The bread lady, the dollar store glasses and why I know that humor needs not share a language . . .

Still talking about the fantastic trip, folks, but The Wednesday Pop will return!  I want to tell these Nicaragua stories while they are filing past in my brain.  I want to do justice to the awesomeness I witnessed.  Thanks for hanging in with me.

What do the bread lady and dollar store glasses and humor have in common?  What's a bread lady?  All good questions, my friends.  Here goes . . .

In Padre Ramos, the lovely village on the northwest Pacific coast of Nicaragua where we were staying, people would amble by from time to time.  Sometimes it would be precious children carrying buckets to gather water who would travel back by toting their heavy buckets back home.  Sometimes it would be folks coming by to say, "Hello" or dropping by to see what was going on at the Youth Ranch.  Sometimes it was Andre, the sweet elderly man with the delightful smiling eyes, peddling his bananas and huge mangos.  And, sometimes it was Maria, who we called the bread lady.

I didn't think much about Maria upon her first few visits, other than noticing her strength and determination and wondering where she fell between 85 and 100 years old.  I saw her loaded down with her home-baked breads, hoping that we would buy some and lighten her load.  I didn't know where she lived or who she spent her days with or what made her heart happy and sad.  I didn't think much about her.  I considered her an interesting part of the local color and left it at that.  She was picturesque, ambling along with her tired old feet in worn out flip-flops, but I didn't work much to get to know her.

But that all changed with the dollar store glasses.  (Dollar Store glasses don't usually change things, do they?)  You see, we were having a blast creating a photo booth for the kids at the 'rancho.'  I had brought along all sorts of funny glasses and such and we had used a polka-dotted sheet on a turned up table for our backdrop.  They didn't take long to warm up to the idea that I would photograph them as long as they could last, coming up one at a time with a crazy face and a few props.  It was a blast!  It was a moment when you realize that your idea worked and the giggles and wide eyes of the kids was like a balm to this sometimes-crazy world.  I was in heaven.  The kids were laughing out loud, and I was already dreaming of creating little pieces of this day for them to keep in their homes forever.  It was a good time.  My camera holding hand was close to falling off and my squinting eye was tired of the view finder, but I was happy.  It had worked.

Finally, the kids began to slow down, and it was clear that the photobooth was about to close.  Maria, the bread lady, had wandered up and was busy talking with a few of the ladies.  I was readying to head out for a refreshing dip in the ocean.  We were almost finished.  I felt full.  But I had no idea I was about to fill up even more.

I finally grabbed a seat in one of the cheap plastic chairs to relish in the glory of a fun time, when I heard the crowd laughing hysterically.  I looked towards the cheer in time to see the bread lady smiling sneakily in the largest, most gaudy pair of the dollar store glasses!  I loved it!  We all loved it!  She really loved it!  She had beat even the giddy delight of the little children and brought us all to our knees with laughter and joy.  She had transcended her hard, hard life and thrown us all up into a place where laughter carries away everything else.

Everyone was talking and laughing, and the excitement in our little part of that beautiful country was happy, to be sure!  Maria, the bread lady, was all achatter, though I have no idea what she was saying.  I ran over to begin snapping photos of her and we laughed and laughed and laughed.  I believe she tried on every pair of cheap, crazy glasses we had.  We hugged and slapped each other's shoulders and smiled and smiled.  I was telling her how funny she was and how incredibly beautiful she was and what a strong, strong woman she was.  I don't know what she was telling me, but I know I felt love.  We touched and hugged and laughed and laughed together.  Our laughter together transcended reality.  It moved past struggles and what we don't know about each other.  It rose above the monotony of her days and made my day sweeter than I could have imagined.

Shared laughter does that, huh?  We can't laugh all of the time, because everything isn't funny.  But when we can laugh - and laugh together - isn't it beautiful?  Doesn't it remind us of how alike we all are, when the world tries to tell us otherwise?  I believe so, and I'll take this moment with me always as a reminder that laughter is ours to revel in together.  I am thankful beyond words for the moment I turned my head to see that sweet Maria's eyes light up with a twinkle that said, "I am funny, no matter what language you speak!"  I will never forget it.

I spend my days working to make images tell the story of moments.  We can't ever do it exactly, but it's worth trying.  I hope when you see these photos you will work to hear the hearty laughter, the quiet giggles, the excitement and the moment when folks let go of worry and reality and just had fun - together.  Thanks be to God, and may we always remember the power of laughing with each other - those we know well and those we are yet to love.

What's the chance of this?

I'm so excited at the moment, I can barely get the words on the computer!  Something so amazing is unfolding, that I want to share it.

