http://traceybianchi.com/ Faith. Life. Sustainability en tracey@traceybianchi.com Copyright 2010 2010-09-05T17:19:33+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/a-labor-day-shout-out/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/a-labor-day-shout-out/#When:17:19:33Z Well, I wanted to give a Labor Day Shout out to a few folks that work hard to make life work but rarely get the love and celebration that so many higher profile people receive. I'm exhausted by stories of celebs these days. Seems that if they eat a salad or head out for coffee with a mismatched outfit they get headline press on my Google page. And of course Lindsay and Paris have to compete for the title of Most Addicted Diva. So, on Labor Day I thought would take a moment to thank two great people who made a difference in my life this week. Not celebrities, not famous, just people who did their jobs well this past week and it made my life better and I hope they get to take a day off from their labor this weekend. To Kim at the Post Office who helped me out on Friday morning. I was out for a long run and took my mail with me. One oversized envelope that needed to be sent off. I naively thought a dollar should cover shipping as I ran up to the post office mid-run. Kim of course informed me that it would take $1.56 to mail that little envelope. So like a complete idiot, in the world where people mail Anthrax and bombs, I explained to her that I was on a long run and could not carry that envelope with me for 10 miles. Then I asked if I could just leave it with her and come back later to pay for the postage. DUH! In my defense I was out for the longest run of my life. She smiled and pulled a buck from her pocket, printed out a label and slapped it all together for me with a smile and a wink. Eager to show her gratitude I dashed back in later that day with a thank you note and a dollar. So thanks to Kim. A small gesture that made a big difference to me in the middle of marathon training and mothering! And to the nice MD at the medical tent last weekend when I raced a triathlon in really hot weather. Like 93 dehydrating degrees at the finish line hot. Like oops, I need some oxygen and medical attention hot. In that tent was the MD who smiled and told a row of people on IVs with panic in their veins that they were just hot and it would be okay. Who made his way up and down the aisle chatting it up, swapping his own stories of athletic endeavors, and in general making those of us who overestimated our bodies not feel the full weight of shame and stupidity that we were wallowing in at that moment. And who, when asked what his deal was by one of the racers, simply said that he decided to volunteer his time that day just because it seemed a good thing to do. No front page headlines, no People Magazine spread, and maybe only this blog post about their efforts. Sadly, I don't even know the Doc's name who helped so many of us last Sunday. But, I do know that people like him line our communities and toil away for so many of us every day. So here's a shout out to them, to their time, talents, to their .56 cents. Thanks to all and get some rest. And you, got any Labor Day Tales to tell? T Events 2010-09-05T17:19:33+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/lets-do-october-twice/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/lets-do-october-twice/#When:15:24:49Z This morning I walked my kids up the street to school and almost needed a sweatshirt. What a glorious feeling after a parched summer. Sure, this is Chicago so it will be 90 on Sunday but for one brief moment today I could feel Fall heading my way and my little soul lifted a bit.  The black-eyed-susans along the walkways are mostly black, the cucumber leaves in our garden are starting to yellow and my kids now wear shoes and socks rather than running amuck in dirty Crocs. Signs that apple picking, Halloween and Turkeys are careening toward us. Signs that the Autumn Blaze Maple in our neighbor's yard will turn a delicious crimson in just a few weeks. My favorite season is the Fall. I told my dear friend last night that if I could just do October twice each year I would be a happy woman. That after sweating off a whole summer I cherish the chance to watch the leaves tumble from the trees and walk about in my hooded sweatshirts. I also want to cling to the Fall as it is just the start of yet another step on life's journey. For those of us with children or an academic calendar hanging over us we all know the year really begins in September and ends in June. Forget January 1. September means my little First Grader is still little, he's still trotting down the street all wide-eyed and hoping he can grip his cheese stick right and open it on his own at lunch. It means his light-up shoes are still too big as I purchased them to fit for a full year of growth. It means we will sip hot cider and cinnamon sticks from apple picking and that we will select pumpkins soon. It means the chaos of Christmas and the darkness of deep winter is still months away. Of course, try as I might, I cannot freeze time or life. I want my daughter's two-year old curls to bounce down her shoulders for longer than they will, I want my preschooler to think his Anakin Skywalker backpack is completely cool forever. And I want to crunch leaves, wear my favorite jeans and root for my college football team more than just a few months. A wisdom writer from Ecclesiastes once said that "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven." Indeed, there is a time for everything. For all the activities of Fall and of life and of growing and learning. And this is my season to stop and cherish it all. Which I do, every September and October. Twelve months in a year and I only manage to slow down and embrace two of them. These are my two.  