Making A Start

By chance I picked up Katherine Paterson’s book The Invisible Child: On Reading and Writing Books for Children at the library. Isn’t that how all great book recommendations start? The best books are the ones you aren’t looking for, that you don’t know you even need to read. This is definitely on of them. The Invisible Child is a collection of speeches and talks that Paterson has given ranging from 1974 into the 2000s. It contains her Newbury and National Book Award speeches as well as a number of other talks from conferences. 

This book has been stirring me to read the books I was inspired by as an adolescent. What books captured my attention, my mind, my heart when I was nine or ten years old? So I have returned to the books I have kept since childhood. Faithfully packing and unpacking through several moves. Books I can not get rid of, no matter how many yard sales I have. It’s not that I have good memories of these books, no, these books are my memories. So I have been gobbling up the Newbury Award winners of my youth: Katherine Paterson, Margeurite Henry, Elizabeth Enright, Elizabeth George Speare. I am trying to learn from them. Study their style, rhythm, what makes their characters so relatable and memorable. What is the rhythm of their sentences? How does the story unfold? I want to learn from these masters, mentors, but without copying. Of course, I’m also enjoying just reading them.
 
As I re-read these cherished books, Katherine Paterson’s words ring true, “There is something so comforting about the beloved books of childhood. When the uncertainties of life assail us, they stand as healing verities, and we can return to them again and again. But only, of course, if someone helped us to find those books when we were very young” (95).

That’s what I want to write. A book that captures that young imagination and tells that shy, introverted child there is adventure out there, or at least in here, between the pages. Life may be a bit boring and monotonous, but you can escape into a book filled with adventure and new worlds.
So I have made a start. First by filling my head with rich words from amazing authors, then by actually writing down the stories that are running through my head. We shall see what adventure awaits...

This Fight Isn't Over

Dressember is officially over. At least on my end. Wearing a dress for 31 days ended up being a bigger challenge than I thought it would be; I was definitely sick of wearing the same 5 dresses that ended up being my best options. Personally I learned that I should wear my dresses more often because I really like wearing dresses, and I learned which ones I should put in the Goodwill bag (not this purple one).

I also learned a lot about the work of organizations like International Justice Mission and A21. It is heartbreaking work, very young children sexually exploited by those who should be their biggest protectors or women who follow what seems to be an opportunity to better themselves but were lied to and now caught in dangerous situations.

Over the month of December, with the help of amazing family and friends, I raised $786. I was short of my $1000 goal, which at first feels like failure (thank you perfectionism) but that money will help IJM and A21 to rescue and rehabilitate men, women and children who have had their freedom and dignity stripped away. These organizations will try to restore what was taken and help them live their lives dignity. Dressember is over, but this battle is still ongoing.

Today is Human Trafficking Awareness Day. I have become much more aware of this over the past month. The statistics are heartbreaking, but these organizations are working to change that. "It is estimated that every 30 seconds someone becomes a victim of human trafficking. Only 1-2% of victims are ever rescued, and the average age of a victim is 12 years old." (Dressember Facebook page) If you want to be more aware, and hear wonderful, uplifting rescue stories, 'like' International Justice Mission on Facebook. They post stories of rescues and updates on their work around the world.

I am also happy to say my donation page is still live and will be till the end of the month! There is still time to donate and help me reach my $1000 goal!

support.dressemberfoundation.org/rachelengelman

Day 18: I don't want to wear a dress

I really didn’t want to wear a dress yesterday. I took the dog for the run early in the morning and didn’t have a chance to shower before the kids got up. We didn’t have plans to go anywhere, so I really just wanted to stay in my running clothes (it was a colder morning, so no sweat). I kept telling myself that I just wouldn't today. Justifying it with excuses of not showering, not leaving the house, no one will see it any way, etc. But I kept thinking about the men, women and children caught in slavery, no choices, no dignity, no freedom.

I put on a dress, because I believe it is bigger than a dress. The dress represents my freedom and dignity. It represents everything these men, women and children deserve in life.

I really didn't want to wear a dress yesterday. She really doesn't want to have sex. I have a choice. She doesn't, for now. My choice can help change that. Will you help me? Please go to support.dressemberfoundation.org/rachelengelman

Dressy Dresses and the first 6 Days

Day 3 - this one has pockets :)

Day 2 - cold day means
sweater dress

Day 1 - wearing red for #bebrave

It's day 7 and I miss pockets. It’s helpful to be able to whip out a tissue before the booger hits the couch. Or have my phone handy to capture the fleeting moment when Cora is gently guiding Toby instead of pulling a toy from him. I do have a few dresses with pockets and so far have gravitated to those, but I’ve been trying to figure out a solution. Sweaters with pockets? Cargo vest? Maybe that’s why fanny packs were so huge during the spandex-clad 80’s. 

