For Those Who Receive Hard News This Week

This first appeared last year. I’m reminded how each year looks different :)! How does this year look for you?

Dear friend,

I don’t have to tell you, it’s the holiday season. We have reminders surrounding us. I don’t care where you live, social media and the internet won’t let you forget.

You might want to. The holidays are supposed to be happy, but you’ve gotten news this week that has t-boned you and now you’re not sure which direction you’re going.

It was the day before Thanksgiving last year for our family. With one doctor’s report pieces both fell into place and scattered all over the floor.

So that might explain what’s going on. 

Oh my word, this … just … might … I do not want to say it because then it will make it true … be his last Thanksgiving. 

Hard news near a holiday

Your news might be medical too. Or involving relationships or finances or your job or be about your kids or a pregnancy or a dashed dream.

So many ways bad news can enter a life.

I am so sorry for the hit you have taken. The air that has been knocked out of your soul. The way you may have lost your bearings this week. And though you know you’ll (probably) recover from this, right now you’re a bit stunned. You may  know deep in your gut this might be a game changer. You will bear the mark of this week for the rest of your days.

What you might not know right now is the size of the scar.

The news you received may end up fading over time. Or it may not. Our shock is over, but we still dance around the holes in our lives figuring out what they mean.

For you, what to do this week? When the message being projectile vomited at you from all directions is be thankful (OR ELSE).

That’s not the gospel. That’s not why Jesus came. Your pain is real. But your pain is not supreme. So, again, what do you do?

Embrace the messy middle. You may need to make adjustments this holiday. Change locations, scale back, maybe make a road trip. I don’t know what you will need to do.  Honor the holiday in some way while also honoring your pain. I am grateful for the memories I have of last year. They include Dad’s last turkey dinner at a dear friend’s house and texting with my sister afterwards saying how for both of us there had been tears. We were in shock.

The messy middle creates space for the good and the bad. The joy and the sorrow. The pain and the pleasure. You may want to deny what’s happened or deny the holidays. If possible, lean into the tension and find ways that real holidays involving real life are richer than the shallow versions offered by advertisers. A better cell plan isn’t the answer to a rich and fulfilling life, finding ways to make gestures towards each other is.

A few years ago part of our family was with Dad who was in rehab for a broken hip, and just as the rest of us sat down for the meal my phone rang. After I had spent most of the day on a situation involving a suicidal American in China, I was now going to miss the meal with my family because her mom had gotten my phone message. I had to break the news that would forever be associated with this holiday and yet she needed to know and be a part of the plan for her daughter’s safety.

Let me say it again — I am so sorry for the news you received this week. Some years are harder and you’re having one of those.

It comforts me that Abraham Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Day Proclamation was written in the midst of Civil War. Clearly all was not right with the country. And yet.

And yet he knew in the midst of bad news it is worthwhile to pause and remember the story is bigger than this news, this week. God gave us two hands, one to hold the troubles and one to hold the hope. Use them both. Offer them both.

I will be thinking of you this week. And if you want me to pray for you or just want to share your story leave a comment or email me at We can’t make it go away, but we can let you know you’re not alone.

With blessing,


To Non-Dads on Father’s Day


Dear Friend,

I want to call you friend and not non-dad. If you’re like me, the term non-mom irks me because it focuses on what I’m not instead of what I am. I wasn’t going to write to you, I feel I’ve said my piece and my role is to help pastors navigate these waters. I was sitting outside reading as I enjoyed a morning cup of tea when i got a direct message on Facebook from a woman I don’t know.

She said:

You wrote about all the different scenarios of mothers on moms day. Today we are military and there are so many dads who have no children but would love them, some have them but they are far away or have been replaced. I’m struggling to find the words to tell the dads who can’t have children for health reasons why them being fathers to neighborhood kids or just role models. Can you please post something. Your words hit it right on the head with moms. I need to show these non dad s they have a place. Some lost their kid in an IED blast, several have tried for years and never had kids. Please help me help them.


