Category Archives: love

Men in Tights, Men in Black

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Now we’re back to our regular school uniforms and I admit I am both relieved that Spirit Week is over and nostalgic about the fun times we enjoyed.


Aaron’s class had Black-Out Day. I wasn’t ecstatic about the theme since it seems dark (duh, it’s black!) and gothic but then Aaron wanted to know if I had any black tights and suddenly Black-Out Day sounded more weird than anything else. My OS would have killed me if I had taken some pics but you should have seen him trying on my stockings. At first he tried on a pair of black nylons. “How can anyone wear these things!” he groaned. 

When I saw that he was wearing nylons, like the kind I wear with a dress or skirt, I had to intervene. He needed an emergency hosiery alternative so I recommended some black tights. It is strange rifling through my drawers trying to find a hosiery alternative for my teenage son.

I hearken back to the Halloween when my oldest OS was about six years old and dressed up as a spider. He wore my brimmed black hat and to complete the ensemble, I purchased some girls’ spider tights. I didn’t think it was a big deal but he did. It took a lot of convincing but my son who is a now a plebe at the United States Military Academy VERY hesitantly wore them for trick or treating. To my knowledge, he hasn’t worn ladies’ tights/nylons since that day.

Aaron also decided that compression shorts were necessary and I’ll leave it at that. If guys only had a clue how much effort we put into looking good, I think they would be surprised. In addition to covering his shapely legs all in black,  my OS donned a black ski cap, black UnderArmor and smeared black camo make-up over his face. Yes it was creepy, especially when I came to pick him up after school and he continued to wear the ski mask. He was talking normally about his day through the ski mask and it was creeping me out! I had to tell him to take it off just so I could drive.


I am not only the mom of three sons, but I guess I’m the mom of Men in Tights and Men in Black. 

Pajama Day for the Record Books

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The suspense has got to be killing you…so far I have shared that Spirit Week in our family is a BIG deal. We take Spirit Week seriously and bring it, if you know what I mean. But what I haven’t shared is the final result. 

After all the exhaustive effort, the travail, at last Pajama Day was at hand.

I had finished my middle OS’s pajama pants around 11:30pm Sunday night, the costume was ready. 

Before I reveal the actual outfit, you need some background. We have a standing joke in my family that I have yet to grow tired of saying. True, everybody in my family is tired of hearing this joke but that’s beside the point. Here it is…every time my sons eat something healthy, especially if it is green, I tell them something marvelous is going to happen to them in the near future. A very special, VERY manly thing that will leave them eternally gratefully for having me as their mom and for having eaten that healthy, green thing. 

I tell them that thanks to eating that healthy thing and having me as their mom, they are going to grow chest hair. And not just little tufts here and there, my friends. Not just a random hair on a barren land, oh no, we’re talking prolific amounts of chest hair, a veritable yet tasteful explosion of virulity and testorone will arrive shortly. 


Essentially I say the same thing each time but I have a knack for making it sound fresh and new. For example, Ike will be sitting at the dinner table, eating/being forced to eat some salad and I will affirm him by saying, “Isaac, that salad is going to grow a centimeter of hair on your chest one day!” Or recently when they tried/were forced to try brussels sprouts, I encouraged my youngest OS after he ate/choked one of them down with these supportive words, “Oh, Ike just you wait, Man.  You are so gonna grow some chest hair!”  

How does that relate to Pajama Day?…take a look at these pictures, dear friends…

To the untrained eye, this might look like real chest hair. That would be wrong. On one of my million trips to the fabric store, I purchased some fake fur. My expert (HA!) seamstress skills allowed me to sew some “chest hair” onto a ripped t-shirt. I wanted to sew “back hair” also but felt close to exhaustion.  
Aaron played the part to the hilt, from the beginning of the morning at home till the end of school that afternoon, my boy scratched his newly sprouted chest hair to the disgust of all the freshman girls and possibly some of the teachers. I don’t think it is humanly possible to have more fun with chest hair, real or otherwise, than we had that day!

Unless something new develops, I’ll soon blog about the new painting in our house from a talented and aspiring artist, as well as Mr. Grumpy Box of Crayons and The Wiggles AND a certain Cadet of the Quarter I know quite well and the new SNUGLET model who might one day seriously be strutting the cat walk! 😉 Stay tuned and come back soon, love to hear from you if you have enjoyed any of these posts. 

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…

Things Always Take A Lot Longer Than You Realize

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So if you have been with me so far you know that Spirit Week is a big deal in our family. The resourcefulness, creativity and fun my OS and I put into the week makes my little mama’s heart soar. I feel as if I am in the TMZ, the Total Mama Zone, like I am racking up some serious AMP, Amazing Mama Points. 

But that nearly came to a screeching halt the Sunday before Spirit Week began. Michele and I decided to get together after church and make three pair of pajama pants and corresponding appliques. 

My bff prepared some tasty chicken cabbage soup and fresh pineapple and afterward I realized that I had brought the wrong pajama pants patterns to her house. We rushed back to my house, grabbed the patterns and scurried up to her craft room. At this point, we were slightly behind our imaginary schedule but not too concerned.

