Michele’s Musings

Taiwan and Cambodia

2011-07-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

Greetings friends! I return from yet another journey across more time zones than my body prefers but as always so so grateful for the job I have and the people I get to encounter along the way. My time in Taiwan and Cambodia was a rich time of travel, adventure, and fellowship with new friends. I traveled with two good friends and low maintenance traveling buddies, Jen and Stephanie and for the first time not a large group!

Our time in Taipei, Taiwan with YiPing Liu(the Young Life Taiwan National Director) and many of her friends, leaders, and kids was fantastic. She was such a generous host and we dined like royalty! Taiwan is a wonderful nation with a mix of Japanese and Chinese influences and Young Life is just beginning to take hold. There are some great opportunities for US teams to come and partner with their kids to do service together. It was key for me to make the connections I did with so many people in 3 short but very full days. Seriously, put this on your list of countries to visit - so beautiful, clean, efficient and just incredible food and museums and people!

The time in Phnom Penh, Cambodia was busy and we accomplished quite a bit. We had such amazing times connecting with staff, leaders, kids and the short term interns that I placed there from the University of Washington. ..We really enjoyed experiencing the incredible culture and history.The genocide of the Pol Pot regime in the late 70's is just so raw and everyone has a connection to it - it's still a country in healing. There are westerners everywhere and yet still very much Cambodian through and through - they have such a great sense of humor. No wonder Young Life thrives!

I did not just lead an hour long seminar on women in leadership but more like a 6 hour deal! Thankfully, everything I said had to be translated so there was plenty of time for the spirit to give me more material along the way! It was a joy to share my love of the Gospel of John and the ways we see how Jesus set women apart to be part of his ministry then and now in very powerful and counter culture ways - it's such an encouragment to me everytime I get to talk about it.

My time with the national director, Pyneath Sor was fantastic and so invaluable. I needed to really share the vision of what Expeditions could do for his ministry - which is just phenomnal by the way. His vision of reaching kids for Christ and giving them educational skills through computer classes and English speaking classes is one of the best ministries I've seen in action. I love love love how holistic his approach is to sharing the love of God. Young Life provides computers, classes and the teachers in 2 high schools and has 4 community centers where kids can come and learn these crucial skills for their future. There is a long, long waiting list for these classes. Sharing the love of Christ goes hand in hand with meeting kids and families' practical needs. We see Jesus doing this again again in the gospels and we need to follow His ways today no question about it!

There is great potential to bring teams here and help Pyneath and his many leaders attain their vision of creating another 4 centers in the next 4 years. Cambodia is a lovely, safe, vibrant country--and lattes and massages are easy to find-my new requirement for feeling at home around the world!!

As is another personal requirement for my travel, I got some time at a special orphanage - The Center of Peace founded by Bopal Yos - my new hero. She lost both her parents in the horrific genocide and was orphaned at the age of 9. She was turned away by orphanages because there wasn't any room for her- she made the decison then to someday start her own orphanage so no child would be without a home. And she now cares for 72 kids - and adopted one baby girl for her own - BoPal rescued her just before her mother was about to bury her alive at a week old. This little 5 year old is one little firecracker! So many of these kids were abandoned by their mothers; in this culture if a woman divorces and remarries the new husband typcially does not want her children in his home or their new family. Yep, every corner of our world can break your heart and give you an incredible sense of hope all at the same time.

As I traveled home in time for a wedding, the Young Life Expeditions team and Young Life family lost one of their own - Katie Parsons May. To say she shined the light of love everywhere is an understatement. It was such an honor to work with her and get to have spent time with her over the past couple of years. She was #1 on the lung transplant list at UCLA and had been waiting and suffering for a long time in her 27 years of life. Hundreds upon hundreds said good-bye and celebrated her life this past weekend in Santa Barbara. My life is richer because of Katie - if you want a blessing today, take a few minutes and see the video of her service and the beach reception where her ashes were scattered - the 10 minutes that Johnny May (her husband of 8 months) spoke will bless your socks off (it starts at 1:06 and goes til about 1:15)

Grateful to all of you for the care, support and prayers!

Michele

A few photos can be seen here.

Giving link to Michele Sbrana and Young Life Expeditions

Brothers

2011-05-15T14:14:00.001-07:00

It's been a long time since my boys have done something together that hasn't involved arguing about who took the dog out last or who stole who's pair of socks. But I sit here on this strangely stormy May sunday listening to my youngest help his older brother prepare for a college math placement test. Quadratic formulas and solving the function of x is music to my ears--almost as sweet as the days of eavesdropping upon their bedtime conversations about their pirate ship fantasy world some fifteen years ago. I realize time has passed by much too quickly when I overhear conversations about binomial coefficients instead of how to fasten an eye patch out of shoelaces and duct tape.