So as you head into Fall, may you too enjoy this time, the one set aside this season to start new, to meet new friends, to enjoy the final glimmers of sunshine on your soul. And may you know also, that there will be a time for every activity under heaven. For life and death, preschool registration and college tuition, for sun and ice, new and old, joy and pain, and for everything in between. Enjoy the day and and as summer wanes and Fall begins, may you find time to pause and do October twice if that's what it takes to celebrate this season. Life, Motherhood, Parenting 2010-08-26T15:24:49+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/what-is-truly-relevant-anyway/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/what-is-truly-relevant-anyway/#When:18:21:45Z Church attendance in the US is on a downslope. As a churchgoing gal I hear reports and see the squirms of pastors and friends who recognize that folks just don't wake up on a Sunday morning the way they once did. Researchers like George Barna point out that while church growth happens, in most cases a booming new church on the corner means a congregation down the street is closing up shop. Which leaves a pile of authors, preachers and religious folk wondering what it will take to flip this trend. Many toss around words like relevant and authentic. That to share stories of faith and love we need to “keep it real” or in church-speak, to be relevant. Webster defines relevant as “having significance to the matter at hand.” I know, still vague. For some significance means adjusting music, wardrobe, sermon style or church location. When I lived in Colorado significance meant mid-week worship so outdoor enthusiasts could disappear into the backcountry for a whole weekend. For others relevance means candles or liturgy, homeless shelters or social justice. Or perhaps, videos, hair gel and Rob Bell glasses. But ultimately, each community must discover for itself what God has deemed relevant to the matters he has placed in it’s hands. With this in mind, I confess that I’ve found my proverbial feathers ruffled when I hear leaders prescribe overarching fixes for the Church universal. Leaders who wax eloquent about how exactly we all should rise from our slumber and connect to the world. Here’s the list I typically hear: stay fashionably detached, rally around flashy justice issues, wear a vintage t-shirt highlighting those issues, hang out in local coffee shops, lament the church every chance you get and always vote Democrat. Now do not have problem with any of these issues. I support global micro-enterprise, advocate for those in need every chance I get. I drink plenty of local coffee and have a pie of pithy t-shirts. I’m not against these attempts at engaging the conversation.  What I am adamantly against is an increasingly prevailing ethos that says a thoughtful and relevant leader must be about these pursuits. Especially since Jesus does not strike me as overly trendy. And while he prescribed universal fixes for our world (justice, love, mercy), the manner in which he carried these out varied depending on his context. Just look for a moment at the different voices and angles we find in the Synoptics. Back to Webster. To be relevant is to have significance to the matter at hand. Frankly, not every matter is as sexy to the world as the list above. When we pastor and lead the elderly, relevance may look different. The matters at hand are aging with grace and leaving a legacy. Relevance when my grandmother passed was sitting at her bedside listening to Benny Goodman sans hair gel. When the matter at hand is comforting a family who lost a child, no one really cares how you voted or if your coffee is Fair Trade Certified, they want to know that you will listen. When performing the marriage ceremony of a young couple they desire your ability to offer a blessing for their lives not a treatise on social justice. Relevance is a shifting notion that ebbs and flows with our lives and the people we walk alongside. No longer does it make sense to offer sweeping prescriptions for what makes a church relevant. And while most fixes are offered with a nervous smile and a sense of humility, the over-arching message is often that to be relevant is to be like the rest of us.So, I am curious to know what might happen if, rather than chase the trends of national leaders we simply engaged the matters at hand. The lives God places before us each day. And if we live alongside them well, obsessed with their well-being rather than a trend, we may just find ourselves utterly and indescribably relevant indeed.   