The devil inhabited my shopping cart this morning.

I should have known better when I walked into the grocery store and saw the cart, sitting by it’s lonesome - the reject of the shopping cart world - that it was there for good reason.

The problem is, I’m a sucker for the little guy, or, as in this case, the lonely cart. So I took pity on it, and as I carefully grabbed hold of the handle, pushing it back and forth to check for any unruly loose wheels, I was surprised to find that this cart behaved remarkably well. Then thinking to myself, “why on earth would anyone reject such a wonderful shopping cart”, I headed into the store.

I had experienced a good three minutes of shopping cart bliss, when I stupidly placed a ten pound bag of Russet potatoes onto the bottom rack of the cart. In a matter of seconds, my whole shopping trip turned sour. One wheel started squeaking mercilessly, another wheel stopped turning completely, causing it to drag and vibrate against the floor, and the other two wheels headed toward the cottage cheese.

It was unreal.

But I wasn’t about to let this cart get the best of me. I continued my struggle with the cart of death, pulling hard with my right arm and pushing with my left to keep it going straight. I knocked over 2 cans of cream of chicken soup in aisle 3, a canister of Columbia House coffee in aisle 7 and Scrubbing Bubbles Shower Cleaner in aisle 13, before making it to the check out stand.

Just when I thought the worst was behind me, I wheeled my fully loaded, demon possessed cart into the icy parking lot, where I quickly lost all control. My feet were sliding in one direction and the cart wheels in another. Add to that the sounds of my grunting and the squeaking and skidding of the cart and you can imagine the spectacle I was creating.

I finally made it to my car and unloaded my groceries into the trunk. As I shoved the cart into the cart return in the parking lot, I mustered the courage to speak the only words that came to mind, for fear of this cart finding me in the future.

“Good riddance!”

When I was growing up we had a coffee mug that my dad would pull out whenever one of his kids had an especially difficult day. It was not the most beautiful mug by any stretch of the imagination - it was just a white ceramic mug - but written on the front of the mug, with tiny black letters packed full of wisdom, it read:

Don't let the turkeys get you down

For whatever reason, this mug seemed to make our current frustrations a little less...well, frustrating. Maybe it's because of the way those ridiculous cartoon turkeys, with their outstretched wings, wide-eyed stares and exaggerated poses, seemed to dance across the mug, making complete fools of themselves. But I suspect that the uplift in my spirit had less to do with silly, dancing turkeys, and more to do with the perspective those words gave.

Life is full of turkeys. They come in the form of difficult people, unexpected bills, broken washing machines, wrinkled shirts and sour milk. They have a tendency to peck at us at the most inconvenient of times, leaving us feeling frustrated, angry and bitter. Once we get to that point, once the turkeys get us down, we have a hard time seeing the good in life. We begin to dwell on the stuff that we don't have, from the lack of money in our bank accounts to the torn jeans in our closet, and we become ungrateful for the things that we have been blessed with.

Family and Friends.

Healthy Children.

Food to eat.

Shelter.

Clothes to wear. By the way, have you noticed that people will actually pay a lot of money for shredded jeans these days? I never knew that, after three years of wear and tear, my jeans would be fashionable today. Now I don't have to buy new ones!

Having a heart of gratitude changes our whole perspective. We become compassionate toward the hurting, suffering and poverty stricken. We begin to see that success in life is not about having the most money or being the most popular or even well-liked person. Instead, we view success as having the courage to go without the latest and greatest, in order to lift up the people who are considered the least among us, who have been beaten down by the turkeys, and who, through their poverty, can no longer stand up on their own.

I can't think of a better way to show the Lord how grateful we are for His provision, than to give it away.

May our hearts be transformed this Thanksgiving Day, as we put aside the stress of the pending Christmas season, and instead give thanks as we dwell on Philippians 4:6-8.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things.

Have a beautiful Thanksgiving,
Anna

Take a good look at this picture and tell me what you see.



Let's just state the obvious: it's a Starbucks coffee in the traditional Starbucks Christmas cup.

Don't be fooled though. There is more to this cup than just the nagging reminder that I need to start making my list and checking it twice. No, this coffee cup is significant for two reasons. The first reason being that I just discovered the Caramel Brulee Latte at Starbucks, and it has taken over my life. I dream about it in my sleep, and drool down my shirt like an infant cutting it's first tooth, whenever I drive past a coffee shop.

I can't help myself. I seem to have lost what little control I had.

But that's okay, because it brings me to my second - and most important - significant reason for this cup of coffee. It was free!

My taste buds got the best of me on Thursday afternoon, so I decided to make a quick run to Starbucks. As I pulled up to pay for my coffee, the barista leaned out the window, and with my Caramel Brulee coffee in her hands she said, "enjoy your free cup of coffee." Then noting the confused look on my face she continued, "the woman in front of you wanted to buy you a coffee and pay it forward."

That has never happened to me before, but I have to admit that as a result of this woman's kindness, my whole world lit up.

