It suddenly hit me today that I'm doing better at dealing with stress. I am laughing more.
Noah woke up screaming in pain over the volcano that was about to erupt in his mouth. Just behind the last molar, the smoking volcano lurked ready to spew forth pus or a tooth, but I couldn't tell which...so I sent him to school on ibuprophen with a note that said it was okay to give him another dose in the event I couldn't set up a dental appointment...and I went to work as usual...and didn't feel too bad about it.
I made the appointment. He has the best dentist anywhere. We've always been able to get in to see him, there has never, ever been a wait...not even for 5 minutes...even when I am 20 minutes early. I digress...
At work we have 50 million things going on. I could list them all out, but I don't have time for that...but there are 50 million things and now I have to leave early to get Noah to the volcanologist. And you'll never guess what happens...My bra breaks...and it is not just a little strappy problem, but the whole thing just splits in half...well in half on one side! So I have to go out to my car and rummage for a sweater on the most beautiful day yet. I actually was pretty certain I'd find another bra in there--you should see my car--but I came up empty handed. So I had to put on an extra sweater. Mondays make me smile.
I stopped home to change before I picked up Noah. When I left the house, D. was trying to screw our cabinet/shelving system back into the wall in the kitchen because the whole thing was about to just fall off. I had the presence of mind to remove my favorite bowl from the loaded shelves before I left. I told him he could prop it up with a 2" x 4". I really wouldn't mind.
The dental appointment was smooth sailing. Dr. Huey and his office are wonderful. We are waiting on a 12 year old molar. Back at the office Jackie and I had been wondering if it was an early wisdom tooth. Shows how much I know.
Noah and I went back to the office. We had a 4-H meeting tonight. That's when Noah discovered the skink stuck on a glue trap that had been left for cockroaches. I freaked. It was still alive. I almost cried. Noah was determined to save it. It looked so pointless. My heart was racing. He just wanted it to be free before it died. He carefully lifted each tiny part, covering the glue with paper as he went along to keep it from re-sticking. It took a very long time. 'Lucky' is recuperating with us at home. Noah wants to make sure he is fit to take care of himself. We've raised alota lizards. I love my boy. I am proud of him. He helped me make it through Monday, and that is a blessing all by itself. -Peace and Love, Krista
Monday, April 11, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Photos of my Noah.
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| Swinging after piano lessons |
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| Fun at the skate park even though we forgot the board |
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| I'll go to your 4-H program if you razor with me... |
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| Classic Noah on Super Moon day |
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| Super Moon day at Bethel Beach |
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| At first we were alone, but just before sunset the cars came rolling in. In Mathews, Super Moon is something to celebrate. |
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Obama on his faith journey at the National Prayer Breakfast
Video of President Obama at the National Prayer Breakfast on February 3, 2011.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Prayer is...
"Prayer is a nonlocative, nongeographic space that one enters at one's own peril, for it houses God during those few moments of one's presence there, and what is there will most surely change everything that comes into it. Prayer, its opal walls polished to transparency by the centuries of hands that have touched them, is the Tabernacle realized and the wayside chapel utilized. Ever traveling as we travel, moving as we move, prayer grips like home, until the heart belongs nowhere else and the body can scarcely function apart from them both. Prayer is dangerous and the entrance way to wholeness."
PHYLLIS TICKLE, Prayer Is a Place
I like this quote. What do you think?
Peace and Love, Krista
PHYLLIS TICKLE, Prayer Is a Place
I like this quote. What do you think?
Peace and Love, Krista
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
InsideToronto Article: Mosque, synagogue unite in effort to feed homeless youth
InsideToronto Article: Mosque, synagogue unite in effort to feed homeless youth
I found this article while trying to find information on how I might be able to assist homeless youth anywhere within driving distance from my little town in Virginia.
I get stuck on things sometimes. The brain just refuses to let go. This is one of those times.
How did I get there? It probably has something to do with the fact that we are really cold at my house some days. There are times when the temperature hovers in the mid forties. I tend to operate from the "it could always be worse" perspective. I like to think of it as chilly, not cold. We survive. We do have some heat, and we can get a few rooms alot warmer. We have heated mattress pads that wake me in a full sweat in the middle of the night when I forget to lower the temp. It isn't so bad.
