Angel food cake fun (recipe included)

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p1060931Thanks to a pregnant sister who has some pretty serious food cravings these days, I made two killer birthday cakes, one for my husband, one for my mom. I have a reputation in my family for cheesecake. I don’t know what I do but my mom says that nobody can do cheesecake like me.

But for these March birthdays, Denise suggested angel food cake.

Last year I made an angel food cake and she didn’t forget how good it was. I learned a valuable lesson during my first angel food cake experience that I thought I’d share.

When you take the angel food cake out of the oven to cool, don’t, I repeat, don’t, suspend the angel food cake from a soda bottle. Trust me on this. If you do not heed my staunch warning, oh you’ll see that your beautiful angel food cake will fall in fluffy, white clumps onto your marble kitchen island. And that, my friends, is not pretty and quite shameful.

p1060928Last year, I scooped up the pieces of my destroyed dessert, placed them in a glass bowl and redeemed the whole thing with homemade whipping cream and strawberries.

I then sprinkled powdered sugar over each serving and the entire crowd was utterly silent devouring every last morsel of the crest-fallen creation.

You could have heard a pin drop last year. When no one is talking during a meal or a dessert, that’s when you know you done good.

p1060939This time, I wanted to achieve the same delicious flavor minus the flop.

Isaac was my trusty sous-chef and we made two, count em, two angel food cakes.

At first, it seemed we were going to have another problem. As Ike whipped the egg whites and such together on the first cake, nothing poofed up.

I ran upstairs and began googling “angel food cake problems” and that tasty guy kept at it. I was certain we were going to have to start all over again but to my amazement, Ike’s perseverance paid off.

My sweet OS had faithfully swirled the mixer around for almost 10 minutes, I’m not kidding, until the egg whites, cream of tartar, etc., decided to do their thing. I was thrilled!

p1060960Ike and I beheld our desserts and beamed with pride. They were purty, y’all.

As our family streamed into our house for dinner, I couldn’t wait to show them our angel food cakes.

My mom was definitely impressed to learn that 12 year old Ike was instrumental in the success of these tasty delights. Ike is going to be one fine catch some day! Ladies, watch out!

I placed the cakes on the table along with the beautiful roses I had purchased at Sam’s Club. We sang “Happy Birthday” and cut into the sticky, spongy white cake. Then I decorated each piece with fresh strawberries, blackberries and blueberries, a dollop of whipped cream and my signature dusting of powdered sugar.  I recall moments of silence and requests for another helping and Ike and I were satisfied in every way.

p1060976So you want the recipe? Here it is…

ANGEL FOOD CAKE

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1 cup cake flour (make sure it’s cake flour)
1 1/2 cups large egg whites (about 12) best if the eggs are room temperature
1 1/2 t. cream of tartar
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 t. vanilla
1 1/2 t. almond extract
1/4 t. salt

Move oven rack to lowest position. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Mix sugar and flour, set aside.

Beat egg whites and cream of tartar in large bowl with electric mixer on medium speed until foamy.

Beat in granulated sugar, two tablespoons at a time, on high speed, adding vanilla, almond extract and salt with the last addition of sugar.

Continue beating until stiff and glossy meringue forms. Do not underbeat.

Sprinkle sugar-flour mixture, 1/4 cup at a time, over meringue, folding in just until sugar-flour disappears. Push batter into angel food cake pan. Cut gentle through the batter with metal spatula.

Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until cracks feel dry and top springs back when touched lightly.

Immediately turn pan upside down onto a baking rack. Let hang about two hours or until cake is completely cool. Loosen side of cake with knife or long, metal spatula, remove from pan.

Enjoy!

Emotional Chicken Soup

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The challenges of being a West Point mom began before I officially became a West Point mom. Oh the tears I shed last year as I prepared my heart for the strong likelihood that my beloved oldest OS would leave the nest and go far, far away. Y’all should have invested in Kleenex or any kind of “facial tissue product” during that time because you could have made some serious cash. 

At the slightest mention of West Point, I was prone to a watershed of tears. It didn’t take much for me to completely lose it and I can honestly say that my faith in Christ and abounding prayers saved me from going nuts. And don’t even get me started on that day at 6:30am when I gave my boy a final hug and he began R-Day which was probably the saddest and proudest day of my life. Here is a picture of the saddest and proudest day of my life
He’s more than halfway through his plebe year. It hasn’t been easy and that’s an understatement but my OS made the Distinguished Dean’s List and was Cadet of the Quarter in his company. Yes, I am bragging! 

