I'M SERIOUSLY IN THE WEEDS, 100% OF EVERYDAY
I'm a non-smoker and I've never tried water skiing. I enjoy LONG "sits" on the beach with a seriously COLD Diet Moutain Dew in a can. Blessed that being a MOM is my calling. Was raised Catholic but I'm learning slowly it's OK to "free style" pray out loud in front of people. I own SHARPIES in almost every color, shape and size. Met my husband on a blind date one Friday, three days later he asked me to be his wife. God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I'M SERIOUSLY IN THE WEEDS, 100% OF EVERYDAY
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
365 RANDOM DAYS OF TEAM ZYBKO
DAY #29
03/05/11
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DELANEY GRACE!
I could have sworn I bought a new #9 candle. Just recently, to be ready for Delaney's big day. No biggie, I'm sure I'll find it before Drexel needs it. For now it's math time to = 9. Delaney is a chip off the old sugar block so I guarantee she was more focused on the yummy icing than any lit accessory.
Oh my stars kids. Is it THAT hard to sit within inches of a Freeman's Bakery cake with a lick? Well, heck yeah it is, I already tried some myself.
It's late evening already. Where did the 'Birthday' day go? It came and went with out a ton of fan fare, balloons, hoopla or gifts. It was mostly a regular Saturday in the middle of soccer season, filled with mostly soccer.
I was only a tidy tad rusty with the whole Boobie-ing on the go thing. I caught back on quick, totally second nature by the end of the first half. Most people had no clue she was having breakfast under my sweatshirt as I cheered and paced on the sidelines.
Perfect timing Daddy, thanks. I love them!
With just siblings around that HUGE cake it was a LITTLE strange.
New and different but OK. I'm learning to roll with this new season we are in.
Everything doesn't need to be BIG, LOUD and CHAOTIC to be GOOD.
Riding a min dirt bike, playing with her BFF til dark and her favorite taco dinner. Delaney's 9th Birthday may not be remembered forever. More than likely this day won't be retained in her memory bank. No Chuck-e-Cheese ticket counter excitement or late night sleepover madness.
Simple, sweet and apparently just the right 'size' for her. I look over at my new nine year old, snuggled in her blankie, legs kicked up comfortably on the oversized couch. She has fallen asleep watching "Good Luck Charlie" in the family room....in her dirty soccer uniform.
I'm pretty sure, for Delaney, that's the icing on her day.
Friday, March 4, 2011
GOD'S LOVE IS SHINING BRIGHT
Thursday, March 3, 2011
365 RANDOM DAYS OF TEAM ZYBKO
DAY #28
03/03/11
SURVIVING A STAND STILL CARLINE
LAZY BUT PERFECT
ACCIDENTAL BURBS FROM THE SPICY ORANGE DRINK
IN AND OUT TO GATHER WILD FLOWERS
GOOFING AROUND AND MAKING UP SILLY SONGS
A LITTLE WHINING ABOUT WHOSE FLOWERS ARE WHOSE
SOMEONE IS BITTEN BY FIRE ANTS
A DRINK IS SPILLED
A FEW TEARS ARE SHED
NO WORRIES, WIPED BY A FRIEND
WE ARE ROLLING OUT
CLOSE THE DOORS
HURRY
HURRY
HURRY
WITH COFFEE, BABY WIPES, IZZY'S AND GOD
ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE
THANKS DREXEL,DELILAH, EVELYN AND CARLISLE.
BESTEST 13 AND 1/2 MINUTES IN CAR LINE
EVAAAHHH
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
365 Days of Team Zybko
Day# 25
02/28/11
Lots going on in my tiny little world. Struggling to keep my head above the scum line. Perishable goods from Sam's on the counter await me. Cheating on my challenge again today with a re-run.
DAY TWO IN HAITI:
STORIES FROM A HAITIAN PALACE
I wake up a bit chilled from beneath the crisp, white sheets. The unfamiliar smell and scratchy feel of the bed forces my mind to jerk quickly awake. What day is it? Where am I? And when did we get a pet rooster? The answers slowly fall from the air, settling onto the hotel pillow around my head. I'm in Haiti. Oh, really? I'm still in Haiti? YES....and it's only day two.
Well Di-Di, this college letter to you has suddenly evolved into a letter addressed to me. A letter to my heart. An expressed mailed letter to my tender soul. A letter worth a thousand lessons in any school.
A letter I will most certainly carry with me for as long as I live.
Before heading out the door I take a self portrait and gather my gear. Like a soldier in the Army, I stuff pockets and arm myself with the necessary items needed for survival. Bible, camera, sunscreen, safe drinking water, journal and a fresh fine tipped sharpie pen. Ok, now I'm ready! I take several deep breaths in, the room smells musty. I can do this! Right? After all, I'm an adventurous kinda of girl. A think outside the bun kinda Soccer Mom. Right? Well, normally I am. But my normal, real life seems a million miles away. Not sure what kinda person I am right now.

