Yesterday I was feeling low. My pet down thoughts I think about myself were fierce. They said, "You're not enough, you'll never be enough, and you'll fail."
These thoughts never have great timing. Especially yesterday, because last night I was invited to present on Simple Sparrow for a local philanthropic vignette, designed to introduce new non-profits to local investors. The responsibility to accurately communicate our mission and vision and seek financial support to expand our work was heavy.
"It's up to me, but what if I fail," I asked my husband.
"Then you'll live and learn how to do better next time." He is in the habit of consoling me with sharp discernment and general amazing-ness.
The vignette was a gathering of all the important people in the city, many who have their names on buildings and signs. Three non-profits were given 10 minutes each to present who they were, what they do, and why they need more money. I presented last, which gave me more time to dread but also more time to think and pray.
While I listened to the presenters, I thought back through this year and how quickly Simple Sparrow grew:
Summer 2017, Marti Smith (OTR/L and co-founder) called me up to formally ask permission to share about my farm. My farm, Simple Sparrow Farm, was my hobby farm. It was a small, 2 acre haven where I worked the ground, grew things, and added animals to my delight. Having 4 children, I tamed the animals to be gentle and well mannered so as not to hurt them. Having animals, I tamed my children to be gentle and well mannered so as not to hurt them. Marti liked the farm because 1) we were friends and our time together was always fun 2) she brought clients out for therapy. We discovered that people enjoyed therapy at the farm, finding it meaningful, functional, and fun. So Marti shared about my farm at trauma/sensory integration conferences in Texas, Illinois, Canada, and Norway.
Later Summer 2017, I stream-lined the website (www.simplesparrow.farm) and thought about what to do next. I figured a good place to start was introducing myself locally before Marti introduced me globally. But how to introduce myself? And what was Simple Sparrow Farm anyway? What was my mission and vision? So much adulting had to happen before introductions. I decided to start with "The Farm Project," an art project purposed to bring the "farm" back to the city. But who would display the art?
September 2017 I walked into a quaint little cafe in Georgetown, Sweet Lemon Kitchen and Inn. They had converted an old farmhouse and "The Farm Project" fit perfectly...at least I thought so, but I needed to get owner approval. I met the manager, owner, and interior decorator. They loved my art. Their support ignited my passion. Their excitement inspired me to do more.
I was starting a new semester at Dallas Theological Seminary, working towards an MACL. I assumed I would use my degree in women's ministry at our church. However, we believed God was calling us out of that church to begin searching for church closer to the farm. I was in a funk. Because starting a new semester at seminary, I didn't have a church, I didn't have a ministry, and didn't understand why God called me to seminary to spend a crazy amount of money and time. But God knew...
As I reviewed the syllabus for Strategic Ministerial Planning, it occurred to me that Simple Sparrow Farm could possibly be a parachurch ministry. But then I thought, "How ridiculous is that? A farm ministry...who ever heard of such a thing..."
Then again, I do need to finish this semester project assignment, so why not? As I deliberated and attempted to convince God "farm ministry" was not my calling, I had a chance meeting at my kids' school. The new principal was in the office one morning when I dropped my kids off. The secretaries and I had become friends through the years.
"Mrs. Gande, you need to meet Mrs. Tanner! She's the one who has the farm with the animals! She's the one who brought the animals into school last year!"
I was caught off guard. I had indeed brought animals into school on different occasions for education and emotional support. My favorite time was after goat kids were born. The previous principal, Mr. Dyer, made an announcement over the PA: "Students, there are new kids at school today. They will be coming around to visit your class, but please don't touch them until Mrs. Tanner says it's okay." We carried the baby goat kids around and the human kids were absolutely delighted! I would share stories about the animals too, like how a turkey hen hatched and raised a duck, chick, and guinea fowl like they were her own. I pointed out how human families are made like that too. My animal shinanigans and stories had apparently become known in the school district.
"Mrs. Tanner," Jane the secretary said, "we are starting morning TV announcements, can you bring in your animals to talk about them like you did last year?"
I was humbled by the influence the animals and I had on students. The invitation to present regularly on announcements was an honor. More opportunity to share farm in the city was laid at my feet...
October 2017 I had the bare bones of Simple Sparrow outlined: Mission, Vision, Core Values etc. My planning course forced me to strategically think through and build a ministry. My TA and prof gave me excellent feedback and encouraged me to look into becoming an actual non-profit. Friends and family I shared my plans with encouraged me too. One friend (Rachel) even had a friend (Sara) who had helped start a non-profit, so I met with Sara to get the scoop.
