News Trend Today|Actual

"It'll be alright when the morning comes." - Hall & Oates

Early morning view of the Shoshone River in Cody, Wyoming, just east of Yellowstone.

As expected, I woke up this morning feeling perfectly normal.

No, I'd go so far as to say better than normal.

Construction, reflection and other forms of organized chaos greet the day in Singapore.

Ready to get on my game, organized and rested, I tackled the first day of school after Christmas break with equal parts I-missed-this-lovely-routine and next-stop-is-spring-break.

And even though last night - the night before the first day back - was the absolute rock bottom of my annual emotional cycle, I knew my funk wouldn't last.

Sunrise over the South China Sea near Danang, Vietnam.

Sometimes, a good night's sleep makes all the difference in the world.

* * * * *

Celebrate the Twelve Days of Christmas with me!

The First Day

The Second Day

The Third Day

The Fourth Day

The Fifth Day

The Sixth Day

The Seventh Day

The Eighth Day

The Ninth Day

The Tenth Day

The Eleventh Day

The Twelfth Day

AndEpiphany too.

News Trend My Mother And Me|Actual

This is a long, complex story about my mother and me, and also about:

God's absolute power and love,

the forces of spiritual darkness,

and His amazing power to overcome that darkness and bring goodness and light into our lives.

And sad as much of this story might be, I promise you a very happy ending.

Everyone's life story begins at the moment of birth, and my mom's birth was touched by tragedy

She was born with a twin, but her sibling was stillborn.

Now, we know that babies in utero experience many sensations of life.

They respond to their physical surroundings

They move about and rearrange themselves in their cozy space.

And they most definitely react to the comforting sound of a beating heart.

And so I wonder about that.

I wonder what my mother experienced when the sound of her sibling's heartbeat was silenced.

I wonder what she sensed, alone in the womb with her lifeless twin

And after my mother was born, I wonder how my grandmother's grief for her lost child affected the early minutes, hours, days and weeks of her bonding with her surviving infant

I don't think any of it was good.

My mom's childhood was, by all reports, happy and comfortable. Her parents were patient and loving, her small-town upbringing idyllic, her accomplishments many. But an undertone of darkness weaves throughout her stories from these days - my mom did not like herself, and even decades later, found endless fault in her young self. I've thought long and hard about my mother's formative years, and I can only conclude that the sad circumstances of her birth cast long shadows over her sense of self

It was as a young twenty-something that she met my future father, and another wave of darkness undoubtedly entered her life.

* * * * *

My mom had always kept her lip buttoned about their courtship. But as the dementia broke down her walls, she shared with me more and more details. She never meant to marry my father, she told me. But he begged, even cried, when she hesitated at his proposal, and in the end, she broke down and accepted.

The first few years seemed to pass happily by as they set about making a home and a family. But six years into the marriage, my father was caught cheating and boldly continued his philandering ways for the next ten years.

I remember the first time I became aware of their fighting. I was a little girl, three years old, and one night I woke up and headed to the kitchen for a drink of water.

A tiny thing, I recall standing on a chair to reach the faucet and holding my cup underneath the running water without being able to see what I was doing. I climbed down and stood in the middle of the kitchen, quietly drinking.

My parents' bedroom door was open, a light was on, and their silhouettes were projected onto the wall ahead of me. As I drank, I could see their figures silently moving, and I slowly realized they were grasping each others arms, pushing and shoving each other back and forth. Straining my ears, I could hear a fiercely whispered argument taking place; clearly, they had no idea I was nearby, and were hoping to keep us children from waking up.

This was the first of dozens of late-night altercations that disrupted our lives over the next decade. The decorum of that episode quickly wore thin, and I was often awakened from a sound sleep to hear my mother screaming, crying, yelling, begging him to stay, and my father quietly but firmly attempting to escape the house.

I realize now that he would go to bed as usual, but then when my mom was asleep, he would try to slip out of the house and travel to his mistress's bed.

From the start, I appointed myself the peacemaker of the family and the referee of these fights. As soon as I woke up to the chaos, I would leave my bed, place myself between them, and try to break up the physical contact. Sometimes my mother would threaten to hurt him; sometimes she would threaten to hurt herself. Always, my goal was to get my father out of the house, and to comfort my mom. Sometimes, he would drive off within a few minutes; other times, they would fight for an hour, maybe stopping and starting up repeatedly. Sometimes, my brothers would cry out from their beds or even come in and join me in the turmoil. I would escort them back to bed and do my best to calm their fears.

These were bad times. I suppose they occurred in bursts - there may have been months of silence, and then a series of episodes every few nights. I recall that when I was in fourth grade, times were particularly bad, and I was very concerned for my mother's well-being when I was away at school. Day after day, sitting at my desk, the anxiety would gnaw away at my stomach until I told the teacher I was sick and asked to go home. Eventually, Mrs. Sutherland deduced the dilema, and called my mother in for a chat. "Is there anything going on at home that might be causing Diane to worry?" she asked, and I can still see the look of horror and shame that swept across my mother's face as she feared her secret might be revealed.