The world could be falling apart around me but if my kids are peacefully interacting, I think I speak for all mothers when I say, we stop what we're doing no matter the import and listen.

When my oldest genuinely thanked his younger brother for his help after their 90 minutes of study, I did a subconscious double-take. I suppose that at this stage of the teenage game, I'm intently looking for signs that they do, in fact, love one another in the midst of angst and drama and testosterone. If they can figure out how to authentically care for each other then maybe, just maybe, they'll become honest-to-goodness-real-live-loving-caring-human beings who contribute something (anything) to society.

It's not the I really doubt their love for each other; it's just seems so deeply buried these days. Nothing could ever have prepared me for their competitive nature towards one another...was it because they shared rooms until middle school? Or was it because they shared so many of the same toys, books or friends? Or was it (as I suspected might someday come back to haunt me) because unbeknownst to them, they shared underwear when they were both wearing 4T (after the laundry, I promise!). Who really knows? But all I do know is trying to figure out how to share legos was small potatoes compared to all the things of teenage young men (subtext:girls). They're cartoon-like in their confrontations with one another; complete with the beet colored faces and steam coming out of the ears!

These are the ways of brothers I'm told. But logarithms and lovely young women who complicate matters are now up to them. Let's just hope the lessons of learning to deal with the complexities of cardboard swords and taking turns on the tricycle will serve them well as they navigate life and relationships. And pray that no clinical studies come out revealing that brothers who shared superhero underwear at the age of three and four in fact end up living out their lives in their mother's basement pretending to be pirates...but really good at math!

2010-08-05T19:14:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your love, care, prayers and support that you've poured out towards me and my family over the years! Even though our paths might not have crossed as of late, know you hold an important place in my life and we're united in spirit and in purpose!

My time the past couple of weeks in Cebu with my team of four women was tremendous -- getting time in the field with staff and volunteers and seeing them in action serving kids and families in their communities is irreplaceable. I was reminded of how much I believe in what we’re doing in Expeditions – building bridges between nations and making eternal connections with folks who share the hope and love that comes from knowing Christ in some really tough places. Even though I’m always so thrilled to see resources leveraged for God's purposes (i.e. our funds to be there helped to rebuild a kitchen at their camp that was in need of refurbishment), I am the one who gains so much more than I give each time I get the honor of spending time in a new place around the world.

Young Life Philippines will be celebrating their 40^th anniversary in November and have had a camp property since 1979- a rarity internationally for Young Life. Young Life Philippines was started by the father of the current Philippines Regional Director, Wilbert Yasi. An incredible legacy of ministry to teenagers has been built and I was humbled and encouraged to do all I can to support and grow their ministry in my current capacity at Young Life Expeditions.

I was so struck by the staff's strength of character, especially the women. They have more women area directors in one region that I’ve seen anywhere including the US. My small team of just four women was exactly right for what God wanted to do while we were there! We had some sweet sweet times of fellowship and study about what it means to be a strong woman with a soft heart. We also spent time looking at the way Jesus radically cared for and included women in his ministry in a culture and time when women were essentially only valued for their ability to give birth! Of course, some good times were had shopping with a little spa time thrown in for good measure (who can resist a $4 massage or $1.50 pedicure?)

Over the past several years, I’ve had the unique perspective of seeing different Young Life regions at work around the globe. And across the board, the staff and volunteer leaders’ of developing nations sacrifice to the mission of sharing God’s love and Young Life leaves me in awe. They are the body of Christ defined. This summer, there were folks that came from islands that are 14 hours away by boat; we had a several staff come to be with us and work on the camp project for the full ten days who have young children at home and others with loved ones who are ill. They all spend much of their days going to where kids are - schools, streets, shops even prisons. There is nothing these folks will not do for teenagers and it’s so humbling.

I did have the honor of giving a message about Peter walking on water in the midst of a storm (appropriate as it was typhoon season) at one of their kick off clubs (their summer is April and May and school starts again in late June.) They were expecting 250 kids…an estimated 500-600 kids showed up in a non air conditioned room…nope, I've never perspired more just standing still! But we all had some fun laughing and singing and playing in the downpour and doing what Young Life kids and leader do best: hanging out having great conversations and sharing our stories.

The other project I worked on involved Young Life’s new Developing Global Leaders Project where folks like you and I can sponsor university students who have shown potential to make an impact in their nation and Young Life. I spent time interviewing ten different students on video and heard some powerful stories. Each of them has undergone some difficult hardships usually family related and their desire to pursue their education and serve YoungLife is so impressive. Faith and education are without a doubt the keys to the health and growth of developing nations and I’m so grateful that Young Life has created this program. I encourage you to take a look at their website and consider sponsoring a student.