Tracey Bianchi is a freelance writer, Women’s Pastor and speaker. Her book “Green Mama: The Guilt-Free Guide to Helping You and Your Kids Save the Planet” (Zondervan) is available on Amazon.              Life 2010-08-25T18:21:45+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/transitions-from-flip-flops-to-shoes-and-socks/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/transitions-from-flip-flops-to-shoes-and-socks/#When:19:20:43Z I'm not great with transitions. I like to act all proud and adventuresome as if nothing rattles me, as if shifting friendships, locations, jobs, schools is nothing to fret over. But really, I noticed our mail carrier is different this week and I am sort of sad. Pick your cliche, phrase it however you want, the reality we all know is that life changes. August is ripe with changes. From the waning of my early summer garden crops to the fact that we've picked the last stalk of corn, to the start of school.  My oldest dashes off to first grade in less that one week. Armed with new markers, pink erasers and a Star Wars lunchbox he will head out the door toward a full-day of education on Monday. He shed a few tears when we chatted about the lunchroom. Me, mostly afraid he will get overlooked or bullied at a lunch table. Him, fearful for similar reasons but mostly because "the lunch room is really smelly." We've talked about recess, new teachers and taking his old little soul and opening it up to new friendships. I get teary typing about it. August bums me out. I start cherishing every last moment in my flip flops. I cling tightly to pool passes that will be defunct come Labor Day. I try desperately to make too-small swimsuits and almost-empty bottles of sunscreen last just a few more weeks. I eye popsicles at the grocer and wish it was June so that I might stock the fridge with them and live for the July 4th holiday. I'm sad that "looking forward to vacation" is no longer a phrase we use. I open my closet and stare at my pile of jeans, wondering fearfully if any of them still fit. Seems I've been flitting about all summer in a swimsuit and elastic shorts. Too many hot pretzels at the pool can screw your shot at denim come fall. I start to panic that all the good Halloween costumes will be gone in a week. But my heart also finds freedom in this shift. I am reminded of what is important. I sink deeper into a little cocoon of family these last weeks, realizing that the best gift I can give my kid is not a social network that can rival Oprah's or even jockeying for a good teacher. The best gift I can give him is my presence, my support, memories of time in the backyard and hugs at home. A safe launching pad from which to send him this year with glue sticks and scissors and in another ten, with chemistry textbooks and hormones. So I remind myself, as they hang on me all sweaty and messy, as they step on my toes (that are exposed because I wear the flip flops I cherish so much), that pumpkins and harvest and apples are coming. That first grade will be both here and gone in a blink. And that playing Uno on the family room floor with a bag of Skittles is all anyone needs on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. So, as you send yourself or your tots off into fall, may you still enjoy your flip flops, the remaining popsicles, and may your jeans still fit come September. But most of all, may you remember the powerful way a family can launch a child into relationships, education, community and beyond with a little extra love and hugs from home. Childhood, Motherhood 2010-08-18T19:20:43+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/old-faithful-and-other-vacation-imitations/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/old-faithful-and-other-vacation-imitations/#When:03:16:29Z So this weekend I am living in a biosphere. Really. A huge dome with trees and birds, plants and alligators. A river and waterfall, even a sailboat. An enormous resort in Florida where I am attending a convention. We checked into the hotel today and waltzed up to our 9th floor room where a balcony awaited. So of course I threw open the doors of the balcony and overlooked the tropical world below. Lush and green with flowers and ferns, free chocolate at check-in and climate controlled too. It is a lovely resort and while I am mocking it in my own little blog-y sort of way it is a nice place to stay. That said, if I forget that I am not actually outside when it feels as though I am outdoors I might actually spend the full 48 hours I am here inside, without ever inhaling a breath of fresh air. Perhaps this is not all bad. I am in Florida in August. But my current version of Florida is 72 degrees with no humidity . . . . . more than a little unrealistic. Last time I was in Florida we were on a family vacation to Disney World. The first and only time my children have been here. And while there is lots of chatter about consumerism and environmental ethics and all sorts of conversations on the wiles of Disney, it is still hard to top the Magic Kingdom with a 3 year old. Like a sap, the moment I walked down Main Street in the Magic Kingdom I got teary. Really and pathetically, I did. Not because it was so marvelous in and of itself, but because a truckload of my own childhood memories with my parents and vacations and cotton candy came dumping down on me. It was manic consumer chaos and childhood memory bliss all rolled up into one frenetic moment. I could have hugged and punched Mickey all in one fell swoop.  