After sixteen years of marriage and ten full years of cheating, my father left. I recall that the day brought me sweet relief but my mother entered a new phase of self-shaming and profound embarrassment.

* * * * *

Decades passed. My mom built up a successful and satisfying career as a teacher. I grew up, married a faithful man, and begat a new generation of sweet little girls. But my relationship with my mother suffered terribly.

Looking back, I understand now that my mother's self-image, fragile from the first days of her life, had been deeply damaged by my father's infidelity. As her only daughter, my life seemed to be everything she had wanted for her own life, and my success and happiness deepened her shame. To compound the duduk perkara, as much as my mother hid the story of her failed marriage from absolutely everyone in her life, she knew that I had been by her side for the whole ugly mess; I had seen it all.

The darkness deepened between us, and as my daughters grew, they also became subject to my mother's frustrations. I decided to take a big step back from this conflict zone, and our relationship became distant and cool.

Fast forward to 2013. My mother's slowly emerging dementia had been on my radar for a decade, but until that point, she was still able to maintain her emotional defenses. It was in the fall of that year, as her ability to care for herself became an issue of daily concern, that she and I began to talk on the phone. Twice a day, every day, a dozen hours a week at the very least.

An interesting thing began to happen. Due to the disease, my mother's walls began to come down. She began to talk openly with me about her childhood, her fears that her parents loved her sister more, her feeling that she was never good enough. She also shared more about my father - many of her middle-stage hallucinations involved him coming back to hurt her, and over and over, I reassured her that I would never let him hurt her again.

* * * * *

Slowly, eventually, painfully - and with the help of a sensitive and insightful caregiver - I realized that my mother had been fighting forces of darkness for most, if not all, of her life. The loss of her twin, her husband's betrayal had made her vulnerable to deep, dark energy.And in the profound desperation that comes from knowing that I was powerless to help her, I began to pray for her.

I prayed over her home, passing from room to room, blessing each door knob and light switch, invoking God's name over every inch.

I commanded the dark spirits to leave her alone.

I know. That sounds intense, doesn't it.

Before this experience, though my faith in God was strong, I was dubious aboutdanquot;spiritual darkness." But as a part of my awakening, I perceived a real and tangible energy that was doing my mother harm. I experienced the commanding power of God's spirit as I never have imagined possible and I prayed for my mom's protection with an intensity that did not come from me.

And I begged our God of mercy and healing and infinite love to heal my mother's pain.

Now. I am certainly not willing to say that I worked a miracle, or that my prayers turned the tide of unhappiness in my mother's life.

She still has advanced Lewy Body Dementia, and her life is a fading shadow of what it once was.

But I can say with absolute certainty that my relationship with my mother has been fully, completely and dramatically healed.

As crazy as it sounds, my mother's battle with dementia is the best thing that ever happened to our relationship. Now, whenever we get a chance to talk or spend time together or even when I'm just thinking of her, I can feel a loving mother-daughter bond that I had never experienced before. Despite her wildly debilitating illness, I instinctively seem to know how to reach her and how to comfort her, and for the first time, she can express happiness and satisfaction with me.

* * * * *

Am I glad my mom was afflicted with this terrible disease?

No. I wouldn't wish such tragedy on anyone.

But there is no question whatsoever in my mind that God has moved into this ugly place and used her illness to bring healing and peace in a way that seemed utterly impossible.

And so I am thankful, not for the disease, but for our amazing God who took the broken pieces of my mother's life and transformed them into something beautiful, precious and whole.

* * * * *

Stories about my less-than-perfect dad:

Father's Day Musings About A Bad Dad

My Mother And Me

Spinning Gold Out Of Straw

Fresh Air

Hockey Night In Canada

News Trend We Shall Overcome|Actual

source

We shall overcome

We shall overcome

We shall overcome someday

Oh, deep in my heart I do believe,

We shall overcome someday.

In honor of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's life and legacy, we sang this song in church today.

As the words unfurled from my tongue and the music swirled about the room, my mind's eye was transported back to the days when he was alive.

The Lord will see us through

The Lord will see us through

The Lord will see us through someday

Oh, deep in my heart I do believe

The Lord will see us through someday.

Though I was only a little girl, I intuitively grasped the issues of his work.

Decent men and women were upset that the world did not treat them fairly.

Just because they were black.

Some whites were upset about it too.

I recall seeing pictures of the marches in magazines and on television, and I was deeply touched by what I saw.

We'll walk hand in hand

We'll walk hand in hand

We'll walk hand in hand someday

Oh, deep in my heart I do believe

We'll walk hand in hand someday.

These people, some genteel in their formal coats and dress shoes and stylish hats.

Other wearing the plain simple clothes of working folks.

Calmly, serenely, they walked in steady streams.

The sound of their footsteps often punctuated by spiritual songs

As if they were coming home from a morning at church.

You would never guess they were fighting against evil.

But even as a tiny child, I knew they were.

We are not afraid We are not afraid

We are not afraid today

Oh, deep in my heart I do believe

We are not afraid today.

And today, though we still have a ways to go before we completely overcome the dark powers of racial inequality, the truth is that we have come a long, long way since the days of Dr. King.