But now he’s sick for the first time and I’m far away. It stinks because I can’t take care of him, (not that he would welcome his mom “babying” him at almost 19 years old) but I wouldn’t feel so hopeless. West Point isn’t the best place for a sick kid with a virus. It’s a breeding ground for germs since everyone lives in close quarters. With some prodding, we urged him to seek medical attention. Nate acquiesced but actually getting the medical attention is easier said then done.

In the civilian world, we call the doctor and schedule an appointment. Often we can be seen the same day. At West Point, (and I am so NOT trying to be disrespectful because I truly honor the military) you get your sick, lazy butt out of bed at 5:30AM, stand in line with other sick cadets and wait to be seen. You hopefully get to see the doctor but unlike at a traditional university, where you can probably skip class and recuperate, at WP you don’t get to chill in your room and get better.

Plus if there’s a snowstorm (and there was a biggie this week) and you’re sick, well that’s even worse. In that case, you get your sick, lazy, dragging butt out of bed at 5:30am and stagger into the blizzard. Once at Sick Call, you stand in line for an hour only to hear that they won’t be able to see you today. And then you take that same, sick, lazy, dragging, virus-ridden butt back out into the frozen tundra and back to class! 

Here is a picture from my plebe’s window on Monday. 
I feel so powerless! I am 10 hours away and my plebe is miserable! So what does a mama of a Soldier do? She prays. She prays with her husband. She prays by herself. She asks her friends to pray for her boy. She writes on his facebook wall. She calls him. She annoys and pesters him. Because she loves him. 

And she sends him emotional chicken soup. This idea came to me a few days ago as I thought, if he were here, I’d make him chicken soup replete with homemade chicken broth, maybe organic carrots, etc. But since I can’t, I send my plebe a steaming hot bowl of emotional chicken soup. Somehow it makes me feel better. And I hope it works just as well for him.

I will get to see Nate next week for Plebe Parent Weekend which will be so awesome but in the meantime, if you’re reading this, would you mind praying for my OS? Bless you!

Pajama Pants are a Pain in the Neck and the Butt!

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After gobbling up the chicken manicotti, I whipped out the sewing machine for my last project, not knowing this one was going to be a real doozy.


I had begun Aaron’s Thomas the Tank Engine pj pants on Saturday and felt fairly certain they were nearly finished. That feeling quickly dashed as Aaron tried the pants on for what I presumed would be the last fitting and announced these words which I will edit for my more puritan readers.

Aaron declared, “Mama, these pants are riding up my b_ _ _ s!” When I asked him to turn around, it was obvious that the pants were not only riding up his “area” but up his butt as well…basically like an Atomic Super Wedgie. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Honestly, they looked incredibly uncomfortable. They were hugging his behind and the seams of the material seemed to disappear into the “Great Unknown.” Ew

So what was I going to do? My neck/back/shoulders were in agony, I had been sewing for hours, it was past dinnertime and they had to be done by 7AM the next morning? GA! My first inclination was to tell Aaron to just deal and suck it up. Couldn’t he wear them to school for seven hours and leave well enough alone? I suggested he just pull the pants down a little bit, that would do the trick. Problem solved, case closed. Personally, that would be the simplest solution as far as I was concerned.

Not so easy. Aaron reluctantly pulled his Thomas the Tank Engine pants lower but that was almost worse. I burst out loud. Now he looked slightly obscene and there is nothing worse or grosser than seeing a 14  year old boy in Thomas the Tank Engine pajama pants looking really inappropriate!

Aaron told me that he wasn’t going to wear the pants in their current situation. Great. I began to rip out the crotch with my trusty seam ripper and then I had him try the pj pants on again (with boxers!) because I thought if I simply relaxed the seam, it would be fine.

I was wrong. I don’t know about you but these are the moments where my self-worth is totally challenged. I go from feeling like the best mommy in the world to being the dumbest, stupidest, most worthless excuse for a mother ever. I was hurting and feeling more desperate by the second. Am I the only one who can be so cruel to herself?  

That’s when I called in the big guns. My husband. Mind you, Mark hasn’t sewn a thing in his life but I needed a fresh perspective and had run out of options. We surveyed the pajama pants like we were looking at a map searching for a great treasure. Like a surgeon looking inside a body cavity. The crotch seams were completely gone and it looked hopeless. Then we got an idea, something preposterous and probably impossible…

Hey, how about creating a waistband?