The mood was lively and jovial as we cut the material and set to the task of cranking those pj pants out in record time. Our machines were purring like kittens and I was especially excited to be using a stitch on my machine I had never used. It’s funny the things people, (ok, not everybody, but some people, like me) can get excited about…maybe it’s like a guy using a new kind of nail or a fancy hammer, I don’t know.

Ike took pictures to document the day. Surely we will be done with these before dinner, Michele and I mused. Yeah, right. Michele spoke these ominous words repeatedly, “things always take a lot longer than you realize,” and that became a foreboding truism as the day grew longer and longer and longer. 

I believe this picture is Michele’s “things always take a lot longer than you realize” face.  

When the two boys tried on the pj pants, we made some changes and started more custom sewing. Scott is small and his pants were gi–normous. Then Ike felt like his pants were pretty huge too. I guess sixth grade guys don’t like their pants poofy. We plodded on.


And then there was me. Michele wanted to make simple elastic
 waistbands but I lobbied for them to have elastic waistbands and matching draw strings. I assured her it wouldn’t take too much longer since both of our machines can make buttonholes. We could whip those out in no time at all. She complied and we still remained optimistic. We could doey it! 

Admittedly though we were getting a tired and a little punchy. Michele also said she never sews at night…too many mistakes. Daylight was slipping away and although we were making progress but it was apparent she would be working into the night. 

I averted a horrible accident and a nice little trip to the ER when I narrowly missed digging/shoving/implanting a pin into my right knee. I guess I needed to cut something and with one fell swoop, my knee/pajama pants all hit the carpet simultaneously. It was only then that I felt a little pin in the material breeze past my bent knee. Oh, how I praised Jesus that that unsanitary pin didn’t get rammed up there! All I could think about was some medical show I watched recently about a woman with a needle in her knee and wow, it was really, really gross! 


We weren’t lazy and we talked while we sewed but there were no coffee or cigarette breaks (HA!) Why was it past six o’clock and these pants were still not done! Ike tried on his pajama pants and got fitted more times when he probably will when he gets a tux for his wedding! 

And the buttonholes were a mess. Maybe the machines were getting as tired as the seamstresses behind them. But we plugged along and bless her heart, when we realized that I hadn’t made enough drawstrings, Michele forged ahead and completed the job. 

It was past 7pm and the end was near, at least for this project. Though my shoulders and neck were screaming, I think the satisfaction of spending time with my friend and doing something for my son and his buds made it all worthwhile. That is until Ike started to have second thoughts on the way home and panicked about what people were going to say. I tried my best to remain calm which was a feat in itself. 

I made dinner with the help of my family and immediately after shoveling in the last bit of chicken manicotti, I whipped out my trusty sewing machine and worked on Aaron’s Thomas the Tank Engine pj pants.

Why did we do this? I’ll tell you why. Love. Pure, unadulterated, mushy mama love, that’s why. Love for my children, love for his friends, love of my friend, a chance to bless. I don’t regret a minute of it even though I was exhausted. 

And check these out! First, check out Ike’s face as he got ready to walk into his class with Orange Train emboldened on his chest! Aren’t they adorable! Here are the guys workin‘ it with their matching pajama pants and appliqued t-shirts. They were a big hit at the middle school and I’m already thinking about next year’s design. Yes, I’m insane. 

And Aaron’s Thomas the Tank Engine pajama pants, just when I thought I had nothing left in me, well, those pajama pants were about to rock my world…I’ll blog about that next.

PJ Pants

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Now that Ike’s in sixth grade, what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t make him his first pair of custom-designed pajama pants for Spirit Week? 


Answer: I would be the worst mother in the world, that’s whom I’d be! Not saying that YOU are a horrible mom of a middle schooler if you haven’t made a your child custom-designed pajama pants for Spirit Week, I’m only talking about myself! No guilt zone, k?

As I talked with my friend, Michele, we agreed that since our sons are besties, we would make them matching pajamas. Then we considered another one of their good buds and decided to offer to make some for him too. When I suggested to Michele that we could probably crank out maybe even pj pants for two other kids, Michele was quick to use her assertive communication skills and say, “NO!” I am very thankful for her common sense because it preserved both my sanity and our friendship!

After a basketball game, Michele and I took our two boys to one of a sixth grade boys’ favorite stores…JoAnn Fabrics. Oh noooooo, they didn’t feel too awkward looking through all the material! Hungry and tired after the game, we were relieved when when we finally found the perfect material but then discovered there wasn’t enough of it to make three pj pants so guess what we got to do? That’s right…we got to take our tired and starving 12 year boys to their second favorite store…Hancock Fabrics! Try it sometime. If you have a 12 year old son and he complains about having nothing to do, offer to take him to a fabric store and see what happens! So much fun!

