Kolkata Bound New Year

“Preparing our mind for action means coming to grips with the true nature of the world into which Christ has cast us, His disciples. It means coming to grips with how the Fall is playing itself out around the world in the present day.” Gary Haugen, Good News About Injustice

(Lord willing) seven weeks from Sunday, I hope to be on my way to Kolkata, India, to work for two weeks alongside some of our dearest friends who are serving with an organization called Word Made Flesh (http://www.wordmadeflesh.org/). I met M. in 1994, when we simultaneously joined the same pediatric rehabilitation team and church, beginning our kindred friendship. A friendship also includes walking together through many inevitable struggles (Acts 14:22).

After multiple visits to India, M. fought great disillusionment and despair over the idolatry and injustice they witnessed. A small group of us began reading Good News About Injustice and prayed about our responsibility for others; finally M. imagined “one good thing” she could do to empower women to leave the slavery of prostitution and find true freedom through the gospel . . . and from the U.S. she became instrumental in the development of Sari Bari, a Word Made Flesh community of Christ-followers called to be in relationship with sexually exploited women in the red-light districts of Kolkata (http://www.saribari.com/). Sari Bari is a business initiative that seeks the freedom and restoration of Kolkata’s red-light areas through dignity-giving employment opportunities for women affected by the sex trade.

My Opportunity to Join In as a “Goer”

My first and only overseas trip was ten years ago to Thailand. For the last five years, I’ve worked with East African refugees, so I’m excited about working among a new, unfamiliar group. A long-time friend and teaching partner will join me to support Word Made Flesh and Sari Bari in the following ways: Week 1: Coordinate a children’s retreat in southern India for the staff families from Nepal, Thailand and India. Week 2: Back in Kolkata, we will at both Sari Bari locations, participating in the production of the blankets, purses and bags, while speaking into the lives of dozens of women who have begun new, promising lives. We will also use our TESL training (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) to prepare a basic curriculum for the Sari Bari ladies’ weekly English instruction . . . and train our friends in “best practices” for teaching them and the national WMF staff.

Your Opportunity to Join In as a "Sender"

You can support our work by BUYING ONE OR MORE DIGITAL PRINTS of this beautiful drawing by Kristi Smith (think lovely,frameable gifts). Email your order to my itslainee.thesunflowergospel@blogger.com  and we'll send more payment and mailing information.

4 X 6 digital print ~ $12 min.

5 X 7 digital print ~ $15 min.

8 X10 digital print ~ $20 min

Thank you for the ways you already love God and your neighbor every day, and for prayerfully supporting this and other causes that point people to the love and transformational freedom found in Christ. I’d also like to challenge you to read at least one of these books during the next three months: Good News About Injustice (Gary Haugen), The City of Joy (Dominique LaPierre), or Ministries of Mercy (Tim Keller).

“ . . . and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away. . . Then he showed me a river of the water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of the street. On either side of the river was the tree of life bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.” Revelation 21:3, 4; 22:1, 2

Straighten Up and Fly . . . er, PARK Right!

I appreciate the policeman who ran off the road chasing drug dealers just before we drove up Wednesday night . . . and the ones who responded when there was a shooting outside my ESL classroom a few weeks ago. So why am I still mad about the ticket on my house guest's car for parking next to our curb in the WRONG DIRECTION?! It's not like the police haven't been to my house in the eleven years we've lived here . . . when I reported a former neighbor for suspected (confirmed) child abuse . . . when one of my kids failed to stop for the neighborhood school bus . . . when another one failed to stop for the policeman trying to give him ticket . . . when our three teenagers and their friends parked their cars on the street EVERY day in EVERY direction for at least four years--you understand my indignation. Well, this time, I wasn't going to take it sitting down. I marched myself upstairs to get construction paper, Sharpies and a couple of sheet protectors, and boy do I feel good about the warning sign I put alongside my curb . . . that is, until the "neighborhood nazis" send a citation for having an unauthorized sign in the front yard. I'll just tell them they're my Halloween/Thanksgiving decorations.

My First Cookbook (c. 1959)

One of the benefits of cleaning out your attic is coming across long forgotten treasures. It's one of the risks, too . . . since I'm quite likely to prolong my cleaning job by stopping to chronicle stuff that might distintegrate. I thought I started to cook when I earned the Cooking Badge in Girl Scouts, but I guess I had already started experimenting with this little cookbook from the Imperial Sugar Co. in Sugarland, Texas (click here) It had to be third grade or before,because the covers have evidence of some first attempts at cursive writing and our phone number prefix was GY4 ("Gypsy") and zip codes were only two numbers between the city and state (Houston, 36, Texas). My "review"at the end of the cookbook read: "Oh! My! I like all of the recipes!" Too bad Jerry's Bars ("my best dish") and Toasty Tuna Casserole are no longer doctor-approved foods--I'd surely cook more than I do!