It’s the “thank you with love” that got to me. This woman doesn’t know me (but now she does, Hi Kenna!), but she sees you, she knows you, she cares for you, she wants you to know how much you mean to her. On behalf of Kenna, others who know you, and God who loves you beyond measure know this too:

  • Roles and titles are not the only way to make a difference. You don’t need a title to enter a life, all you need is time, compassion, and interest.
  • You matter, your story matters. You might have lost a child this year or years ago or never. Hallmark and Hollywood can’t help but share narrow stories, they only have two pages or a couple of hours. So when you story doesn’t match up to theirs, don’t measure yourself by them. You have pages and hours. Some days will be dull and disappointing, that doesn’t diminish you.
  • If there is one thing I know about being around kids, they blossom when they are around good, decent, kind men. We need you in tutoring programs, boys clubs, Sunday School classes, and Vacation Bible Schools. We need to you wrestle with the kids, laugh at their jokes, tell them to “knock it off.” Frankly, we don’t need more volunteers, we need more men. You are needed, please know that.
  • Your pain hurts. I know our societies can give mixed messages. Real men don’t cry. Real men show their emotions. Sorry for that. Your pain is a valid as a woman’s. Please feel free to express it however you need to for your personalty. If you want to cry, cry. If you want to drive around in your car alone and scream at God and the air and all that is WRONG, drive and scream. Just don’t keep pushing it down because your pain is valid.
  • So is your joy! The memories you have with kids, the laughs you have with your people, the inside jokes that no one else gets.
  • If you’re in the trenches with infertility, I’m sorry. To have to submit to questions and tests and have a part of you reduced to sperm count and sperm motility can cause you to believe all of you have been reduced. This is not true. Still, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the ridiculous comments about sin, underwear choice, and biking.

You might be a non-dad by choice or by circumstance, but, like me, you’re a full human, not a partial one. You are a friend, a husband, a brother, a son, a warrior, a worker, a compassionate human, you are loyal, a son of the Most High God, and above all, you are loved.

Kenna, I know you’re one of many who want to reach out to your non-dad friends today. Thanks for the nudge.

With blessings, Amy

The Value of Fleeting Beauty

Happy May Day!

The highlight of this day when I was a kid was pouring over the wallpaper books and picking the paper for the cone. Flowers are fleeting. I’ve heard people say that they don’t like giving flowers because they wilt and won’t last.

If flowers aren’t your thing, I’m not going to argue with you. But I will push back on investing in what appears fleeting.

This year I am aware of a lesson flowers offer: Enjoy today. The season is passing. The colors are vibrant. If wait to enjoy it or wait for life to settle down, you’ll miss it. Instead, flowers are a spiritual discipline in noticing and embracing mystery in the midst of the distractions of our self-labeled important lives.

I saw this sign at the Denver Botanic Gardens:

May Day 6AA

This is what I’m telling myself this May Day: Appreciate the ways God has sprinkled beauty into your days that might not be there tomorrow and yet may live forever. See your life as a garden. It’s to be cultivated. It’s seasonal. There will be times of fallowness and great bounty. Find the beauty in what you have today. Take time to notice.

May Day 1A

May Day 3A

May Day 4A

May Day 2A

May Day 5A


Are you a flowers person? If not, what points to fleeting beauty in your life? We all have something!

What If Your Scars Are a Source of Shame?

The theme at Velvet Ashes this week is scars and the idea came from an interview I heard last fall with a pastor. She was asked what illustrations she uses in her preaching and said she preaches out of her scars, not her wounds.

And this phrase stuck to my soul.

There is a place for sharing from our wounds, but I get her point that for public teaching there is something to be said for where we’ve been. Not where we are.


I’ve known for months I would be sharing the final post of the week. I thought I’d write about how “scars don’t have to define us, but can refine us.” Michele said it more elegantly on Monday. Then I wanted to talk about how we can use our scars to comfort others. Laura beat me to it and I love what she shared. I think you can guess what my next idea was; Jessica shared about our past coming with us overseas and the role of doubt, scars, and the upside down spiritual world. Yes, yes, yes.

I’ll admit I had a small pity party. God, I’ve been thinking about wounds and scars for months and wanted to swoop in at the end of the week and be all shiny and glittery and impressive. You know. For YOUR sake, not mine.

“Apparently I wanted each author to say what she said.” God smiled, “So listen to what I have for youto say.” Okay God, I’m listening.


So much of our wounding is laced with shame. Whether we’ve “brought the wounding on ourselves” or had something done to us. This leads to shame about our scars and what we think they convey.

It may be that you are not picking up on something as quickly as others. It may be that your body is the source of shame due to disease, an eating disorder, an inability to carry a baby to full term, or a weight that’s “not right” for your culture. It may be a sexual history, educational history, financial history, or family history that has introduced shame to your scars.

