Feeds:
Posts
Comments

11 things I love about my 11-year-old

March 29, 2011 by Dawn McMullan

“Our first child helps us to discover the depth of love. Our second, the breadth of it.” — Beth Wilson Saavedra, author

Baby Sawyer

In digging around to find this quote from Sawyer’s birth announcement, I also ran across his baby book. Not even a date of birth listed. Also found a journal. Nothing there either. I had a journal on my computer, which was stolen a year ago, taking with it entries from August 2003 through March 2010. Now, admittedly, I probably wrote more in my first six years of motherhood than my last, but still.

So perhaps I’ve been a bit lame in the record keeping of our sweet second child. I like to think it’s all in my head. Ha! Well, here’s what’s there today, at least, on his 11th birthday.

1. He read more than 4,236 pages last month (had to keep track for school). Part of that included rereading the whole Harry Pottery series, just for the heck of it.

2. His first sentence was “I eat cookies.” Yes, I did write that down. When he was in preschool, he had to make a list of things he was thankful for at Sunday School. He listed all of our pets … and pie. The boy loves him some sugar.

3. He has a collection of 91 owls in his room, a collection he started on our trip to Greece in 2007. I choose not to think about the fact that someday he’ll leave home and, in all likelihood, won’t take said owls with him.

4. When he was having so much trouble sleeping by himself earlier this month — zombies, of course — we offered to get a him a dog to sleep with. Later, when the new dog didn’t completely cure the zombie fear, I offered to help him ease into it, coming into his room at 12:30 am, then 1 am, 1:30 am, and so on, until dawn. To both offers, he said: “That seems like a lot of trouble for you.” Sure it was, and that was fine. And I appreciate that he got that.

5. One night a couple of years ago while I was working late, he burped about midnight. In his sleep, he said, “Excuse me.”

6. I recently heard him brag to a friend that Noah is a great artist. His often calls his brother an idiot, but he loves him.

7. When he’s really mad — crazy, stubborn, slamming doors mad — if you wait just long enough, you can make him smile, giggle, and grunt at the same time. This doesn’t happen very often and if you time it incorrectly, it’s ugly. But his grudges never last very long.

8. Tzatziki is one of his favorite foods and hot tea (English style) one of his favorite beverages. Yes, I’m ignoring his passion for sour cream Pringles and Kool-Aid.

9. When he prays, he thanks God for our house, his friends, our pets, and the children of Africa. Every time.

10. He knows himself well enough to leave a campfire full of friends and scary stories (see No. 4).

11. The only things he loves and craves more than sugar, football, and baseball are his family and friends. Those are priorities I can get behind.

Happy birthday, Sawyer! I may have no clue when and where you lost your first tooth or how much you weighed at your 9-month checkup, but I hope you know how much I love you.

Sawyer & Malcolm

Posted in Africa, parenting | Tagged | 6 Comments »

Bringing balance back

February 22, 2011 by Dawn McMullan

“There is no secret to balance. You just have to feel the waves.” — Frank Herbert, American author

After almost three months, I return to Bringing Dinner Back. One year of daily family meals, writing about countries in Africa, and enjoying African feasts with friends and soon-to-be friends, this three-month break has given me time to re-envision this space.

I started this blog as a way to honor the way I believe the dinner table brings us all together. I continue it as a way to honor the passions and destinies each member of my family must follow. It is this balance — seeing each of us as individuals yet creating the time and space for us all to come together as a family — that I will chronicle here.

Sawyer needs a dog because he’s afraid to sleep alone and time to toss around a ball (any ball, he’s not picky) with his buddies. Noah needs to rock climb 10 to 15 hours a week at a gym 30 minutes away and time to sit with nothing but the rap music from his iPod occupying his brain. I need to an hour every couple of days to do yoga and to connect with Africa. Clyde needs to see a movie every now and then with his buddy and carve out some time to venture into the gym he just joined.

Sometimes these needs mean we don’t have dinner together. More often than not — if the balancing pins and stars align — they mean we just have to try a little harder.

