









"Practice is the hardest part of learning, and training is the essence of transformation." - Voskamp
The kids getting ready (they kindly removed my glasses) for the "mordita" (bite) of cake. It's usually customary to resist for a little bit... and so my neck muscles are killing me this morning...
In the action of smashing me, myself, and I's face into the cake...
The grand finale...
Yesterday was my birthday... a day that should be filled with fun, delight, humor, etc. A day where your close friends gather 'round, showing their love and appreciation for your presence in their midst. A day when no one would wish you ill or hope that your face would get shoved into a chocolate cake, liberally decorated with whipped cream, until you realize that there is a reason you can't breathe... the pastel (cake) up your nose.
No one here would think of doing such a thing.
It just wouldn't be done.
Yeah, right.
It is a tradition in Mexico for the "mordita" to take place... the birthday girl/boy gets her/his face shoved into their birthday cake, and then has to eat the part that gets touched. So in a roundabout way it's a good thing... the bigger the face-shove, the more cake you get to eat!
Let me just insert here that I didn't finish my piece of cake since it didn't really exist after the face-plant... lol. But... it was certainly a good time, and other than cleaning out cake and whipped cream from nose, mouth, and eyes... it was a fun birthday present... =)
I would also like to send a brief shout-out to my friend Amy... who bought the candles (94), made the cake (I think), cut my "face plant" piece, and (lovingly) added a 3-inch thick helping of whipped topping to my piece of cake, which she didn't give to anyone else... I wonder why???
In honor of her help, well-wishes, and dedication, I would like to post this picture of another "Merry Christmas" surprise administered to her the other day... it was beautiful... =)
So we had just returned home from a long day at the orphanage and were getting ready to settle into our cozy, pre-heated, comfy beds when...
"Ah. Ahhhh. AHHHHHHHH!!!" emanated from the other room, followed by a loud crash and more yelps of panic.
"Ummm... Carissa? Everything okay?"
"Well..."
Rounding the corner from my room, I watched in awe as Carissa frantically tried to stem the flowing tide of water from our 5 gallon (yeah right... more like 20 gallon) jug, and then raced to find containers to fit the remaining 2 cuarts of our precious agua in while the other 19 gallons and 2 cuarts gently seeped across the tile floor, filling crevices, depressions, and holes with a half-inch to an inch of water.
"Okay, okay... ahhh... how 'bout... the mop!"
"Towels!"
"Both!"
Pushing the water across the floor while we tried to sop it up and then dumping it into our little red bucket, we quickly realized that a five-inch square mop was no match for the water covering an area of about 20 feet... time for desperate measures.
Ripping off my socks, grabbing the mop handle, and sliding into place, I began shimmying the water (I don't know if that is a verb... give me a break... you know what I mean) across the floor, around the corner, and out the front door. Carissa followed behind... swiping, dabbing, and wringing out sopping towels...
"How did this happen?"
"Well... I don't remember if I usually take the lid off before I lift the water bottle upside down or not... but it... well, I just dropped it and it split. That thick of plastic isn't supposed to break that easily is it?"
Deciding that the plastic obviously should not break that easily (even when dropped from a 3 foot height, full of water), that it must have hit a direct pressure point (of course), and that it was (in all honesty) a pretty darn impressive rip up the side, we terminated our sloshing efforts, left the rest of the floor to dry, and headed to the fridge for rejuvenation...
...where Carissa opened the door, grabbed a bottle of yogurt which flew out of her hand and clattered to the ground, while I slipped on a remaining trickle of water, slammed the refrigerator door (which then shed its papers and magnets onto the ground in a heap), and then shouted,
"Carissa is throwing yogurt, I'm knocking papers on the ground..."
"AND OUR PETS' HEADS ARE FALLING OFF!" cried Carissa.
We are just hoping it doesn't freeze tonight, because that is going to be one nasty surprise to forget about and then slip on in the morning...
What a night... ;)
Alas... hot chocolate, not coffee this time...
The meteor-gazing troupe... blankets wrapped, hot chocolate ready...
Trying to use the telescope that didn't work (even after Jeff pointed it in the right direction - i.e. not at the ground)... =)
Trying to get a better view... Jeff climbed aboard the CVE school bus...
... when the meteor shower slammed into Earth, killing thousands of people, spreading chaos across the globe and a shivering fear of the unknown into the hearts of the bravest. There were only four people who could handle this job, and it was time to head into the "great beyond" of outer-space to drill a hole into one of the largest meteors in the history of humankind, detonating a bomb deep inside to break apart the meteor so that the pieces could avoid crashing into Earth's...
wait. wrong story. wrong setting. must have seen that in the gas station. rewind, start again.(Notice Recruit #2 almost convinced on the right... lol)
I don't think I ever said to myself, "Hey, Steph, you're moving to Mexico and you should probably take along your woolen coat, scarves, mittens, heavy socks, and heating blanket." But I have needed them all in the past few weeks... multiple times... crazy, huh?
Above, Eli... wearing one of her winter getups during church on Sunday.
Dad, Mom, Tif, Chel and I sitting around the living room with no lights on, watching the "first fire" (woodstove) of the season, drinking Mom's homemade hot chocolate that has been ladled out of the green soup bowl on the stove... lying on my stomach in front of the stereo listening to the Christmas music of Alabama, Glen Campbell, The Lettermen, and Montovani's Orchestra float through the room... getting annoyed with the tinny music from the blinking Christmas lights (that blinked in rhythm with the music, I might add) on the windows and tree... waking up in my room upstairs and seeing my breath white in the predawn light spilling through the northern windows... watching the little kids at church perform their Christmas program, and then rushing to the fellowship hall for exchanges, games, cider, and caramel-coated popcorn... caroling to all the dear faces of our Kiowa congregation, fingertips and nose turning bright red as you ride through the crisp air on a trailer with hay bales, holding squirming kidlets on your lap... singing "The Night that Love was Born in a Manger," and "Stille Nacht" fifty million times (I know you love them Mom...! =P)... reading the Christmas story from St. Luke with the whole family gathered in Grandma Mildred's front room, and then the "Christmas story" afterward from Guideposts that always, always, always makes Mom, Grandma M., and I cry... watching It's a Wonderful Life and White Christmas with my college buddies every year as we drink coffee and snack on leftovers from the "open houses" at Bethany... walking through the fields at Grandma and Grandpa Rudy's house for our "Christmas walk"... and of course stepping out into the crisp, winter air of a still, Kansas night while you breathe in snowflake particles, Christmas hymns drift through your mind, and you look into the vast blue-black blanket of sky crocheted with stars, and think... "We are so blessed... thank you, Lord."
Yes, I will miss being home this Christmas... but I would miss being here, too. And I think... no, I know... that letting these kids experience Christmas with all the love we have in our hearts and that we've tucked away from our years at home is incredibly important. So as the holiday keeps getting closer, I am rejoicing... rejoicing that we can be here to love, to sing, and to praise the birth of Your son, Father... and to let these kids rejoice as well!
"A Candle in the Window" - performed by Alabama.
There’s a road that I remember leading to a special place
Where the door was always open to a smiling face
There’s a picture on the mantle of a boy that looks like me
It’s always the same, there’s a stocking with my name
And a candle in the window, a flame against the night
There’s a candle in the window, it’s like God’s perfect light
It don’t take a lot of money to know what riches are
Just a candle in the window
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking
I can hear the sleigh bells ring
Almost taste the pie mama’s baking,
it’s Christmas Eve
Wherever the years may take me, no matter how far I go
There’s going to be a candle burning, it’s always nice to know
It don’t take a lot of money to know what riches are
Just a candle in the window and Christmas in your heart