On Monday, I leave for a one week trip to Nicaragua.  I'm delighted to be able to do it.  It has been a long time since I've been on a trip like this, and I know how incredibly life-changing these kinds of trips  can be.  I'm ready to meet new people and I want to show folks living a completely different life that friends in another part of the world care very much about them and I want my children to remember seeing their Mama taking trips like this.

I guess my trip is called a mission, though I'm sometimes funny about that word.  I don't ever want to be part of a group that visits people in their homeland and plays the part of the 'Smart American that knows how it should be done.'  I don't like that idea.  I am more comfortable with the idea of my meeting new friends where they are, getting to know them and letting them get to know me.  I like the idea of spreading love by feeding or laughing or dancing or learning or telling stories.  I love that idea.  (We'll be working along with TOGETHER WORKS NICARAGUA.  Check them or find them on facebook.)

So, I have excitedly anticipated this trip.  I look forward to showing the love of God by meeting new people to love and laugh with; and, of course, I look forward to taking photos of the beautiful souls I'll meet.  All of that, coupled with my self-imposed challenge to leave my big camera at home and shoot only with my iphone, has been enough.

But . . . in the last few days, an amazing turn of events has occurred.  I love it!

A couple of months ago, I ran across something on the internet about an organization to empower women and children in struggling areas to tap into their creativity, gain self confidence and help their villages by learning photography.  I was immediately intrigued, but lost the webpage as I went off to tackle one of those minor emergencies that comes up from time to time in a real life - a child in need or a telephone call or some such thing.  The story stuck in my mind, though.

After I realized that I would be joining my friend on this trip to Nicaragua, I thought back and wondered about trying to find the group I had read about.  I kept it on my 'list' but continued to let other things slip in front of my investigation.  Oddly enough, my fascination with Instagram (my username is deanamg if you are fascinated, too) brought the whole thing back to me!  I happened to run across two words that struck me - picture change - and I KNEW that was the name of the organization I had read about earlier.  I was delighted.  I quickly began to investigate to find out more, and I hope you will, too!  Find it here - PICTURE CHANGE and also on facebook.  I have a feeling you'll be as swept up in the stories as I was.  Check out the blog - amazing things are happening for people in far corners of the world.  Check out the cool shop (http://picture-change.org/store/) and see the cool stuff available that is changing people's lives.  I dare you to read the stories on the blog, and not be moved by what Kate, Picture Change's founder, is up to.  Wow.

Now I'll speed up the story a bit. . .

• I find out the area where we'll be visiting.
• My friend who has been before tells me that the young woman who translates was given a computer recently.
• I find Picture Change again, and begin to read about a woman named Rosa who was a Picture Change student and is making strides in her life in Padre Ramos, Nicaragua.  
• I hear my friend call the name Rosa, and I find it a neat consequence.
• I decide to send a message over facebook to Picture Change and let them know how swept away I am with what they are doing and to let them know I'd love to do anything I could while I'm in Nicaragua.  
• Last night, I receive a message back - a wonderful, newsy note from Picture Change, explaining that Rosa where I'm going is the SAME Rosa that is a Picture Change student!  
• I get news on the supplies that Rosa needs for the computer and printer (given to her by Picture Change) and today I purchased them to take with me on the trip!
• Kate discussed ways that I could help Rosa and others while I'm there with photography lessons and how to further the cause.  

This whole thing has amazed me!  I thank God for this chance and for the ways that these things came together.  I didn't sleep much last night - I spent a lot of time imagining how exciting it is to have the chance to share something I love this much with new friends in another place in the world.  I'm thrilled, to say the least.  

So many of you have sent prayers and financial help to assist in this trip, and I thank you.  I'll appreciate good thoughts and prayers as we are gone, and I cannot wait to take you with me on this amazing trip.  

Squeezing in some Special Smiles . . .

Recently I got to squeeze in a session with some special folks . . . people more like family we finally met than new friends.  We moved to a new town and landed right next door to these fine folks, right where we were supposed to be!

                    We spent the day at the Steeplechase and got a head start on some photos . . .

Later we got the family back together, as the light was waining on a wonderful day, but we wound up with some of the sweetest smiles.  I love these sneaky, sparkly eyes and the personality that shows through these grins.

You won't have any trouble feeling the love among this gang.  It just shows and it's wonderful to be able to capture it with the press of the shutter.

                                           Here's to a special family and great memories!

Here's hoping . . .

I got some incredible advice when I became a teacher and learned much over the (almost) fifteen years that I taught.  I loved that time in my life, and I continue to be thankful for what I learned from the kids and my peers.  I remember one particular conversation with my friend Joy, and I have never forgotten the intensity with which she shared her words.  She explained to me that each time she saw a child walk toward her, tap her or ask a question, she tried to look at that child with the love and acceptance she hoped her own children's teachers were giving to them.