So keep posted for details of the balancing act. I have doubts every day about whether we can pull it off … but it doesn’t keep me from tossing it all up in the air with love, hope, and a little prayer every now and then.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

These are a few of my favorite meals

November 25, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“Sitting at a table with family and friends makes life feel worthwhile.” — Unknown cookbook author (at least to me) on today’s Splendid Table

As I look back over the past year, considering what I am thankful for, it’s not surprising that friends, family, and food top the list. While I have shared many amazing meals this year, here are eight that stand out. The only meal missing is a special one with Clyde. We need to work on that for next year.

Jerry and one of Luna's famous knots

 

Luna’s with Jerry: On our summer road trip to Florida, we had the culinary pleasure of dining at one of my favorite restaurants from my Florida days in the mid-90s. Luna’s has a great white pizza but the real draw is the garlic knots. They are perfect. I’d been on a no-carb diet for a couple of months when we arrived. I have to admit I never got back on. Clyde lost 40 pounds; I lost 8. And I blame those damn knots! The only addition that could make those knots better is my friend Jerry.

Jerry has been in a wheelchair since a swimming pool incident when he was 15. So seeing him has been difficult since I left Florida. When I lived there, we spent lots of time together. He’s not so good with a fork and knife so, when we’d eat together, he’d often ask me to cut his food. Sounds silly but I loved that. Made me feel like a beloved and trusted friend. I still do, although much of the love is sent via email. Knots don’t require cutting so Jerry was on his own for this meal. But it meant so much to me to share it with him.

Pizza for one, please.

 

Pizza by myself: On a work trip to New York City in the spring, I found myself with an hour of alone time at lunch. Now anyone who frequents multi-day conferences knows the joy in the solo lunch.

As the agenda inched its way closer to lunch, I started googling nearby pizza places. I stumbled upon John’s Pizzeria, housed in an old church. It was absolute perfection — from the building to the attentive waiter to the perfect pizza. New York City and Paris are unique in their ability to entertain the solo diner. I could only eat half the pizza and had to get back to the conference shortly. But it was one of the most satisfying hours of the entire year.

A feast of all things Greek.

 

Greek with Sarah: On that same trip, my dear friend Sarah and I went to Taverna Kyclades in Astoria, our favorite Greek restaurant outside of Greece. Every meal with Sarah is an event — because she is one of my best friends, because my love affair with food started with her, and because so few people enjoy food as much as she does.

Every time we go, we have such fun narrowing the menu. Soon, more food than we could possibly consume is before us. We struggle to arrange the plates so it will all fit. We eat until we are bursting … and then sometimes eat a little more.

The last time we were here, we were with my extended family — not all of whom appreciated how absolutely divine this restaurant is. We’ve also been there with Sarah’s daughters, which is a different kind of fun. But to be there with just Sarah — to able to give her and these delicacies their just undivided attention — was one of the highlights of my year. I can’t wait to get back and do it again.

Clyde teaches Sawyer his chopsticks moves.

 

Benihana’s with my boys: We had a crazy summer, during which we weren’t all together for more than one day during one six-week period. On that one day, we celebrated Noah’s 13th birthday a little early at Benihana’s.

It’s always the same dog-and-pony show there — the chef throws a shrimp tail in his hat or pocket; he makes a steam-engine train out of onions — but the kids love it. The food is tasty and it feels more special than your average Asian meal. The next day, we sent Noah off on a monthlong rock climbing trip, the first of many long stretches we’ll be apart as the kids get older. Which is why, I’m sure, times like this stick in my memory. Well, that and the flying shrimp tail.

Nancy, radiant as ever.

 

Dinner with Nancy & David: My dear friend Nancy is dying of cancer. We’ve spent many times together before and after this meal, but this is one of very few we’ve shared with our husbands. They were both full of delight on this evening, sometime back in the early summer, it seems. Nancy and I have spent hours over the past several years dissecting the joys and tears of our lives, our church family, politics, our husbands, her cancer, our children (most specifically, my teenager). But on this night, it was just yummy food, good friends, good wine, and time to linger.

Lingering with Nancy is something I am always thankful for.