I decided to hug him and take pictures, embrace vacation and family and togetherness. We stayed at a plush resort complete with all the accoutrements a traveling family might want. A wilderness style resort complete with a replica of Old Faithful. This was cute and kitschy of course but I have been to see the real Old Faithful so I did not think much of it until I noticed that I was in the way of several families lining up to take pictures of the faux-geyser. With patience and an air of irritability they waited for me to slide over. I  looked on as digital cameras clicked away and people posed for their Old Faithful pictures. One family in particular was exceptionally excited and a part of me looked on with joy as another wanted to tap them on the shoulder and say "hey, you do know the real geyser is like 2000+ miles the other way?" So why do I lament my current biosphere or the Faux Faithful? I swear it is not because I am a vacation curmudgeon. But I do have to pause and reflect upon what sort of impact all the fake places have upon the real places. What natural habitat or wetland was usurped to plant my current dome of indoor forest? What effects do fake geysers and the people who flock to them have upon the real ones? I am clearly okay with tourism, I sit and type this post from the biosphere itself. But as I do so I wonder what I can do, how I can travel, how I can live differently so that I really can take my kids back to see the real Old Faithful. I am proud to say they laid eyes on Yellowstone and the Tetons long before any other destination. But even as I traveled there I wondered what the impact of my car and footprints had upon the place. So as you wind down your summer travels, as school supplies begin to trump sunscreen, as you sneak in those final moments of grandeur and fireflies, may you do so with an eye toward preserving the purity of the original places, the ones that inspire all our other comings and goings. Happy Late Summer Travels. Consumerism, Motherhood, Parenting, Sustainability 2010-08-06T03:16:29+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/darth-vader-is-going-swimming/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/darth-vader-is-going-swimming/#When:03:28:07Z We joined the flood club this weekend. I've heard rumors about this group of people before. The ones with carpet rolled up at the curb, couches that became sponges, and boxes of keepsakes no longer to be kept. The folks for whom words like mildew and mold send shivers and nasty smells all about the house.  I confess that for the first 37 years of my little life we never experienced a flood. From my childhood home to a condo in Denver nothing we owned ever floated unless it was designed to do so. Then came this past Saturday morning when 7 inches of rain came down in less than 24 hours. When sewers backed up into my basement. When the local pool overflowed, all the major intersections in my community were submerged and when I opened up the basement door to see my dear husband in his hip waders trying to get a pump to work. He was up to his knees in water, surrounded by a swirling mess of toys, art supplies, light sabers and hockey gear. I was still half asleep.  At that moment I had grossly underestimated how much work it would be to clean off and remove all our stuff from the basement. 75% of my children's toys, dress up costumes, all our camping gear, tools, skis, ski boots, snowboards, carpet, couches, all of it soaking wet with sewer water. Honestly, at the first moment I saw it all it even looked sort of cool. My kids asked if this meant we could go swimming and they tried to determine if the water would be over their heads. It got even better as later that day the traffic diverted from places all over town ended up on our block. Semi-trucks to view all day long. I ushered my kids back upstairs and began to take stock of what my weekend would become. My back aches, my voice is hoarse, and it smells like rainwater and cat pee in my house. But the upside once again is a reminder about my stuff and how much of it I have and how much I don't want or need. Part of me just wanted to throw it all away, but that would mean I would have to become highly creative as a parent and make up games and all sorts of cool things like that rather than just tell my kids to play with their toys . . . . . And as I fought back a few tears when I tore open the sagging box of Christmas ornaments and the bin that held the gloves I wore at my wedding (to which my husband shrugged and paused with a blank look, as if to say "you wore gloves that day?"), I was reminded of how ridiculous all my fretting can be. There was a better moment, when my 4 year old told me how cool this whole flood was because it meant Darth Vader could now go