels like a series of missed opportunities - friendships that may have been life-changing had we given them the chance. but we didn't.

it's just tempting to get caught up in the whirlwind of our society - to buy something because it's cheap and easy - two highly overrated qualities in our modern world. we run from committing ourselves because it requires time and trust and risk. we give a little of ourselves and we wonder how much we'll have left in the end.

but then something so strange and wonderful happens. we share a little bit of ourselves. and we are replenished. but surprisingly, we get paid back with interest. we somehow have more of ourselves to offer than we ever had before. and suddenly, we can't stop giving of ourselves . . . we want to share more and give someone else the opportunity to share with us. it's incredibly addictive.

isn't there something magical about a friend across the ocean? someone who sends you her crafts - beads she has labored from her own imagination, with her own hands, her own heart - and entrusted them to you. and in turn, you offer her an opportunity at a life different than that she knows. but more than that, you tell her that you care what happens to her. and it's possible that "i love you" shouts louder than all the others. it tells her she matters. she's worthy. she's precious. she's loved.

so, you see? it's a big freakin' deal.