Why was this so outrageous?
1. I have never created a waistband. 
2. Mark can barely sew a button and has therefore never created a waistband. 
3. I was beyond tired.
4. Did I mention I was really hurting???

I emerged from a fetal position and I’m not exaggerating, there we were Sunday, about 10:30PM, commiserating over how to make our first waistband ever either individually or as a couple for a pair of Thomas the Tank Engine pajama pants for our 14 year old son. Y’all, I have no idea how we did it but glory to God, by some miracle, without instructions, we saved the pants, the junk in the trunk and the family jewels! How do you like that! By 11:30 that night, after nearly nine hours of sewing, this project was almost complete. 

I was telling my friend this story and she reminded me of a perfect Scripture verse…

James 1:3-5

because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. 

These verses fit as well as my boy’s pj’s!
Please take several moments to admire the waistband. Behold the craftmanship.  Please, I beg you, behold the craftmanship!


I don’t think I had a stitch left in me but I loved the strong hugs from my boy. His dignity was restored and he could go to Pajama Day with his head held high. Ok, maybe not, just wait until you see his outfit…check back tomorrow for that blog post and be prepared. May I suggest not reading Friday’s post on a full stomach? You’ll see…

Extreme Makeover

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So with the clothing problem solved, upon the gentle yet insistent prodding of my mom and sisters, I made an appointment to get my hair styled and my makeup professionally applied.


There have been two times in my adult life when I have felt pretty.

The first time I recall was on my wedding day. 

The second time was on the night of the All Academy 
Ball.

I began the day looking like this…I call this Before
 Makeover. 

You don’t have to tell me, I know, there was A LOT of work to do…(I took this nasty picture today so my pink highlights have faded quite a bit and Ike looks even gnarlier than me so ew…)

In the early afternoon, Julian did his magic and
 successfully completed Phase 1. 

At first I thought he gave me some old lady hair but that would probably be a stretch considering I have bright pink highlights in my hair, right? Little by little, I could see the transformation taking place. I began to like what I was seeing in the mirror!

If you read my previous post, you noted that I did not attend any high school dances. My heart was expectant and I thought to myself, “This is what it would have felt like to get ready for a Homecoming Dance or Prom.” I liked the feeling! 

Then I took my dreary face and fancy hair to Bobbi Brown Cosmetics.

Walking up to the makeup counters always intimidates me. 
My insecurity bubbles to the surface and I just know they are judging my appearance. I feel like I’m reading their minds as they assess my face and think to themselves, “That lady needs more concealer, mascara, better foundation, etc.” I’m probably wrong but I approach cosmetic counters with fear and trembling. Yet all my nervousness disappeared as the lovely young woman worked her magic. She made me feel comfortable and feminine and I sensed she was as excited for me to go to the All Academy Ball as I was. 

So after about 45 minutes, Tamsin, the young woman at Bobbi Brown, completed Phase 2. As my 20 month nephew Josiah would say, “Taa daa!” I drove home from the mall and was surprised each time I looked in the mirror. “That’s me!” I marveled.


With not a lot of time to spare, I came home, squirted on a little bit of perfume, put on my pretty clothes and we dashed off to the ball. It was a Cinderella moment. 

Just days before I had asked my husband if there was any way we could cancel and not go to the Ball. I had nothing to wear and was convinced I would have a rotten time and feel ugly and disappointed. But you know what that would have done? It would have only reminded me of that old, familiar, resigned feeling I experienced so many times in high school. I know I would have just thought, “Cindy, that’s just the way it is for you” and I would have spent the night in front of the stupid box aka tv just like I did so many times before. 

Instead I entered an elegant ballroom with my husband. Aside from the time when Mark nearly wiped out on a small piece of red leaf lettuce that was on the tile floor, (it was actually quite funny!), we had a perfect time. I felt like a star sitting at the table with my handsome man and my beautiful son and his date. We enjoyed a delicious dinner, even got engraved wine glasses as souvenirs and danced the night away. There were a lot of pretty girls and women there that
evening but I felt like the belle of the ball. 


Plebe Parent Weekend is in March and I’m already getting excited thinking about it! I hope I don’t sound stuck-up or conceited that you can simply see that an Extreme Makeover took place not only on the outside but also deep within my heart. 