swimming. All our Star Wars toys were in the basement. The Dark Side was taking a dip. Optimism at it's finest. So I smiled at him with my tired face and aching back and thought indeed, Darth Vader could now go swimming. All was right in the world. My kids by my side, the hubby on the driveway sopping up water, our toys floating all around. Who cares right? Darth Vader is on holiday. May the Force be with you. Consumerism, Parenting 2010-07-26T03:28:07+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/from-cute-to-chaos-in-less-than-one-minute/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/from-cute-to-chaos-in-less-than-one-minute/#When:18:41:49Z Summer provides an interesting point of tension for most parents I know, especially those of us moms and dads who stay home with kids for a majority of these sun-soaked days. On the one hand these three months provide a respite from tyrannical schedules, ringing school bells and heavy back packs. Pool passes are more likely to earn approving cheers than calls to do homework. Summer provides an opportunity for everyone to relax, dip in the lake, sip an iced-tea and let little people run wild. Yet, as the moms I know smile with sunblock in hand they also lament the lack of structure, the constant need to entertain kids and every mom I know experiences a spike in her blood pressure when a child moans "I'm bored." This statement unnerves me. It is usually partnered with slumped shoulders, shuffling feet and eyes that roll back into the head. "whaaaat can I doooo nooooow, I'mmm sooooo boreeeeeed." This is the point at which parents say "I cannot wait for them to be back in school." I feel this tension. I cherish all these days, I dread donning the backpack again. But I've also run out of creative ideas and would much rather take a nap than try to conjure up new games and adventures at 3:00 in the afternoon. So part of me asks, "so when does school start again?" Motherhood is filled with these dichotomies and I am learning lately to embrace them rather than cheer myself on for the upswings and berate myself for the downturns. I can be mom of the year and complete loser mom all in the same hour. My kids can be poster children for parenting success at the top of an hour and ready for Super Nanny at the bottom. Yesterday I crammed my trio into the car for ice-hockey practice. Getting an almost 7 year old and a newly turned 4 year old into skates and pads while chasing a 2.5 year old is no small feat. And once you get them dressed they do not stay that way, helmets are often loose, pads slide, and mommy never seems to get the skates laced tight enough. After gearing them up I am almost in tears and my daughter has gone missing. So yesterday I promised myself not to fret, not to yell, to take my time. Who cares if we are 5 minutes late to the ice, they still skate, fun is still on the list of accomplishments for the day. Deep breaths. No yelling. They pile into the car, we bop along to good music, everyone is singing. They all have water bottles filled with gatorade in their laps, they even smile and high five one another when a good song comes on the radio. I am calm. I am awesome. Then my 4 year old screams. He has this nose picking habit that turns itself into a bloody nose on occasion. This is one of them. He screams and is afraid the contents of his head are spilling from his nose. "Mommy, mommy help!" His sister begins to cry. I flip open the glove box to get napkins only to realize that there are none left because this same scenario played itself out yesterday as well. All I have is the soft bag my sunglasses came in. I toss it back to him. And holler to press it onto his face. At that same moment his Gatorade bottle tips, of course the lid was off. He bends down to get it and a disgusting mixture of blood and gatorade fill the floor mat in the car.  "Stop spilling. Sit up. Hold your nose. Stop crying. We're almost there." I start to scream. Radio off. Moment over. We drag ourselves into the ice-arena with a bloody face and tears. At least, of all places, you can show up to an ice-arena with a bloody face and no one seems to notice. I am sweating and shaking. Gear is on. Kids are on the ice. Kids want to get off the ice. Get back on that ice I yell. Mom of the year? Not today. For five glorious minutes I before the spill I was, and it was awesome. Otherwise, loser mom. So we started over today. I'll do better today and honestly, I am doing the best I can. So rather than fret over blood and gatorade, fear backpacks or stress over cries of boredom I will just take a deep breath and try to enjoy the moments regardless of how filled with chaos. I am the mother of these kids, and some days this makes me feel sorry for them and other days it makes me realize how blessed they are, how blessed I am. And how awesome it is to tell stories about hockey, blood and gatorade (all before ever hitting the ice). So enjoy the dichotomies of parenthood, life is filled with them. Embrace them or spend the rest of your energy fighting them.  