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Oil Roller Balls and Samples to Share


I made these roller ball oils the other day during nap time, I LOVE THEM!  They are a mix of a variety of oils for a specific purpose mixed with fractionated coconut oil.  You can stash them in a car, purse, wherever and roll it onto skin when you need.

WE.  LOVE. them.


-FLU BOMB which is a potent mix of 5 different oils including Oregano, OnGuard, Frankincense, Lemon, and Melaleuca.  I roll it on my kids feet, and bring it everywhere, especially when there is a poor mama who’s kids just can’t get well.

-Liquid Xanax which I first made for a friend doing a presentation who was beside herself with worry, and she KILLED it!  (Minor sweating, but great presentation in front of a crowd, go girl!  It brought out her best).  This is probably my most popular roller ball, works on nervous kids and adults–as the name implies :)

-Liquid Ambien easy application of Serenity, Cedar wood and Vetiver, EACH alone with good sleeping power, and mixed–goodnight.  Drug free, obviously, so you wake up feeling great.

-Super Hero Oil is something I use often on Finley.  Oregano is one of the most powerful oils for immunity, but there are also studies showing that it helps with fear.  It is considered a ‘hot’ oil, meaning it has to be diluted with fractioned coconut oil or another carrier oil prior to application to skin, which is why I put it in the roller with a carrier oil, ready to roll on at anytime.  Finley is my more shy and sensitive child, and while Elijah will run into a new situation, or class, or activity, Finley clings to me.  Recently during karate, the class is going, and he’s missing out because he wants to be right by me….

“Finley, do you want your Super Hero oil?” I ask after bribing with every known good thing.  “Yes,” and I roll is on his feet, and he runs out, making tiny pin drop oil foot prints out onto the mat as he joins the class.

-Allergy Oil a mix of lemon, peppermint and lavender.  I don’t have allergies, but those who do swear by it.

-Muscle Soother roller ball

You can purchase any of these Oil Roller Balls for $18.  I can also create custom made roller balls for you if there is a recipe you have in mind, I have the materials.

For a special feature, I am giving away any roller ball of your choice for any adoptive family who wishes to use essential oils as a fundraiser for their adoption.  You would get a purchasing link to be able to share with friends and family for purchasing oils, and sales go to you.  If you are interested in having essential oils as one of your fundraisers, we have loved being a part of it, of sharing this goodness to families, all while supporting our child coming home.  Email me if this is something you are interested in and tell me which roller ball you would like.


Oil Samples!

I loved sharing about Essential Oils for Adopted Children on my blog, and I have been very encouraged by the response of people trying these oils for their little ones. I want to be able to share with people who are new to oils in an easy way, so I am selling little sample viles of the oils for your to try for $6 each.  If you have been wondering and curios to try oils for focus, or sleep, etc but hesitant to dive in, here is an easy way for your family to try them.  Email me at amy@tinygreenelephants.com and tell me which ones you want, and I’ll send them your way.




-Serenity :)


I am also willing to share samples with you of other all-purpose oils such as peppermint, wild orange, lavender, etc, just let me know what you want to try out, happy to share. (amy@tinygreenelephants.com)




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The Turquoise Sea

Over the weekend, we took the kids to the beach.  We drove to the one with seals, despite the fact that it was a trek, we knew the kids would love it, they are animal lovers.



As usual, one boy needed to pee when we arrived, signaling the other of his eminent pee need.  I always feel like such a stealth spy when they need to go, allowing them to go just about anywhere out and about, blocking them, leaning them forward.  There will be an age limit to this.



We were having a bit of a heatwave here in San Diego, but this day it was tapering off, which was nice.  We gazed at the sea, watching the soft ripples constantly moving in a translucent maze of blues and turquoise.  Maria had her first school dance last week, and the two of us stole away for an evening to find the right dress, turquoise like the sea, “No tank top,” she told me as her hands passed the fabrics of the dresses at the store.

Andrew and I were surprised she wanted to go to the dance, it seemed outside of her comfort zone, but she was eager, which made us excited, “But, I am not going to dance….” she told us.

“Well, that’s like the one requirement.  It’s not called a stand there, it’s called a dance.”

We spent the evening listening to hip-hop-pop and showing her all the most important moves.

