News Trend My Cubs Cups|Actual

I'm ridiculously excited.

Today is the day.

I've been dreaming of using these Chicago Cubs cups for exactly thirty-two years.

And today is the day I will finally drink from them.

This story begins in the fall of 1984, when my then-hometown Cubs had earned themselves a spot in the playoffs for the first time in decades. On a run through the grocery store, a package of Cubs-logo drink cups caught my eye, and I snatched them up, thinking they would be perfect for celebrating this milestone playoff run.

Once I got them home, I had second thoughts.

These cups were special.

More than playoff special.

These gems were World Series special.

And I made a promise to myself that I would use the cups when - and only when - the Chicago Cubs made it to the World Series.

Alas, the Cubs did not make it to the Series in 1984.

I pushed the cups to the back of the cupboard and told myself, "Just wait till next year."

The team didn't even make the playoffs in 1985 and my cups gathered dust.

In 1986, I moved across the country to Seattle, where my Cubs cups have been living in the bottom of my pantry for the past thirty years.

My children grew up with the story of the cups. Every now and then, the girls and I would dig the cups out of their hiding place, smooth down the aged plastic bag, admire the cute little bear cubs, and dream of the day - surely the day was coming, right? - when we would drink from them and celebrate our Cubs in the World Series.

Two decades slid by.

Now older and wiser, my teenage daughters devised a specific plan for using them. If - no, when! - the Cubs made it to the Series, we would wait till the conclusion of the seven-game match and then use our cups to toast their result: champagne for winning and beer even if they lose.

My ever-practical youngest daughter asked to inherit the cups, if they were still unused at the time of my death. I gave her my blessing.

Another decade passed.

But this year - I still can barely believe it's real - this year, the Chicago Cubs are playing in the World Series.

And tonight is the seventh and final game of that contest.

Tonight, we will drink from the cups.

Ample supplies of both champagne and good cheap bleacher-caliber beer are cooling in my fridge,

The cups are out of the pantry, and stand ready and waiting.

All that's left to do is play ball.

News Trend We Stand Together|Actual

Dumbfounded

Distraught

And a little bit pissed off.

Since the election, I've definitely been reeling with emotion and trying to make sense of our national nightmare.

I've read countless articles that rehash the outcome and attempt to determine what this result means:

Americans want a change.

The working class has been ignored too long.

Rural Americans have been ignored too long.

Racism/sexism/misogynism is far more common that anyone knew.

Pollsters suck.

Any or all of those explanations may be true and while the introspection is interesting, these facts don't really concern me.

And when I'm not wrapped up in U.S. Elections, I've tried my hand at Malaysian politics. Here I am at an Election Day rally in Kota Bharu, Kelantan. Probably the wildest night of my life.

Because I know that many Americans are as shocked and sickened as I am, and together, we are taking a stand.

We stand for hope.

We stand for decency, and we will show kindness to everyone we meet.

We stand for the vulnerable, and we will protect people at risk.

We stand for the hurting, and we will reach out to their broken hearts with compassion.

We stand for diversity, and we will embrace people who are different from us.

Some of us stand for Jesus, and we strive to live as he did, with mercy and compassion, honesty and grace.

The election did not turn out as the Kelantanese hoped, but they too stand together.

We stand for American ideals, and we will always believe in our nation's capacity for greatness.

We stand for truth and justice.

And most of all, we stand together for love.

News Trend Wise Words|Actual

I am also sending him this. I hope he likes it.

I have a friend who is in a dark place.

A profoundly and desperately dark place.

The results of this week's election mean precious little to him. His burdens are unaffected by presidential politics.

When I write to him, I try to offer him hope in my own words but I also like to enclose a meaningful quote. Here is what I sent to him today.

"Darkness comes. In the middle of it, the future looks blank. The temptation to quit is huge. Don't. You are in good company... You will argue that there is no way forward. But with God, nothing is impossible. He has more ropes and ladders and tunnels out of pits than you can conceive. Wait. Pray without ceasing. Hope."

- John Piper

No matter what your darkness may be, I pray that these wise words will resonate with beauty and clarity in your aching heart.

News Trend Walking Toward Heaven|Actual

It was one month ago today that my mom died.

But the truth is that I've been walking toward her death for the past thirteen years and six months.

* * * * *

It was Monday, September 1, 2003, when the six of us showed up unexpectedly on my mom's doorstep, that I first understood her destiny.

Baby Ranger.

Well. Technically, there were seven of us. My husband, four daughters and I had just driven across most the United States, from Seattle to Mancelona, Michigan, to fetch our new pup. And with a wriggly and wonderful Baby Ranger in our arms, we decided to treat my mom to a surprise visit with her new grandson as well as her human family.

Whispering excitedly, we assembled on her front porch, rang the bell, and held our breath as her footsteps sounded down the hall.

Surprise!

Hi, Grandma!

Look, we got a puppy!

Pandemonium broke out as Mom opened the door, smiling from ear to ear, to let us explode into her house. I watched her face carefully, enjoying the look of genuine surprise and delight that told me she was truly thrilled by our unannounced arrival.