Gorethy, Robyn, and their quilts

 

A fireside evening with friends from Africa: I don’t have photos of our meal that night (as my computer and all its treasures were stolen back in March). But it was a cold evening and we spent much of it by the fire with friends from Congo and our church. Robyn, our favorite babysitter before she left for UT, was among the guests. She taught our children to sew, cook, and create a very scary Halloween scene in the kitchen. Gorethy, from Congo, is founder of Congo Restoration and is taking care of 30 orphans in the Congo. At some point between the appetizers and African tea, Robyn decided the orphans in Congo needed quilts.

Fast forward to a warm summer day at VBS. Robyn, assisted by children ages 4 to 10, made 10 quilts that arrived in Congo a few weeks ago. And that, my friends, is one reason I believe dinner can change the world.

Michael and his gorgeous cake.

 

Michael’s chocolate cake: We’ve enjoyed countless amazing meals with our friends Sue & Angie over the year. This one was special because Sue’s mom and her partner were in town. They brought out the good china and insisted even Sawyer use it. They are brave, brave women!

Every bit of the meal was special, but what I most remember is the chocolate cake their 10-year-old son Michael made.

It was beautiful. It was tasty. And he knew it. He was a little shy about it, but I loved that he took the time to create this special dessert for the special people in his life. And I count myself lucky to be among them.

Thanksgiving with my family & Prosper's

 

Thanksgiving 2009: Last year, I’d just started this blog when I envisioned sharing Thanksgiving with my family, my friend Prosper, and his wife and sons, who had recently arrived from Zimbabwe.

I was a little worried about how it would go. But my family took to Prosper’s family and visa versa. Proper is still talking about Waxahachie and how much he loved it. This year, Prosper and Sarah have a new baby to be thankful for. I am so blessed to have them in my life … and to have a family that embraced them during such a lovely day.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I hope today’s meal and time with family and friends sticks in your memory as these have for me.

Posted in Africa, dinner, family dinner, parenting | Tagged | 1 Comment »

A simple feast

November 23, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“This is a simple feast people.” — Sawyer to his classmates who were busting the budget with requests of raspberries and cheese on the menu

At .99 cents a head, the green leaf lettuce was the obvious choice.

I remember when my kids were in preschool and first grade at their new school, White Rock Montessori. They had an elaborate Thanksgiving feast catered in by moms who — with every good, nutritious intention — delivered the best homemade or Whole Foods-purchased organic, free-range, fair-trade, plucked-from-life-while-smiling dishes they could find. The kids set the table with fresh flowers as Montessori kids tend to do. It was adorable.

Down the road a Thanksgiving or two, it all changed. The teachers and head of school had a new idea — the Simple Feast. It started as a group soup. Each class brought elements of the soup and the kids cooked and ate together, giant family style, with tables running through the classrooms. Each year, the Simple Feast changes a bit. But the idea is to remind kids how people “feast” in many parts of the world.

Just the phrase to me is beautiful, two words that seemingly don’t go together at all yet absolutely can — and, perhaps, more often should.

This year, Sawyer was on the planning and buying committee for the meal. His class has 23 students and two teachers. The teachers gave them $6.25 for the entire meal, .25 per person (which I’m guessing is a number they got from some developing country’s daily meal average). Assuming that in a rural area they would’ve grown the barley to make their barley bread, the $5 they spent on barley flour at Whole Foods didn’t have to be included.

The shopping list with comparison prices from three stores. The barley was the only thing they could afford at Whole Foods.

After a pre-shopping outing on Friday to check prices, I took Sawyer and his two other meal planners to buy the goods yesterday: lemons, carrots, butter, lettuce, and vegetable oil. They’d wanted sea salt and flax seed, but ruled it out for budgetary reasons on Friday. In the early planning stages of the meal, they’d also ruled out pomegranate, cheese, raspberries, and turkey (although my crew did look longingly at the end-aisle display of the tightly wrapped birds). Having to buy the lettuce was a bummer. The kids were hoping to get it from their class garden, but the lettuce didn’t make it.

I expect the boys to be hungry when I pick them up from school today. Sawyer will have had barley bread and the salad with carrots and green leaf lettuce. Noah is eating with the preschoolers so maybe he’s getting the soup.

I don’t think they love the Simple Feast in practice as much as I love it in theory. Another change came when the school uninvited parents to the Thanksgiving celebration. All that baking and suffering would no doubt cause a frenzy of digital camera flashes from those of us with organic cheese, apple slices, and SIGG water bottles waiting in the car for our precious little ones.