This is called the SPRINKLER,” I told her, while Andrew showed her the shopping cart and weed-wacker, the music pounding around our house, the boys showing their own moves–and body slams.  She giggled and kind of danced along, having more fun as we progressed into each new move, feeling more comfortable trying them each out, seeing how silly we were OK with looking, letting go a little bit more each day.



When the boys and I picked her up, the room was dark and smelled a little like BO and teen spirit, ratted streamers hanging in strands from the ceiling, small groups of preteens taking group selfies, “Oh wait no–let’s do it again…” as they reposed, and she rushed up to greet the boys and I, who had grown silent and wide eyed at the dark room and loud music, her smile beaming through her face.  “I kind of felt like a grown up!” she told me in the car on the way home.  Plus, they had played Taylor Swift, so extra bonus.




Seals give birth December through February, and we spied two little babies, a black one and a dusty cream colored baby.  The adults laid, tired along the shore, while the babies tumbled and wrestled, their open, playful mouths looking like smiles.  The boys delighted and cooed over them.

“We need to go down there,” they nodded at us.



At the same time, both seals went to nurse with their mommies.  This is the second time we had seen nursing this week, the first precipitated by behavior and a spoken word.








Over the weekend a friend spoke a prophetic word to Elijah, of his need for babyhood.  That he had missed so much of his, and how much he need to go through the stages, to pass to the next.  In my mind I thought we had attempted that already, I knew it to be true, hadn’t we already?  Maybe rocking someone to sleeping isn’t the same as treating them as a baby.  We thought we’d give it a try.  The next morning we cooed over him, and said, “Hi baby Elijah, you are the cutest baby ever!

He instantly got on his hands and knees and started crawling, then to my feet, a first, and reached up with his two hands toward mine–my independant boy?  I held him in my arms, softer than ever prior,  as he curled, his usual toughness which served as a wall, gone.  I imagined he was an infant, saw one where he lay, I asked him if he wanted a baby blanket?  Diaper?  Milk?  We had walked through this scenario with Maria who benefitted greatly from being bottle fed, and moved through that stage, late, but thoroughly when allowed.

“Milk,” he told me.

“Sure,” I said, trying to remember where the bottles were…

He softly reached for my shirt, “Finwey drank miwk from here?”

“Yes,” I told him, I didn’t know how he’d known, he’d never seen me do it, doesn’t see nursing often, and when he does I assumed he was oblivious…

Remembering the prophetic word from the night before, I asked him if he would want some milk, thinking he’d laugh and snap out of his ‘pretending.’

But he wasn’t pretending.  And the moment I glanced at Andrew to catch his eye at what Elijah had asked for, he latched on, looking smaller and more vulnerable than I had ever seen him.  His behavior had been off the week before, and after this he was calm.  It was only for a few seconds, but that he would ask….

it blew us away…



That day I spoon fed him his lunch, rocked him to sleep, and shushed him like a fussy newborn.  He never laughed, or gave us his usual grin, he never sped away to catch up to his brother, but seemed to grow smaller, cozier, more in need of our comfort.  He wanted all of it.  He soaked it in, opened his mouth wide, like a baby, but with joy, appreciation.  This busy boy wanted to be held and rocked, and that night he told us, “I am not a baby anymore.”

And he wasn’t.

Had he just needed to pass through that stage once again with us?  Most of the time I forget we have adopted kids.  Kids that missed out on so much, with pain that will never be mine like it is theirs.  Sometimes I try to parent in my own strength, and forget to ask God, and when I do, he tells me.  Even when it seems strange, we are willing.  It can feel so humbling, not knowing what will be best for your child until you ask–it makes my heart feel kind of tender like a bruise, but it’s my favorite place to be, the verge of the beauty God is willing to share with me.






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As the sun came out, all the children at the beach were drawn to the water like a gravitational pull.

The parents were pulling at their kids, too, “Your shirt, your pants!” they called out, making us not want that fight,

“Just go,” we told them.






They glided around for a while, running into the shallow pools over and over again, fresh excitement each time, the sand pumicing our feet, greedy seagulls circling, the boys urging each other to go deeper with each leap.  Andrew and I sat under the sun, one of those moments filled with feelings at odds, leaving you serene, feeling time slipping quickly, yet standing still around us in these waters.  The mix of a warm sun on our cheeks in February, the soft giggle of our children just beyond reach, the smell of salt, like a lucid dream.

