Matthew Buley - Children's Shelter of Cebu

I had lunch on Monday with a couple of ladies who have had a big impact at CSC, especially at our school.  Shari Reasoner has served as a consultant to the school as a volunteer and staff member for years, and Amy Luck is a preschool teacher who was there the first year the school got off the ground.  They are both licensed educators, and I just learned they both have a thing about red pens.  Get this; they're against using them.

What sort of new fangled thinking is this?  Teachers who don't use red pens?  I thought red pens were like desks, apples and summers off--fundamentals of the teaching profession.  As I talked to them I felt convicted about something...I'm a red pen parent.  Honestly, we have our kids read for 20-30 minutes a day and write three sentences about what they read.  I correct them with a red pen.  Not only that, but I'm kind of a jerk about grading when I'm the one to do it.  They are amped when they happen to get an 'A'.  It doesn't happen a ton.

This reminds me of a study I heard of on children succeeding differently in different income levels.  Research was done on parents who were on welfare and parents who had professional jobs.  The biggest difference they found was in language.  The kids who grew up in professional households heard 20 million more words by the time they were three.  Not only that, but those kids had heard 500,000 words of encouragement and 80,000 words of discouragement.  The kids who grew up on welfare had heard 80,000 words of encouragement and 200,000 words of discouragement.  That's a significant difference.

This is a major point of conviction for me.  My gut response is to try to get my kids to do better, to correct what they did wrong.  When I see any report card (including my own) I give first attention to the grades that need to come up.  I for one need to be deliberate: be one of the parents who encourages 6 times for every correction.  For starters, next time it's my turn to go over the kids' sentences I'll be getting out a nice black pen.

It's school conference time here in Minnesota.  Here in Minnesota where it has snowed twice already in mid-October.  For those not from around here that is early even by our standards.  I was a little bitter about it when the snow fell on October 10th, but I've since adjusted my perspective.  I'll just plan to be in Cebu during January and February.

A pretty cool thing happened in Raymund's parent-teacher conference.  I was talking to his teacher about all the standard progress things, when we began to discuss a "floating" teacher who helps drill down on specific things with Raymund and other kids.  I asked if she was connected with the ELL program (English Language Learner).  Raymund's teacher looked at me kind of perplexed and told me it was standard for all the kids to do this.  Then she asked, "was Raymund in ELL?"

That was the best question I've gotten at any conference.  Raymund has lived in the U.S. since July 27, 2007.  The language he learned in his childhood was Cebuano.  In fact, when he sees something startling or funny he'll still point and say "A LA" loudly in classic Filipino fashion.  But he has become quite an English speaker.  Last week he corrected an older sibling on their incorrect usage of the past tense.  He actually said "past tense" and Theresa and I about fell out of our chairs.

It's cool to see the progress their making.  It's not fast, or always easy, but it comes.  It's coming for all of them.  We do this thing around the house now where I ask them to think of taking "10 Extra Seconds."  It's an idea that if they're in a room, and something is messy or out of place, they take the 10 extra seconds to make it right regardless of whether or not they did it.  They will announce their acts of "10 Extra Seconds" to me when I come home.  To think these are the same kids who couldn't close a screen door behind them, or understand complete sentences, when they got here.  I've seen plenty of biological kids blow it on the screen door thing...and it's pretty cool to see how far our kids have come.

This is a big day at the Children's Shelter of Cebu--one we will not soon forget.  Today we get to watch the airing of the Oprah Winfrey show that included our own Sandy Swanson.  Suddenly the Sandy who left a Bible camp to go to Cebu and work at an upstart orphanage, who has fielded countless questions from prospective adoptive parents, and has written hundreds of worker schedules in our homes, will have a tag we've seen on lots of things: "as seen on Oprah."  And CSC will have been seen there too.

The best part about today is that it doesn't change anything.  It doesn't change the interactions Sandy is having with the kids we've committed to give our best to.  It certainly doesn't change Sandy...I think back to waking her up (remember Cebu is 13 hours ahead of Minnesota and Chicago) back when we got the call from one Oprah's producers and encouraging her to go on the show.  We're not dealing with a spotlight seeker here.  It doesn't change our work in Cebu either.  We are CSC.  We are about giving every child a chance at a family, and providing a loving home until an adoptive family can.  We could try to explain to the kids at the shelter that millions of people will see Auntie Sandy on TV today, but they won't get it.  They'll just get that they're finally in a place where they don't have to worry about their food or safety anymore.

Today would have been a big day without a TV show.  Today we have a great looking, professional new website.  We got it done just in the nick of time!  I say "we" loosely.  The truth is that the "we" really boils down to one volunteer, Chris, who poured hours upon hours into this.  It's quite a combination to have someone who has both expertise and the heart to give it away.