Our stomachs were growling and with only 15 minutes before closing time, we all settled on this fabric. It had to be the perfect blend of not too serious so people thought it was lame and not too babyish so people aka the dreaded eighth graders wouldn’t mercilessly mock and shame our sons for the remainder of their lives. That is not the easiest thing to do by the way. Michele and I planned on beginning our sewing project on Saturday and we were going to crank these pj pants out in no time at all…


Famous last words…

Having fun during Spirit Week – W-H style

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Every year at my children’s school, there is an opportunity to ditch their school uniforms and participate in Spirit Week. It has become five days my sons look forward to from the first day of school. Spirit Week is a time for the kids to let loose, as much as is humanly possible in a private Christian school and just have some fun. Truly a rare and welcome treat. 

But my sons are not the only people in our family who anticipate Spirit Week. I do too! For the last several years, it has become a tradition in our family, mostly instituted by me that when it’s Pajama Day, and there is always a Pajama Day during Spirit Week, well, the W-H’s, we are gonna represent. We are going to bring it! We are going to take it to the limit, no holds barred and therefore no ordinary pajamas will suffice. Whether they like it or not, I determine to make my OS their very own, “designer” pajama pants.

One year our two oldest OS wore a matching rubber ducky pj’s. Nate wasn’t exactly overjoyed about being twins with his dorky middle school brother but I had some spare material around the house and whipped those pj’s out pretty quickly during the Super Bowl game. They were quite a hit at school not to mention super comfy and that fed my addiction to purpose to make more pajama pants for Spirit Week. 


But before I tell you about our current Spirit Week events and ideas, let’s take a journey back and visit Spirit Weeks of days gone by.

There was the time when Nate dressed up as a Super Hero…I believe he was Super Nate…Not sure what his super powers were but we always think of him as Super Nate! 

I cannot take credit for the costume he created except to say I helped him put the N on the back of his cape. 

And who could forget Nerd Day? Aaron took that day VERY seriously and if you know him, he’s such a un-nerdy guy. Nonetheless, he wore a computer tie the boys bought him years ago at the flea market. Shockingly, I believe Aaron is the only person to have ever worn this tie. Even when I have told Mark that his kids bought it especially for him for Christmas, he still hasn’t put the thing around his neck. At least someone has gotten good use of it after all these years. 

Last year Aaron was Prince Charming. 

I made golden silk pajama pants which I hemmed at the knees and a felt vest. (Obligatory ew–ing and ah-ing from my readers, please!) 

We then made a golden crown out of poster board and glued beautiful authentic plastic jewels which surely bedazzled the ladies. We even went to the Goodwill and got him a shoe to carry around the entire day as he searched for his Cinderella who was nowhere to be found.  
I’m not sure what Nate was this year but I think he had limited time, talent and resources so I think he was Captain Hook…check out the black Lady Godiva wig we have used for countless weird things. Oh and don’t forget the “hook” made out of aluminum foil. 


There was Favorite Bible Character Day…Nate was Noah…check out the stuffed animal on his cardboard ark. He duct-taped the defenseless teddy bear to the ark!

I just had to tell you about our past experiences before I got you up to date on what we’ve been working on currently. Next blog…Spirit Week 2009…and the NINE hour sewing project which nearly killed me…and I’m not even exaggerating. More soon,

POW/MIA Table

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We all clapped for the cadets and midshipmen graduating in the Class of 2009 and offered toasts with sparkling apple cider. I chuckled as I lifted my engraved wine glass and haled, “To the Academy!” numerous times. Indeed, our family has entered a new world.


Yet amidst the fanfare and celebration, there was a sobering spot in the room. It was the POW/MIA table. Each part of the table had symbolism. Previously I just thought it was an awkward table maybe even a silly joke but I couldn’t have been more wrong. When they described each item on the table, I had to choke back the tears. Being the mama of a Soldier and the cousin of an Army Chaplain in Afghanistan, I struggled to maintain my composure and not smear the three layers of mascara on my eyes.

This was the description of the table printed on the program for the All Academy Ball. 

The POW/MIA table is a place of honor near the head table. It is set for one and is a way of symbolizing the fact that members of the military are missing. The table is set for one and is intentionally small symbolizing the frailty of one prisoner against his/her oppressors.
                   
          
                              
           The tablecloth is white symbolizing the purity of their intentions to respond to their country’s call to arms.

The single rose in a vase reminds us of the families and loved ones who kept the faith awaiting their return.

A red ribbon is tied prominently on the vase reminiscent of the red ribbon worn upon the lapel and breasts of thousand who bear witness to their unyielding determination to demand a proper accounting of our missing.

A slice of lemon is on the bread plate to remind us of their bitter fate.

Salt upon the bread plate symbolic of the families’ tears as they wait.

The glass is inverted since they cannot toast with us that evening.

And finally, the chair is empty, they are not here.

When I approached the table, I felt a sadness pervade over my heart. We are so young on this journey of being parents of a Soldier, I am choosing not to go there too much emotionally lest I completely fall apart. 


We have so much to be thankful for in this country and I was moved by this table. Here is a link to a facebook group supporting my cousin who is serving our country in Afghanistan. I know he’d appreciate your prayers and any other support you can offer. 

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.