Asante Sana! Squash Banana!

Well, it is time.... I am officially boarding an airplane tomorrow and headed to the land of Simba, Timon, and Pumba. Which kind of makes me want to eat a grub.... Just kidding. Though, I think I'd much rather eat a grub than a wild pig or something from there... Which reminds me of a little ditty you may recognize... Feel free to sing along...

Timon: [singing] Luau! / If you're hungry for a hunk of fat and juicy meat / Eat my buddy Pumbaa here, / 'Cause he is a treat / Come on down and dine / On this tasty swine/ All you hafta do is get in line. / Arrrre you achin'...  

Pumbaa: Yup, yup, yup.

Timon: Forrrr some bacon?

Pumbaa: Yup, yup, yup.

Timon: He's a big pig.

Pumbaa: Yup, yup.

Timon: You can be a big pig, too. Oy!

My apologies, I digress... My sister has already requested I bring home a Duma in a size small. (I've been brushing up on my Swahili and "Duma" is the souvenir item as depicted in the photo of the text message below.) And she's not the only one. I am under some pretty massive peer pressure to fit not one, not two, not three... but four baby man-eating cheetahs into my carry on. Let's hope Customs isn't too particular on the types of souvenirs brought home from foreign countries.

Okay... in all seriousness, I am so, so, so, soooooooooo freaking humbled by the selfless giving and generosity of the people who helped me to go on this trip. When people couldn't give their money, they donated their time by working events for me for free! And let's be real, who does anything for FREE anymore?? Well... MY friends and family, that's who! I have successfully raised the entire amount needed, PLUS some! I am still getting checks in the mail, which will help towards supplies for the people over there. The experience of fundraising for this trip has truly shown me what amazing and selfless people there are out there. And I am soooooo blessed to call them my own friends and family. Words can't explain the feelings of gratitude and humbleness that I felt every time somebody sent a check, purchased an item in my name, or gave their precious time towards this mission I am going on. I was brought to tears and my knees many times over it. (Take note... I'll never admit again that tears were shed.) When I first decided to embark on this journey, my biggest worry was raising the money, as it was quite a bit needed! Well, that turned out to be the easy part. (I was not-so-politely reminded a few times by God that it was HIS money anyway... So I was worrying for nothing. Matthew 6:33-34, Matthew 21:22) As tomorrow approaches, my biggest fears are starting to truly emerge. I think I've been hiding what really is irking me about going on this trip... More than the money or the possible safety and health issues... But I want to do something while I'm there. I mean, really DO something. I want to not just be another "body" that goes and puts in some time. I want to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I want to make a difference in somebody's life. Like a true difference, where they'll never be the same because I was a part of this.

To refer back to The Lion King (which, lets be real, is sadly the only schematic file I have in place for this part of the world I'm going to), I want to be "needed," like Simba was needed when Scar completely threw up his evil-uncle-awfulness all over Pride Rock. I want to battle Scar among animated flames and hyenas, if you will... Okay, you catch my poorly illustrated drift. I want to make a difference somehow. So we'll see... Thank you in advance for your prayers.... As they have ALREADY guaranteed my safe trip there and back! (Mark 11:23-24)

 Asante, Friends! Hakuna Matata. :-)

Sparks Fly in the Gym

So remember "Gym Mama?"

Well, ladies and gents... She's still around. And still talking. I had to update you on the fact that she literally told me fifty two times her daughter plans on going to the Olympics.

Which is great!

It will be her and every other little girl in America, after watching Gabby Johnson rock the Olympic's face off.  Good for them.

But lady... Quit telling the rest of us about it.

I overheard her talking to our poor instructor about "a plan" to get her baby girl on the right track to the 2024 Summer Games. She kept asking her when she can "move up" and what "is next" for her prodigy.  On top of all the Olympic talk, she reminds us other parents weekly how her daughter scares her to death with the "skills" she does at home, and can our children do these same "skills?"

(I finally saw said "skills" and they are most definitely legit and praise worthy if you're into flopping around like a fish on some squishy mats.)

Ugh. I'm such a horrible person.... I apologize for the negative posts regarding this mom (for the record, her daughter is very sweet and I really like her...and yes, she's a pretty decent little 5 year old gymnast...), but y'all.... I may break.

Okay, I lie.... I may have broken already. Just a little, where I purposely accidentally slipped in a comment such as the one below in front of said mama....

Gosh, I don't know how Miss (insert instructor's name) coaches them. When I was coaching gymnastics, I would have killed my girls for running around crazy like this.

This was the point where my amazing mother (who was visiting)... God Bless her soul.... Responded with,

Well, you coached much older gymnasts than this. I would expect the older and more competitive ones to listen better than a group of preschoolers.

(Insert songs of silent praises and remnants of the Hallelujah chorus playing through my mind as the love I already had for my mother grew in massive increments.)

 I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Gym Mama's head turn slightly to the left in our direction as this was said.

(Hallelujah!)

Mission accomplished. ;-) (insert evil laugh)

  #IAmSoGoingToHell