But sometimes, I wonder if we have lost track of the truth that racism is a spiritual battle.

Dr. King knew that it was.

He invoked the power of the pulpit and prayer in his pursuit of peace.

His speeches convey the lilting cadence of God talk.

His Biblical references and spiritual imagery flow freely.

And sometimes, I wonder if we have forgotten that.

So today, on this day that celebrates the life of this courageous and remarkable man, I pray that we remember and lift up equality as not a political issue or an ugly argument about white privilege.

I pray that we remember what Dr. King taught us - that racism is evil, and only God can truly set us free from its wicked grasp.

And I pray that someday, we will indeed live in peace.

We shall live in peace

We shall live in peace

We shall live in peace someday

Oh, deep in my heart I do believe

We shall live in peace someday.

* * * * *

More reflections on this special man:

MLK Day Musings

News Trend The Third Time|Actual

This is the back side of the secret building where Ranger and I walk every day.

We first come round at the far end, down by the street light,

and stomp along the lane that runs the full length of the back side of the building.

Barely visible in the shadows are the three slim trees that grow against the building;

the four large windows against the darker grey siding help highlight their location.

Yet another encounter with my owl today.

That's three times in one week. But this time was different than the others.

* * * * *

On our usual walk, with darkness gathering round, Ranger and I cornered our secret building. As soon as the back lawn came into view, my eyes immediately began searching for a white shape among the trees against the building.

I didn't see anything.

And honestly, I suddenly began to doubt that I had ever seen anything. Every day for the past week, I wanted so badly to see that owl, but how did I know for sure that my brain wasn't fooling my eyes into some sort of illusion or trick?

That was entirely possible.

My eyes continued to scan the bare branches of the trees against the building as my brain counseled caution and my feet marched along.

Then.

Suddenly.

Two things happened at once.

* * * * *

Someone inside the building switched on a light. One of the windows directly behind the trees lit up in a flash, and the trees' silhouette now stood out visibly before my eyes.

And in that silhouette, I saw something that was most decidedly not a bare branch.

Near the top of the illuminated window, I saw the outline of something solid, with rounded lobes. Clearly, this was the lower tip of something that extended up into the darkness above the window. Something that looked almost like the tip of a bird's wing.

A big bird's wing.

Adrenalin shot through my body.

My skeptical brain quickly offered up an explanation. This was no owl. This was a small cluster of dead leaves that still clung to the tree, as winter leaves often do.

Well. That would make sense.

But at the same time, my mind's eye clearly recalled that every single inch of those limbs was bare.

Now my skin began to prickle and my hair stood up.

* * * * *

In the same split second, Ranger made a bold move.

Though he had been happily prancing along with me in the center of the paved lane, he suddenly veered toward the lawn, in a direct line toward the base of the trees. He didn't bark or make any overt sign of aggression, but my keenly attuned hunting dog moved with clear motives of instinct and intent.

* * * * *

Then a third thing happened.

It's hard to describe because I didn't actually hear or see anything. But beyond the power of my human senses, I felt a bolt of energy hit me like a surge of electricity.

Chills swept over me.

My body trembled, inside and out.

My brain scrambled to try to make sense of what was happening.

Then I saw it.

Majestic, powerful, enormous bird.

Wings outstretched against the dark sky.

Swiftly, silently, rising up and away from the building.

When my owl was directly over Ranger's agitated red head, the bird abruptly altered his course. I watched as he executed a sharp ninety-degree turn, now traveling directly away from me and my dog, and quickly disappeared into the shadows of the wood.

No part of me felt fear, but I experienced all these things with an almost unbearable tension.

Our third encounter now complete, Ranger and I walked on in the darkness and all I could think was I couldn't wait to see my owl again;

* * * * *

I'm still not sure why this bird has such a profound effect on me.

And I realize that this sounds rather dramatic and extreme.

But after these experiences, I can honestly say that when I see my owl, I feel as though I am staring into the very face of God.

* * * * *

For more stories about my owl, read these:

Vast and Beautiful Mysteries Of Life

Burung Hantu

This Powerful Gift

News Trend A Little Golden Tale|Actual

?Be thou comforted, little dog, Thou too in Resurrection shall have a little golden tail?

- Martin Luther

The season of Lent is here.

Now is the time to put away the last traces of the Christmas glitz and glamour - oh, yes, I do still have my garlands up and lights a-blazing - and settle down into the certainty of the pre-Easter season, which is this:

We are mortal. Just as surely as we were born, we will one day die.

But we need not fear death, because God promises us something more.

I know. At first, that feels like an unbearably heavy message, doesn't it.

But if we can receive those words with faith, then joy of Easter and the promise of heaven will undoubtedly follow.

* * * * *

In other news, I took Ranger to the vet this week.

He has, I am sorry to say, a huge tumor on his back end. It's not cancerous, thank goodness, but it is a nasty, inoperable thing, and there is no way to stop it from growing. I am being challenged to settle down into the certainty of his doctor's words, which were this:

Take your dog home. Give him the best life you possibly can

And when his suffering becomes too much, let him go.

Ouch. At first, that felt like an unbearably heavy message for me.