I began to think of others who endure much colder weather. It isn't much of a leap. I work with kids daily. So runs the movie in my brain.
Homeless youth. If those two words don't make you cry, read them again. Homeless youth. Homeless youth.
There are an estimated 2 million homeless young people in America. 2 million. If you have a hard time visualizing that number, try this: the seating capacity at FedEx stadium is 91, 655. Nearly 22 stadiums filled to capacity, not with Redskins fans, but with our sons and daughters. It is unimaginable.
Unfathomable. Insane.
Eight homeless young people burned in a fire over the holidays in an abandoned warehouse in New Orleans' Ninth Ward. If it made national news, I certainly missed it. Burned beyond recognition, beyond even the identification of gender. If you don't believe it, google it.
I want to do something about homelessness. I want everyone to do something to end homelessness for our nation's youth. If a mosque and a synagogue can work together in Toronto to be part of a solution for homeless Canadian youth, can we not do the same?
Yes, there are organizations who are leading the way. Check out Dry Bones in Denver, and StandUp for Kids across the country. But, in these terrible, harrowing economic times that are putting families and kids on the streets daily, funding to support outreach also drys up. Staffed centers vanish.
2 million homeless youth. 2 million. Homeless Youth.
It isn't right.
Those homeless kids are not nameless. They are not faceless. They are part of Our family.
Peace and Love, K
(I will update this when I sort out what I am going to do)
I found this article while trying to find information on how I might be able to assist homeless youth anywhere within driving distance from my little town in Virginia.
I get stuck on things sometimes. The brain just refuses to let go. This is one of those times.
How did I get there? It probably has something to do with the fact that we are really cold at my house some days. There are times when the temperature hovers in the mid forties. I tend to operate from the "it could always be worse" perspective. I like to think of it as chilly, not cold. We survive. We do have some heat, and we can get a few rooms alot warmer. We have heated mattress pads that wake me in a full sweat in the middle of the night when I forget to lower the temp. It isn't so bad.
I began to think of others who endure much colder weather. It isn't much of a leap. I work with kids daily. So runs the movie in my brain.
Homeless youth. If those two words don't make you cry, read them again. Homeless youth. Homeless youth.
There are an estimated 2 million homeless young people in America. 2 million. If you have a hard time visualizing that number, try this: the seating capacity at FedEx stadium is 91, 655. Nearly 22 stadiums filled to capacity, not with Redskins fans, but with our sons and daughters. It is unimaginable.
Unfathomable. Insane.
Eight homeless young people burned in a fire over the holidays in an abandoned warehouse in New Orleans' Ninth Ward. If it made national news, I certainly missed it. Burned beyond recognition, beyond even the identification of gender. If you don't believe it, google it.
I want to do something about homelessness. I want everyone to do something to end homelessness for our nation's youth. If a mosque and a synagogue can work together in Toronto to be part of a solution for homeless Canadian youth, can we not do the same?
Yes, there are organizations who are leading the way. Check out Dry Bones in Denver, and StandUp for Kids across the country. But, in these terrible, harrowing economic times that are putting families and kids on the streets daily, funding to support outreach also drys up. Staffed centers vanish.
2 million homeless youth. 2 million. Homeless Youth.
It isn't right.
Those homeless kids are not nameless. They are not faceless. They are part of Our family.
Peace and Love, K
(I will update this when I sort out what I am going to do)
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year
Happy New Year. May the new year find you filled with wonder as you gaze upon nature's incredible beauty ...whether it be a snowy afternoon, a starlit sky, or the simple ripples on a sparkling pond after skipping stones. May you have peace in your heart, and generosity in spirit. Let dreams soar, and face challenge with courage. Remember that Love always wins. -K
Some of my favorite pics from the last week:
Some of my favorite pics from the last week:
Monday, August 23, 2010
Searching for Domingo Castillo
My mom set up an appointment today for my grandmother to see about B12 injections as that seems to help some patients diagnosed with Alzheimer's. So far, other than brief hospitalizations for injury, my grandmother has been able to stay in her home. With the help of her caregiver. It isn't easy.