Shame and isolation are two of the oldest tricks in The Book. From early on, the Accuser of our souls whispered one of two lies:

  1. What’s happened to you is so awful no one will want to come near you. OR
  2. What’s happened to you is nothing compared to what happened to her, or them, or there.

What wounded you is legitimate, no matter how big or how small. It’s not a contest. God is not repulsed by you, what’s happened to you, or what you’ve done. He loves you and wants to heal you. Not so he can “use your story.” No, just because he loves you. It’s the enemy who sees you in distorted lights. Who says you’re not fit.

Jesus gets shame. I know dying on the cross was more pain than I can imagine, but it’s the being naked in front of all those people that also gets me. He was ultimately shamed so that our shame will no longer isolate us.

My hope for you is that your zest for life (another way of saying the Imago Dei, beloved image bearer) will over ride your shame (another way of saying death).

Years ago I had an on-going butt boil that was humiliating. My behind is not my favorite asset and I lived in a part of the world where behinds were, oh say, half the size of mine and not neon white. The first 700 times I had to drop my pants, it was awful. And then I decided I was going to stop being embarrassed. It was what it was. I did not ask to have the problem in this location and I was not going to let it get in the way of me living.

I think a total of about 20 friends and acquaintances ended up changing bandages on my behind. It was a busy travel season and I showed up at more than one door announcing I’d need help changing my dressing, oh, did I mention it was on my behind? Let’s say, it’s was humbling, but the more often I did it, the easier it became.

But I get it. After the dear problem (and this was a couple of years into it reoccurring) turned into a fistula, I needed two more surgeries in the U.S. Between them I got a rash from the rubbing of the bandages. I thought my humiliation couldn’t sink any lower and the doctor kindly said, “No worries, I see lots of bottoms.”

“Yes, but I only have ONE. This is my one bottom and I am embarrassed. There is visible and painful proof I somehow didn’t care for it better!”

Shame will say, “Too bad you didn’t have a nice abscess on your arm, that’s more respectable and can be talked about in the light of day. Too bad you made it worse.” Shame goes for the jugular.

God says, “Dear child, see your scars as an offering.”

An offering that changes the story of isolation to a story of connection.

An offering that says though the story may detour through Good Friday, resurrection and life are your heritage.

An offering that says, “Me too.”

Shame is not your story. Instead we have scars to offer one another, at the right time, in the right context, for His glory and though it may not always seem, our good.

P.S. If you’re deep in woundedness, work towards healing, but don’t force it. Pain makes us so uncomfortable we like to jump over it, dodge under, pretend it’s not there, or get stuck wallowing in it. The scar will come, may the Lord right now be building a hedge of protection against bitterness and shame. Amen.


(A version of this first appeared on Velvet Ashes)

Photo Credit: shutterbugamar via Compfight cc

Happy Chinese New Year Everyone!

When I was a kid and we’d go for Chinese food, one of my favorite parts was pouring over the paper placements and figuring what animal everyone according to the year they were born.

I was a sheep (also translated ‘goat’). I loved it. To my American ears it sounded better than rat or dragon or snake.

Year of the Sheep

And then I grew up and moved to China and loved it even more.

1. This is my year! As people get older, they are less inclined to claim their year because people can figure out how old they will turn that year. There are 12 animals and it doesn’t take a math genius to crack the code that on your year you are 12, 24, 36, 48, 60, 72, 84 or 96 — with 60 being the best since it’s a multiple of 10. Since it’s also my year of practicing celebration, I don’t really care that you know my age. I am what I am. And guess what … it’s my year!

2. The word for sheep/goat in Chinese is pronounced “Yang” and my Chinese family name is Yang. Yang shi yang! Young is a sheep. It sounds better in Chinese, trust me. And I know that’s not how you say in Chinese which of the zodiac animals you are, but my Chinese friends always got a smile out of my mixing of the cultures and languages. Not only is it my year, it’s my name.

3. And best of all, Jesus says he’s the good shepherd. Sheep hold a special place in explaining how much God loves us and will protect us. Psalm 23 was one of the first scriptures I memorized in 1st grade. So, in a sense, it’s all of our year. 

Happy New Year Friends!

Chun Jie Kuai Le!