But I have to remind myself that Ranger is just as mortal as anyone else. And just as surely as he was born, his little doggy life has been long, and the day that he will die draws near.And God promises more to him - oh yes, dogs most certainly do go to heaven - and so I am working to receive Dr. Bennett's words with faith, and live out Ranger's life in joy.

And now please excuse me, as it's time to take my good dog for a walk.

News Trend Alright|Actual

For the past few weeks, life in my little corner of the world has been rough.

I personally don't have much to complain about.

But all around me, friends are going through unspeakably difficult times.

Life support.

Emergency surgery.

Conferences with somber, hope-less doctors.

And straight-up unexpected death.

Court cases.

Physical and emotional abuse.

Prison sentences.

And painful transitions to foster families.

Depression.

Bipolar.

Ineffective meds.

Overwhelming frustration and suicide.

At times like this, I'm tempted to write the whole world off as unthinkably cruel and hopelessly messed up.

Sometimes my mind can't handle any more.

But my heart and soul fear nothing.

Because I know, deep and true, that we are not alone in this sometimes heartless world.

Just as surely as spring comes again, and crocuses rise from their dry, brown bulbs to bloom in glory, so does God's love shine like the sun and warm our hearts with his tender mercy and care.

I know. Not everyone has such a gift of faith. Not everyone believes in happy endings.

But I do.

And if you have any doubt about that, then I am praying that God will fill your heart and soul with the certainty that he loves you more than you can possibly know, and that, as impossible as it may seem right now, everything is going to be alright.

News Trend The Gifts Of Easter|Actual

This is how much God loved the world:

He gave his Son, his one and only Son.

The very best thing about Easter, I think, is that it offers a gift for everyone in the whole wide world.

The point of the whole 'Jesus dying on a cross and then raising from the dead' drama was to demonstrate God's crazy love and bottomless forgiveness for human beings.

All human beings. God loves the whole world.

And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him,

anyone can have a whole and lasing life.

God made one thing very clear - he didn't put Jesus up on a cross to die just to save

Jesus' friends and followers,

the future self-proclaimed Christians, or

the perfect people in the world.

God loves each and every one of us.

He let Jesus die for each and every one of us.

Doesn't really matter how we might feel about God.

He adores us all exactly as we are and he wants us all to live in love, joy, peace and hope.

God didn't go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely

to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was.

He came to help, to put the world right again.

God offers you and me his unending, unfathomable love and forgiveness, and what we decide to do about that is completely up to us.

So we are free to practice any religion we want:

Judaism,

Islam,

Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism,

Christianity,

Or no religion at all.

God gives each and every one of us the freedom to chose.

Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted.

But if we decide that we want to claim his promise of boundless love and infinite forgiveness, well, that offer is always on the table.

And all we need to do to receive the joyful gifts of Easter is to simply reach out and take them.

* * * * *

More Easter stories? Yes.

Easter All Over Again

About Easter

Ham Dinner

New Life

The Gifts Of Easter

What I Know About Easter

What Is Easter Dinner?

Easter Dinner

Good Friday

Maundy Thursday

Easter Morning In Malaysia

Easter Eats

The Very Colorful Easter Art

Better Than Bunnies Part Two

Better Than Bunnies Part One

News Trend Coincidence|Actual

"Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous." - Albert Einstein

This week, I stumbled upon a book left lying around the house by my second-born, and soon fell fast and deep into the story.

During a time of frustration and pain in her own life, a teenage girl loses her dearly beloved uncle. As she grieves, she must come to terms with the new knowledge that her uncle was gay, and died from AIDS. Making peace with his lover is a critical step as she rebuilds relationships with her family.

[Tell The Wolves I'm Home by Carol Rifka Brunt]

Last night, my husband scrolled through a list of movie ideas, and randomly chose one for us to watch. I was riveted.

During a season of stalled growth in his own life, a thirty-something man loses his dearly beloved father. As he grieves, he must come to terms with the fact that four years before his death, at age 75, his father came out as a life-long gay, and died with his new lover at his side. Making peace with his father's partner is a critical step as he works to establish a relationship with a new woman in his life.

[Beginners written and directed by Mike Mills]

* * * * *

Well. Cue the thunder bolts, electrical jolts and epic floods.

Because I can see that these plot lines share more than a passing similarity.

And the emotions that I felt as each story unwound

my fondness for the main characters,

my sympathetic pain and confusion for their struggles,

my shifty discomfort that the endings left things far from truly resolved,

were spot-on the same. I feel as if I'd strapped into two seemingly unrelated roller coasters and ended up taking the exact same ride

God often lays for me a trail of bread crumbs like this one. I know without a doubt that I'm supposed to pay attention and learn something from this pair of matching stories, this highly specific coincidence.

But I haven't figured out yet what that might be.

I have no severely ill or recently deceased male relatives.

I'm seriously lacking in father figures altogether.

No recently outed gays in my life.

Ditto that on any loved ones' partners whom I might be challenged to love and accept.

So, without any obvious parallels in my life, I have a bit of a mystery on my hands.

In the next few days, I'll be mulling over this puzzle.