Ode to Campho-Phenique

Dear Daddy,

I never dreamed what a big response I'd get when I told my Facebook friends what was on my mind this afternoon . . EEA: Remember "Windex" from My Big Fat Greek wedding? My dad's miracle remedy is Campho-Phenique."
In just a few hours, here were some of the comments I received . . .

Katie T. likes this.

(Cousin) Susan: "Do they even sell that anymore? I'm amazed. It was my family's cure-all of choice too -- at least until Bactine came out. Must have been an Everett thing!

EEA: "Definitely Everetts. I've been sick, in fact, I had to cancel my trip to see my parents this week. Chuck called today to remind me that a drop in each nostril might just cure me!"

Julie P: It's a miracle!

(Cousin) Beth: 'Yep, I remember that stuff. What a distinctive aroma! Take care of yourself, cousin!"

Julie C: "I'm a HUGE believer in Campho-Phenique! It cures everything."

(Childhood friend) Luke: "We still use it for everything from sore gums to mosquito bites."

Katie Jo: "holy cow we used that stuff for everything, the scent takes me back!"

EEA: "Y'all are too much!!! Can't wait to tell "Chuckles" what a hit he was on FB today.

Well, Chuckles . . . all this (plus my Benydryl, Mucinex, C tabs and Campho-coated nostrils) took me back to the good old days when you would whip out the Campho-phenique and a Q-tip for everything from mouth ulcers to mosquito bites. If it was a really nasty scrape, we'd be crying before you ever touched it, chiding "Just blow on it--it doesn't hurt!" Whatever . . . decades later, look at all the people who are on the bandwagon supporting Dr. Chuck's medical brigade!

In your honor, here's a little Campho-phenique trivia and a place to click in case you should ever overdose on the stuff. In 1867, Joseph Lister demonstrated that phenol cleansing of patients' skin before andafter surgery could greatly reduce infections. In 1884, Campho-Phenique Liquid was introduced. In 1944, Campho-Phenique Liquid was purchased by Sterling Drug. In 1945, Campho-Phenique was repositioned as a first aid antiseptic. In 1979 Campho-Phenique Gel was formulated as a first aid product (less smelly, but not as effective, people!). In 1984, Campho-Phenique Gel was repositioned as a cold sore remedy. Finally, in 2003, Campho-Phenique Cold Sore Treatment for Scab Relief is launched. Now that's just GROSS!!

Finally, Daddy, since we didn't get to celebrate your 83rd birthday together since I got the crud (but not the oink flu) , I'll close with a little ditty I whipped up just for you (sing it to the tune of one of our favorites, Little Brown Jug)

If I had a great big sore in my mouth, I wouldn't look north and I wouldn't look south;

I'd go to my bathroom cabinet and see, the little green bottle that sets men free . . .

Oh, ho ho, you and me, Campho-Phenique has sure cured me;

Oh ho ho, you and me, Campho-phenique how I love thee!

And I love you, Chuckles . . .

Go This Way, Squirrels

Could anyone miss that Anna and Asha are in country again, spreading their joyful curiosity and creativity everywhere they go? Within five minutes of arrival, their big iron bed had a good jumping-on (it's living at our house while they're in India). However, it was a couple of days before I discovered the paper-twine-n-sticks signs they and Grandma Baas posted around my backyard . . .

"Go this way, squirrels"
"Yes, squirrels can eat the nuts"But evidently, NOT the nuts under the Pin Oak tree . . .

we should all live as if we're still 4 or 5!

What's Up, Doc?

Above ground there were beautiful green carrot tops . . . .

. . . but underneath only scawny, spindly six-inch carrots!

All in all, it's been a good summer growing season for my deep-bed organic garden. For the first time, I planted good organic seeds--not just store-bought plants--and I worked really hard to keep it cultivated, pest-free and fertilized with mushroom compost and fish poop. The red potatoes, cucumbers and albion strawberries were definite successes, but I was most excited about the huge Japanese Imperial Carrots that were (supposedly) forming under the bushy green heads that surrounded my lettuce, tomatoes, herbs and marigolds. Any ideas about what might have happened? And while we're on the subject of slow, stunted growth, what's up with my croquet-ball sized Watermelons at the end of the gorgeous flowering vines trailing out of the bed borders?

On the 8th Anniversary of 9/11, I Recalled My Most Peaceful Place

I glanced up in the heat of the day
like I did every day
and worked even more earnestly
so that certainly the time would
pass by faster.

Later my awaited moment came . . .
I was FREE and I ran
down the dirt slope to the river
never bothering to take off my dusty sandals
as I stepped carefully into the same freezing water
where my great-grandfather once drove cattle . . .