So to the woman who paid for my coffee, I want to say a huge thank you! You really made my day.

And to those of you who are reading this blog today, I want to challenge you to pay if forward too. The next time you find yourself in a drive thru, pay for the person in line behind you, and make a difference in their life.

After all, a little kindness goes a long way.

Do you ever have those weeks where you think, "I'm glad that I got that over with."? The last time I remember having one of those moments was when Caleb was one week old. It was the middle of the night, I just finished feeding Caleb, and was still holding him in my arms when I felt a pain that I have never felt before. And believe me, I know what pain feels like. I had just given birth to a couch..I mean Caleb...one week prior. It was still fresh in my mind. But this pain was different. It was foreign. And I was sure that I was dying.

I woke Adam up at 1:00 am with the only words I could muster: I've. Got. Pain. Then we rushed to the emergency room, and after a series of tests, found out that I wasn't really dying, I just had a kidney stone.

I didn't see any humor in this experience at the time. In fact, I still don't. But as we drove away from the hospital three hours later, I looked at Adam and said, "I suppose that if I was going to have a kidney stone, I'm glad that it's over and done with now, and not waiting to happen next Tuesday or something." And then he agreed with me and said "yeah, it's nice to have that behind us."

Behind us.

That is exactly where I would like this adoption to be, because the truth is, I'm tired. I'm tired of the paperwork. I'm tired of the constant changes in Novosibirsk. I'm tired of living in limbo and I'm tired of waiting. But regardless of how tired I am, I still have to redo two documents that were returned to me because the judges won't accept it. And regardless of how much I wish it could all have been dealt with last week so that I wouldn't have to face it today, I have been warned of more changes to come in Novosibirsk.

If you would have asked me a year ago where I thought we would be today, I would have said that we would be done, our daughter would be here, and this whole adoption process would be behind us. And yet, one year later, instead of it being behind us, we are smack dab in the middle of it, and I have grown weary.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that it's not necessarily the paperwork or the constant change that is wearing on me, but that our daughter is there alone and desperately in need of her family and there isn't a darn thing I can do about it.

Except cry. I have a tendency to do that whenever I feel overwhelmed.

I sat in the backyard the other night while the wind blew cold against the tears on my face, and I cried. I cried because of the paperwork, change and overall frustration but I sobbed when I thought of our little girl sitting alone and afraid. Desperate for the love that only her parent's can give.

And then I was reminded that we have been given the opportunity to take part in God's miracle, and even though it's oftentimes messy, hard or downright exhausting, He won't let us fall. It's at those times when we think we can't take another step that He shows Himself faithful, and it's in that revealing moment that we know we would do it all over again. Because it's worth it. He's worth it.

I can't begin to tell you how excited I am to see this miracle come to fruition. What a beautiful day it will be when we can look back and say, "It's behind us! We did it!" But until that day comes, whether it's this Tuesday or ten Tuesdays from now, and regardless of my circumstances, I will praise Him.

Amen.

I have acquired a third child. It happened at some point between the birth of Caleb and Isaiah’s first day of Kindergarten. In my defense, it didn’t happen overnight, which is why I didn’t catch it when this child first started making his presence known. But after several years of blaming others for unclaimed messes, a slow realization finally occurred to me; There are more than four of us living in this house.

I took some time to process this realization, on account of, I was feeling slightly unsettled. But more importantly, I wasn’t sure how Adam would react to this news. After a few weeks of trying to deal with this elusive child by myself though, I decided it was time to speak up.

“I think another child has moved into the house, and goes by the name of It wasn’t me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“For starters, food has been disappearing at unprecedented rates. Just the other day I noticed two boxes of cracker’s, a entire package of string cheese, six apples and a pork tenderloin had gone missing. When I asked who ate all the food, the boys both said It wasn’t me."

“Oh, I see.”

“And it gets even worse. This morning I stepped in a puddle at the base of the toilet. Disgusted, I yelled, WHO KEEPS MISSING THE TOILET? And guess what? They blamed it on It wasn’t me again.”

“Well, did you talk to It wasn't me about it?”

“That’s the problem. I have yet to see him in person. All I have to go by is the evidence that he was here. His dirty clothes are constantly laying beside the hamper, the toilet paper roll is always empty and I have yet to walk through the house without stepping on the Lego’s he leaves on the floor.”

A few days later, Adam came home from work and said, “I think you are right about it wasn’t me. He drove the car until the gas light came on, and didn’t even bother to fill it back up. By the time I realized what was going on, and arrived at the gas station, I was coasting on fumes. I have had it with It wasn't me. He is getting out of hand.”

This video is worth five minutes of your time.

Take a moment to watch it.



What are your thoughts?

I never cared much for hummus. Maybe it's because the only hummus I had ever eaten was the prepackaged kind you buy at the grocery store, which did nothing but leave me with a bad taste in my mouth. As a result, I only had one word to describe this middle eastern cuisine...blech!