I'll go back to each story, rereading passages and rewatching key scenes.

I'll daydream about each story makes me feel and what buttons each one pushes within me.

And I'll probably end up asking God to make his point a bit more clear. Sometimes I need extra help to catch on.

But one thing I know for sure: whenever I experience a coincidence like this one, the real truth is that it is no coincidence at all.

News Trend My Miniature Art Gallery|Actual

"I've stood outside my house in Montana looking at the northern lights...Crackling against the sky.

To me, that's magic."-Christopher Paolini

Oh, it all started out so innocently, as my decorating projects often do.

I'd just repainted my bedroom floor a perfect white like a fresh field of snow, moved out a few pieces of furniture, and freed up one long wall along my side of the bed.

Perfect, I thought. Free range minimalism. I'll keep that wall as empty as a Montana landscape and enjoy the tranquil expanse of nothing.

Seemed like a perfectly sound plan.

Until I had a dream.

And in this dream, I saw a perfect vision of my blank wall.

Except it was no longer blank.

I dreamed very precisely of a miniature art gallery. With four medium-sized paintings in light, airy colors. And below the paintings, off to one side, a live edge wood slab bench with hairpin legs and topped with a sheepskin, where one could sit and contemplate the paintings.

Just like a real art gallery with a tiny place to rest and look.

^ Exactly like this.

And even though I didn't know that I wanted a little art gallery along my bedroom wall, I suddenly realized I had no choice in the matter. The gallery wanted me, and that was that.

^ wood terbaru IKEA

^? Dreams really do come true.

And I'm happy that my wall is no longer as wide open as Big Sky country, because now it reflects the lights and colors of my dreams.

^? Dreams really do come true.

And I'm happy that my wall is no longer as wide open as Big Sky country, because now it reflects the lights and colors of my dreams.

^? Dreams really do come true.

And I'm happy that my wall is no longer as wide open as Big Sky country, because now it reflects the lights and colors of my dreams.

^? Dreams really do come true.

And I'm happy that my wall is no longer as wide open as Big Sky country, because now it reflects the lights and colors of my dreams.

^? Dreams really do come true.

And I'm happy that my wall is no longer as wide open as Big Sky country, because now it reflects the lights and colors of my dreams.

^? Dreams really do come true.

And I'm happy that my wall is no longer as wide open as Big Sky country, because now it reflects the lights and colors of my dreams.

^  Dreams really do come true.

And I'm happy that my wall is no longer as wide open as Big Sky country, because now it reflects the lights and colors of my dreams.

News Trend About Easter|Actual

If you have a firm and solid grasp of the true meaning of Easter, then I salute you. Feel free to skip over this story and move on with the rest of your life.

But.

If, like me, you scratch your head over this whole dying on the cross and rising from the tomb situation, then let me invite you to puzzle through this with me.

I'm not saying I have all the answers about Easter. But I can tell you a few things that I have worked out to be true.

I believe in a loving God

who made us with thoughtfulness and care and good intentions,

who stays with us through all that life throws at us,

who never holds a grudge,

who loves us during every instant of our lives, from our first breath to our last.

I believe God wants us to feel so happy and safe and secure in his love that we naturally want everyone else in this world to feel that same joy. He wants us to share his love - each of us in our own special way - with other people, to spread his love around the world.

When we really get in tune with God's love this way, we are helping him to bring in the kingdom. That's what we were born for. That's what sets our hearts pumping and gets us tingling from head to toe. Bringing in the kingdom makes us feel alive like nothing else. I believe it's the deepest purpose of human life.

I believe there is just one thing that sometimes gets in the way of this amazing flow of love. One really big thing.

Sin.

Sin is big but sin is simple. Sin is anything that

sets us at odds with God, or

puts us in conflict with one another.

We humans are imperfect. We fall into little traps of sin every darn day, and it just can't be helped. Sin is nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of, any more than we should be embarrassed that our fingernails grow or ashamed that we sneeze from time to time.

Sin is part of being human.

Now here's where sin becomes a bigger duduk perkara. Some humans get a little prideful about sin.

We like to imagine that there are different categories of sin, different levels of sinfulness. We tell ourselves that whatever we might be doing wrong is nothing compared to what other people are doing wrong, right?

Wrong.

In God's eyes, sin is sin is sin. It's all the same to him.

Some people find that truth to be annoying, unfair, unacceptable. They insist that, for example, losing patience with a grouchy toddler is nothing compared to kidnapping that toddler. They spend hours scouring the Bible for specifics about which sins are the worst sins.

And my human brain can kind of see the logic in that.

But I believe that is not how God sees it.

See, God does not want us to waste our time on sin.

He knows that we can't help sinning. But he wants us to learn from it, get over it, put the sin behind us as quickly as possible, because he's got better things for us to be doing.

He wants us to focus our time and energy on love, on helping him bring in the kingdom, right?

Right.

And that's where Easter comes in.

God let Jesus die on the cross so he could say,

"Look, my dear children, I brought this amazing person named Jesus into the world so he could explain my heart to you, so you could get in tune with my love, so you could help me bring in my amazing kingdom.