From one of your favorite sheep, Amy

P.S. thanks to my sister Elizabeth for working with two challenging sheep to get just the right photo. I’ll spare you the ones with one of our rears in the air, a bit unlady-like!

Valentine’s Day is for Everyone! {Said the single gal}

With Valentine’s Day soon upon us, it would be easy to rant against Hallmark and other marketers. (Sorry Hallmark, I do so enjoy your commercials!). But all they’ve done is put a message out there …we’re the ones who’ve bought into it.

Guess what, Valentine’s Day is about so much more than romantic love, Cupid, or “rotic” gatherings (when single women get together without a “man”). At its essence, it is about love. Yes, yes, I’m sure the origins are about blah, blah, blah, but right here in 2015, let’s take back Valentine’s Day!

share love

Here are four ideas for anyone to put the LOVE back in the day:

1.Paul reminds us that love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Choose one attributes of love that you want to focus on this week. This book reminded me of how “manically verb centered” love is.

2. Make a list of the people in your life and be reminded of how blessed you are. When my dad died, I thought of the friends I hadn’t seen in years and realized if I wasn’t careful, more years would go by. The above photo was taken when I was in Scotland visiting my dear friends the Petries. Who is on your list?

3. Tell those important to you that you love them. People will die, grow old, or move away. Don’t live with regrets, tell them you love them.

This valentine gets to me every time I look at it:




If you want to know why it’s faded, you can read about it here. In part: So I hung it where it would be exposed to day light and not packed away, with false safety, in a drawer. Much like the love we share, exposed to the elements and not guarded out of fear.

4. Review the love languages and be sure you’re aware of the love languages of those who are important to you. I wrote about them this week at Velvet Ashes.

5. And a bonus one! Why, because we can never have enough love. Sending personalized postcards is a great way to communicate without taking much time or money. I use Amazing Mail (formerly Premium Postcards). Several years ago for Valentine’s Day a friend helped me take four photos and the recipients could spell out “I love you this much!” Amazing Mail is just that (and fun!). What sentence would you spell out?

I love you

So, dear marketers, I know you’re just trying to earn a living and I respect that. But I’m trying to live a richer life and part of that involves a broader definition of love than the one you’re peddling.

I’m not buying it. I’m interested in more.

Will you join me in putting more love out there?

Why I love “We Three Kings” {even though I was screamed at}

My favorite Christmas Carol is “We Three Kings.” Between the beautiful tune and the lyrics poetically telling why each gift is important, it is the only song I’d sing for my students in China. I’d make them all look at the lyrics saying I couldn’t sing if they were looking at me.

I have a new reason to love this song. My seven year old niece was in a Nativity play this year (OK, with me and her sisters) and she insisted on singing the line, “Frankincense to offer have I, incense owns a deity nigh.”

This line is now seared into my soul.


Through tears of frustration she admitted (aka screamed at us) she had no idea what many of the words meant so how could she ever memorize it?! Um, precisely. This is why we all wanted her to sing the line, “Born a King on Bethlehem’s plain, gold I bring to crown him again.” But no, she wouldn’t have it. Would. Not. Have. It.

There were whispered practices in the bathroom with her sisters (whispered because this was to be a surprise performance). Whispered practices at meal times when in the hubbub she’d put her little face in mine and say, “Let’s practice, Frankincense to offer have I, incense owns a deity nigh.” Whispered practices in the car with her sisters.

She practiced and practiced to the point we can now all sing this line in our sleep.

When the moment came and she handed a candle to Joseph, she sang with utmost sincerity and accuracy the line she chose without understanding the meaning.

And can’t the same be said for us as well?

We may say we understand worship or the Holy Spirit or prayer or any number of elements of the faith, but do we? Thankfully through community and practice and, at times, screaming and tears we make progress and are able to do things that had been impossible for us.

Let’s practice together.

Behind closed doors.

In the hubbub of daily life.

As we travel.

Every now and then we’ll grab each others faces and say, “Let’s practice.” And together we’ll go over this part or that part of our faith.

We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him, even though parts of the story are beyond us.


I’d love to hear of your favorite Christmas Carol or really any thought this stirred in you :)

Photo Credit: Sheila Sund via Compfight cc

Holy Stalking at Advent: A Look At Restlessness

“We are too quick to seek meaning.”

The spiritual director said. I shared this insight on Tuesday and days later, here it is hanging out in my soul. When something sticks, pay attention.