Sara and I had met previously, but it was only ever with Rachel present. This time, Sara and I sat down to breakfast and I asked her how all the non-profit stuff works. She explained the paper work, tax applications, hiring an attorney, payments...more grown up things. My eyes glazed over and I decided now wasn't the time to launch a non profit I was inventing. But then God moved...
Sara must have read my mind (or my doubtful expression) because she said, "Jamie, Rachel has told me about what you do at your farm...I want to pay to hire an attorney and I'll file all the paperwork..." The reality of her words sank to my heart. The joy could not be contained and poured out of my eyes.
"Sara, you don't need to offer this...that's huge...I can save and in a couple years I can apply later...I don't even know if this is anything..."
"Jamie," she said, her joy pouring out of her eyes too, " I am financially able to do this. I am not gifted like you to work with animals or teach people about them...but I can do this. Let me."
More joy. God was opening a door and I jumped through it.
November 2017 Sara and I met with the non-profit attorney. I had nearly completed my Simple Sparrow Ministerial Plan for school, and therefore, was prepared to give the attorney everything she needed to start the application process. The attorney informed us that 501c3 status is not always granted and if our application was accepted, it could take 9-24 months to get the official status. So we settled in to wait, hoping for approval. When Sara asked about how/when to pay the attorney fees, she replied, "You know, I am so confident Simple Sparrow will get approval, and I am touched that Sara is paying out of pocket for my fees, I'll waive my fees until you get your official approval. That way, it will be tax deductible donation." Wow.
December 4, 2017 we received our 501c3 status!
Whoosh! Into the new year...
Thursday, November 8, 2018
Sunday, July 22, 2018
The Banquet
My family recently attended a 40th birthday party. It was one of the most elaborate, amazing, larger-than-life parties we have ever been to. Here's the photos to prove it (and yes...that's a REAL flowing chocolate waterfall and river on the cake):
And we didn't even know the birthday girl (Kim) prior to her party.
My entire family of six benefited and was blessed simply because Kim wanted to bless more people through her celebration.
Kim is a friend of a friend. She had been planning the party for ages: Willy Wonka themed at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, birthday cake from a famous bakery, and as much candy as Wonka's factory for her guests.
Our mutual friend, Marti, told me about the party a few days before the big event. She was going over her families' costume ideas (because a larger-than-life party demands fun costumes!) and explaining all the plans:
"Kim got to meet Duff Goldman and decorate cakes with him...she got connected to a bakery in Austin, Cakes Rock...they have also been featured on the Food Network!...Kim is planning on all this candy...she bought tackle boxes for all the guests to fill with any candy they want! Kim is going as Willy Wonka...I think Rob and I will go as a Wonka Bar and a Golden Ticket...(candy candy candy fun fun fun)..."
My head was spinning, imagining all the logistics, time, money, and creativity implemented to pull off such a bash!
"And she needs more people to come!" Marti said.
"Say what now?" I reply.
"She reserved all these seats at the Alamo Drafthouse and there are several spots left. Not all her friends could make it...so she asked me to invite more people," Marti explained.
"Are you serious...like my whole family? Like not just the people she knows, but complete strangers she has never met...strangers with kids..." I couldn't wrap my mind around the generosity.
"Yes...you and your whole family."
Suddenly, I found myself in the middle of a Bible parable: the Parable of the Great Banquet. In Luke 14:15-24 Jesus tells of a "certain man" who planned this elaborate, amazing, larger-than-life party. He invited all his friends, only to find several could not attend. Knowing how grand his plans were for the party, he sent his servants to find anyone wishing to come. He was not about to waste his preparations. He wanted a celebration! The more the merrier!
Getting the invite for Kim's 40th birthday party from Marti, cast us into roles: Kim was the Generous Man, Marti the Servant, and me the Anyone Wishing to Come.
The whole situation taught me deeper truths about the Kingdom of God:
1. I am not entitled to His grace: it is a gift. (John 3:16). Like the invitation to attend an amazing party!
2. There is nothing I could have done to pay for admission: He invites us into His presence because He is generous. (Eph. 2:8-9; 3:20)
3. God likes parties. (1 John 1:3; Luke 15:10)
Ironically, Willy Wonka embodies God's grace and generosity as well: he wanted people to enjoy the factory with him. Wonka had planned, prepared, and worked hard to provide joy and good things to the world. He invited people into his factory to find one who would follow him. All broke his rules (even Charlie). But Charlie is the only repentant child: he knows he did wrong by drinking the Fizzy Lifting Drink and demonstrates good character and desire for right relationship with Wonka by returning the Everlasting Gobstopper (showing Wonka there is no risk of siding with Wonka's enemy, Slugworth). Charlie inherits the factory, and "lives happily ever after."