That sounds easy; but on those rainy, tiring days in the middle of the year, it can be harder said than done.  I never forgot that, though, and I tried to keep it in the forefront of my mind each day.  When I had my own kids, I found myself wishing and praying with everything I had, that my children's teachers would do the same.  And they always have.  Each year starts with that anxious feeling, those hopes that my child's teachers will love them and appreciate them - and each year, my children have been loved and cared for by special people.  I am thankful to them, to be sure.

This year, though, I find myself with a different wish, a completely new, fervent prayer.  It's different now.  They are older, and I'm hopeful about something new.  I want them to have teachers who care, and I want them to learn and grow.  I want something else even more, though.  As the mother of three children who has just dropped them off in a new school, in a new town, where they know almost no one - I pray for another student to look at them with acceptance and appreciation.

I wish my old friend, Joy, could have a little chit chat with all of the kids at their new school.  I wish she could remind each of them of how it feels to be an outsider.  I wish someone could give me (and more importantly) my children, the assurance that they will be looked at with kind eyes, open arms and friendly faces.  I can't do it for them, but I would if I could.

Chances are good that things will work out.  That I know.  And, though I would like to run through the school halls carrying a banner listing the wonderful qualities about my kids, there is nothing at all I can do to get them through this day, this week, this awkward time.  I'll coach and I'll pray and I'll worry.  But that's all I can do.  Tough stuff it is, and I'll be glad when their friends are running in and out of the house, tracking mud through the kitchen and eating all of the 'good' snacks.

For now, I'll be thankful for the amazing and loving teachers my children have had and will have; and I'll be praying that a handful of brave pre-teens cross the line and invite them into this new life.

Check out these dreams . . .

A few months ago a friend sent me some photos that touched me, photos she found on the web of a baby, snapshots that a mother took while her baby slept.  Many of you may have seen these; they're a treat.  If you have not spent some time on this special blog, I hope you will today.  If you've seen a few of the photos before, you might like checking out the 'behind the blog' explanation and watching the YouTube video.

Remember the post about my dear friends who made their kids a firepole?  (http://deana-pressingpause.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-to-install-firepole-ive-known-this.html)  This story, and the love behind it are similar to me.  This is a story about a mother who actually pressed pause on a fleeting moment, savored it, took time for it.  I think it's a story for us all.  We don't have to be mothers or photographers or artists or anything special . . . we just have to be in the moment.  

Look what this mother did while her sweet new baby slept.  Think of the love, the creativity, the savoring that went into this.  Enjoy.  Take a moment yourself to daydream, remember, imagine.  

What might you do to press pause today?  

Use this link and spend a few moments.  You'll be glad you did.  Enjoy Mila's Daydreams.

http://milasdaydreams.blogspot.com/p/about-blog.html

Something good to remember . .

A special event of this weekend took me back - way back.  My kids had their first swim meet, and it was a happy occasion, to be sure!  In just a few short hours of our Saturday morning, I found myself wanting to cram 'a whole bunch of wisdom' into my children.   A swim meet does that, I presume; throws in your face many options for covering your child in what one believes and does not believe about winning, losing, trying, persevering and the like.  The meet started quickly and made me realize I hadn't spent adequate time talking to my kids about winning and losing, about attitude and spirit.  I worried for a moment, and then I decided to relax and enjoy the festive air.

My kids and their friends are not serious swimmers - this is their first year of 'swim team.'  They've never participated in a meet before and all they know of what makes a swim a 'meet' are the force fed memories I have recounted for them on many occasions.  You see, my swim team experience is one I wish I could give them, and it has absolutely nothing to do with perfect strokes and extensive practice.

In the neighborhood where I grew up, we had a pool.  As far as I knew, every neighborhood where everyone grew up had a similar pool.  And, as far as I knew, every child in each of those neighborhoods swam on the swim team.  That's the way it was, I thought.  I don't know how it came to be that my sister and I swam on the team; that's just the way it was.  And I'm thankful.

I'm sure I'm missing a few of the negative details, for surely there were some, but what I remember of it was quite wonderful.  Our summers were eaten up with swimming and the pool was the central focus of our kid lives.  Each weekday morning we jumped on our bikes and rode (often with no hands on the bike) down the hill to the pool.  We joined other friends of all different ages from the other areas of the neighborhood and jumped off of our bikes in unison, throwing them into a pile of colorful medal and banana seats.  I mention this pile of two-wheeled treasure for I picture it perfectly in my mind - it's an illustration of a great time, a time with no bike locks, no perfect order, no helmets, and no vigilant  accompanying parents - it's picture of a big mess of simplicity.  The only worry associated with time at the pool was in needing to leave early for some reason and realizing that you had the bike at the bottom of the pile.