"But even in the midst of that beautiful plan, I allowed sin to run wild and I allowed Jesus to get nailed to that cross and die, all so you can see that I'm serious about forgiving sin.

"I forgive all sin.

"All the time.

"When you're feeling bad about something you did or said, ask me to forgive you and I will. And then the sin is gone. Forever. Without a trace. I wash you clean and give you a completely fresh start. And I will keep forgiving you, every single day, as long as you keep asking.

"And when you learn to accept my forgiveness and let go of your sin, every single day, you will be transformed. Just as Jesus walked out of that tomb on Easter morning, pure and shining and fully alive, you too will reborn into a new life of love and light. A life where sin has no hold on you. A life where love triumphs over sin. A life where you help me bring in my kingdom."

* * * * *

Now I'll be the first to say that I can't be sure about all this. But I think about Easter a lot. And I believe, just maybe, that this is true.

* * * * *

More Easter stories? Yes.

Easter All Over Again

About Easter

Ham Dinner

New Life

The Gifts Of Easter

What I Know About Easter

What Is Easter Dinner?

Easter Dinner

Good Friday

Maundy Thursday

Easter Morning In Malaysia

Easter Eats

The Very Colorful Easter Art

Better Than Bunnies Part Two

Better Than Bunnies Part One

News Trend Reading Insights|Actual

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn

Can you ever truly go home again? That's the question this second-rate journalist from a third-rate Chicago newspaper attempts to answer as she heads back to her podunk Missouri hometown to investigate a string of murders. Camille's broken family relationships, tendency to over-drink, obsession with cutting herself, and predilection for falling into bed with the wrong men notwithstanding, she eventually shaves away the distractions and gets at the truth.

* * * * *

Without giving away too much, let me say that one of the central themes of this story explores the human need to be needed, and what happens when that desire runs unchecked.

Interestingly, this question has been bubbling up in multiple places across my life this past week; I've stumbled across books, movies, and TV shows delving into different facets of this overwhelming need to be needed. Thankfully, the sources are all works of fiction, but they pose chilling and intriguing scenarios of how far adults - especially parents - will go to keep children in a state of prolonged dependency so that they, the grown-ups, can hold onto the feelings of connection and intimacy that come from caring for their vulnerable charges.

While our storytellers spin out dramatic tales of poisonings, deceptions, and murder, the truth is that most adults must face this same painful transition in our everyday lives as parents.

We bring helpless infants into this world, literally unable to even hold their own heads up, let alone fend for themselves. For the next two decades, we devote ourselves tirelessly to protecting them, providing for them, pouring our hearts out to give them whatever they need.

And then, in what feels like a snap of the fingers to us parents, our children grow up. They become capable, self-contained human beings and they no longer need us.

Oh, of course, they still love us and enjoy the security we represent. They like having us around and even come to appreciate the ways we cared for them back in the day when they needed us.

But once they are grown, our children don't need us any more. And as this book and the other stories like it caution us, we parents must never ever fool ourselves into thinking that they do.

So what are we to do, we humans who need to be needed, once our children no longer need us?

Here is the best answer I have worked out so far. With God's blessing, we set our children free, and we carry on with our own lives to see where else in the world we might be needed.

* * * * *

P.S. In case you're wondering, I did not buy this book. I borrowed it from my first-born which just goes to show that sometimes, I'm the one who needs her.

* * * * *

Read more about what I've been reading:

Reading Afternoons

Reading Mornings

Reading Children's Books

Reading Memories

Reading Recommendations

Reading Inspiration

Reading Insights

Reading At The Pool

Reading About The Desert

Reading On Repeat

Reading Natalie Babbitt

Reading The Truth

Reading Books That Are Blue

* * * * *

Read more about what I've been reading:

Reading Afternoons

Reading Mornings

Reading Children's Books

Reading Memories

Reading Recommendations

Reading Inspiration

Reading Insights

Reading At The Pool

Reading About The Desert

Reading On Repeat

Reading Natalie Babbit

Reading The Truth

Reading Books That Are Blue

Reading Mysteries

Reading About Walking

News Trend Road Trip Day 11: Howell, MI to Albert Lee, MN|Actual

Off we go on another all-American family road trip.

Two parents

Two daughters

A big red dog

And a car full of suitcases, leashes, a cooler, bags of food, blankets, pillows, maps, books, extra sweatshirts, water bottles, bags, backpacks, and a whole slew of electronic devices and their chargers.

Where are we going and what will we do when we get there? Just wait and see.

* * * * *

Michigan

Indiana

Illinois

Wisconsin

Minnesota

We're heading west with abandon now, picking up momentum as we dash through the Great Hardwood Forest, over the mighty Mississippi, and out into the open prairie.

Some prime sightseeing lies in store for the final leg of the trip, but our primary purposes have been accomplished. We laid my mother-in law to rest, and spent several days catching up with my mom, whose Lewy Body Dementia continues its ugly advance.

And as today's sun sank down into a fiery glow on the windswept horizon, I found myself wondering, which is more difficult - to bid farewell to the earthly presence of one mother or to walk out the door and leave behind the failing, tortured mind of the other?