Noah and I last visited 2 1/2 years ago. While there we had to take her car in for repairs. When it came time to pay the bill, she didn't want to pay, and insisted the car was mine (we flew out). It was hysterically funny. We had to leave the car at Sears for abit. We took her to lunch at Famous Daves, and her caregiver snatched her wallet as I distracted her. Neither of us had the money to get the car out of the shop on our own. I had to explain to the mechanic why I was signing her name and showing the military id of someone in her eighties. I was pretty close to freaking out because if he had asked to talk to Carmen, she would have told him that the car was mine and she wasn't paying.
I've found some interesting pieces of the family history over the last few days. So far the scanty evidence seems to corroborate the wild stories I had heard Gramma tell when I was young. I've found records of Domingo's passage aboard the Coppename from Puerto Barrios, Guatemala to New Orleans on May 13, 1915 It records his birth in Managua. It says that he was travelling to university in Philadelphia. I've found his registration for the Draft from 1917. It says that he is employed as a Spanish Instructor with the DC Board of Education. It says that he is single with his mother and child to support, and that he has 3 years of military service in Nicaragua. He claims disability, but on the reverse the registrar indicates none. I found the census record of 1920 which places Domingo, Volberg and Carmen Castillo in Washington DC. My gramma was born in 1918. That is it for Domingo.
But Carmen and Volberg Castillo are passengers on the Olancho in 1923, headed home from Bluefields, Nicaragua. There are no documents related to Domingo's life with my grandmother in Bluefields. What happened to him? Why did he take my grandmother from her mother? Why did he let her mother take her back?
Grandma Carmen says he took her because he loved her so. That makes me smile. Her story is that he became a judge and she had the President of Nicaragua as a godfather. She has said that he died from malaria and that he was killed in rebellion, but there exists the possibility that he survived well into old age and lived to tell his story of the Sandino Rebellion. It is hard to find Nicaraguan documents from the twenties. I am working on it.
I also discovered that Carmen has a half sister she never met. She is still alive. She is older than my grandma...her mom's first child. I don't know her name yet.
Still searching for Domingo.
Love and Peace, Krista
Noah and I last visited 2 1/2 years ago. While there we had to take her car in for repairs. When it came time to pay the bill, she didn't want to pay, and insisted the car was mine (we flew out). It was hysterically funny. We had to leave the car at Sears for abit. We took her to lunch at Famous Daves, and her caregiver snatched her wallet as I distracted her. Neither of us had the money to get the car out of the shop on our own. I had to explain to the mechanic why I was signing her name and showing the military id of someone in her eighties. I was pretty close to freaking out because if he had asked to talk to Carmen, she would have told him that the car was mine and she wasn't paying.
I've found some interesting pieces of the family history over the last few days. So far the scanty evidence seems to corroborate the wild stories I had heard Gramma tell when I was young. I've found records of Domingo's passage aboard the Coppename from Puerto Barrios, Guatemala to New Orleans on May 13, 1915 It records his birth in Managua. It says that he was travelling to university in Philadelphia. I've found his registration for the Draft from 1917. It says that he is employed as a Spanish Instructor with the DC Board of Education. It says that he is single with his mother and child to support, and that he has 3 years of military service in Nicaragua. He claims disability, but on the reverse the registrar indicates none. I found the census record of 1920 which places Domingo, Volberg and Carmen Castillo in Washington DC. My gramma was born in 1918. That is it for Domingo.
But Carmen and Volberg Castillo are passengers on the Olancho in 1923, headed home from Bluefields, Nicaragua. There are no documents related to Domingo's life with my grandmother in Bluefields. What happened to him? Why did he take my grandmother from her mother? Why did he let her mother take her back?
Grandma Carmen says he took her because he loved her so. That makes me smile. Her story is that he became a judge and she had the President of Nicaragua as a godfather. She has said that he died from malaria and that he was killed in rebellion, but there exists the possibility that he survived well into old age and lived to tell his story of the Sandino Rebellion. It is hard to find Nicaraguan documents from the twenties. I am working on it.
I also discovered that Carmen has a half sister she never met. She is still alive. She is older than my grandma...her mom's first child. I don't know her name yet.
Still searching for Domingo.
Love and Peace, Krista
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