Expertise and the heart to give it away.  I hope that's what CSC is always about.

I've visited my blog several times lately trying to decide what to write.  I've gotten stuck every time.  The thing is, my mom passed away three weeks ago yesterday.  She was incredible, and I can't begin to tell you how much I miss her.

I hadn't actually planned to write a blog about any of it.  It seemed so trite.  I just felt like Mom deserved so much more than some blog entry.  I finally changed my mind.  For one, I don't think I can write about anything else (talk about things that feel trite) unless I write something about her here.  It won't be a writing I do for healing (that's what journals are for), but she deserves at least this.  My mom loved this blog--she was hands down its biggest fan.  She honestly printed entries and saved them so we could always go back and look at them.  She loved the news I was sharing with people about the kids, and she told me all the time how she loved to read my writing.  In my life I have never wondered one time if my mom was proud of me...I have always known.  I became who I am because of who she was--including a man of faith.  She loved that about me more than anything.

Her love for our kids went way beyond this blog.  When you adopt older kids one of the early questions an expert will ask you is: "how does your extended family feel about the adoption?"  There was never any doubt about where she stood on us adopting: she stood with us no matter what might come, and she was thrilled for us.  She and Dad bought us a basketball hoop that I turned into a court in our driveway, and then went ahead and bought a hoop for them--the kids needed to have fun at their house too!

I could go on and on with stories about her.  How in our house you basically got a day and a half for your birthday, she would sit us on her lap and rock us in her chair the night before saying "this is the last time I get to rock my X year old".  She actually did this when I was in college, ignoring my argument that I would crush her--I remember how much we laughed about it, and I'm reminded how safe I always felt with her--even as a 'tough' college kid.  The day after our birthday we got to eat cake for breakfast, because homemade cake spoiled too quickly.

I have this picture in my mind, its been there since the day I got the worst phone call in my life.  It's an image of three little birds nestled under their mother's wing.  There is a storm around them, but the little birds are oblivious to it.  All they know is that they are safe.  My mom did not have an easy upbringing, but she somehow found strength in herself in it, and vowed to do things much differently when she had a family of her own.  In the history of the world I don't know if anyone's ever done a 180 like she did.  I know I thanked her for that at least once...I could have told her every day.

The English language has a cruel characteristic.  When we speak and write we modify verbs to indicate whether they are past, present or future.  Talking about my mom in the past tense feels awful.  But there is at least one statement I can make without having to make any verb changes.  Mom, you are my hero.  You always have been.  That doesn't have to change, that doesn't have to be quarantined to the past tense.  I hope I told her that.  I am my mom's son.  You can't separate her from me any more than you can take away my skin or my bones.  The hole in my heart won't ever go away, and I don't want it to, but healing will come around it and I will grow, and I will keep putting one foot in front of the other.  And the God who went to a cross for both our sakes will hold my life in his hands, just as He has hers.  And me knowing that is the greatest legacy she could give.

I hope there's a rocking chair for us in heaven, but for now I'll soar as high as I can here on earth.  I love you Mom.  I always will.

We have this term around CSC that is definitely not a word: "mailout."  Spell-check catches it every time.  It's not as bad as Minnesotans calling the thawing of something "dethaw," but it's still bad grammar.  Anyway, the mailout is the event where we bring all our newsletters, invitations or fundraising letters together with a bunch of volunteers and they get it ready for immediate dropoff at the post office.

The volunteers who work our mailouts are awesome.  I'm not going to guess the average age, but someone in their 50's would definitely be a young'un with this crew.  In fact, when we did our volunteer appreciation event last fall we did this thing where I asked for everyone's birthday and promised they didn't have to disclose the birth year.  I was quickly informed that there was no need to be discreet because "we're at the age that we like saying how old we are again."  I love it.

We take a break at 10 o'clock on mailout morning that is announced by Millie, the official timekeeper and maybe the sweetest person I've ever met.  She always has a hug to deliver to Theresa and a word of encouragement.  She's hard core about the break though.  She announces it every 10 minutes until it comes (sometimes several times in the last 10 minutes) and keeps everyone buzzing and laughing.  Then we always get some incredible treat that Brenda in our office has worked up.

It was good to be with them.  This newsletter got botched up in the final stages, and eventually ended up causing me to completely rehash the schedule we use and the creation of a proofing checklist.  After all of that though, it's off now.  3,000 people will receive it.  Last year over 1,500 people gave to CSC.  How many places can claim that many people giving in comparison to their mailing list?  Not many.  We've got some amazing people taking part in CSC...including a group of people who have no qualms about sharing their age.