I don't know. Both are pretty heartbreaking.

All I can be sure of is this: my faith is the only thing that is keeping me going.

My faith tells me that no matter how chaotic this world may feel, God is always, ALWAYS in control

My faith reminds me that the separation between this life and the next is but a veil.

My faith promises me that God loves each and every life with equal value and tenderly holds us all.

My faith helps me control myself when all I want to do is sit down and cry for a million years.

My faith calms my troubled heart.

And for all those things, I am grateful.

Distance covered today: 661 miles

Total miles so far: 3383 miles

News Trend Happy Fourth Day Of Christmas|Actual

Each year as Christmas approaches, the handmade ornament wheels in my brain start to turn.

Always, my goal is to produce a little trinket to share with family and friends but the fine points of each creation is totally left to my whims. Often, my inspiration comes from certain materials - wood, paper, beads - or colors or random ideas that mash up in my brain.

This year, though each of those factors played a role, my ornament design was primarily a nod to the themes of my life during the past year.

^ Random rectangles of air-dry clay, roughly hewn into rectangles with a toothpick and speared twice to create hanging holes. My process was intentionally raw and unrefined; my finished product turned out nice and scruffy.

^ Pristine, shiny, delicate red baubles with fancy filigreed fasteners. I didn't have to do a single thing to prepare these beauties for the project - they were pure and perfect from the get-go.

I know. That sounds like quite a bit of philosophical baggage for a bitty little Christmas ornament to carry. But hear me out.

^ There's an undeniable contrast between the two elements that pleases me. I like mis-matchy things.

More than ever before, this was a year of yin and yang for me. Some parts of my life were gilded and shining and almost perfect; others were irreconcilably flawed. Although I would usually choose to live comfortably in the merry middle, these intense and opposite experiences reminded me that there is also grace and peace to be found in the extreme highs and lows.

^ Golden cursive is hand-painted and therefore less than perfect, but provides a counterpoint to the two extremes. The detailed, repetitive brush work is like therapy for me.

So whether your year was a blissfully uneventful stroll through the seasons or a walk on the wild side, like mine, I hope that you have found beauty and joy in the journey.

^ Voilà! Say hello to my 2015 Ornament of the Year.

And now, for the love of Pete, let's all buckle our seat belts and hold on to the handrails as we discover what 2016 might have in store.

* * * * *

For more Ornament of the Year posts, check these out:

2017

2016

2015

2014

2013

2012

2011

* * * * *

Celebrate the Twelve Days of Christmas with me!

The First Day

The Second Day

The Third Day

The Fourth Day

The Fifth Day

The Sixth Day

The Seventh Day

The Eighth Day

The Ninth Day

The Tenth Day

The Eleventh Day

The Twelfth Day

AndEpiphany too.

News Trend Tonight|Actual

"Some days are just bad days, that's all." - Dita Von Tesse

This photo was taken at the airport last summer, while my family was waiting for my third-born's plane to arrive from Vietnam. My baby was almost home and I was beyond excited.

Tonight, I feel sad.

Deeply, profoundly, soul-wearyingly sad.

Tonight is the last night of the Christmas holiday. After a lovely two-week break, my real world of classes and schedules and lessons will resume tomorrow morning.

Which means, for me, tonight is the darkest night of the year.

Now, no doubt most of the world shares my melancholy. Surely we all would much rather spoil ourselves with another couple weeks of festivities than haul ourselves off to work.

But I might get a little lost in my malaise. Beyond the general gloom of the workaday week, I take my frettings to a metaphysical realm

I ponder the meanings of life and death.

I recall raw emotions from my childhood.

I grieve again for losses and sadnesses.

I feel an overwhelming fear that life will never measure up to its promise

And I worry that I will feel this sad for a long, long time.

Kind of depressing, right?

But at the time, I was also profoundly worried. My daughter was struggling with a mighty problem, and I overflowed with concern for her. And although her return flight to Asia was several months off,  I dreaded her eventual departure and struggled to think I could ever send her off again.

However, after dealing with this back-to-school phenomenon every year of my life, I also know one thing for sure to be true:

This too shall pass.

But you can guess the end of this story. She dealt with her issues, strengthened her soul, and flew back to Vietnam with her confidence and courage intact. And in the end, it turns out that I was happy to let her go.

By tomorrow morning,

my eyes will blink open

my mind will turn to trinomials

my car will transport me to my students' homes

and my life will feel happy and rich and full once again.

Yep. I know these end-of-Christmas-break blues will last only for tonight, and I'll get through them just fine, as I always do.

But just for tonight, I feel sad.

* * * * *

Celebrate the Twelve Days of Christmas with me!

The First Day

The Second Day

The Third Day

The Fourth Day

The Fifth Day

The Sixth Day

The Seventh Day

The Eighth Day

The Ninth Day

The Tenth Day

The Eleventh Day

The Twelfth Day

AndEpiphany too.

News Trend One Thing About Kellen|Actual

Let me tell you some things I know about my friend, Kellen.

In many ways, he's a decent and fairly ordinary guy.