Motherhood, Parenting 2010-07-15T18:41:49+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/six-months-later-a-look-at-recovery-efforts-and-replanting-in-haiti/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/six-months-later-a-look-at-recovery-efforts-and-replanting-in-haiti/#When:11:54:04Z This past Monday marked months since the massive earthquake in Haiti. Today I wanted to introduce you to an amazing organization who has been at work in Haiti for the past 13 years, Plant with Purpose. Actually, if you follow this blog at all you will have run across them here before. I am a raving fan of this community of people and their efforts on behalf of the poor around the world. Take a look at their efforts and consider getting involved. This is a piece from their site, cross-posted here and other places this week as an effort to help them raise visibility and awareness. I'm thankful to partner with them in this small way! Here we go: Today [Monday, July 12] marks 6 months since the devastating earthquake in Haiti. Although there is still much to be done, the communities Plant With Purpose works with have made significant progress by planting trees, constructing soil conservation barriers, and providing incomes to support their families through our “Cash for Work” program. Below is a firsthand account about the situation in Haiti from Plant With Purpose Technical Director Bob Morikawa who spent a total of six weeks in Haiti over a four month period after the earthquake and is returning next week to continue to work with our local Haitian staff to continue their relief and development efforts. “It has now been six months to the day since the earthquake in Haiti which triggered one of the worst humanitarian disasters in recent history and also one of the largest relief responses ever seen. I myself arrived in Haiti on January 24th, crossing overland through the border between the Dominican Republic and Haiti since the Port au Prince airport was closed to commercial flights at the time. I found a country devastated as we have all come to know through the extensive coverage on the news and in social media. I also found many people hard at work, throwing all their energy into the immense task of bringing relief and shelter to the hundreds of thousands affected by the quake. I was very encouraged to find, first of all that none of our local staff were lost (one of our technicians tragically lost his wife and child), and second that our local staff were hard at work as well, organizing work teams to clear debris from the local feeder road, and making initial efforts to distribute water and supplies. Over the days and months to come, we and many other organizations were able to rapidly scale up our efforts, to meet the needs of many victims. The scale of the need was mind boggling, and although even our small organization was able to provide seeds, food, tools and employment to thousands, it never seemed like enough. Fortunately, we have come through a successful cropping season which has stabilized the food security situation somewhat, and thanks to the efforts of many NGO's at least temporary shelter has been provided for many. There are still thousands who find themselves essentially homeless, or in very vulnerable quarters and we can only hope for a mild hurricane season which would buy us all more time to improve recovery efforts. Speaking from our own experience in the communities where we directly work, we found that the initial quake created an extremely fluid situation where many people from urban areas fled to rural zones (where we work) to take shelter with their relatives. This put an immense burden on already poor rural families and boosted family size from 6 or 7 members up to 10 or 12 members. Meals per day dropped to just one or less in many cases. Now, according to surveys we have conducted, many of those additional family members have returned to the city, and most families are eating 2 or more meals per day. This is still not back to pre-quake levels, but at least the trend is in the right direction. Now our efforts as an organization, and those of many organizations are shifting focus from immediate relief and instead we are putting our efforts into helping families make the transition to a more stable situation where food supply is secure, and income is reliable. In rural areas, this will involve such interventions as tree planting and soil conservation to stabilize farm fields, and income generating projects such as poultry and goat production. We will also continue--as we did before the earthquake--to work with community groups to help strengthen local leadership, and improve a community's ability to mobilize savings, and deal with their own economic issues. In fact we found that this was a distinct advantage for us because those relationships and the leadership built up prior to January 12th enabled both our organization and communities to respond more rapidly and with greater order and precision than would have been possible otherwise. Take a moment to consider the resilience of Nelta Fils-Aime, who was displaced from Port-au-Prince where she worked and lived with her 5 siblings. She has since returned to the countryside with her siblings to live with her father. She is not a member of Plant With Purpose’s programs