And please think about taking an Expedition somewhere yourself -- you do not need any special skills to go—just a desire to serve and willingness to go outside your comfort zone and see the world that Christ sees! You can take your family, group of friends, folks from your church or your neighborhood or workplace—big or small you can have an impact and I guarantee your world will expand!

As always, you can support my work at YoungLife Expeditions by giving online here and indicating area number 3240 and/or my name, Michele Sbrana or just send a check payable to YoungLife and I can give you the mailing address.

You can see more photos here of our trip here.

Grace and peace,

Michele

YoungLife Expeditions

Brown Paper Packages Tied Up with String

2010-05-08T22:24:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day 2010 is upon us and it's being crowded out by a speaking engagement for me, theatre rehearsals for my boys, work for my husband -- but it's a rich sweet life and I get such joy from being a mama that one full day isn't going to change a thing. But I'm also a daughter who honors her own amazing Mom. I found this column I wrote in 2002 just after moving from California to New Hampshire - I felt like a million miles away from the one who helped me become who I am. Happy Mother's Day!

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Brown Paper Packages Tied Up With String

I opened up a box today delivered by my favorite colored truck…brown. The brown truck reminds me of the days of my wedding when we were visited daily by the man in brown shorts…bringing us gifts of our fine china place settings (hmm, when was the last time I dusted those off and put them to use?), coffee grinders (the $10 or less gift of choice) and of course, my favorite, the see through cookware that was popular for about twenty minutes back in the late eighties that I purposely ruined within a year!

However, this package wasn’t filled with gifts wrapped in white with silver bows. Enclosed in this cumbersome cardboard container were things like mismatched socks, ball pump needles and a stapler void of staples. Where did this package originate? Why, my Mother, naturally. The box was overflowing with items left at her home during our interim stay before our cross-country move.

I’ve just moved away from my Mom and family for the second time in my life. The first time was for college and it was a mere six hours from San Francisco down the California coast to idyllic Santa Barbara. My parents looked for any excuse to come visit this sun-drenched paradise (“It’s your half birthday, sweetheart? We’ll be down pronto to take you to our favorite beachside café for sunset.”) True, this go round of relocation to the East Coast is slightly more dramatic, but there’s still just a six hour distance… if you take a direct flight (only available these days via the Concorde or Air Force One) and the New England climate is undoubtedly a little less tropical than my collegiate surroundings…however, having the only grandchildren gives me unyielding visiting and care package leverage!

And, not surprisingly, this package had my Mom’s signature item enclosed…the traditional trimly cut out article from the local newspaper or church bulletin that either brings me to tears or righteous indignation. The articles are my Mom’s way of showing me she’s been thinking of her eldest daughter… an article on parenting strategies entitled “Boys Who Beg for Buzz Cuts and their Mothers Who Refuse,” news from ‘The Church Mouse’ spreading the word of my youth pastor’s retirement party or the local county’s further library budget cuts—so their doors are now only open on Sundays from 6:00 to 7:30 AM and Fridays at midnight!

This time it was an obituary piece on my childhood mailman, Flip…it goes without saying that if your childhood mailman delivers candy canes on Christmas, balloons on birthdays and gardenias on graduation to all the children on his route, there’s not enough Kleenex stocked in the house let alone the local Costco to wipe away the tears when reading his tribute!!

My Mom has a spot in her home on an antique chair where she stacks said items of interest or things she picks up hither and yon for her three children, their significant others and now her grandchildren. What’s so wonderful and albeit frightening about this thoughtful attribute is that it’s in fact hereditary. I distinctly recall my grandfather doing the exact same thing to my Mom as I was growing up. So it’s just a matter of time before I have a pair of sharpened orange handled scissor at the ready as I peruse the morning newspaper!

Of course boxes thoughtfully filled with miscellany is just the tip of the “My Mom is the Best Mom” Hallmarkesque iceberg. When I was a kid, she was the most adventurous Mom in town to be sure. Take, for instance, the time she took it upon herself to pile her three precious children in our silver Granada on a weeklong trek up to the Northwest to meet my Dad in Vancouver as he wrapped a film project. Sounds simple, right? It always seemed simple until I became a Mommy and realized that she was more than ambitious and adventurous…she was… somewhere between inane and insane.

You think I’m being callous? Did I mention that those three children were the ripe old ages of eight (me) five and eighteen months old? Did I mention that we camped under the starry skies in a borrowed cramped tent (requiring assembly each and every night) all along the west coast? And that one of her children—okay, it was me—had a tendency to sleep walk? In addition she had at least one occasion during our journey in which she had to leave my brother and baby sister sleeping in the canvas abode to search for her nocturnal wanderer. I’m quite sure there’s a statute of limitations on child abandonment, neglect or endangerment…especially if your grown daughter writes about it for the entire world to read!