I poke fun — at myself along with my fellow parents — not to be mean spirited. We have every good intention and reason to pack our children’s lunch boxes with our Whole Foods haul. But I absolutely love that once a year, our children get a feel for how most kids in this world live (and appreciate that Sawyer now gets how much his food costs!). I could easily spend $6.25 on Sawyer’s lunch. Boggles my mind to consider he’s trying to feed 25 people with that same amount.

The children in Congo Gorethy will feast with.

The lesson is brought home by a friend of our family, Gorethy Nabusoshi, who is headed back to her home country, the Democratic Republic of Congo, in a week. I’m trying to help her gather money for Christmas presents for the orphans and brutalized women she works with there through her organization, Congo Restoration. These gifts will include shoes, clothes, and, hopefully, chicken for dinner.

“This is the only time of their life they are expecting a gift,” Gorethy says of Christmas. “It is the only time parents feel an obligation of feeding them a special meal, maybe giving them a special meat like chicken.”

A simple feast.

We will spend the next several days enjoying not-so-simple feasts. And don’t think I don’t find the irony in the fact that I’m paying $18,000 this year for my boys to do things like have a Simple Feast at their perfect little private school. And that’s OK, too. While I find it difficult sometimes to enjoy the lavish life most Americans live compared to the rest of the world, the guilt does nothing. We’ll send along some money with Gorethy to help her create a simple feast in Congo. We’ll overindulge with our families many times over the next month. Maybe Sawyer will remember having barley bread and a salad with no goat cheese in his perfect little private school classroom.

Hopefully, he will head into the holidays with an innate sense of what I wish all of us had: An appreciation of what he has. The understanding that everyone doesn’t have a giant turkey — or even a sustainable meal — on their table. And an inclination to do what he can to change that in the world.

It’s that simple.

Posted in Africa, dinner, family dinner, parenting | Tagged , | 1 Comment »

53 weeks of eating together: Check!

November 22, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“It wasn’t that different than normal.” — Sawyer

“I kind of like eating alone.” — Noah

“I enjoy eating together. I don’t enjoy having to eat together.” — Clyde

And so with little fanfare, 53 weeks of family togetherness (minus one oops on day 69) came to an end Sunday. In celebration — rebellion? — we didn’t eat one meal that day as an entire family.

Some of the highlights from our last week of this blog challenge included an African feast with friends who just adopted a little boy from Ethopia, dinner with our book club, a night by the fire, Thai and coconut cream pie with friends, and a wedding with Clyde’s family.

What would my quote be after these 53 weeks? “Thanks to all of you who have sat at our kitchen or dining room table or invited us to yours. I have enjoyed every tasty, messy, frantic, giggling, satisfying minute of it.”

Stay tuned for what’s next. And have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Remember how blessed you are — by the food and the faces around your table. Most of them, at least. :)

One of many African feasts we've shared this year, this one Saturday night with a little boy from Ethiopia and his family.

Our book club dinners often are inspired by the book. This month, we read The Help, honoring its Southern story with all things fried.

Homework by the fire. Followed by chess. Followed by hot chocolate with homemade whipped cream.

Cousins at the wedding of a family friend Saturday night.

Posted in dinner, family dinner, parenting | Leave a Comment »

Week 53: The grand finale

November 15, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“When you die, if you get a choice between going to regular heaven or pie heaven, choose pie heaven. It might be a trick, but if it’s not, mmmmmm, boy.” — Jack Handy, American humorist

It’s got to be a great week when Clyde kicks it off with two homemade pies. He spent the afternoon making a chocolate cream pie and pecan pie for our book club dinner this evening. I never question my decision to marry him, but I had no idea how much I’d grow to love the skills of the southern cook. Of course, I’d probably be thinner if I’d married a Yankee, but oh now I’d missed the biscuits, gravy, meringue, and bacon.

When I’m not licking meringue off rubber spatulas, I’ve spent quite a bit of time lately considering what to do next, as this is the final week of my 53-week blog project — the final week of our daily meals and these weekly posts that drag you into the details of our busy schedule. While I’m not so interested in blogging just because I like to hear myself talk (type?), I do believe there is space for this blog to continue, somewhat within the perimeters with which it started.