Then I noticed something else.

It was a flicker that crossed behind her eyes.

A slight hint of something more than just a good surprise.

An expression of genuine confusion.

A momentary lost of control.

In that exact moment, as I stood frozen in place on the doorstep with my daughters and tiny puppy streaming past me, talking and laughing with Grandma in a flurry of wild energy, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my mom had dementia.

And I knew that dementia always ends in death. There is no cure.

* * * * *

In the thirteen years and six weeks since we stood on that porch, many things have happened.

My mom's illness healed our complicated relationship and brought us to a place of great peace.

My mom's illness also put her - and me - through hell.

For thirteen years and six weeks,

I've talked endless hours on the phone to her, even from Malaysia, India, and Vietnam.

I've worried about her through the dark hours of the night.

I've listened to her describe her hallucinations and acknowledged them as real.

I've gently advised her as she made decisions for herself.

I've baked her cookies.

I've helped her change her clothes and use the toilet.

I've reminded her over and over of the people who love her.

I've cried with her.

I've cried for her.

And I've prayed for her.

Sometimes wordlessly.

Because sometimes my heart was beyond words.

And sometimes I found the words to ask for exactly what I wanted - for God to surround her with his blazing light and purifying love, so that my mother would see only his majesty and none of this world's ugly hold on her.

On October 15, 2016, I rejoiced as he finally took her from her broken body to her great reward.

* * * * *

At the end of that week back in 2003, as we all piled back into the are and careened up the street, honking the horn and hollering our last goodbyes, I knew that my mother had dementia.

And in that moment, I began to walk with her toward heaven.

News Trend Guess Who|Actual

Once again, the Streicher women are reunited. My third-born flew in from Asia for the holidays and here we are, my four daughters and me, in all our leg and footwear glory.

What can you tell about us from our fashion choices? Let me spell out the specifics of each outfit and let's see if you can figure out who's who.

Clockwise from the top:

1. White high-top Chuck Taylor's with a pair of Abercrombie & Fitch boyfriend jeans

2. Black high-top Vans with Abercrombie & Fitch light wash jeans

3. White Birkenstocks with Gap jeans

4. Suede ankle boots from Target with a pair of Gap black leggings.

5. Heather grey sweatpants with navy canvas H&M high tops.

Take your best guess and then check your answers below!

* * * * *

Answers:

1. Emma

2. Tessa

3. Molly

4. Diane

5. Jane

News Trend My LUSH-ious New Shower|Actual

Long story short, I remodeled my shower to show off my soap.

Oh sure, I dove into this process with a lot of fancy ideas about hex tiles, contrasting class, black fixtures, luxurious slabs of marble, and frameless glass doors.

But as my down-to-earth contractor pointed out, it's easy to over-design a space with extravagant and expensive details.  Better to keep the overall look simple and clean, he advised, and let just a few personal touches shine through.

Immediately, I appreciated his wisdom and knew exactly how to proceed.

My focal point would be... Soap.

Now it may seem counter-intuitive to plan a bathroom around something so temporary and insignificant as a bar of soap, but that is exactly what I did.

However, this isn't your ordinary bar of Irish Spring.

I'm obsessed with snooty, upscale, artisinal, hipster soap.

Soap by LUSH.

And now my simple, white, pure and clean  shower stall - as well as the still-to-be-remodeled-rest of the bathroom - sets off my earth-toned bath bombs and golden body butters.

And it all looks pretty LUSH-ious to me.

News Trend This Powerful Gift|Actual

This is the tree where he sat and watched us walk by.

Ranger had posed at the same place earlier this fall.

Just as before, what I noticed first was a silent movement in the darkness.

A flurry of black shapes flitted across deep shadows.

I thought I was seeing a cluster of autumn leaves blown across the grass.

But wait. There was no wind.

In the split second that my mind pondered the contradiction, the fluttering darkness rose up from the ground and lit on a low branch of the nearby tree.

Soundlessly, Without so much as a hint of a whisper.

My skin burst out in a thousand tiny prickles.

And that is when I knew.

My owl was back.

Or more correctly, I was back to walking in the cover of darkness. Through the long days of summer and early fall, Ranger and I enjoyed our walks during the extended hours of daylight. Since we turned our clocks back last weekend, and the days grow shorter as the solstice draws near, our afternoon adventures veer closer to twilight. On this particular day, we'd left home later than usual and darkness had fallen completely.

My owl was just where I had seen him three times last winter, apparently still thriving on this schoolyard hunting ground.

He - or she - perched silent and still on the branch as we quietly walked past, oblivious Ranger with his nose in the bushes on the other side of the drive, me tingling from head to toe and trying to still the pounding of my heart.

My owl never moved.

As I walked on, still in a state of mystic shock, I pondered the fact that although I have had my fair share of wildlife encounters, I've never experienced anything so exhilarating, so mystifying, so profoundly spiritual as the sightings of my owl.

And I thank God for this powerful gift.

* * * * *

For more stories about my owl, read these:

Vast and Beautiful Mysteries Of Life

Burung Hantu

The Third Time