He loves:

watching professional sports,

listening to music,

swimming, fishing, hanging out on his cousin's boat,

playing tennis, working out, riding bikes with his uncle,

throwing around a football or a baseball, or kicking around a soccer ball,

eating,

cooking,

Jesus,

and spending time with the people he loves,

especially his nine-year-old son.

Kellen and I have known each other for a year and a half now, and I can tell you for a fact that he is a deep thinker and interesting conversationalist, open to examining his own life and willing to consider new possibilities.

He's also thoughtful, considerate, and devoted to being a good friend. I can always count on him to be honest with me, and to hear my blunt questions with positive intent. He says thank you a lot, and opens doors for me.

Kellen and I are friends. Good, solid, tried-and-true friends.

And while all those wonderful things about Kellen are 100% factual and true, there is something else you should know.

Kellen is a heroin addict.

For somewhere around fifteen years, he has battled many demons:

using pretty much every street drug he can get his hands on,

stealing from the people he loves,

committing felonies,

running from the police,

destroying relationships with his loved ones,

living a life of utter chaos.

He's gone to rehab, experienced horrible withdrawals, sobered up, relapsed, run back to the streets, more times than he can count or even remember.

He's been arrested, convicted of felonies, and served time in prison.

He's told a shocking number of lies, in order to save himself from even deeper trouble.

He's turned his life over to Jesus, then fallen away, over and over again.

And I will tell you the honest truth. Sometimes it is hard to be Kellen's friend. It's hard to see him want to do the right thing in his life, only to struggle and fall down, time and time again. It's hard to watch him make the mistakes that addicts make, and know that I cannot fix him. It's hard to remind myself, over and over again, that he has to figure this out for himself.

But of all the things I know about Kellen, this is the most true.

God loves him.

I have never in my life seen so many miracles fall into one person's life.

I have no words to describe the wild twists and turns that happen in Kellen's life every week or so, that allow him to keep walking on a path toward sobriety.

I have observed countless times that when Kellen makes even a tiny effort to do the right thing, God takes his step forward and multiplies it, many times over, to bring good into Kellen's life, right when he needs it most.

Lord knows Kellen hasn't yet reached his destination of sober living. But God seems utterly determined to remove the obstacles in his way and give him the second, third, fourth...Twentieth, thirtieth, fortieth chances that he needs to keep on walking in the right direction.

And so if there is any one thing I would like you to know about my friend, Kellen, it's this:

His painful, chaotic, off-the-rails life is living proof, right before my very eyes, that

no matter what we do wrong,

no matter how far we fall,

no matter how many times we screw up,

God loves us, far more than we can ever understand.

News Trend Praying For Heather|Actual

Heather is dying. Just a few more days is she likely to live. For the past four years, she has put up an astonishing fight against the lung disorder that is now taking her life. But in no way has she lost the battle.

Right this moment, she is surrounded by her family and dearest friends, spending her last precious hours wrapped up in their love.

This is victory.

This is triumph.

These holy moments are the prize of a life well-lived.

I knew Heather only during her high school years; her brother - who died of the same disease - and my first-born were close friends. I am not a hands-on player in her inner ring of support.

But I can pray for the courage, the fortitude, the glory of this tiny blond warrior woman.

So that is what I do.

Where our strength ends, God's strength is just beginning.

Heather, you know better than most of us the heights and depths of His indescribable love and I pray that as your journey continues, you will feel eternally safe and secure in His arms.

Death is not a punishment but it is a great mystery. Still, I have a feeling that when you slip beyond its veil, you will feel closer to your loved ones than we earth-bound humans can imagine.

I pray that your love will continue to pour down on your husband and your children.

I pray that they will feel, in dreams and precious still moments, the living presence of your loving spirit forever.

I pray especially for your children.

I pray that the love you've given them in their short lives is exactly what they need from you.

I trust that your guidance and influence on their character will stay with them always.

You have done your best for them with the time you were given, and that is absolutely the most that any mother can do.

I pray for the joy of your broken body made whole in heaven.

I pray for the blessed relief you will feel when this agonizing battle has ended.

And I smile to think of your reunion with your brother and other loved ones who await you in eternity.

Sweet peace to you, Heather, as you close your eyes and prepare for what comes next.

You are a precious child of God, a daughter with whom He is most certainly well pleased.

Amen.

News Trend Digging|Actual

"The best place to find God is in a garden. You can dig for him there."

- George Bernard Shaw

^ When my heart is heavy or my mind is full, I turn to my garden.

^ Not to stroll daintily among the roses, though I do make time to smell them.

^ Nor to idly pluck petals from a daisy as a means of making choices.

^ What I do is much messier than that.

I dig

big holes.

I shovel heaps of soil into my wheelbarrow

And I move them about, dumping piles here and there.

I pick out the rocks

I pluck out the weeds.

And with my trusty hose, I shoot streams of water to level out the terrain, creating swamps and mud holes in my wake.

Then I smooth over the rumpled surfaces with a deep layer of fresh mulch.

^ And usually, by the time I'm done digging for the day

dirty tools rinsed and put away,

weeds swept off to the composting bin,

my muddy feet scrubbed clean,

I'm feeling much, much better.