More on that later in the week. Suffice it to say, I’m not done bringing dinner back, although this is likely the last “here’s our week” you’ll see from me. I hope you’ve been inspired to find time in your week to eat together with the people you love the most and some you got to know better as they passed you the butter. Because I still believe — especially after these 53 weeks — dinner can change the world.

And with that, here’s our week:

In honor of The Help, fried everything.

 

Sunday: Fairly relaxed day. Church, puttering around the house in the afternoon, then off to an early dinner with our book club. We read The Help, so the menu was southern (read: fried) with the previously mentioned pies (yes, the chocolate pie was a must-do; you’ll know why if you’ve read the book). The boys don’t usually go with us to these dinners but it was nice to have them around just like the old days.

Monday: Noah has rock climbing from 4-7, and Sawyer has football practice from 5-7. We have our first batch of sweet potatoes from our CSA so I’m centering dinner around this recipe for scalloped yukon gold and sweet potato gratin with fresh herbs. Seems perfect for our family since Sawyer hates sweet potatoes, and Clyde and I are trying to avoid regular potatoes. This way, everybody’s happy. At least that’s the plan. Will serve with a london broil I got on sale last week (broiled in the oven with olive oil, garlic, wine, salt and pepper), broiled chicken (because Noah ridiculously doesn’t like steak), some okra for the boys, and Brussel sprouts for me. An ambitious menu for a busy Monday but makes Tuesday and Wednesday easy with leftover options.

Tuesday: Noah has exams Wednesday and Thursday; Sawyer has a big playoff game — the last one before the Super Bowl! — at 7:30 pm. It’s all about the leftovers tonight, from last night and the arroz con pollo we had Saturday.

Wednesday: Not much on the agenda except for Sawyer’s 5 pm guitar lesson and more studying for Noah. If we have more leftovers, I may haul them out. Otherwise, thinking of giving this soy cumin chicken a try. It’s more of a chicken-wing appetizer, but I figure I’ll just make the marinade and put it over chicken thighs and drumsticks. Will serve with leftover veggies if we have them (surely some of that gratin will still be around), maybe adding some green beans stir fried in soy sauce with sliced almonds.

Sawyer at his team's first playoff game.

 

Thursday: Noah has climbing practice from 5-7 pm, which he’ll be glad to get back to after all these exams. Hopefully, Sawyer has football practice if they won Tuesday’s game. It’s supposed to be pretty cold (high of 59, low of 40) so soup sounds in order. A family favorite is one from West Africa with chicken and peanuts. Delicious. And makes good leftovers for the weekend.

Friday: Ordering in Thai from our favorite Thai restaurant with some of our favorite people. Kids will be watching a movie; we’ll be eating, drinking, laughing until our eyes tear up. Life is good.

Saturday: Still a bit up in the air until we find out about Sawyer’s Tuesday playoff game. Assuming they win (which, of course, is the assumption), we’ll cheer on the Chargers at a 4 pm game. If not, we’ll be at a 5 pm wedding, some friends of Clyde’s family. Either way, I’m not cooking. We’ll either have a family meal at the wedding or a celebratory meal out to in honor of Sawyer’s excellent season.

 

Posted in dinner, family dinner, parenting | 1 Comment »

Week 52: Making amends with homemade banana bread

November 9, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.” — Robert Browning

Bread heals all wrongs.

As the comforting scent of banana bread wafts from the oven, all the way upstairs to my office, I can think of little else. I made it for the boys, to make amends for the busy few weeks we’ve all had. I’ve been a slack chef, chauffer, and companion. But nothing a little homemade bread can’t fix, right?

Why the guilt? Lots of work. A week in El Salvador in October. To top it all off, we spent the entire weekend working our church’s Global Village Market. Since I’m co-chair of the event, it means everyone gets dragged in. Clyde handles checkout and the money, both boys volunteer at tables — and I use the term volunteer loosely. We come early. We stay late. Friends pick the kids up to take them to rock climbing and football games. It’s all consuming. But this year’s Global Village Market made close to $25,000 for non-profit organizations locally, regionally, and globally, which assuages my guilt. That and the banana bread.