Day 6 - dress repeat, because this
one has pockets, and it's a sweater!

Day 5 - same dress, today we
got our Christmas tree

Day 4 - this dress has no pockets,
but I feel it should. Sewing project?

 






I’ve also found that a dress is, well, dressy. Even though I may try to “dress it down” by wearing boots instead of heels or funky jewelry, it’s still dressy. A dress stands out in my day-to-day life of dropping Cora off at school, grocery shopping and walking the dog. Just wearing a dress has given me the opportunity to share about Dressember’s goal of bringing dignity to all women and the courageous work of International Justice Mission. I have read on Dressember’s Facebook page about women who wear semiformal dresses, just to get that reaction. I’m not sure I’ll go to the back of my closet and pull out my pale purple prom dress quite yet, but you never know, I have 24 days left.

Missing pockets is better than missing a childhood. Go to support.dressemberfoundation.org/rachelengelman to join me in giving children back their childhood.

Freedom. Dignity. Creativity.

“Because we believe we can’t be super advocates, we stop advocating at all.”

I am about to embark on a journey. To wear a dress every day for the month of December. It is a challenge that at first seems frivolous and unimportant, but on closer look, perhaps it is just the thing to get people's attention.

What: Dressember is a campaign started by Blythe Hill (watch her TED talk here). Originally she wore a dress every day of December because she was bored and needed a creative outlet. When friends of friends and women she didn’t know started doing it with her, she knew she had a movement, and a way of changing the world through wearing a dress. This is Dressember’s third year partnering with International Justice Mission, an organization “that protects the poor from violence in the developing world” (www.ijm.org). The statistics are heartbreaking: it is estimated that over 35 million people are currently trapped in slavery in our world, 50% of them are children, 70% are female. IJM actively rescues those caught in slavery and the sex trade, works with victims and courts to bring justice, and helps with rehabilitation for the victims.

What caught my attention: I’ve read stories of human trafficking. All are heartbreaking, but the stories of children break my heart the most. Children as young as my own sweet girl, and younger. I’ve wanted to do something, but what? That is always the question. What can I do? How can I make a difference? I’m a stay-at-home mom. My interests are reading and writing and cups of tea. My life is consumed with diapers, getting dressed in the morning and pjs at night, driving to and fro. As Blythe says in her talk, my interests seem shallow compared to the overwhelming evil. So what can I do?
Thanks to Facebook, I found out about Dressember where I commit to wearing a dress every day of the month of December, and you sponsor me.
I like wearing dresses. I counted how many I have in my closet and (including fancy dresses) there are thirteen. Thirteen dresses. And that doesn’t include my summer ones I’ve packed away for the winter. So, yes, I like wearing dresses, but I am also a jeans girl and this will be all month long. In December. In New Hampshire. Whatever discomfort I will have will be nothing compared to what those caught in slavery and human trafficking endure. I will be posting pictures of my dress journey here throughout the month.

So, will you join me? I am not a super advocate, but I will be a voice. Will you speak up with me? My fundraising page can be found here.

The Cost of a Family Photo

I planned a family outing to the New England Aquarium for Father’s Day. It ended up being a rather stressful trip, at least during the traveling to and from the Aquarium. Originally, we were going to take public transportation, but it was raining hard all day and walking from the T station in the rain as well as lugging a stroller on and off a train wasn’t sounding like a good idea, so we parked in a nearby garage and walked a short way.  This ended up being a very wet walk anyway - pruny toes all day wet. The ticket booths for the Aquarium were outside (i.e. in the rain) and as soon as we got in the building they beckon you to the side and take a picture in front of a green screen. A picture they will charge you an exorbitant price to buy. Welcome to the Aquarium.

Once we walked in to the Aquarium itself it was great. Cora loved the large central tank that rose 3 or more stories up the center of the Aquarium. It house three huge sea turtles, rays, a shark or two, and lots of fish. She was mesmerized. So were Pete and I.

However, at the smaller side tanks a stroller made crowd navigation very difficult. It was like chariot racing with strollers, we should have added wheel spikes.