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

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Kudos to you bloggers out there that are able to consistently post during the holidays. I’ve been swamped with projects and family stuff. My mom was in the hospital for four days and that was a bummer. Thankfully she’s home but since my last blog, I’ve been sewing and creating, cleaning, cooking, working, complaining, planning and everything in between.

We also went to the Army/Navy game. Thanks to nine layers of clothing and two blankets, I was able to enjoy the event despite our big loss to Navy. 


Hopefully by this evening, my oldest OS will be home. I was watching Good Morning America yesterday morning and they were discussing the weather. “A winter storm is blanketing the Midwest and the Northeast today with snow up to 10 inches in some areas…” It’s interesting how weather events become personal. I looked at the map and knew someone I loved was trapped. My heart sunk. 

Our OS was leaving West Point, catching a flight from Stewart Airport to Detroit and despite the cheery voices on GMA, I knew my boy wasn’t coming home on Friday night. He was going from a place of snow (West Point) to another place of even more snow (Detroit). How ironic because at the same time in our neck of the woods, we had the windows open and our other OS were in shorts! While driving, I even had to put on the AC! How crazy is that?!

I had warned Nate that he would soon experience snow in proportions the likes of which he had never known. I was hoping it would have waited until January but that was not to be. After four years at West Point, I’m sure Nate will have wracked up many winter stories which he can embellish for his own kids one day beginning with his travels back home for the holidays as a lowly plebe. As soon as the bus arrived at Stewart Airport and learned flights had been cancelled, our plebe was back on the bus returning to West Point for the night. 

I told him to make sure he wore his uniform and to be nice and polite. He says that uniform is the most uncomfortable thing he’s ever worn in his life but I chided him to remember manners on a handsome young man in a uniform can go a long way.

This morning he texted me and said it was so freezing at West Point that there was ice on his jacket! I think he’s going to appreciate the warmth of our home more than ever. 

Although I am disappointed that my OS is not home yet, I am looking forward to seeing him tonight. He might be tired and grouchy but he’ll be here and our five piece puzzle will be together again. 

Bracelets of hope in an El Salvadoran prison

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The plans had been for us to speak at a university while in San Salvador. We had made a nice slide presentation about purity and were looking forward to the opportunity to share our message with college students.

But as I should have learned by now, things don’t always go according to plans and we learned Thursday night that we wouldn’t be speaking there after all. I was a little disappointed but assumed that God had other plans for us. We were given the choice between staying at home while the rest of the team did the medical clinic at the girls’ prison or joining them and finding something to do. That was an easy choice.  We decided to go back to prison.

I can honestly say I was looking forward to going back to prison. Wow, that is a strange sentence I never expected to write!

Beth Anne and I scrambled Thursday night brainstorming about what we could do with the girls in prison. We had enjoyed such a precious time with them the day before, what else we do with these girls given the restrictions and the limited time and resources we had available? The Lord, always faithful, gave me an idea, something I had seen American girls do and with a quick google search, our plans were underway.

At the prison, while everyone else on our team organized the medical aspect of our visit, BA and I got permission to meet with another group of girls, those serving much longer sentences than the ones we had seen the day before.

As we gathered around a table, with prison guards patrolling the grounds right outside the gated windows and a steady breeze wafting through the open air walls, we were blessed to share our message with them.

I even saw a few guards peeking in to hear our presentation. These girls were a little tougher and wilder than the last batch but seemed genuinely interested in hearing about “pureza” (purity) and having a fresh start through Christ.

After we were finished we asked the girls, “Do you want to do a little project?” “Si!” they all shouted.

At first I was going to just tell the girls that we were going to make some little bracelets but then I got an inspiration and with a quick nudge to BA, I said, “Would you like to make bracelets of esperanza?”

Esperanza means hope and I think it’s such a beautiful word, in Spanish. Even more excitedly the girls said, “Si!” I was encouraged already!

So this is what we did.

First we dipped little strips of cotton material in water. Once wet, we placed the strips on the table and began rolling the strips diagonally.

It was great how the Lord supplied all our needs because in addition to having plenty of fabric around the house the night before, we also found a bunch of beads and brought them along with us to the prison.

After the girls had rolled their fabric all up, they began adding beads to their bracelets of hope. I told these El Salvadorian girls that I saw a lot of American girls wearing these in the States.

They intently worked on their bracelets and even Font sizecame up with a few cool variations. I loved seeing their individuality expressed in their bracelets and they even made bracelets of hope for their friends and some family. They worked nicely together and were very kind and respectful to us. Even the toughest and hardest of people still deserve a fresh start.