Everything we’ve wanted, frozen in this warm moment, with each other.  Home.











i will wade out
till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness

ee cummings



Ishimwe and Kesia: Compassion

Our pastor had just returned from Haiti and Kenya and visited there areas where Compassion works.  In Kenya, he walked through villages with raw sewage running through the hard, dirt streets, and people living in extreme, hungry poverty.  But the children sponsored through compassion were fed, clothed, and walked into the school and development center created because the children had Compassion sponsors.  The children without sponsors waited on the other side of the chain link fence, watching with their fingers hooked around the metal rungs, silently watching the sponsored children enter the school where they would be fed and education.


“We would need them all to have sponsors, we can’t function without sponsors for the children….”

“Well… let’s get them all sponsors!!” aggravated by the the children waiting.

“Oh, we will never get them all sponsors, it’s a dream, but something we can’t even hope for right now…”

So our church sponsored every last kid in that village.  The fence is gone.

We believe in Compassion.   Before we had kids we began sponsoring a 4 year old girl named Milargos, we get letters from her every few months, “I pray for your family every day, and I love you,” she tells us every, single letter.  We see her picture, see her progress, she is 9 now.  I know many people who have visited their compassion children, hear the stories of how one sponsorship drastically, and immediately changed their lives.  Of their schooling, and food, and how their parents can hold onto them, and not loose them because someone over here chose their child.

About a year ago we chose one more girl.  Money was tight, but when isn’t it?   So we searched the data base with Maria and chose a girl in India about her same age.  Maria had been learning about India in church and had been very interested.

Her name is Konada.

She writes with perfect, neat handwriting.  She thanks us each time for sponsoring her.  Maria pours over the letters, asking me questions about her life.

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Maria writes back to her friend in India, and looks forward to her letters.  We talk about service, about poverty, about the call on our lives as people who love Jesus to not feel sorry people in poverty, but to do something to care for them.

And caring for them is a blessing.


Her first letter to Konada written 1.5 years ago

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We love our little Milagros and Konada.  Their letters are a gift.  Our children love to read them and write back.  And even though it’s ‘fun,’ we know that each month as we live our daily lives, two little girls are getting the care, physically, spiritually, educationally that they need.  That every child needs, but many do not have.  There is a need for sponsors, sponsoring is a gift to the heart, for all involved.



Recently I told Compassion I would like to find sponsors for three children.

This is Ishimwe who lives in Rwanda.  His clothes are dusty, and he has been waiting for a sponsor for a very long time.  He lives with his father and mother.  His father is sometimes employed as a farmer, and his mother is sometimes employed as a farmer.  His home duties are carrying water and gathering firewood.  He goes to church activities and is in kindergarten.

Ishimwe needs a sponsor, someone who can sponsor him monthly, and investment in his life.  He is in great need.  Do you have a kindergartener at home who would love helping a child their same age, praying for them and encouraging them?




And this is Kesia who lives in Indonesia.  Her father is sometime employed as a farmer and her mother runs the home.  Kesia is in charge of running errands.  She is also in kindergarten and needs a sponsor to help her learn and grow physically, mentally and spiritually.



If you are interested in being the sponsor of either of these two kindergarteners, you would be a huge blessing in their lives.  It’s not much to sponsor, we build ours right into our budget, our small sacrifice here moving mountains in the life of two children an ocean away.  Please pray for these Ishimwe and Kesia, consider sponsoring them, and email me with any questions: amy@tinygreenelephants.com

Visit the Compassion Website: www.compassion.com and learn about what they are doing in nations all over our world, making big changes by helping little people, like Ishimwe and Kesia.  If you are looking for a child to sponsor the same age as your child, you will find one.  If you are looking for a child to sponsor in a country that is special to you, or that shares your birthday, look and see.  If you feel like you want to make a change in this world, to find value in your monthly earnings more than spending it on yourself, pick a child.  Your child will bless you with heart felt letters, and sincere prayers for you and your family.

My last story is this.  A friend of mine sponsored a boy in India.  He grew into a man who loved God, was educated and healthy.  She went to visit him.  When she met him, he asked her, “May I call you mom?  I’ve never had one, and I have always thought of you as my mom growing up.”  So she cried and said yes.  She had never realized what her small donations had meant over the years until that moment.