. . . and then we danced--the water and I--it was
so cold on my bare toes that I jumped and splashed, jumped and splashed . . .
meanwhile, the sun played tricks on my partner as it swirled
in tiny, shallow rapids
around the rocks in its way.

Now the sun was beginning to set--nothing new yet
ever exquisitely unique.
Surrounded by the hills my senses were keyed into nature.
I heard only the wind singing gently behind me and
I saw only the sun up ahead sliding
lower
slower
taking its time . . .

. . . the daystar, like a paintbrush, watercolored the sky with a mass of
purple pink orange and red encircling the glowing orb.
My heart soared as I climbed the mountain path,
for I thought I saw his form etched against the horizon;
though my body ached from the day's work,
his coming urged me to the top where I
dropped
in a tired heap
letting the gentle breeze ruffle my hair and caress my bones.

I turned over, resting my weary head on my arms, just in time to watch the sun
fall away in one last blaze of glory.
I let out a sigh of awe and appreciation for this marvel,
just as the night sounds began echoing through the valley . . .

I was lulled to sleep under a sky of countless stars
whose light sent a secure warmth washing over me.
I recognized the feeling like the well-worn paths.
I was not alone . . .

*Written a few months after I met Jesus as more than a historical figure

Elaine Everett Copyright 1972

Pushing Through Bad Beach Karma

I grew up on the Texas Gulf Coast, enjoying Galveston's "Stewart Beach" and Freeport's "Surfside" . . . David grew up in south Texas, admiring Padre Island, just a few miles from Mexico. Fortunately, neither of us saw the "Emerald Coast" end of the Gulf until we moved to Tennessee 23 years ago. Our first family vacation was to Sandestin with three preschoolers in tow . . . at once they were hooked on the clear, turquoise water, soft white sand and abundant shells. As our kids grew, we tried several different spots along the Florida panhandle--most of them pure, blissful playgrounds. One vacation our middle schooler realized that "Someday I could live on the beach if I wanted to . . . yeah, I'm gonna find a college down here!" (same son who graduated from a college where kayaking and snowboarding were P.E. options). Once the kids left for college, we'd still find time for long weekends at various ocean spots . . . but a new pattern emerged. . . it would rain every day or . . . we would arrive during a hurricane evacuation or . . . we would arrive as an unexpected tropical storm hit (at least we were the hotel where the media and insurance people rode it out) . . . even our 25th anniversary trip to Maui dealt us rain 5/8 days--"We've never seen rain like this in decades" read the newspaper announcing the cancellation of Honolulu's Centennial.

But true beach lovers are not easily deterred . . . our latest road trip included several days at the same resort where our kids first discovered the glorious beach life. Despite our friends' jokes about bad beach karma, we soaked in several hours of sun, blue skies and emerald seas on our first full day. Until about 3:00 pm. When the sky turned black. And the flag changed to red. And our "umbrella neighbors" exclaimed, "Dios mio!" as we all retreated to the hotel. Could it really be true? Should we head for the hills? Nah. A few hours later, the sky returned to blue, the breeze cooled the evening, and the most vivid full moon lit up the sand where people were still playing volleyball well after midnight.

First Moon Landing at Camp Cho Yeh

It sounds pretty lame today, but it was a big deal 40 years ago. I was at Camp Cho Yeh in Livingston, Texas when it was time for the first Moonwalk (not by Michael Jackson, children!) There were no video recorders or TEVO back then . . . if you missed it, you really missed it (except now we can click on the You Tube link above and watch it like it was the first time)! So the camp director plugged in a big black and white console TV in their front yard, and the whole camp came over with sleeping bags to watch the historic moment. I may not have been able to see the TV picture much better than it looks today, but it was pretty awesome to be in the Texas piney woods under a black sky loaded with stars, watching Neil Armstrong take "one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."

Escape Plans

I was really "to my point" today when I received the glad tidings that we WILL be taking a one-week vacation after all. Oh joy and gladness! The good news jogged my memory of a little book that has brought Melinda and me many smiles and fun: How to Draw a Clam: A Wonderful Vacation Planner, by Joy Sikorski. This clever "retro" artist/author announces: "If you believe that one should always be on vacation as a matter of principle . . . This Book Is For You."

Following is a test called "How to know if you need a vacation" . . .

1. Does the sound of a bird singing get on your nerves?
2. Have you recently announced with vehemence, "I don't give a hoot about anybody!"
3. Do you believe that no amount of money can compensate for the sacrifice you make just showing up each day?
4. Do you tend to embellish? Did you say to someone, "There's a terrible storm in the 26th floor conference room?"
5. Does the motto "Revive the Muumuu" stirl longings in your breast?


If more than one is answered YES, you too, need a vacation. . .