My memories of being on the Cedar Creek Swim Team are these:  early morning practices filled with lots of laughs as we complained that the water was too cold - hard work as coaches and friends pushed us to try harder, to do our best - charts where our times were posted and glee when we watched our numbers get better - lots of fun for the remainder of the day as we went about our days all in the confines of this Athens, Georgia eastside subdivision pool.  Many of our meals were eaten at the pool, we played cards at the pool, we swam in the rain, in the dark, all day long.  I remember putting my towel beside the teenagers and spending whole days learning every word to Philadelphia Freedom and such.  We huddled in the 'chemicals' building when it stormed and hoped it would clear up in time to get back out for more fun, we took turns giggling as we answered the pay phone just across from the shallow end, we taught younger friends how to play Spider and Marco Polo and all of the other staples of summertime in the seventies.  It was fun.  Really fun.  And the only thing better than any old summer day was Thursday nights . . .

Thursday nights were when we had the meets!  Thursday nights were when our friends' swim team came to our pool or we went to theirs, where we painted ourselves with the names of our races, donned our stars and stripes racing suits, proudly wore our swim caps and shouted for our teams.  Thursday nights were 'what it was all about.'

I've thought a lot about those times since my kids' meet on Saturday, and I've marveled at what I remember.  What I remember is what I wish most to give my children, what matters most.  What I remember is a feeling, a full feeling of happiness and love and excitement and a time when I shared simple fun with most of the people I knew best in the world.  Thursdays were awesome, though I know that isn't the word we used at the time (I'm trying to remember what we said, but I know it was good.)

On Thursdays everyone ended up at the pool; the mamas and the daddies, the folks who stayed at home and the ones that worked in an office, they all ended up at the pool on Thursdays.  On Thursdays we didn't eat 'real' food - no way - we snacked all evening on pure junk (this was just before we learned that pure sugar wasn't actually the best way to fuel a body for hard work) and each family had a home base - that was where a parent sat, guarded the towels and the chairs, and watched over the candy, the treasures.  And the parent who wasn't at the home base was either at the end of a lane as timer or working at the concession stand or manning the ribbon table.  There were folks watching over us everywhere.  I didn't think about that then, I just reveled in the fun, in the belonging.  Parents gathered us in the bullpen and coaches gave us last minute pointers and we laughed - a lot.

What I've thought about most in the last few days is what EXACTLY I remember from those times.  And what I DON'T remember.  I have absolutely no idea about the particulars, no clue who was best at which race.  I have no idea who won each heat, but I often see the face of the sweet girl who almost always came in last, and I remember how her spirit and her smile made her the hands-down favorite of all of us.  Though I know I loved breaststroke best, I don't recall which distance I swam most or which heat I liked to be in or which friends I swam against most.  I don't remember any of that.  None of that is part of the magic in my mind.

I remember the feelings, the security, the routine, the knowing about what to expect.  I remember the faces of the all of the folks around the pool, the sights of the parents - mine and my friends - who cheered us on, who wanted us to succeed, who wrapped us in big, dry towels and hugged us and squealed with us about how wonderful it all was.  I remember all of that; I remember exactly what it felt like, how it sounded, the noises of the races in the background, the loudspeaker calling the names of the next racers, the giggles of the babies who ran from their parents.

I remember it all, and I am thankful for those experiences.  I'm thankful for the days of fun, of belonging, of feeling like I was on my own while in the caring, watchful eyes of many.  I remember those times and I smile.  They are good memories, and I regret that I may not be able to afford my own children those times, those early morning practices, those Thursday nights.

My mind drifts back to where we are now, to the present, and I smile as I think back to Saturday and to the faces of my kids and their friends.  I remember how we cheered for each other's children and how we filled the cement at the end of each lane and how we screamed at the top of our lungs and how we sent out as much love as we could for each child in the pool.

It was different, this first meet.  It was inside and there were lots of unknowns.  Our children are just learning and there weren't many kids in the pool alongside them.  But they swam their hearts out and they had a first lesson in looking over, realizing they weren't ahead, and knowing they had to keep trying.  Us adults had our first attempts at shouting out encouragement, at yelling our hopes and wrapping them in the towels at the end of the lane.  We all had our first run at the swim meet.  There wasn't any junk food, save the generic Gator-ade from QuickTrip and there was no pile of bikes.  We brought the kids in our mini-vans and Subarus and we watched their every move.  There wasn't a ribbon table, but everybody got a bright green participation ribbon to keep.  It was different from the old days, it was.  But I'm thankful.