When we finished, we asked if we could take their pictures. We were forbidden to take pictures of the girls’ faces but this was not a problem, we simply took pictures of their hands.

If you look at this picture below, you will see an old, white hand with a thin, silver wedding band on one finger.

It’s the hand without a watch and um, that hand belongs to me ;).

The reason I placed my hands there is one of the girls was embarrassed about her hands. I’m not sure what had happened to them but she had dark blue markings or burnings on her knuckles. It would have scared me in the real world!

I didn’t want her excluded from the picture and so desperately wanted a picture with her, I offered her a solution. I put my hands over hers so no one would see them. All of our hands are over a piece of paper where I wrote:

Esperanza = Hope

It was one of many bittersweet moments I experienced in the prison. Check out the lemon in the picture. Apparently the girls like to eat lemons!

One by one, the girls placed the bracelets of esperanza on each other.

They made them for all the members of our team.

I have many new pieces of jewelry at home that I rarely wear but since returning home from El Salvador, with a few minor exceptions, I haven’t taken my bracelet of esperanza off my wrist.

A meager bracelet made only of a small swatch of fabric and a few cheap plastic beads is among my most treasured possessions.

Mementos from Prison

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I’m a very sentimental person. Look around my house and there’s probably a story related to just about anything you find there. The picture of daisies in the dining room? My husband took when we were in Neurenburg, Germany about 15 years ago. The photo of a man with tomatoes? That was my dad. The lithographs of two horses in the family room? They were purchased in Japan and given to us by Mark’s parents. I like to be surrounded by memories. It feels cozy, like a home should be. 

Last Sunday I returned to the States and I find myself missing El Salvador. I miss the strong breezes, the sweet people and the adventure of it all. A country I couldn’t have identified on a globe, has now found a place in my heart. I was only there for eight days but I want to remember the time and all that the Lord allowed me to experience. Being a sentimental person, I came back with very special souvenirs. 

Which is why before Thanksgiving I had Mark do some “husband training” which is my affectionate term for what my boys will one day refer to as a “Honey Do” list. Husband training is a way he can teach our OS a few ways to help around the house and become great husbands. They see it as a pain in the butt but one day, their wives will thank me (I hope!).  I thought I’d show you a few of the new treasures that are now in my home. 

This picture is of Garfield. The picture says, “I miss you.” 


This drawing says, “Thinking of you. I love you. I love you.”


Yeah, these pictures aren’t exactly going to be hanging in the Louvre anytime soon but I couldn’t stuff them in a drawer knowing who made them and gave them to me. 

Two girls at the El Salvadorian prison gave me these drawings. They even wrote something on the back of each of these pictures! We were not permitted to take pictures of the girls’ faces so we got creative. 

Each time I look at these drawings, I will remember to pray for these girls facing long sentences and difficult choices. I wept as each of these girls lovingly presented their humble gifts to me. 
Now I have remembrances of them in my home. 

My friend and fellow traveler, Beth Anne, was given a little washrag from one of the prisoners. It had a little cartoon on the cloth and might have been one of the girl’s favorite washrags, maybe even her only one, but this girl wanted to give BA something. BA has already threatened her husband saying, “I don’t care how cheesy this might look, we are going to hang this washrag up in our apartment!” I think she’s going to shadow box it which would be pretty cool. Until then, she will have a washrag hanging on her wall and that’s that. 

I also have a favorite wrist and that’s because since my return I’ve been wearing three bracelets I received from Salvador (as I often heard the natives say) which is probably like us saying “the States” as opposed to the United States of America. Our sweet, sweet translator Lulu gave me the red bracelet, a lady from a women’s conference gave me the leather bracelet which she took off her wrist and put on mine and the third, well that’s a bracelet of hope. I can’t wait to tell you about the bracelets of hope. It’s on my list of things to share but if I make this post too long, I’ll lose your attention. 

If you see my left wrist, ask me! If you see anything in my house, get ready for a story! Tell me yours too!

In Memory of an Incredible Man

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Today’s post is in memory of a precious man of God who loved his family and served his Lord to the very end. Strangely I never met him in person but came to know him through my blog. His valiant fight with cancer ended today and I feel honored to in some very small way to have known this man and his amazing family. 