Combine with this wisdom from Dietrich Bonhoeffer:

“Not everyone can wait: neither the sated nor the satisfied nor those without respect can wait. The only ones who can wait are people who carry restlessness around with them.”
— Dietrich Bonhoeffer
(God Is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas)

Not everyone can wait.

If  you are sated or satisfied or a jerk (modern translation), you have no need for waiting.

Only those who carry restlessness around with them can wait.

This seems so backwards, doesn’t it? Yet if I have something in completion, I’m not waiting for it.

We don’t just have a child, we have children in progress wondering who they will become. We don’t merely have a job. We have a job that is either fosters  growth or close in. Holy restlessness to see which it is. We don’t simply have friends, some are for a season and others are lifers.

A walk I took with Niece #1 last January came to mind as I put flesh to this ida of, “The only ones who can wait are people who carry restlessness around in them.” When we ask if she wants to go for a walk nine times out of ten, the introvert book reader in her says “No,” making the rare yeses precious.

This photo, taken near the start of our walk, disappoints me because it’s nearly in focus, but not quite. Argh! So close, yet so far. When the goal is meaning and clarity, I don’t want to share it with you. With so many gorgeous images out there, who needs a slightly out of focus stump?


About 15 minutes into our walk, #1 laid down on the path.


Not fifty.

Restlessness within me abounded. But so did joy. Joy we were together. Joy mixed with fear, if you’re laying down now, are we in for a long haul? 

#1 laying

Later she grabbed my camera and took this picture.


#1 on the move

the sound of laughter

I have three distinct memories from this hike related to carrying restlessness.

1. The sound of this walk is laughter. Restlessness doesn’t have to be synonymous with drudgery.

2. It can also involve experimentation. After the laying down, #1 tested out crawling to see if it used less energy.

3. Restlessness can fortify. I look at these pictures and think, “Dad was still alive. Her grandpa was still alive.” We didn’t know a few weeks later we’d be thrust on a trail where we’d want to lay down and crawl. This time in the mountains fortified us as a family for the road we didn’t know we’d be on.

In this season of waiting, I am thankful God doesn’t limit us to kum-ba-ya waiting. instead he’s comfortable, maybe even desiring, us to carry restlessness.

10 ways to be unproductive {but happy} at Christmas

This was one of my favorite posts from last December (one of the hardest months of my life). On Saturday I was part of a Spiritual Direction Advent group and the leader cautioned us about seeking too quickly for meaning. We Westerners do like information and meaning, don’t we :). It was a timely and gentle reminder the tug culture has on us all. The tug isn’t the problem, it’s the complete buying into and and not differentiating between tugs. I’ve added a few comments below just for fun.


I hit a small wall last week with the amount of tips out there on how to be more productive. With the new year around the corner, I fear we’re only just beginning the goal setting, productivity tips, YOU CAN DO AND BE MORE, phase our liturgical productivity calendar. 

Who says productivity is all it’s cracked up to be? I’m a disciplined person and like lists, don’t get me wrong. But enough, ok, enough!

Has the paradox of Christmas taught us nothing? I have a feeling how we view productivity is not how God does.

10 ways

Here are 10 ways to be unproductive in the traditional sense:

1. Sit in the dark and look at Christmas lights. Better yet, lay on the floor and look up at them.

2. Eat a cookie or some other holiday treat guilt free.

3. Look at the world through the eyes of a three-year-old. Can you imagine how much more fun we’d have if we got excited about the little things of life? Family coming?! SO EXCITING. Hot chocolate? Is there anything more delicious to drink?

4. Read a children’s Christmas book, complete with voices. Fun with a child, true. But children are not required for this to be unproductively productive. I wrote about nine children’s books I love. Last Thursday I was with a small group of visiting scholars from China hanging out at a Wendy’s and I read Wombat Divine by Mem Fox to them. It was a blast!

5. Light a candle and watch the flame flicker. Let your mind and soul rest.

6. Conjure up a happy childhood Christmas memory. Sit and enjoy it. Maybe share it with someone.

7. Ask an elderly relative about Christmas when they were a kid.

8. Read Truman Capote’s A Christmas Memory or Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol. This year my in-person book club decided to read short stories for December and we chose four from this list and recommend them all.