The Bible tells us that when we repent, God "is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). Coming into right relationship with God, we inherit the Kingdom through Jesus Christ (great explanation on that here). But His Kingdom won't spoil like the candy in Wonka's factory...truly "live happily ever after."
So, Kim, thank you again for including us! It was divine.
And we didn't even know the birthday girl (Kim) prior to her party.
My entire family of six benefited and was blessed simply because Kim wanted to bless more people through her celebration.
Kim is a friend of a friend. She had been planning the party for ages: Willy Wonka themed at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, birthday cake from a famous bakery, and as much candy as Wonka's factory for her guests.
Our mutual friend, Marti, told me about the party a few days before the big event. She was going over her families' costume ideas (because a larger-than-life party demands fun costumes!) and explaining all the plans:
"Kim got to meet Duff Goldman and decorate cakes with him...she got connected to a bakery in Austin, Cakes Rock...they have also been featured on the Food Network!...Kim is planning on all this candy...she bought tackle boxes for all the guests to fill with any candy they want! Kim is going as Willy Wonka...I think Rob and I will go as a Wonka Bar and a Golden Ticket...(candy candy candy fun fun fun)..."
My head was spinning, imagining all the logistics, time, money, and creativity implemented to pull off such a bash!
"And she needs more people to come!" Marti said.
"Say what now?" I reply.
"She reserved all these seats at the Alamo Drafthouse and there are several spots left. Not all her friends could make it...so she asked me to invite more people," Marti explained.
"Are you serious...like my whole family? Like not just the people she knows, but complete strangers she has never met...strangers with kids..." I couldn't wrap my mind around the generosity.
"Yes...you and your whole family."
Suddenly, I found myself in the middle of a Bible parable: the Parable of the Great Banquet. In Luke 14:15-24 Jesus tells of a "certain man" who planned this elaborate, amazing, larger-than-life party. He invited all his friends, only to find several could not attend. Knowing how grand his plans were for the party, he sent his servants to find anyone wishing to come. He was not about to waste his preparations. He wanted a celebration! The more the merrier!
Getting the invite for Kim's 40th birthday party from Marti, cast us into roles: Kim was the Generous Man, Marti the Servant, and me the Anyone Wishing to Come.
The whole situation taught me deeper truths about the Kingdom of God:
1. I am not entitled to His grace: it is a gift. (John 3:16). Like the invitation to attend an amazing party!
2. There is nothing I could have done to pay for admission: He invites us into His presence because He is generous. (Eph. 2:8-9; 3:20)
3. God likes parties. (1 John 1:3; Luke 15:10)
Ironically, Willy Wonka embodies God's grace and generosity as well: he wanted people to enjoy the factory with him. Wonka had planned, prepared, and worked hard to provide joy and good things to the world. He invited people into his factory to find one who would follow him. All broke his rules (even Charlie). But Charlie is the only repentant child: he knows he did wrong by drinking the Fizzy Lifting Drink and demonstrates good character and desire for right relationship with Wonka by returning the Everlasting Gobstopper (showing Wonka there is no risk of siding with Wonka's enemy, Slugworth). Charlie inherits the factory, and "lives happily ever after."
The Bible tells us that when we repent, God "is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). Coming into right relationship with God, we inherit the Kingdom through Jesus Christ (great explanation on that here). But His Kingdom won't spoil like the candy in Wonka's factory...truly "live happily ever after."
So, Kim, thank you again for including us! It was divine.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
I Hate Bath Crayons (and other things I don't like that in theory I'm supposed to love)
I hate bath crayons.
In theory, they're great: give your kids them in the tub and they can create wonderful art while they bathe.
Why? Why do kids need to draw in the tub? Isn't that what paper is for? Aren't there literally thousands of products on the market for creating art work? shops dedicated exclusively to art? So why do we need to encourage art in the bath? We don't. Especially since the bless-ed things take so much time and effort to clean up. It's enough that I have to get the kid out of the tub, dried, diapered and in pjs... but now I have to turn around and clean up the eye sore that was once a nice cleanly tiled white tub. Boo bath crayons.