All this makes me ponder a new direction for my blog, which comes to an end as it was originally intended shortly. More on that later.

Our week:

Sunday: As I mentioned, non-stop Global Village Market. We had one hour of downtime and spent it over pasta and wine at Sali’s. Before we arrived, each of us was falling apart in one way or the other. Not sure if it was the dinner or the togetherness that reset our mojo but we left four full and happy people.

Our Habitat/El Salvador table at the Global Village Market

 

Monday: Although our refrigerator, freezer, and cupboards appear full, we had nothing to eat. It annoys the crap out of me when my kids stand at the refrigerator or pantry and say that … but this time it was true. Or so I thought. Until I got desperate enough to do an all-out search in lieu of an early evening trip to the grocery store. We had a London broil I’d bought for half-price at Newflower last week, garlic and purple onion I sauteed in olive oil and butter to serve on top of said steak, leftover okra, sugar snap peas from the CSA, and CSA cream peas I’d cooked before they went bad and stuck in the freezer a few weeks ago. Oh, and two sad potatoes in the fruit bowl. I cut off the ugly eyes and popped them in the microwave. Voila. A family meal.

Tuesday: Rotting bananas were about the only thing I could do anything with, thus the banana bread, so the store is a must-do today. It’s 4 pm and I still haven’t been, but plan to go while Sawyer is at football practice and Noah is organizing his school life with a friend/tutor. I started back on the no-carb diet today — clearly not thinking ahead to the banana bread that was in my future — so that adds a new twist to our meals. Everyone loves tacos, so why not? Fast, easy, cheap. I’ll just forego the shell and all is good.

Wednesday: I assume Noah will be at rock climbing practice from 4-7 pm today (although his homework to-do — or, rather, should’ve-been-done — list has kept him from it plenty the last couple of weeks. And Sawyer has guitar at 5 pm. So something easy. Can I get away with the Newflower baked chicken one more time? Think I’ll try my luck. Salad and potatoes with it.

Thursday: Noah will spend the day at Woodrow, our local public high school. The high school search is on as our sweet private school ends after the 8th grade. Assuming he doesn’t get knifed, he’ll go straight to rock climbing from 5-7, and we’ll need to arrive home to an already-cooked meal. Crock pot, of course. I’ve done lots of roast lately but am thinking I’ll put in a chicken instead. I think I’ll wing it on the recipe but basically some white wine, rosemary or oregano, potatoes, carrots, and mushrooms.

Homemade pies at the Global Village Market

 

Friday: Might trek down to Waxahachie to see Clyde’s family. Hope so. Haven’t seen them in a while and man can they cook. Of course, they do like the carbs. Optimistically, not planning dinner, just in case.

Saturday: We are having the last African feast of this blog project — friends of ours from the rock climbing team who recently adopted a baby from Ethiopia. Still deciding on a menu. But it just might include banana bread…

Posted in dinner, family dinner, parenting | 2 Comments »

Bringing hope back

November 5, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“What we are trying to do may just be a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.” Greg Mortenson, founder of the Central Asia Institute and co-author of Three Cups of Tea, paraphrasing Mother Teresa.

I finished Three Cups of Tea this morning, after looking at it sit on my nightstand for well over a year.

My procrastination created perfect timing.

On the heels of an exhausting week — where all my free time was spent working on our church’s Global Village Market and all my free thoughts contemplated what’s next after this blog project, which ends in a week — I found Greg’s story as inspirational as everyone worldwide who is, by now, familiar with it.

The ocean of need is so big. But it calls to me. And I have no choice but to answer. I’ve realized over the past couple of years that this calling is as much a part of me as my arm or my children.

Now, I’m no Greg Mortenson. Few of us can be. But we all have a drop to give.

This weekend is our fourth-annual Global Village Market. It’s quite an effort, with most of the heavy lifting being done by my co-chair, Judy. Judy is responsible for my going to Rwanda. Judy is responsible for my recent trip to El Salvador. Judy has put so many drops in my ocean, I’ve lost count.

Last year, our small church in East Dallas raised almost $23,000 for 24 charities locally, regionally, globally. Because of 10 hours on a weekend — and a few weeks of hard work from everyone preparing — we changed the world, just a bit:

• A family in Juarez, Mexico, got a new, safe home.