9. Sing Christmas carols out loud.

10. Recall getting one of your Christmas trees and call to reminisce with someone who was there.


Which of these will you do today? Anyone else a little gagged at productivity talk?

photo credit:  Creativity+ Timothy K Hamilton

Boys 10-14 Still Need Us — But I’m Filled With HOPE!

We’ve done it. We have.

We’ve started a small movement for boys ages 10-14. Lest ye think it matters naught, stick around.

OK, I’m bad at surprises so I’ll get to the punch line.

Last week Elizabeth, Niece #1, and I spent four hours at the Operation Christmas Child warehouse in Denver helping to check and package boxes for OCC. An hour into in Niece #1 called out to me, “Aunt Amy.”

I paused, it’s not really a big chatting job and I was lost in thought about how I tend to romanticize semi-hard labor and then my nails break and my back aches I wonder why all parts of serving aren’t as glamourous and fun as shopping for children and making festive images for blog posts to get you and me off our butts. But I digress. “Yes dear one?”

“I’m packing a box for a boy next year. It’s been an hour and I’ve seen, like two. Two boxes in an hour.”

She added with her wry teenage smile (and the fact that she’s a much calmer personality than me and thinks I’m prone to hyperbole. WHAT? Me?!), “You are very persuasive.” 

Can we please have a moment of silence since asking you to tattoo this on your forehead might be going a bit far.

I told her, it’s not that I’m persuasive, it’s just so damn heart breaking to see girl box after girl box. OK, I didn’t actually cuss at my niece, however, the discrepancy is from the pit of hell. But redemption, she is a’coming! I know many of you packed boy boxes this year. Yay!!

So, here’s the plan for next year:

1. I’m going to call Samaritan’s Purse when it’s not the height of the crazy season and get some facts for us.

2. I’m going to make two PDF handouts. One with the plea for boys and updated gift ideas and another with just gift ideas. That way you can print out copies to share and leave at tables handing out information.

3. I’m now going to give you a short tour of the packing center so you are informed and pumped for all the future boys who will get boxes — without your nails having to break or your back needing to ache :). It is encouraging to know what happens to your boxes!

I love giving tours! Welcome to OCC


There are nine OCC centers in the U.S. that will process 8.3 millions boxes with total goal of 10 million boxes from all countries. Denver’s goal is 800,000 boxes and from personal experience, a line with six people working for 3.5 hours can process about 1,200 boxes.

Volunteers are trained for about 10 minutes in a professional and effective system. Truly, I’m impressed. Then you are assigned to a  line.


Elizabeth is in the gray jacket and her job was to open the box, remove and deposit any money and pass it on to her daughter who would go through the box, removing illegal items and, if needed, restocking or beefing up (you’d be surprised how many aren’t full). She then would set it on the top of the white shelf where the lady in orange would tape the box closed. The next person to open the box will be the child!

The taper would then stack the boxes and my job was to sort them by gender (boy/girl) and age (2-4, 5-9, 10-14). The goal was to get at least 14 boxes in a BIG box. Pastors and leaders are told there are at least 14 boxes inside so they can know roughly how many kids to invite to parties and events.

I’m going to show you two pictures. There is a difference — can you spot it? (I’m pretty sure you will.)




How many “Girl 5-9” boxes are filled at a time? And how many “Boy 10-14?” Two to one. In full disclosure, there are also two “Boy 5-9” big boxes, but the number #1 box by far are “Girl 5-9.” I get it, I really do. They are safe and and familiar :). But armed with our lists, we’re going to help boys 10-14 be fun and familiar too :)!

This is what a fullish box looks like. Please, please don’t pick plastic containers that are too large. I felt bad when I couldn’t get at least 14 boxes to fit, knowing there would be disappointed kids and that some kids would get twice as much as others.


And then it happened! The Red Sea parted and Moses walked forth with the first box for a boy 10-14 our line saw! Give or take, that’s how it want down. I told my new taping friend I needed a picture and could she hold the box?


Every couple of hours, all work is stopped and everyone one in the warehouse prays together for the boxes, people distributing them, and the kids receiving them.


And sometimes a gem like this is found in a box. (My taping neighbor apparently wasn’t having the nails issue I was.)


Doesn’t this just fill you up?! And make you want to pack more boxes for boys? Several of you have asked me how many extra boxes were packed for boys based on you sharing or responding to the gift ideas. Mind sharing in the comments? Which picture was your fav?

Merry Christmas to the boys :). You are not forgotten by us. We love you too.