Leftovers

By Michelle (Graceful, Faith in the Everyday)

Launching the Shop-Not Project felt good. When I embarked on my year-long hiatus from shopping last September, I felt noble…until a few months into it, that is, when I realized the flaw in my plan:

I was giving God the leftovers.

The Shop-Not Project works like this: My husband and I agree on a monthly personal cash allotment for each of us. I don’t spend any of that cash on clothes, jewelry, shoes, makeup or accessories – I don’t shop for any personal items for twelve months. At the end of each month, I take what’s left from my personal cash and tuck it into the envelope marked “Shop-Not Money.” At the end of the year, I donate what’s been saved to Compassion.

Sounds like the perfect plan, right? Like I said, noble and good. But read that second to last sentence again: At the end of each month, I take what’s left from my personal cash…

I take what’s leftover and give it to God. 

What I give to God depends on my spending habits for the month  – how many times I eat dinner out with friends, how many “necessary” items I purchase for home décor, how many low-fat grande mochas I sip. Some months I give most of my personal allotment to God; some months only $10 or $20. One month I gave nothing at all.

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Fingerprint Friday: Our Day of Seven

By Ginny (MAD21)

My oldest turned seven the end of January. If you hang around her for any length of time, you'll learn that she loves birthdays. Note: LOOOOVES birthdays. Not just her own either. In her head, she starts planning for her birthday like, a year in advance. All the things she'd love to do, and the friends she'd like to invite. She loves her people. A lot. And she likes to dream.

This year was going to be a good one. They were calling for snow (she loves snow), her birthday was on the third Wednesday of the month, which is a big deal because that is the quarter bake at school (they take a quarter to school and buy a sweet treat at lunch), AND her teacher does cool stuff when it's the kids birthdays, AND we had planned out what she wanted us to make and bring for a snack, AND she knew where she wanted to go for her birthday dinner, AND AND...

Then, it happened. She got sick. The one thing that could ruin it all. The poor thing. I felt so bad for her. We got the snow, almost a foot of it. Which closed school for a few days. No school, no quarter bake, no special birthday with her classmates. Worse, because she was sick, she couldn't go out and play in the snow. Let's just say it was a very long few days.

Then, I got an idea. I said, "You know what we should do? We should have a day of seven!" My oldest loved the idea. So I helped her make a list of seven things we would do to celebrate her seventh year. And so I give you:

Our Day of SEVEN

Read SEVEN books.

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Organize This! Helping Your Child Let Go and De-Clutter

By Stephanie Calahan (Calahan Solutions, Inc)

Often when I am giving presentations or working with work-at-home moms, I’m asked this question:

Q:  Isn’t it easier to just get rid of a child’s toys?  If I see that they are not playing with them, what is the harm in just making them “disappear”?

Give a man a fish and he will have food for the day.
Teach a man to fish, he has food for a lifetime…

When my son was about 2 years old, we started teaching him how to make choices about his belongings.  He was very into picking toys, books, clothes, etc. that could go to another kid that did not have as much as he did.  He was excellent and empathetic, and we thought, "Wow, this is going to be easier than we thought."

At about the same age he was a complete and total Elmo fan. He had all kinds of Elmo things.  There was one in particular -- it was a simple stuffed Elmo.  Nothing fancy to him, but Elmo was his best buddy and went everywhere with him.

Well, over time, he of course, lost interest in Elmo.  When he was about 5 years old, we were in his play room in the basement going through his things.  Out popped Elmo.  Since he had not played with stuffed toy in at least a few years, I suggested that Elmo should go to a new home.  This is somewhat of how the conversation went...

"NO!!!!!"  he screamed, quite passionately.  "I don't want him to go...." he whimpered.

So I tried to reason with him first...

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One Word At A Time: Sacrifice

By Ginny (MAD21)

Something happened last week that made my heart ache. I was sitting in the waiting room while my girls were in gymnastics class. The room is usually pretty chaotic with kids running around and parents coming and going. I was concentrating on my book so I wasn't listening to any particular conversation going on around me. But suddenly I found myself tuning into a woman sitting near me. It was one of those moments when it seems that everything slows down and the room goes quiet except for the thing that got your attention.

I looked up to see who was talking. It was a mother I had seen there before. She is one of those ladies who once she starts talking to you, you are committed to listening to for the duration of your time together. Don't get me wrong, she's a nice lady, but she obviously loves to talk and will do so as long as she thinks she has someone's attention.

We had all been in the waiting room for some time, probably about half an hour. The woman had been talking to the lady sitting next to her and to anyone else within earshot. I vaguely remember hearing about car repairs and sick kids, but that isn't what really what made me take notice of their conversation. I'm not sure what they were talking about that led them to this particular topic, but she began to describe an experience she and her family had when visiting a church.

I didn't hear why they were at the church, but it seemed like a recent visit. She liked having her young children go to Sunday school to help teach them morals. I think this is what initially got my attention. As a person who has worked in Children's Ministry for years and is passionate about planting seeds of faith in their hearts, this really bothered me. I'm glad the mother likes to take her children to Sunday school, but there is more to God and faith than good morals. However, that wasn't what upset me.

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The Gospel According to Seuss

By Michelle (Graceful, Faith in the Everyday)

When my son Rowan settles on a favorite book, he likes to read it five, six, ten times in a row, night after night after night. Most recently it’s been The Lorax. I glimpse him heading toward the bed, cornflower blue cover of The Lorax wedged under his arm, and I grit my teeth and commence meditative breathing.

I admit, I don’t love Dr. Seuss. All that silly rhyming and nonsensical tongue-twisting syntax. The googly-googs and the moodly-woobs, the wiffle-wambas and the schissle-schambas. It’s all just too much for me. Really, after a long day of work and dishes, laundry and homework, epic dust-bunny battles and sorting stacks of mail and backpack debris, I’m expected to perform linguistic cartwheels, too? I’ll be frank:  I’ve been known to slide The Lorax, Green Eggs & Ham and The Birthday Bird beneath the dusty, crumby underbelly of the couch, where no man or child dares go. I’ve also carted a few in the Seuss oeuvre to the Goodwill. Let some other mother, the one with infinite patience and a more limber tongue, deal with Thing One and Thing Two.

Last week, though, during the 101^st reading of The Lorax, the good Doctor got me thinking. In between descriptions of Brown Bar-ba-loots and Truffula fruits, I read this:

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