Other things I don't like that in theory I'm supposed to love:
*puppies
*kittens
*animals in the house (P.S. I have a dog and a cat living in the house)
*other people's animals in my house
*other people's animals in their house
*the McRib
*Starbucks (because it's an addition and I'm not giving it up)
*electronic sign in
*the person in front of me using coupons at the check out
*the person in front of me using coupons at the self check out
*the person in front of me using coupons at the self check out and getting an error message
*Ikea shopping carts
*the beep my car makes when the driver door is open and the key is in the ignition
*new feather pillows (it takes years to pull out the quills... you know, you have to do the hand scan before you lay your head down or you end up getting stabbed in the eye with something that feels like a needle, and you wonder how a needle could have gotten in your pillow. But it's an invisible needle and you can see it, so maybe it's just your imagination. Then you lay your head back down and you get stabbed in your ear... the cycle starts all over... but it's victory when you find that little sticker and pull it out and keeps coming and coming out through the fibers of your pillow case. And then you name that long giant feather Moby Dick.
In theory, they're great: give your kids them in the tub and they can create wonderful art while they bathe.
Why? Why do kids need to draw in the tub? Isn't that what paper is for? Aren't there literally thousands of products on the market for creating art work? shops dedicated exclusively to art? So why do we need to encourage art in the bath? We don't. Especially since the bless-ed things take so much time and effort to clean up. It's enough that I have to get the kid out of the tub, dried, diapered and in pjs... but now I have to turn around and clean up the eye sore that was once a nice cleanly tiled white tub. Boo bath crayons.
Other things I don't like that in theory I'm supposed to love:
*puppies
*kittens
*animals in the house (P.S. I have a dog and a cat living in the house)
*other people's animals in my house
*other people's animals in their house
*the McRib
*Starbucks (because it's an addition and I'm not giving it up)
*electronic sign in
*the person in front of me using coupons at the check out
*the person in front of me using coupons at the self check out
*the person in front of me using coupons at the self check out and getting an error message
*Ikea shopping carts
*the beep my car makes when the driver door is open and the key is in the ignition
*new feather pillows (it takes years to pull out the quills... you know, you have to do the hand scan before you lay your head down or you end up getting stabbed in the eye with something that feels like a needle, and you wonder how a needle could have gotten in your pillow. But it's an invisible needle and you can see it, so maybe it's just your imagination. Then you lay your head back down and you get stabbed in your ear... the cycle starts all over... but it's victory when you find that little sticker and pull it out and keeps coming and coming out through the fibers of your pillow case. And then you name that long giant feather Moby Dick.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
"Mommy's not here right now... please leave a message after I've had my coffee..."
I am now the proud owner of 3 sons. Almost 4, almost 2 and almost 2 months... If I admit their true ages (31/2, 22 months and 7 weeks) people reliably raise their eyebrows to phathom the reality and the audacity of my fertility: "You've been busy, "So close..." "Wow, mom's got her hands full." Yes, yes and yes.
I know.
What does one reply?
"Yeah... my husband and I just can't keep our hands off eachother." (TMI for a stranger)
"They're not all mine"?
Oh, but they are. All mine. And I love them.
I find that nowadays it's easy to get bogged down and dragging. The energy tank runs on fumes.
I tire of hearing, "mom... Mom... MOM...MOMMY MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM...!"
Drive a sane person insane... but really the term should be "out of sane."
So I drift off in thought about an answering maching: "Mommy's not here right now... please leave a message."
And wouldn't it be lovely if my children actually respected the system to leave a detailed message after the tone. Then mommy will return their call as soon as she has had more coffee.
I know.
What does one reply?
"Yeah... my husband and I just can't keep our hands off eachother." (TMI for a stranger)
"They're not all mine"?
Oh, but they are. All mine. And I love them.
I find that nowadays it's easy to get bogged down and dragging. The energy tank runs on fumes.
I tire of hearing, "mom... Mom... MOM...MOMMY MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM...!"
Drive a sane person insane... but really the term should be "out of sane."
So I drift off in thought about an answering maching: "Mommy's not here right now... please leave a message."
And wouldn't it be lovely if my children actually respected the system to leave a detailed message after the tone. Then mommy will return their call as soon as she has had more coffee.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Girls, Play With Bugs
I was privileged to witness the blossoming of a "women are from Venus, men are from Mars" moment: a moment that transpired between my 3yr old son, Jude, and a fellow classmate, Kate. Kate's mother approached me after picking our kids up from school.
