Here’s a line-up of the things that are making me happy this week.
*Full disclosure: I stole that phrase from the end of every NPR Pop-culture happy hour podcast.
1. Incidentally, NPR’s pop-culture happy hour podcast is making me happy. I listen to the new ones every Friday, but last week I downloaded old episodes for my drive home.
I’m now all caught up on May’s television finales and the movies coming out last summer…so that’s something.
2. David and are going to Tulsa this weekend! Which means a) I actually get to see David on a weekend, b) I get to see my parents again, c) I get to see David’s parents and d) I get to open presents. I feel all kinds of weird about the gift expectation around weddings, but I really do love opening presents. I’ll admit it.
But really, I’m always so excited to see family. And now I get a whole extra family. Getting married is swell.
3. Guys. I discovered the Pioneer Woman. I realize that is like claiming that I discovered the iPod this week, because I am literally the last person on the planet to read her blog.
But she is so fantastic! I’m now following both her personal blog and her cooking blog.
She has a section entitled 16 minute dinners. Winning.
So I made one of her pork chop recipes last week. oh. my. gosh.
And then she posted this.
If you want me to make this for you, let me know. Because my heart would lead a revolt if I tried to eat it, but oh man, I just want to see it in real life.
Also, if you’re out there Pioneer Woman, I’ll totally be your best friend. If you’re in the market.
4. I love T-Rex humor.
5. A whole bunch of bloggers went to Haiti and wrote some fantastically beautiful pieces about their experiences there. You really really need to take a minute and read a few of these posts. They are poignant, thoughtful, a little bit heart-breaking, and completely inspiring.
In which God doesn’t look the same anymore: Sarah Bessey
I walked the rubble, and nodded my gentle Bonsoir as dusk gathered, and suddenly I thought, Oh, my God, I would be terrified here. I would be so scared here, in the darkness, how do these women bear it? And one of our guides said, before the spotlights were installed a few months ago, the night fell and it was “a rape camp.” Grim words.
And then we stood in the tent city, behind our Haitian brothers and sisters, and they sang the roof off that place, glory, glory, glory to God, he’s been good to us! Amen! Amen! Me? I want to throw things when I am disappointed in my nice life, I pout, and I do not sing praise because, apparently, I expect my life to be perfect and clean and ideal and pretty as Pinterest all of the time.
Mopping Haiti: Jen Hatmaker
Because her life is hard, but she is going to make it more beautiful. She is. Her presence here alone, with her eyes shining and determined resiliency, is an oasis. We lock eyes and I think,“You’re going to make it, dear one.”
There is hope here. I can’t explain it, but it’s here, I can feel it, I can even see it. It’s literally everywhere. It’s a mopping dirt kind of hope – frustrating, decisive, complicated, dogged, wearisome, inspiring.
Because the need stirred something deep within me and I’m walking hand-in-hand with children and they’re smiling up at me and they’re running their fingers through my hair and they’re laughing and I’m just trying not to cry.
Trying to hold it together because the last thing these children need are more tears, especially tears of a $3 Starbuck-guzzling American…
and I actually wish now, when his father tried giving him away to me, that I had taken him. But I had said no, smiled one last big fake smile and turned quick before the tears spilled uncontrollably down my face because what can I do?
Seriously, what can I do in a country so poor fathers are asking you to take their children?
That was originally going to be number four, but reading those again, I couldn’t make a joke after that. It’s so sobering, and I don’t know the right answer, but I appreciate those men and women taking their voice to Haiti.
I hope that if we can continue to use our voices on their behalf, someday those children will be able to write their stories for themselves.