• Two farmers in Central America were able to make a living using sustainable farming.

• An elderly person in South Dallas had her home repaired.

• 10 U.S. citizens were able to sponsor a spouse or a child for a green card.

• 26 people donated to Carter Blood Care in the name of Piper Simon, a young girl at our church recovering from cancer.

• 38 children in Uganda, Tanzania, and Ethiopia went to school for a y ear.

Congo Restoration at last year's Global Village Market

• A 12-year-old boy in the Democratic Republic of Congo who was born without legs had half the money he needed for his annual medical care. Orphans and brutalized women in the DRC were fed, educated, taught to sew.

• Women in Uganda who have been displaced by war for almost a quarter of a century invested in their new bee-keeping business because of the sale of beautiful necklaces they made and sent to us.

• Goats, pigs, sheep, and water buffalo were dispersed to villages all over the world thanks to our Sunday School kids, who make more money for their Heifer International project than any of us!

• 55 children’s lives were saved with the 55 malaria nets sent to Africa.

Sure, I haven’t had eight hours of sleep in a couple of weeks. Yes, I’d like to watch a little football, sleep late, do a little work in the yard, or organize the clutter that is overtaking my office this weekend.

But I have no doubt the ocean would miss us.

Posted in Africa | Tagged , , | 1 Comment »

Week 51: One year ago today…

November 1, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” — Howard Thurman

Sawyer scarfs down Carly's pancakes.

And so it began, one year ago today – my commitment to, among other things, bring my family together around the kitchen table for a family meal at least once a day. Or maybe around the coffee table, dining room table, baseball bleachers, floor of a rock climbing gym, whatever.

Since that time, I have considered this quote many times.

I do tend to ask what the world needs. Which is simply an overwhelming question. This quote reminds me that is not the right question. What makes me come alive is easy. My kids, my husband, my friends, food, Africa, travel, social justice (especially for gays, refugees, and immigrants), and leaving the world a better place than how I find it today. I was reminded of that just today, as I met with my friend Gorethy, founder of Congo Restoration. On the busiest of days in the busiest of weeks, I spent two blissful hours brainstorming over plans to help orphans and victims of rape in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

That’s what makes me come alive.

And, on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, so does making a crock pot roast for my family. I’m complicated that way.

Here’s our week:

Sunday: Had a lovely breakfast and lunch with our friends Carly and Josh in Austin. Carly — the only vegetarian cook Clyde might consider going meatless for — made coconut and hazelnut pancakes to start our day. How can any day that starts with coconut and hazelnut pancakes not be blissful? After lunch at the “trailers” — a cool Austin tradition Dallas must learn to embrace — we drove back to Dallas, just in time to grab some Halloween candy from CVS and hook up with some friends to go trick or treating. The day ended as every Halloween does, with Sawyer whimpering in bed: “My stomach hurts,” regretting once again having a bucket of candy for dinner.

Monday: Clyde is out for most of the week. That, paired with a bonus 90-minute after-school meeting with Noah’s teachers, translates to dinner at the Chinese buffet by the school.

Lunch at the trailers in Austin.

 

Tuesday: Late dinner as I get the boys at 4:30 pm from school, and Sawyer has to be at football photos/practice 20 minutes later. Voting and a trip to the store while he’s there. He’s done shortly after 7 from what will no doubt be a frigid and wet practice, according to the weather forecast. I think 58 degrees and rainy day call for soup of some kind. I’m thinking of an Italian pasta and bean soup that’s easy and yummy, two things I need more of this week. UPDATE: Football practice got moved up, and friends called to invite us over for dinner. As a single parent for the week, of course I said yes. It was a wet and cold night to be out and about, but the payoff? A lovely dinner with dear friends and quite possibly the best meatball I’ve ever consumed. Postponing soup until tomorrow.

Wednesday: This evening is a bit up in the air as it depends on how far Noah has come in homework catchup. If he’s caught up — and I’m not on anti-depressants after Tuesday’s election — he’ll be at the rock climbing gym from 4-7 pm. Single parenting means a trip to Grapevine, back for Sawyer’s guitar practice, back to Grapevine. That sounds like a leftover soup night to me. If he’s home, I could get more creative with the okra or flat sweet pea pods from our CSA.