Admittedly that particular vacation remains one of my favorite summer memories, but audacity is not her only her claim to fame. Creativity a la 70’s is right up there…Take for example the time…no make that two times…wherein she created rather elaborate costumes to celebrate a significant holiday. For the Bicentennial celebration, my Mom created a Betsy Ross costume that would make Vera Wang look like a hack…. complete with the colonial kerchief atop my braided bun…and no, the photos have not been transferred to digital nor will they ever be!

Of course, the year she discovered her direct relation to a Mayflower passenger out came the Singer yet again resulting in the creation of Pilgrim and Native American costumes for each family member to adorn during the Thanksgiving feast at my grandparents’ home. Now as cool as it was for teenagers to dress as Colonial Standish and Squanto, the war paint on my grandmother’s antique damask tablecloth was the grande finale in my Mom’s not so hidden dream to be a Hollywood costume designer!

There are many other tales to tell about my Mom, but I’ve got to spend more time in hypnotherapy to reveal them. I’m so grateful to my Mom for setting a standard of excellence with her spirit of thoughtfulness, creativity and adventure. So thank you Mom for the inspiration. And keep those brown trucks in business…but next time, could you include some of those cut out cookies…perhaps in the shape of Betsy Ross or Squanto?

Stuck in a Moment

2009-11-08T21:41:00.000-08:00

There are moments (usually amongst piles of dishes) when I make myself stop what I’m doing, breathe deeply and soak in a moment. This is one. I’ve got 8 high school guys in my living room dressed in tuxedos practicing four part harmonies of Boyz 2 Men’s Silent Night, and two others watching a soccer game mentally readying themselves for Varsity try outs tomorrow and I think to myself, this is it…this is what I’ve always wanted my life and my home to be like….teeming with life and laughter and joy and music.

The leaves on the lawn are in need of raking, the dog is driving me nuts with muddiness and a six week old lingering skunk scent, the bills are overwhelming, the car needs a tune-up, the calendar is madness, college looms, and yet, I'm a walking Hallmark card. This must be what being in your Forties is all about...the ability to find contentment amidst the chaos...peace in the pandemonium. Sure, some might call it denial, I call it perspective.

The perception that building a legacy is vastly more important than the anxieties of the world around. Noah Ben Shea has given shape to this attitude lately. He tell us from an old African saying, "Do not kiss your children so they will kiss you back but so they will kiss their children and their children's children." This is the viewpoint I'm trying to maintain these days. Tonight was easy. Tomorrow morning will more than likely be a different story, but this moment will carry me for a good while and I'm just so incredibly grateful for the richness that is my life.

Halloween Then and Now

2009-10-31T20:13:00.000-07:00

Halloween used to be sticky fingers grasping a hand to climb a flight of steps to a stranger’s home. Halloween used to be forcing a three, four, five year old to say ‘thank you’ upon receipt of a sugary treat; that you secretly hope is chocolate without any coconut. Halloween used to be spending hours upon hours on intricate, beautiful costumes…only to cover them up with a coat because the outside temperature is hovering above freezing on the big day. Halloween used to be school parades with smiles and crooked costumes and video cameras…one such school parade where my youngest clearly not ready for kindergarten tells the lovely Snow White mother blocking his view, ‘Move it, Snow White. I can’t see my brother.’ Halloween used to be family pumpkin carving gatherings with pencils marking triangles for a Jack O’ Lantern’s eyes and nose, endless Halloween craft projects coming home from school involving ghosts, witches, pumpkins and skeletons…which somehow tied into a curriculum of some sort. Halloween used to be making cut out cookies with frosting and candy corns for school parties, neighbors reconnecting over hot apple cider and trying to force some broccoli or carrot sticks in between the meals of sugar.

Halloween is now your kids figuring out their own costumes with what’s in the closet or rummaging through their Dad’s box of clothes he just can’t part with. Halloween is now giving them the car keys to drive to the best neighborhoods and ‘not really but kind of’ trick or treating…once you hit high school, come on, really? Okay, I can see why they hit a certain Pepperwood Drive wherein families clearly take out second mortgages to compete with one another’s treats – two-pound bags of M&Ms per trick or treater…seriously. Halloween is now kids finding intricate patterns on the Internet for pumpkin carving creations…and asking if we can roast the seeds like we always used to (once or twice maybe, but I’ll let him believe it’s one of those traditions.) Halloween is now about making a good stew, opening a great Pinot Noir, turning on some Duke Ellington, lighting a plethora of candles and enjoying the freedom…and praying like the dickens that your kids are not doing anything stupid or anywhere near anything or anyone resembling stupidity. I think I’ll have another glass of Pinot Noir, please.