but her father is. Through the soil conservation work provided by Plant With Purpose she has been able to contribute to her household. She has no plans to return to Port-au-Prince for now but says she is grateful for the opportunity to make some money for her family. Everyone refers to her as very courageous, because the work she does, she does with only one hand. She is uncertain of what will happen next, but says she would like to start her little business and stay in the countryside. The work is far from over. Haiti was one of the poorest countries in the world even before January 12th, and I had always thought that people were living on the edge. It turns out that now that 'edge' has been moved to a place I simply would never have imagined. It is surely a testament to the resilience of the people of Haiti, and as a locally popular song inspired by these events says "Haiti is on its knees, but not down yet." ~~~~~ Since the earthquake, Plant With Purpose has provided 125 tons of food to 15,000 Haitians, distributed nearly 80,000 pounds of bean seed to over 2,000 families, and employed over 2,000 farmers through our “Cash for Work” program. Additionally, farmers have constructed over 260 miles of soil conservation barriers and planted over 170,000 trees. The “Cash for Work” programs are allowing people like Nelta to stabilize and contribute income to support their families. Plant With Purpose has raised nearly $1 million to support all of our Haiti relief efforts, and part of that support has been provided by partner companies of 1% for the Planet, a non-profit that blogged about our work in Haiti last February (click here to read that blog.) 1% for the Planet has blogged about our work in Haiti again today, which you can read here: http://onepercentfortheplanet.org/blog/ Plant With Purpose has responded to the immediate and interim needs in Haiti where we have built long-standing relationships over the last 13 years. Please consider partnering with us as we continue our long-term recovery efforts in Haiti. To make a donation, you can visit our website, www.plantwithpurpose.org. You can also subscribe to our blog to receive updates on our work in Haiti at www.plantwithpurpose.blogspot.com.   Guest Bloggers 2010-07-14T11:54:04+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/why-is-grandpas-heart-purple-and-other-literal-translations/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/why-is-grandpas-heart-purple-and-other-literal-translations/#When:02:11:25Z My father-in-law served in Vietnam. He has three purple hearts and a wild streak of patriotism to prove it. He is awesome (and no, I am not just kissing up to gain favor at the dinner table). Three purple hearts, scars all over his legs and some hard stories. One that includes leaving a fiancee (my also awesome mother-in-law) behind to wonder if she'd ever get the chance to marry him. Today, he's kinda, sorta retired, spends a lot of time on the golf course and always drives a convertible sports car of some sort. And he smiles a lot. My seven year old and Grandpa John have a little date every Thursday morning this summer. They go to golf lessons together. My son gets to cruise sans siblings in that sports car (currently a white Corvette) and hit the green with Gramps. Then it's off to lunch together. You would think my son had just won the PGA Tour. He comes home all puffed up, shoulders back, sighing all proud, like he's a stock broker at a golf outing. Struts a little too. "Yeah, me and Grandpa John had a good day on the course," he says. Of course he also thinks hitting it into the water is the best part of the day. Well last week my son asked Grandpa John about the Purple Heart license plates on his Vette and of course my Father-in-Law explained it to him. End of story. Until later that evening when my earnest son asked "hey mom, why is Grandpa's heart purple and not pink like the rest of ours hearts?"  A brilliant little moment all wrapped up in innocence, confusion, curiosity, hope and wonder. And rather than launch into a dialogue about war I simply said "oh sweetie, Grandpa's heart is perfectly pink like the rest of ours, pink and filled with love just like yours." And that did the trick. Literal translations, it is so easy to miss the alternate universe our children live in. Just the other day my middle son (age 4) asks for what we call "our song." A boppy little tune by Ingrid Michaelson called "Everybody." A song about love, about opening up your heart to let love in. Which sounds all goopy and sappy until you look in the rearview mirror at a child sobbing and clutching his chest and realize he has truly listened to the song for the first time. And Ingrid just said that she wants to "open up your chest and let it in." Let the love in that is, but try to explain that one. Song off, kleenex passed to the back, and 20 minutes later he still does not understand that you do not literally need to crack open your sternum to let love in. I tell my daughter (2.5) to turn off the sink, not to waste water. Why? So that the fishies do not run out of water. At the moment it seemed the most concrete way to rationalize water conservation. Now she