I held that belief until earlier this summer when my mother in law brought out her homemade hummus, and insisted that I try some. Okay, she didn't really insist (she isn't a demanding person), but she did say it was really, really good. And because I like good food, I couldn't possibly resist her offer.

Boy was I glad I tried it. This stuff is so good that I have constant cravings for it. Luckily, she happily gave me the recipe so I can make it on my own now. And I do. Quite often.

And because I don't necessarily like to keep a good thing to myself, I am going to share it with you. (Don't worry, she won't mind).

Roasted Pepper Hummus

1 Can Chickpeas drained. Reserve liquid if hummus needs thinned.
1/3 Cup Tahini
1/4 Cup Lemon Juice
2 Garlic Cloves
2 Tbsp. Olive Oil
1/2 - 3/4 Cup Roasted Pepper
1/2 - 1 Cup Cilantro

*In place of cilantro or peppers, you can add Zucchini or olives. It's a pretty forgiving recipe, so feel free to experiment.

Throw all ingredients into a food processor. Like this:



And process until it looks like this:



Serve it with pita chips, fresh vegetables or whatever you prefer.

Here are four, make that five, things that I have learned about boys.

They are always serious. So don't even try to break them of this habit.


Their clothes must match at all times. Don't even think of sending them outside in mismatched clothes.


If danger is present, they will run far away from it. They have no need for risk taking behavior.


They are constantly concerned about what others think of them.



And they are always dignified. Always.


And, of course, mothers of boys would never encourage this type of behavior by cheering them on and taking pictures.

Never.

It would be considered undignified.

This is my favorite picture in the entire world. It was taken three years ago by my father-in-law, while we were visiting the Singapore Zoo.

Just look at Caleb's face. He's hot stuff and he knows it.

And look at the boys in the background. I bet they're thinking one word: Lucky!
(If you say it like Napolean Dynamite it's even funnier).

This picture is indicative of what it was like to walk around Singapore with a blond haired, blue eyed, chubby bodied baby boy. (I dare you to say that ten times fast). I can't even begin to count how many times complete strangers would ask if they could take a picture of themselves holding Caleb. And I, of course, being the responsible parent that I am, would happily hand him over.

I couldn't help myself. I was just as taken by the beautiful people around me, as they were by Caleb. How could I say no to that?

While visiting the Jurong Bird Park one afternoon, an Indian man wearing a turban pushed through a group of 30 or so tourists, and as he ran toward us, flailing his arms as though he was parting the Red Sea, he said, "Oh look at the beautiful boy. I must give him a kiss!" And after kissing Caleb's cheek and playing with his chubby hands, Caleb, who was used to this kind of attention by now, returned the affection by smiling his dimply cheeked smile, as the man stumbled back into the mob of tourists from which he came.

I don't know why, but Caleb has that affect on most people.

Of course not everyone was quite so bold in their attempt to meet Caleb. There was one ridiculously funny moment when Adam and I became aware of a Japanese man cautiously, and rather uncomfortably (if I do say so myself), side-stepping his way over to where Caleb was playing. At first Adam and I were alarmed, but then we realized that standing about 40 feet away was another person holding a camera and motioning for the posing man to scoot closer. But before we could tell him that we didn't mind if he wanted to take a picture with Caleb, he leaned down and smiled, the camera clicked and then he left, just as strangely as he came.

And now I can't help but wonder: What has become of those pictures?

Luke 5:1-7
On one occasion, while the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he was standing by the lake of Gennasaret, and he saw two boats by the lake, but the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, he asked him to put out a little from the land. And he sat down and taught the people from the boat. And when he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” And when they had done this, they enclosed a large number of fish, and their nets were breaking. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink.

Sometimes I wish that I could have been a fly on the hills of the Galilean countryside, watching Jesus perform miracles, and seeing lives indelibly changed because of the extraordinary power that He possessed.

I tend to think that Simon was one lucky guy. Seriously! Can you imagine what must have been going through his head when, after fishing all night and coming back to shore empty handed, Jesus hops into the boat, tells Simon to throw his nets back in the water, and suddenly they are overflowing with fish?

We get a pretty good idea of the impact this miracle had on Peter, because shortly after coming to shore, he literally left his boat and livelihood on the shore of the lake of Gennasaret, and followed Jesus.

But the thing that strikes me about Simon is not that he got to be a part of a miracle, but rather that the miracle happened because he chose to have faith in Jesus by throwing his nets into the water, when all the evidence proved otherwise. And that experience changed the course of his life.

It was because of Simon’s faith in action that he got to be a part of the miracle.

It was because of Simon's faith in action that he got to take part in the work that Jesus was doing.

And the truth is, we don’t have to be a fly on that hillside two thousand years ago in order to watch the miracle, because watching a miracle is all we would be doing. Instead, God has called us to participate in the miracle by letting down our nets, and it is through that action that we experience Christ.