These Things I Know to Be True: Summer Version

2009-08-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

Anything eaten over the kitchen sink during the summer months is usually healthy, fresh and local… but nectarine juice cascading down your chin, neck and blouse can in no way be described as your best look.

Moles can and will destroy your desire to live if you take them on in a battle royale. No amount of repellent with castor oil or dried skunk blood, or stink bombs, poison pellets (illegal in the states of California or Illinois but available for purchase at your local hardware store) or any high-pitched sound machine will cause these rodents of the worst kind to pull up stakes and move next door. Find yourself a mole whisperer and pay him whatever he asks to put out traps and tell you endlessly about the psyche of a mole.

When your youngest son passes his driver’s license test and has that new sense of teenage freedom that is akin to the joy found when walking skills were acquired fifteen years prior, the conveniences are not in anyway outweighed by the sadness felt at the loss of time spent with him (albeit forced time in car captivity but time spent nonetheless.)

Walking into Target wearing attire including your shoes from said Target is just plain embarrassing and there ought to be a capital ‘L’ on your emblazoned upon forehead…(note to self: wear Kohl’s clothes in Target, Target clothes in Kohl’s…or at the very least remember to mix and match.)

Teenagers seem to be the most talkative over leftover pizza after 11PM. The trick is having the leftover pizza, ears ready to listen and eyes that don’t require toothpicks to say open…ah, the irony.

Those public pay car washes and vacuum kiosks are real pressure cookers. There should be blood pressure warning signs posted as you race against the sucking and spraying clock. As a public service announcement, make sure to bring a collection of unwrinkled never been in a pocket dollar bills hot off the US treasury presses to exchange for the one minute and thirty-seven seconds gold car wash/vacuum tokens. The machines don’t much care for anything less than dollar bill perfection. Also, you might want to bring the whole family and have a well thought out car washing and vacuuming strategy akin to Michael Phelps and his Olympic 800 meter medley relay team. Then and only then might you be able to detail your vehicle in the allotted amount of time. So, yes that was me racing through the streets of Danville half covered in soap suds trying to get to the hose in our driveway that didn’t require a gold token…and no that police officer would not give us an escort home as much as I begged!

Beyonce’s popular ten-day (ha!) lemonade fast/cleanse/diet could be used by the CIA to gather highly sensitive information any day of the week.

Dead flowers are better than no flowers at all…in a vase on your kitchen table or in growing in a terra cotta pot in your yard…it says to all who walk by, ‘I was once alive and my very existence indicates that my caretaker at least tried to beautify the surroundings.’ How’s that for justification of not deadheading, pruning and buying a new bunch of flowers?

This crazy thing called time really does move along more rapidly than it should and John Lennon nailed it when he told the world in Beautiful Boy that ‘life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.’ I’ve been trying to pay attention much more closely lately and not get too distracted by tunnels in my lawn, the label on my clothes, and filthy cars… rather focus my time and energy on things like plotting ways to convince my kids to get in the car with me, keep a steady supply of leftover pizza in the fridge and eat lots of nectarines!

Recipe for 2009

2009-01-01T18:26:00.000-08:00

Do something to move your body everyday. Find a sport that you enjoy. Take a 10-30 minute walk daily. As you walk, smile and wave to everyone you pass. It's the ultimate anti-depressant.
Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes a day. Talk to God about what's going on in your life and listen.
When you wake up in the morning, complete the following statement, 'My purpose is to _______ today. I am thankful for _________.
Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants.
Drink green tea and half your weight in ounces of water. Eat blueberries, wild salmon, broccoli, almonds and walnuts.
Try to make at least 3 people smile a day. Write notes of encouragement and affirmation to those you love in your life.
Don't waste your precious energy on gossip, issues of the past,negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.
Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a college kid with a maxed out charge card.
Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
Life is too short to waste time hating anyone. Assume the best in others.
Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
You are not so important that you have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
Make peace with your past so it won't spoil the present.
Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
Frame every so-called disaster with this question: 'In five years, will this matter?'
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
What other people think of you is none of your business
God can heal anything; but you need to ask.
However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
You job won't take care of you when you're sick. Your friends and family will...stay connected.
Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
Each night before you go to bed, complete the following statement: I am thankful for _______. Today, I accomplished___________.
Remember you are too blessed to be stressed.
When you're feeling down, start listing your blessings and do something for someone else.