wants to know why the fish need water, is looking for the fish in the pipes under the sink and is afraid that fish will come up the drain and splash her while washing her hands. And on it goes. I'm told that writing these little vignettes down is a treasure forever. That someday I will sigh and wonder what happened to the little fish when she is slamming the bathroom door in anger or teenage frustration. And it brings that lump to my throat when I stare into little innocent eyes and tell my son how healthy and pink and filled with love his Grandfather's heart really is. That war and sports cars and everything in between have only filled it up even more. That his heart is filled with love, so much love his heart my burst . . . . wait, here we go again. What's the literal translation as your house these days? Got a good one? Share it with us, it would be fun to read! Life, Motherhood, Parenting 2010-07-12T02:11:25+00:00 http://traceybianchi.com//blog/a-culture-of-convenience/ http://traceybianchi.com//blog/a-culture-of-convenience/#When:01:51:48Z I love the clerks in my local grocery store. The same women scan and weigh and slide my yogurt and tortilla chips every week. At first they appear pretty gruff and I confess to wondering if they love or hate me and my type, us food-eating, grocery store shopping types. I am fairly certain we are cool with one another though. My two favorites are 60ish with frizzy, permed hair, almost beehive-esque and long, colorful acrylic nails. They always smile even though you can tell they try not to. And they dig my daughter, she melts them every time with her banter. They are a constant in my life and I like these smock wearing ladies, I really do. But this week one threw me for a little loop. Like the good green girl that I am I handed her my reusable bags and she slipped them down to the bagger. When it came time to ring up six little energy bars that fuel me through the morning she grabbed a tiny little plastic bag and started to slide them in. Of course I proceeded to tell her not to worry about bagging the bars and put them into yet another bag. She smiled and said, "well honey, whatever you want, I was just trying to make it easy on you."  I must have looked confused. She went on to tell me about how easy it would be once I got home to get those bars out of the big bag if they were tucked neatly into this little white baggie. Afraid to offend her I smiled and politely said, "well, I'm okay just getting them out one by one, no need to worry about me." I do wonder what sort of culture we live in where we feel the urge to make a bag more convenient? My diaper bag came with a bag to go inside the diaper bag. I have to ask what sort of waste and chaos we generate when we start to feel like we need to make bags more convenient. Now here's the thing, I love my grocery lady and she looked at me with three kids dripping off my arms, with a cart filled with chaos and the sweat of a 90 degree day across my face. Clearly I needed all the help and convenience I could get. So I cannot fault her really. But what I do fault is the culture we live in that tells us life should be as simple and streamlined as possible. That we need drive-thru food, drink carriers, double bags, 10 minute oil changes and brownies that bake in the microwave in under 4 minutes.  All of this convenience comes with an added stress to our waste stream. It means we have baggies and Styrofoam, extra straws and single use microwaveable dishes. But we are accustomed to this. I will say that I thought about her extra bag all the way home. Did I want my bars mixing with the string cheese? How much better would my life be with a few extra bags? I wanted to know. Yes, I am making light of a really great woman who was trying to help me. I mean no offense to her but am simply tying to point out all the chaos we add to this planet because we want it easy. I had a seminary professor who carried with him to class the same dented, dusty water bottle every week. It was not one of the snazzy stainless steel bottles we tote around today but rather a bottle that was intended for single use. The label had long since peeled off. Just a grimy cap and the bottle itself remained. As a thank you gift for this professor, for imparting his wisdom upon our class for a semester, we all chipped in a few cents and bought him what we thought was a "real" water bottle. A tight fitting cap with a band to keep it from rolling away, heavy plastic that car tire could not squash. We expected him to gush with thanksgiving. Instead he shrugged and mumbled a quiet thank you. Then he noted that he did not think there was much wrong with his current bottle. That he grew up a missionary and in many parts of the world his original bottle still had a long life of use. He did not need our fancy bottle. Our "convenient" and hip bottle. This stayed with me. What is truly convenient? And who is it convenient for? And let's remember that for all our conveniences there is someone or some place on the other end that may not find it convenient at all. So what is your take on conveniences? Conservation, Consumerism, Life, Sustainability 2010-06-30T01:51:48+00:00