Hot Haitian air caresses my face the instant I open the door to my room labeled 108. Palm trees, painted blue skies and the sound of happy birds make me feel like myself again. I sit down comfortably beside my teammates on the freshly mopped, marble like steps. I already feel such a strong bond, like I have known these people my entire life.

Breakfast was delicious. Coffee, strong and black with a serious KICK, just like I like it. Even better than I prepare in my very own kitchen. GOD is GOOD I tell you, right down to the last drop.......of my third cup. The pineapple, mango and cantaloupe so juicy and fresh. Like visiting a sandy white beach with every bite. Filling our bellies and laughing off a Haitian coffee buzz with my new BFF'S. Were we really strangers two days ago?




The dusty security gates open slowly, they seem as reluctant as me
to show us the other side. 1,2,3 we are pushed out into real life. Not MY real life but the people of this island. Their real life. Everything seems to be severely opposite here. No grey ground. No wonder we are a "Circus Freak Show" rolling down the road. Clean, smiley, fed WHITE people in a dusty, desperate, starving BLACK Haiti.

You are either clinging to a scooter going 65 or sitting lifeless under a crowded spot of shade conserving energy.


Someone in the van pokes my shoulder, I audibly gasp as I try to comprehend what I see. Are you kidding me? Is this for real? As my head turns 180 degrees to the left my eyes focus on a unbelievable "screen saver" type picture. Miles of perfect white stones, seemingly put there individually by hand. My eyes follow the "sand" to clear blue-ish green waters, all naturally framed by tall mountains covered in lush green vegetation. I swing my head back to the right. Just in time to witness a woman hiking her torn skirt up to her waist. Squatting to use the beat up road side as a bathroom. Opposites again, fifty feet apart.


(We will see him several times a day during the week of our trip. We refer to him as New Testament Guy. He is most definitely my favorite so far. On the last day we find out from a translator he doesn't speak........at all. He only smiles and he loves Jesus. I'm convinced he smiles cause he knows Jesus)

I laugh at myself as we walk the rest of the way to the church. I keep stumbling, my footing wobbly in over sized hiking boots as my feminine flowered skirt is held prisoner between my sweaty legs. (note to self, another opposite) Not such a great look in Florence, SC. but here in Haiti, not a problem. It's liberating not to worry and fuss about clothes or looks here. That's not why we are here. I wonder why I don't feel this way at home?


It seems embarrassing to be segregated. I don't want to be treated special. I didn't walk miles with no shoes to get here to worship. I'm sure many haven't eaten or had anything to drink this morning at all. I think of our LAVISH feast. Did I really need 3 cups of coffee? My guilt is getting deep, already waist high. I'm quite certain I will choke to death on my American Culture by the end of this trip.
With the help of a super happy, energetic translator the service begins. He's a little man with a huge contagious smile, somehow making Haiti even brighter. I stare. I listen. I'm mesmerized by his light. A light, I'm positive can only be put there by the LORD himself. I somehow understood his love for GOD even when he speaks Creole.

They are obviously happy to have us here. Happy to have the help. Happy that we care. Individually we are introduced. We are praised to have given up everything at home to be here. Jobs, kids, school and familiar everyday life. I wonder if they know how much they are teaching us?

In their finest clothes they sit across from us. The relentless sun covering them from head to toe. The children are well behaved and clean. At the end of the service we are hugged and kissed by the grateful strangers. We live and look different but we speak the same language. No words spoken only moist eyes.