It Does Matter

2008-06-12T22:06:00.000-07:00

I have once again emerged from the abyss that regularly and mercilessly swallows unsuspecting women like me, draining them of energy, judgment and money before spitting them back out as heavy-laden shells of their former selves. I’m talking about Target. What is it about that place? Is there a spell cast upon me as I pass through those red, electronic sliding doors? (‘Mich-shhhh-ele,’ they sweetly whisper as they open, and again, Mich-shhhh-ele, as they close.) I swear on the life of my children and unborn grandchildren that I dutifully compose a shopping list in the Target parking lot, on the back of what is probably a very important receipt (which I found crumpled beneath my brake pedal), and promise myself that I will adhere to it absolutely: tennis balls, brown lunch bags and goldfish crackers.

I clutch the list tightly and keep it within eyesight as I grab my crimson cart. But as God is my witness, once inside the vastness that is Target, with its endless aisles stocked with every consumer good that any consumer in the history of consumerism has ever consumed, I am powerless to resist. My otherwise discerning mind begins to utter these words the moment I breathe the rarified air of the Target vestibule, with its giant red bulls-eye that should more aptly be painted on my back than on their wall: I need, I want, I must have…

I need the twelve-ply, double-roll, twenty-four pack of toilet paper…I need that thirty-seven liter jug of laundry detergent…I must have that cleverly antiqued garden sign and matching garden hose spigot…I want to see all my clothes hanging on those faux velvet hangers…my kids need two Scooby Doo electric toothbrushes…my husband needs those seer sucker Bermuda shorts…I must have those three chick flicks (because what woman doesn’t need a chick flick library and since I can’t decide between Julia, Drew and Meg, why not get all three since they’re only $5 each?) A talking cookie jar, a case of cinnamon toaster strudel, four pair of new summer flip-flops…because last years flip-flops are just so ‘last year’…even though it’s only February.

Before I know it the original list with the tennis balls, brown lunch bags and goldfish crackers has gotten buried beneath two new doormats for Halloween (again, it’s February), a carwash kit for my Father’s birthday (November), a lifetime supply of cotton balls (because we used up our last lifetime supply), a new laundry hamper, and a couple of bottles of my favorite chardonnay…because who doesn’t need a drink after such an exhausting day?

I might be exaggerating ever so slightly, but honestly, I’ve long been embarrassed by my chronic lack of self-control in that place. Lately, however, the real source of my shopping angst has changed. For lack of a better way of putting it, I’ve grown a shopping conscience. Part of it comes from simply wanting my kids to learn how to appreciate what they do have rather than whine about what they don’t. And as much as I hate to admit it, contentment is a trickle-down attitude. They need to see me asking myself, “Do I really need…the cookie jar, the door mat, the flip-flops…?” Recently I taped a note to my bathroom mirror that reads ‘Be a consumer of only what you need today.’ It helps.

But in addition to my parenting concerns, over the past several years I’ve had the chance to travel to a number of places in East Africa. I got to know people who live on less than $2 a day. I walked beside women who travel miles morning and evening to get water for their families. And I learned that a significant percentage of people in our world live this way. Talk about a ‘reality check.’

And even more than that, I’ve seen people who actually suffer oppression because of the ‘stuff’ that we citizens of wealthy nations insist on having at our disposal. For most of human history the majority of things people used or consumed were grown or built or created by themselves or someone they knew. We had ‘direct relationship’ societies. But in today’s post-industrialized society, few of us have any idea who made what we use, or where it really came from. We don’t know who picked our strawberries or sewed the buttons on our blouses or bottled our milk or assembled our cell phones. And because we don’t know, we often don’t care.

But what if ‘readily available goods’ at ‘rock bottom prices’ means that someone somewhere is being exploited? Does it matter? I think it does. It matters who made my kids shoes. Was she paid a decent wage? It matters where my coffee beans were picked. Are growers there treated fairly? It matters how the cotton for my pillowcases was harvested. Are the working conditions humane? I’ve come to understand that I really do have a relationship with the person who produces my goods. And even though that relationship is indirect, the fact is that if I’m drinking coffee harvested by someone who was exploited, in a way I’m participating in that exploitation.

As an American woman I have a lot of influence over the ways in which our family’s money is spent. I’ve begun carrying a handy little shopping guide (Better World Shopping Guide by Ellis Jones) in my purse that gives ratings to products based on the way the company or corporation treats its employees and the surrounding environment. I’ve stopped buying Orbit gum (Wrigley doesn’t get a great rating) in favor of Trident (who gives a percentage of its profits to Save the Children). For similar reasons we’ve switched from Quilted Northern toilet tissue to Cottonelle or Seventh Generation.

Sometimes it means going without a product that I didn’t really need anyway. Sometimes it means sending an email to a company and asking them to pay their employees a fair wage or make better environmental policies. A lot of the time it simply means shopping locally and knowing the people who make or grow the things you want. I’m grateful that my shopping conscience is leading me to become a more compassionate consumer. And I look forward to the day when I’ll drive out of the Target parking lot with nothing in the trunk but tennis balls, brown lunch bags and goldfish crackers.

