Gifts

If you know anything about my dad (and thus me) you know he is a good as they come but down right quirkier than them all. Every year for Christmas he fills our stockings with the most random assortment of items that were on sale at Walgreens. I think last year I received the National Inquirer, Q-tips, hand sanitizer, a snow globe and tampons (TMI?)
When I was a wee little one, still in footie pajamas, we had carrots in our stockings one Christmas morn. My sister, older and wiser beyond her years, caught on immediately and ran down the hall, threw open the front door, looked in the yard and exclaimed “MY PONY! MY PONY! MY VERY OWN PONY!” Moments, decades, centuries later you see me on the video camera running as fast as one can in footie pajamas on hard wood floors with carrots the size of one’s arms when I finally see the object of my Christmas letter’s affection: a pony. All this while Lindsey is still saying “MY VERY OWN PONY” to which Little Al’s face scrunches up and cries “But where’s MY pony???”
Needless to say, I’ve never been a great gift receiver nor giver. Maybe I still harbor ill feelings for having to share MY pony with MY sister but blogs are not meant to be counseling sessions (although much cheaper and convenient.)
This summer especially I began thinking about spiritual gifts and realizing the gifts of all those around me. My mom’s gift is by far hospitality. She taught me everything I need to know about how to be a true southern hostess. My sister’s gift is making people feel beautiful – whether it is through artwork or makeup (both of which she is extremely talented.) Caroline is gifted in making people laugh and Alise is gifted in making a stranger feel like a long lost friend. Sarah is gifted in counseling (she has far many but this is my favorite because I get to benefit from it) and Betsy is gifted in homecoming. Seriously, walk in our house any day of the week and Betsy will make you feel like Justin Beiber in the flesh. Her squeals are the highlight of my day. In the words of Sumner “there’s something Biblical…” about coming home.
So this Christmas season I’ve been sweating bullets to buy the perfect gift (not really because I always wait until the last minute.) To wrap this up and get to my point, finally, I wanted to share with you all some great gift ideas that really give back because lets me honest, we already have so much crap in our lives. Who really needs another sweater or video game? Our lives have so much clutter. I clean my room on the daily and sometimes I stop and think about the hundreds of thousands no actually millions of kids, parents, real people like you and me who simple want a meal this Christmas. Or someone to smile their way. Or someone to show them that prostitution isn’t the way. That last sentence breaks my heart - but it is the story of some of these women in my first suggestion. So here are a few – enjoy!


My day is not complete without a scarf and these are beautiful, hand crafted Ethiopian scarves made by women who have escaped prostitution by being employed to make these beauties. I bought the Mulu one a few weeks ago (I also think I lost it already) but they feel incredible and are so worth it. The Dember one is new and will hopefully be added to my collection soon. Each scarf is named after a woman who helped make it so read their stories!



I know we are all obsessed with Bottletree Bakery coffee -- I currently have a bag in my pantry but this coffee comes to me from the grapeVINE (get it, Viner?) ahahah, he worked with this family this summer and I've heard all great things about his mission in Guatemala using the funds from coffee.



Speaking of coffee, if you and your recipient share a love for coffee then how about supporting the Mocha Club for a year?

Or an orphan? I hear the number of orphans in the world is projected to be 165 million now. How insanely saddening is that?

These necklaces are made my Ugandan women from recycled magazines! Environmentally and globally friendly and they are such an easy conversation starter to help spread the word.





Or give a cow through Heifer International?

And last but certainly not least...give a box with a big red bow and some holes cut in for breathing. Who doesn't love puppies on Christmas mornings? But make sure there is one for every kid! This is Patches with Friends of Pete

busybusy.

yeah, yeah, yeah i know… it’s been a while. sorry, readers. and sorry, allie. let’s just say that life has been, well, busy these days. i do feel like it’s such a cop out to say that. busy. i know, but we’re all busy. and when is there really a time that i ever think to myself “i really don’t have anything that i need to be doing right now”? i think i just need to accept the fact that life is always going to be busy, so i should quit using the fact that i’m busy as an excuse not to do certain things.

so i’m sitting here in square books drinking my pumpkin spice coffee, wondering why my life is so busy, and i honestly don’t know why. i think i’m coming to realize that it doesn’t have to be, or at least it doesn’t have to be busy in the way that it usually is. i don’t have to spend so much time and energy on the things that just.don’t.matter. i get so bogged down with triviality, and i would love to be the kind of person that can just take life as it comes, live in the moment, and live without constantly think ahead toward the next big thing.

i won’t go into details, but recently i have become [painfully] aware of how much heartache and brokenness people carry around with them every day. it’s everywhere. not just in africa or romania or inner city new york, but it’s in oxford too. people are hurting. my friends are hurting. and yet i busy myself with so many things that end up consuming my time and my thoughts and my energy, keeping me from loving people well. i want to be the kind of person who refreshes others and pours into other people instead of stressing people out always talking about all of the things i have to get done. if i’m going to be busy, i might as well be busy about the things that matter.

-katy

Dream

You know those dreams that you wake up from thinking they might have been real? Well when I was a little tot I slept in a twin bed, had blue carpet in my bedroom, thought there was a secret passageway into an alternate universe in my closet, and had repetitive dreams that Michael Jordan was stabbing me in my back. What? Yeah, Michael Jordan. In his Bulls uniform.

Until I was in high school I wouldn’t let people touch my back and still to this day I occasionally will pout when someone pokes me or wants to check out my tag to make sure it doesn’t say “Made in Heaven.” My grandmother use to tell a story of a family of spiders that lived on my back and would crawl up my back to have a picnic on my head and it drove me INSANE. I much preferred the mother and daughter ladybugs that would slide down my ears…but the spiders tickled so bad, painfully bad.

I haven’t been dreaming lately and I could be super cheesy and say it’s because my reality is like a dream (someone pinch me? Because I’m kidding) but it is kind of sad not to remember anything from 6-8 hours of my day. I’m more of a daydreamer nowadays. I dream about going to Africa. I dream about the day I’m reunited with my Savior. I dream about a lace dress and red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. I dream about mac and cheese and popcorn chicken day at the Chi O house. I dream about dancing as in the eye of a hurricane (Drew Holcomb lyric that I’ve been itching to use.) I dream about writing a book, completing a triathlon, and being back at camp. I dream about North Carolina and Christmas lights.

I dream Katy would update so I don't have four posts in a row.