Although Jim probably wasn’t a perfect guy (because there has only been one of them and His name is Jesus), Pastor Jim had his priorities in order. Jesus. Family. Others. He seemed to live his life pouring out the love of Christ to his family and others. Even when unable to respond with words, he would still wink at his wife as the cancer spread through his body. Please pray for his family as they grieve and adjust to life without their husband, dad, son and brother in their lives. May God remind them that He has placed each one of their tears on His scroll. 

Here is a link to Jim’s blog. If you are struggling today and need a proper perspective or if you just want to meet a really amazing person who will inspire you, a few minutes on thehokeypokeyplace.blogspot.com is worth your time. Have Kleenex nearby. 

Thank you, Jim for the impact you had on my life. My family has held hands and prayed for you so many times. I had hoped to meet you in person but I will look forward to seeing you in heaven. I pray Merrily and I will meet and hug and cry in person one day. Surely you are hearing, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” 

A Day to Remember

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Amazing things I have done in the last 24 hours:


Washed my hands in hot water

Immersed my entire body a shower and was able to step away from the experience without being emotionally traumatized due to the freezing temperature

Walked on carpet

Saw a little bit of television

Heard some music I could understand

Wore a seatbelt

Kissed my husband

Snuggled with my boys

Missed a beautiful country and special friends

I am very tired and immeasurably blessed with so much more to share, stay tuned…

Spending time in prison

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P1010271When I thought about the things I wanted to do in my life, going to an El Salvadoran girls’ prison never made it to the list. Tahiti, yes. A really cool place in France where there are houses carved in the mountains, absolutely. Montana, very high on my list.

P1010263But seriously, an El Salvadoran girls’ prison, let’s face it, nowhere near the top thousand. But I have experienced two of the most emotional and tender days of my life and I would say every Christian mother needs to visit an El Salvadoran prison.

It’s almost an insult to even try to explain all that I have seen, heard and felt because all words are lacking.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

bookshelf at the prison

We entered the locked doors and teenage girls some as young as 13 began en- thusiastically greeting us. Beth Anne and I along with our wonderful translator Lulu went upstairs into the stark meeting room and the girls practically jumped for joy! It was a pretty cool to see girls so happy to see us.

About a week ago, I did something else rather unexpected. I put some blue highlights in my hair! Think the colors of a parakeet and you have a fairly good idea what it looks like. I did it on a whim and just decided to go for it.

Members of my own family, (AND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) 😉 have not approved of this decision but I seriously have been wanting to do it for a while. I dyed just about 10% of my entire head…now I know why I did it. The girls in the El Salvadoran prison have LOVED it! We have definitely bonded over my stylish coif.

They have found my blue (azule) hair VERY beautiful and maybe even glamorous! So take that everyone else who hasn’t found it especially “bonita,” y’all I’ve been workin’ it at the El Salvadoran girls’ prison!

We all placed our hands around the basketball before leaving.

We all placed our hands around the basketball before leaving.

We shared our message about hope and purity. In the middle of the presentation, the mood in the room became so precious, so sweet. Beth Anne, Lulu the translator and I were talking about the infinite love of God. His grace. His mercy. His forgiveness.

If you could have seen these girls, some serving sentences for extortion and other crimes, wiping tears from their eyes, you would have been as emotional as we were. We told them that despite all the things that they have done, and quite honestly we have done, Jesus loves us and died for our sins. There was a hush in the prison walls.

Here we were, behind bars, in a prison, with young criminals and we had the humble privilege of telling these girls that THIS place could become a place of hope and freedom because of Jesus. Lulu had to stop translating for a moment, she was so overcome with God’s presence. Tears were streaming down our faces and there was love overflowing. Even the prison guards were touched by the message as we also told these ladies that Jesus loved them.

We couldn’t take pictures of the girls’ faces but in a moment of creativity, we found a way around it. We took pictures of feet! Our feet among their feet!

And we took pictures of our hands. Our hands embracing their hands. The white hands holding the little brown hands. The women who were free to leave this prison among the girls who were going to stay.

P1010277We took pictures of our shadows. Our shadows among theirs. We took pictures with our backs to the camera with all of our arms around each other. It will be among my most treasured photos. As soon as I come home I will post the photos. You’ve got to see them.

What am I doing here? I do not deserve to be in a place like this. It is too beautiful, too moving and yet the Lord has brought me to this place for such a time as this. I am deeply, profoundly, eternally humbled.

Every Christian mother needs to spend time in an El Salvadoran prison. Put it on your list.