Some of my favorite social conscious shopping resources:

AGreaterGift.org
BetterWorldShopper.com
Baksheesh (www.vom.com/baksheesh)
DivineChocolate.com
GearthatGives.com
GroundsforChange.com
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Grocery Store Confidential

2008-04-10T13:48:00.000-07:00

I’ve decided grocery stores are the perfect place for observing human nature. There’s a lot going on in the psychological undercurrent of your local grocery store that I think is noteworthy. Or maybe I just need to get more of a life. But nonetheless I’ve being noticing some interesting things about myself and my fellow cart pushers.

Speaking of carts, my tendency is to stash mine in as much of an out-of-the-way spot as possible and head unencumbered down an aisle to grab, say, applesauce and olives. I’m convinced it will be more efficient than having to maneuver my cart through the maze of others shoppers trying to likewise maneuver their carts. (Can you say, ‘Bumper Cars’)? Of course, on my way to gather my applesauce and olives, I spy the imported vanilla from Madagascar that I read about in some magazine, and lo and behold, it’s right next to a jar of artichoke Meyer lemon tapanade (that sounds far better than it tastes), and I realize how much happier my family will be if we have these items in our pantry. And before I know it, I’m shuffling down the aisle with cans of mandarins underneath my chin, packages of pasta under my armpits, and I don’t even remember what…nor can I look down to check…between my knees.

But the fun really begins when my now overflowing cart and I go looking for the shortest checkout line. If I’m on top of my game I’ve brought at least one of my kids with me. I’ve spent years training my kids how to strategically position themselves in other lines and communicate with first-base-coach-like signals when they think we should all converge into their superior checkout lane.

The very best thing that can happen to me on any given day, short of winning the lotto or my kid scoring a 100% on a math test, is correctly predicting which new cashier stand is going to open up while I’m at the end of a very long line. It takes a high level of concentration, which can be difficult to maintain in the over-stimulating environment of your typical grocery store, but on a few very special…dare I say magical?...days, I’ve known the joy of catching the eye of the fresh cashier as he/she is just flicking on his/her lane light. I deftly pull out from the rear of the pack and, carefully avoiding eye contact with any of my fellow shoppers, make a beeline for the newly opened station. Ah, victory.

And what about ‘10 items or less’? One of the most important questions of our time is this: If the 10 item Express lane is empty, AND there’s a cashier in place, AND all the normal lanes are at least three deep with carts filled with a month’s supply of food for their families and pets, AND I only have items for tonight’s dinner, AND those items total a mere 12, is it socially acceptable to use that Express lane? Logic says ‘yes’, but inevitably, as soon as I’ve unloaded my 12 items onto the grocery belt, someone with only a gallon of milk steps up behind me and I can feel the knives shooting from their eyes into my spine. Do stores put you on a list if you’ve gone through the Express lane with over the allotted number? Is my photo posted on the hidden side of the cash register? Will a second infraction result in the destruction of my frequent shopper rewards card?

Recently I was witness to another serious issue at my favorite grocery store, Trader Joes. (Trader Joe’s rules)! In the lane next to my own there was a cart filled about half way, but with no human attached to said cart. Behind it was another cart, this one with human attached, which had apparently just pulled into line. The shopper currently checking out was getting dangerously close to paying her bill and having her groceries loaded into her eco-friendly canvas bags. The woman behind the human-less cart was looking around to see if anyone was coming to claim it. Seeing no one she begin to go around the unattended cart, but just as she did the absentee shopper arrived with several last minute items and took her ‘rightful’ place at the checkout counter. Oh, boy, you could cut the tension with a cheese knife. Insincere apologies were exchanged, evil eyes were given, accompanied by not-so-subtle heavy sighs and not-so-quiet mutterings under the breath.

Now, I do sympathize. I’ve been known on certain occasions (okay, weekly) to stake my place in line and go grab one or maybe two more things. Oft times I leave my kids with the cart and give them the solemn duty of pushing it forward. It’s risky, I know. But at this point in my life I know how long it takes me to get from the checkout line to the dried fruit and nuts and back again, with plenty of time to spare. But sometimes you’re waylaid by a neighbor, or you’re barred from your goal by a gridlock of shoppers who didn’t think to stash their carts in an out-of-the-way spot and head unencumbered down the aisle, and the whole system breaks down. In the distance you hear your kids’ voices rising above the market din, calling out in panic, wondering aloud how they’re going to pay for the groceries, and like a tiger protecting her cubs you abandon your quest and leap to their defense.

Priorities.

But I really wanted those pistachios.