"Kate was telling me she wanted to marry a prince. I asked her which one, thinking it was Prince Charming or Philip. But Kate replied,'Jude.'"
When Kate saw Jude outside, she batted her little eyelashes and said,"Hi, Jude. Will you marry me?"
Jude was oblivious to sweet little Kate's proposal as he was too preoccupied with squishing the ants and looking for rolly pollies on the ground.
The scene reminded me that those moments never end. Too often women are speaking from their heart... exposing their innermost desires. And the men... those men... are completely oblivious.
So, what to do?
Well, I personally prefer Kate's approach:
After realizing her Prince Jude was more interested in bugs than in listening to her, she turned her attention to the ants and the rolly pollies too.
If Prince Jude wasn't interested in matrimony, at least Princess Kate could be interested in bugs.
And they played happily ever after.
"Kate was telling me she wanted to marry a prince. I asked her which one, thinking it was Prince Charming or Philip. But Kate replied,'Jude.'"
When Kate saw Jude outside, she batted her little eyelashes and said,"Hi, Jude. Will you marry me?"
Jude was oblivious to sweet little Kate's proposal as he was too preoccupied with squishing the ants and looking for rolly pollies on the ground.
The scene reminded me that those moments never end. Too often women are speaking from their heart... exposing their innermost desires. And the men... those men... are completely oblivious.
So, what to do?
Well, I personally prefer Kate's approach:
After realizing her Prince Jude was more interested in bugs than in listening to her, she turned her attention to the ants and the rolly pollies too.
If Prince Jude wasn't interested in matrimony, at least Princess Kate could be interested in bugs.
And they played happily ever after.
Monday, December 8, 2008
The Artists
Recently, I have started a new painting... in oil. This plight is extremely more daring and dangerous nowadays because I have two young boys who want to be with mommy... always. Oil paint and children is worse than a bull in a China shop. Way worse... in fact, I once saw a show, "Mythbusters" and they actually put a bull in a China shop. The bull avoided the shelves and was actually quite agile in manuvering his mass around the delicate porclein. Not so with a young child and paint. Oil paint is magic: even when I paint, it magically gets all over the place regardless of the care I place in keeping it restrained.
Enter small child #1: Heads right for the wet oil on the palatte. Mom miraculously swoops down, percariously balancing paint brush and paint tubes, to intercept budding artist.
Enter small child #2: Heads for the paint brushes soaking in the turpintine.
Mom swivels and grabs up the small child, holding a paintbrush in her mouth and the palette of wet oils just out of Small Child #2's reach.
Barking orders to Small Child #1 through teeth clenched down on her paintbrush, #1 just stares... unable to understand what all the fuss is about. "Get out, please... mommy's working."
"I work too." Grabbing a clean paintbrush, #1 begins to "paint" the wall.
Small Child #2 is now fighting his way out of his mommy's arms to get a paintbrush for himself. Putting #2 down, mommy picks out a nice clean one and hands it to him. He too "paints" the wall.
Admiring her adorable artists, mommy soon realizes she has gotten paint all over herself. Her shirt is ruined. Oil does not wash out.
Oh well. At least her kids are spotless.
And that painting... well that painting will get done the day I put a dead bolt on the door.
Enter small child #1: Heads right for the wet oil on the palatte. Mom miraculously swoops down, percariously balancing paint brush and paint tubes, to intercept budding artist.
Enter small child #2: Heads for the paint brushes soaking in the turpintine.
Mom swivels and grabs up the small child, holding a paintbrush in her mouth and the palette of wet oils just out of Small Child #2's reach.
Barking orders to Small Child #1 through teeth clenched down on her paintbrush, #1 just stares... unable to understand what all the fuss is about. "Get out, please... mommy's working."
"I work too." Grabbing a clean paintbrush, #1 begins to "paint" the wall.
Small Child #2 is now fighting his way out of his mommy's arms to get a paintbrush for himself. Putting #2 down, mommy picks out a nice clean one and hands it to him. He too "paints" the wall.
Admiring her adorable artists, mommy soon realizes she has gotten paint all over herself. Her shirt is ruined. Oil does not wash out.
Oh well. At least her kids are spotless.
And that painting... well that painting will get done the day I put a dead bolt on the door.
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