I think we all learned a lot.  The kids aren't quite ready to star in a YouTube video how-to on stroke steps, but they swam - they swam hard and they were proud.  We screamed and we were proud.  It was good.  I can't make it the way it was in 1979, but it's 2012 and my children loved their first swim meet.

I cannot know what they'll remember, but I'm pretty sure they've already forgotten where they placed in each race.  And now they know what it feels like to push and try with all they have and they know what it looks like to come up for air and gaze into the many eyes of caring folks, people who want them to succeed and grow up in love and happiness.  And that is good.  

That's something good to remember.  

List 7 - Ten Reasons You Should Love Tie Dye

The Friday list is back, and this list comes from the heart - my heart.   Apparently, there is a good chance I was born in the wrong decade, for I seem to dress from another one.  I don't necessarily attribute this love to any particular movement, though I do love the idea of peace and I'm ready to see a little of it for my children and the rest of the world.

I just love it!  It makes me happy, and after doing a bit of research, it appears that dying fabric has been making people happy since before the birth of Christ.  Ancient Asian cultures have tie-dyed for centuries.   For goodness sakes, people, if you haven't jumped on the band wagon yet, it's TIME!

Here's a list to help you over the hump.  There are more good points, but I'll keep the item total to ten.  Some of these aid me in my defense when folks giggle about my donning the look - go ahead, friends, I can take it.  I guess I'm really groovy and far out because my love keeps getting deeper.

I had a grand laugh this summer about tie-dyed shirts.  Picture this - I'm in a conversation with a couple of new friends at a church conference center and we are discussing the upcoming 'adult only tie dye class' slated for that evening.  They are giddy with giggles about the fact that they, two grown women, are actually going to make a tie-dyed shirt.  I don't really get what's so funny about it.  We continue the conversation.  This is when I knew, really knew, that maybe I feel differently about wearing tie-dye.  This is when I knew that maybe I'm a little different.  One of them leaned in close and barely whispered, "My little grandson makes me one at camp every year, and one day at tennis I actually wore it when I was walking off the court!  Can you believe that?  The other ladies just loved it.  Oh, me, me."  Hmmm.  Things that make you go, "hmmmmm."  Was I to admit, there on the spot, that half of my clothes are t-shirts and half of my t-shirts are tie-dyed?  Is this normal?  Am I okay?

Well, time has passed and I've given the topic a good deal of thought.  I've figured it out.  I'm perfectly normal and people who don't understand the need for tie-dyed clothing are not.   To follow is a primer, a little help for those of you who still don't get it.  As usual, this is but some of the reasons and they are in no particular order.  There are only a few of us who really understand, and I would be remiss if I did not dedicate this blog post to my good friend, Dan Walden.  Dan is a brother in the fight to make tie-dye the official national clothing and he wears it well.

And so . . .

Ten Reasons You Should Love Tie Dye

1. People who wear tie-dye are nice.  Don't you want to be nice?
2. Tie-dye is an art-form, but it is also fool-proof.  Just as no two tie-dyes are exactly the same, no tie-dye project can be messed up.
3. It is fun to do tie-dye and it makes people sing, smile, giggle and laugh.  
4. When you do real tie-dye, your fingers change color for a few days and that leads to many opportunities for you to spread the word about how very cool you are.
5. You can give a kid, any kid, anything that has been tie-dyed and they will instantly love you.  They will completely change their mind about how they first saw you and forever and ever look at you with renewed coolness.
6. Apparently, it takes courage to wear tie-dye, so people who do so are strong, able-bodied folks who meet the challenges of this life head on. 
7. The family who tie-dyes together, stays together.  
8. Tie-dying takes patience and time.  It takes care and consideration.  It is not a quick process and should not be hurried.  One must enter a reflective, artistic, thoughtful place to commence tie-dying, and one will be terribly proud at the finished product.  
9. Tie-dying is for people of all ages.  My ninety two year old grandmother tie-dyes with us at the beach each summer (I'm not sure she has ever been spotted in her finished products; I'll get on that.) and little tiny people can do it, too.  Even if they can't use a rubber band or tie a knot, they can be perfect directors about where such knots should be placed.  
10. Tie-dyed shirts make people happy.  Sometimes they can even make you look happy while you are waiting for the happiness to set in, giving folks the outward sign that you are happy and that smiling should begin when you are seen.  

I can but hope that readers will add their own reasons to the list and that we can build an on-going list about why the world should pay better attention.  

Make peace, love everybody, be happy, have a nice day and the rest, friends.  It's all good.