The M Ticket

2008-03-16T21:44:00.000-07:00

My fourteen year old son, Casey has gone to Disneyland this weekend for the second time in his life and I’m not with him. I learned from our first trip seven years ago that I’ve become a full-fledged, no-holds-barred grown up. And there’s no escaping this reality no matter how hard I try.

Understand that I've always been one of those Moms. By 'one of those,' I mean the kind of Mom who tries to participate 100% in the lives of her children. I kick off my shoes, roll up my sleeves and experience life as they experience it (therapist-speak for: I still see myself as twelve years old.)

I've always loved good roller coasters; ones with sharp drops or corkscrews or full-on loop de loops. And in my mind, that was still true. However, in the physical reality of my post childbirth life...not so much. The pathetic fact is this: It doesn't matter if it's the Matterhorn or your basic, no frills merry-go-round, I'm woozy within seconds of the safety bar being secured...suddenly bearing a striking resemblance to Mr. Toad of Mr Toad's Wild Ride.

On our last trip, I was transformed into the kind of Mom I'd hoped I never would become: the observer Mom. The Mom that says to her family: "You go on and have fun. I'll meet you at the exit." Now, the politically correct...or should I say, parentally correct... rationalization of my chagrin is actually also the truth. I will treasure the looks of sheer delight on their faces every time they came off a thrilling ride. But when I divided the number of delighted looks into the cost of four 'three-day park-hopper' tickets, I couldn't help feeling a little bit short changed.

It was then and there that I decided Disney needed to borrow a page from its own history. Remember the famous E ticket? Well I think it's high time Disney established the M ticket. "M" ostensibly stands for "Moms"...but it really stands for Manicures, Massages and Margaritas. The M ticket would be issued ever so discreetly as Moms walk into the park.

So while those I love most in the world anticipate bobsledding through the legendary Matterhorn, I duck into a quiet room shimmering with the soft glow of aromatherapy candles and allow the gentle sounds of a rain forest to soothe my soul as Sven, a superior Swedish massage therapist, works on my ever-aching neck and shoulders

While my children dare their hastily devoured corndogs to stay down while spinning on the Mad Hatters Teacups, I'll be sipping a lovely cup of Chamomile tea accompanied by an assortment of scones with Devonshire cream and lemon tartlets.

The most popular ride in all of Disneyland is Space Mountain. It makes me queasy just writing the words. Here the M ticket alternative will be spiritual renewal in the 'Give Me My Space' Yoga Retreat. While hordes of non-Moms hurtle blindly through the alien darkness, we'll be energizing our inner beings in the postures of Downward Facing Dog and Sun Salutation.

And the Grande Finale to the M ticket day? Picture a combination of the best elements of the Jungle Cruise and the Pirates of the Caribbean with a little Indiana Jones excitement thrown in for good measure. Imagine chiseled Cabana boys performing revitalizing foot reflexology on my lovely size sevens, palm fronds fanning my face while I recline in a retractable, cushioned, vibrating lounge chair and enjoy a romantic film starring George Clooney (preferably in a tuxedo).

So there you have it. I'm sure after my marketing pitch to Disney Inc. it will only be a matter of time until it becomes available to the general Mom population. Now if only I could get Walt to return my calls.

2008-02-25T16:54:00.001-08:00

Where Have All the Shower Caps Gone?

I’m a woman. There’s about a fifty-fifty shot that you’re a woman too. So, can someone answer this question: why don’t women wear shower caps anymore? I couldn’t for the life of me tell you where to even purchase one of these latex skull caps, much less the last time I shoved my hair inside one. Now, granted, I haven’t really looked in the last, oh say twenty five years, but still, I haven’t even noticed them in passing. I would presume they’d be in the hair care aisle, hanging somewhere near the increasingly hard-to-find shampoo for normal hair. Not for color treated, or frosted, or highlighted, or streaked or even straightened…just plain ol’ normal hair!

Now I’m really not one for conspiracy theories, but was there some sort of subliminal campaign back in the 80’s, perpetrated by the greedy and powerful shampoo industry, that convinced us that unwashed hair was like un-brushed teeth or un-rolled-on armpits? Were shower caps seriously cutting into their business? Might there be a new George Clooney docudrama in our future?

And while we’re on the subject, what about swim caps? Of course I still see them on competitive swimmers…those crazed athletes who shave every hair off their bodies in the hopes of likewise shaving a millisecond off their time…but what about the rest of us? I certainly don’t like my hair turning green or drying out from chlorine or clogging up pool drains like my grandmother would tell me each and every time she squeezed my average sized head into the doll-sized, daisy-decorated swim cap she purchased at the local five and dime.

I’m not entirely sure the blood has ever fully returned to my brain.