Thursday: More after-school craziness. Pick up Noah at 3:30. Pick up Sawyer from his student council meeting at 4:30. Race through traffic to get Noah to the rock climbing gym by 5. Hang with sad-looking 10-year-old who hates to be at said gym until 7. Come home. I could lesson the blow with Freebirds for the boys for dinner and eat soup again when I get home. Yes, the soup is that good.

Friday: Boys are out of school, but Noah is going to high school instead. He’s spending the day at a local private Catholic school, shadowing a friend to see what he thinks about the place. We have to be there at 8 am, which is insanely early for a day off. After that, it’s just Sawyer and me for the day. Clyde comes home during the scramble of an evening, which includes football practice from 5-6:30 pm for Sawyer and a 7:30 pm football game at our local public high school (more high school field research). Our family dinner will likely be nachos in the stands. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Sorting the Halloween haul.

 

Saturday: I’m co-chair of our church’s 4th-annual Global Village Market, an alternative holiday market that raises thousands of dollars for non-profits locally and internationally. It’s one of the best things our church does — and an exhausting whipping of a weekend! I’ll be up and out of here pretty early, but we’ll all catch up for a family dinner with friends later. Sue’s making Cincinnati Chili. There are few things better in this world.

Posted in Africa, dinner, family dinner, parenting | 1 Comment »

Coffee, cancer, and being present

October 29, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“It is my task, every day that I have left, to be present.” — my friend Nancy

At the Pearl Cup in the spring, our favorite getting-together-for-coffee hangout.

An old family friend of Nancy’s was sitting in the only chair in the room when I arrived at her house on Wednesday. So I crawled right into bed with her. I could’ve gotten up when her friend left, but there was no place that looked more inviting than right there with my dear friend, cut off from the rest of the world for a few hours, listening to her familiar voice and the constant hum of her oxygen tank.

She’s getting weaker, fast. And her kids are coming in soon, so they’ll be able to get her a glass of water, warm her lunch, listen to that beautiful laugh that starts at her eyes. I know this is quite likely the last stretch of time I’ll have her all to myself.

I told Nancy years ago I wasn’t going to cry and fall apart on her. I figured enough people would be doing that while either the chemo or the cancer killed her, if that’s the way it was going to go. She never asked that of me, but I think she appreciates being able to talk without worrying about my reaction to the words coming out of her mouth.

And for years it’s been fine. I don’t want to say easy but, well, it’s not like I’ve spent the past four years holding back the tears when we’re together. I could be broken hearted that she might be dying yet be completely present when we were together. Being present isn’t my forte but maybe death forces the issue. The tears caught me off-guard every now and then — usually when I’d see her from afar at church, watch her as someone looking in instead of as her friend on the other side of the coffeehouse table. But — for the most part — during our years of coffee shop getaways, I could always be quite practical about the finite amount of time I had with her.

The tears started Tuesday night. Because she’s really going. And these really are probably the last few hours I’ll have alone with her to suck up everything I think I should learn from her, every memory of her that has to last me the rest of my life.

It isn’t that dying at 55 is too damn young. Although of course it is. It isn’t that I worry about her boys and her husband, what they’ll do when she’s gone. Although of course it’s that, too. But at the selfish core, it’s that I will miss her. Her voice, her graceful hands around a coffee cup, her all-knowing advice on just what to do, say, not say, not do with my 13-year-old or, honestly, about anything going on in my life.

I don’t know how I will be without her.

Our friendship — grown over four years of coffee, cancer, cinnamon rolls, teenagers, husbands, hot chocolate, tea, faith, scones, chemo, politics, parenting, and the laughs that all of that (even the cancer) can elicit — sustains me in ways I’m not ready to let go of. I’ve been practicing, sometimes trying to “hear” what she’d say to me when I have a question, trying on my life without her. I don’t like it one bit.

When it was time to go on Wednesday, I held her hand and the tears started to come. Just a bit. Then I was back to the present, as Nancy has accidentally taught me to be, and happy to be with her instead of broken hearted that soon I won’t be.

And now, at 2:30 am, they come again.

Posted in parenting | Tagged | 3 Comments »

Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.