We thought it was busy before lunch, but everyone was just waiting till the afternoon. It got much busier. Cora was getting tired so Toby went on my back in the carrier and Cora rode in the stroller. We saw a few more things, the top of the giant tank was very cool, but we were on borrowed time with the kids. We rushed (as much as you can in pressing crowds with a stroller; wheel spikes, I’m telling you) past the octopus and jellyfish then paused at the stingray touch tank. Cora and I got to be right at the edge and touch a sting ray. Most of them were smaller, 12-18 inch wing-span, but there was one huge leopard spotted ray that was nearly four feet wide!

By the time we left the ray tank Cora was melting and Toby was asleep on my back...and we had forgotten to take a family photo. This is a chronic problem with us, we just always forget until it’s too late. So Pete hands me the card that has our photo number on it and takes Cora to the gift shop to buy a postcard.

I stepped up to the counter.
Me: Can I preview my photo please?
Him: I’ll print them out, then discuss pricing.
Me: No, I just want to preview it, to see if it is any good.
Him: I’ll print them out so you can see.
Me: Fine. (I hear numbers thrown around by the guy next to me, $20, $30, yikes!)
He lays out an 8x10 in a cardboard frame, two smaller loose photos and one smaller one in a plastic magnetic frame.
Him: $21 for the large one, $27 for the three smaller ones, $35 for all of it.
Me: How much for just this one? I hold up the 4x6.
Him: I’m sorry, it comes as a set.
Me: You’re kidding me?
He repeats the pricing.
The guy buying all of his photos next to me leans in and points to Toby: Is that your little guy?
Me: Oh my gosh! Someone pushed their kid into our picture!
Really?! say photo-guy and guy-buying-photos
Me: Ba-dum-ching. Naw, that’s my son. I get funny looks.
Me: So I really can’t just buy this one photo? Come on, after a punch line like that?
Him: Well...
Me: What do you do with them if I say no?
Him: We throw them away.
Me: In the trash?
Him: Yes.
Me: Can I say no, wait a few minutes then throw away this kleenex?
Small smile as he shakes his head.
Me: Five bucks for the 4x6.
He sighs, looks up and does a quick nod. I fish out cash and take my one photo.

At least, that’s what I wish I had said. Instead, my response was a quiet yup, that’s my son, a half-hearted attempt to haggle with the photo-guy and then I handed over my credit card to pay $27 for the pictures of our family - bedraggled from walking in the rain, Pete holding Cora, me leaning in next to them and one lonely hand on the stroller with poor Toby sitting sullen-faced.
Happy Father’s Day.

Fistful of Dandelions

Last Friday was ‘one of those days’. A day I wanted to run away, even if just to the tree fort at the bottom of the yard, by 8am. And it continued, all day. I questioned my ability to be patient enough, kind enough, sane enough. Thoughts of failure ran through my head. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Why exactly did we choose to have another? I nearly lost it while trying to give her a bath; my nearly seven month pregnant belly getting in the way while trying to wrangle a slippery toddler without hurting either of us. “I’m done”, I yelled. And told my husband to take over.

But then...
She comes running in from playing outside with her daddy and proudly presents her fistful of dandelions. “Let’s put them in a vase Mommy”.
She throws her arms around me after finally peeing on the potty (but before she wipes of course) and says, from her heart, “I love you Mommy”.
I overhear from the kitchen when she asks her daddy “Why is there Mother’s Day?” and then, after I hear whispering, she comes running in to give me a hug and kiss.

I know I’m getting back what I gave to my mom. The hyper-emotional, crying loudly to make sure I’m heard from the bedroom tantrums are familiar ground; it’s just not me doing it this time.  In those moments I remember the first few weeks with Cora, the overflow of love as I held her, and realizing that is how my mom felt about me. My mom loves me with that breath-catching, tear-producing ache that I feel towards my daughter. It was, and is, an overwhelming realization to know that I am loved like that.

But it goes further. Not only does my mom, and dad, love me like that, but my Jesus loves me like that. My heavenly Father looks at me with a breath-catching, tear-producing ache of love that will never fade. Despite my adult tantrums (which honestly aren’t too different), despite my lack of patience or forgiveness towards others, God still loves me. He loves me enough to put it all on the line and endure hell so that I don’t have too.

And what do I have to give back to Him? Just me. Which seems trite, like my own fistful of dandelions. And yet, how precious to me are those dandelions wilting in a bud vase? As precious as my life surrendered is to the One who gave me life.