December 16, 2012



God spoke it into being...out of deep, deep darkness.

Isaiah prophesied about the coming Light into the world as the Messiah.  (Is. 9:2)  At this season, we celebrate Jesus Himself as that Messianic Light.  (Jn 8:12)

And so it is fitting that light is a prominent symbol at Christmas.  Lights on trees, in windows, in streets, in fireplaces, on advent wreaths and candles - they shine out a message.  And although many people decorating with lights don't pay attention to this deeper symbolism, some of us cherish this truth:

"For God who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ."  (2 Cor. 4:6)

Did you notice there is light in His face?  How will we see true light if we don't look there?

This has become my meditation this season.  Meditating on His coming into the world as Light.  Light that has meant salvation for the world.  Light that has meant salvation for you and for me.  Light that has shone into darkness.  Light that restores life:

"In Him was life, and that life was the light of men."  (Jn 1:4)

And so I am inviting Him to shine into my own dark places.  To let His light burn through them. To let His light reveal, purify and renew.  It is not easy or pleasant some days.  But I am especially desperate this year for His light in me.  For His life in me.  Desperate to celebrate His dawning in all of the places of my heart.  And for that I am looking to His face just as the psalmist did:

"Let the light of Your face shine upon us, O Lord."  (Ps. 4:6)

Wishing you a light-filled Christmas!

Photo by:  Lindsey B. Photography

December 9, 2012

Romance? You Bet.

Next year Mr. Adventure and I will celebrate 25 years together.  I am psyched - not only because there is incredible victory in two head-strong first borns getting through a quarter century together but also because he is planning a trip.  Just for us. We don't do that too often so I am getting really excited.

Where are we going, you ask?  It is a surprise.  And that is why I am writing to you, dear reader. I need advice...

Not that his nickname is a complete giveaway or anything but you can probably guess that I get a little nervous when I think about him planning a trip for us.  Only because his idea of a cool trip and my idea of a cool trip can be slightly different.  Yes, even after 24 years together, we still have trouble coming together on our ideas about some things.  A real shocker, I know.

So far, my only ground rules for where we go are simple:  I don't want to be cold and I don't want to have to wear a burka.  Or a tunic.  Or anything resembling maternity clothes.  That narrows it down slightly.  (I think he was grateful for that.) But for an anniversary trip I confess I am thinking about romance.  Some girls include roughing it and romantic in the same sentence.  I am not one of them.  In the movies, the girls who are roughing it still look beautiful all sweaty out in the desert or in some jungle without a shower for a week but it doesn't quite work that way for me.  I am clearly not Angelina Jolie and my life is clearly not in Hollywood.

Because our work takes us to lots of exotic and sometimes rustic places (and I am grateful), is it wrong to yearn for something simple, something safe and something in a place that is not at war?  Don't get me wrong, there can be romance in these settings but I guess I am a simple girl at heart just wanting some basic sight seeing in a beautiful place with no worries.  I would love to just walk with my tall man and see lovely country or seaside, linger in an outdoor cafĂ© with a book and good conversation and end the day with great food.  A bit traditional, I know. Predictable.   Right out of a chick flick, right?  Sigh.  Guilty as charged.

We both work hard and we're both tired.  This anniversary trip could be the most rest we'll get for a long time!  So I don't really want to go anywhere where there is a complicated border control, where I have to get painful shots, where toilets have pet names like "squatty potty" or where I attract a crowd for not looking like anyone else within a 2,ooo km radius.  I actually find myself yearning to be one of the tourists that we've always made fun of - perhaps because they go to more "normal" tourist destinations.  I don't think we'll be guilty of being an "ugly American".  I rather think we'd actually be interested in people and informed and ask unusual questions that reflect our deep interest in culture and we'll do it in some language other than English.  (My dear US friends, please accept my deepest apologies for this ranting!)

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?  Provence, Tuscany, Barcelona...Ahhhh, it sounds perfectly wonderful!  But what if he's thinking Tripoli, Darfur, Syria?   I know what he's up for.  He's always   RFA.  It's his self-appointed nick name:  "Ready For Anything".  I am not joking.   My version of  RFA is more like:  Romantic, Fire-friendly zone & Antipasto.  Or  Restful, Fun & Artistic.  I am definitely not marine corps material...

I am so thankful that we can even go on a trip - I don't mean to whine.  And I am thankful that because of my confidence in his love for me, I know that he will work hard to plan something that will delight both of us.  I am just wondering what he's up to or if I should leave any other hints...

Hmmm...I wonder if he'll read this post?

I know, I know.  Subtle, right?

Photo:  Restaurant Hacienda San Jose in Mexico

December 3, 2012


(On grief and loss at the holidays)

Who can deny the celebratory spirit in the air as the holidays approach?   At least in the modern western world, there is more music, colour, food & drink, parties, opportunities to give to multiple causes, festive presentations and traditions as varied as the numbers of families that participate.  But if we´ve lived long enough, we become aware as well of an invisible yet palpable sadness underlying it all.  Why such juxtaposition of emotions?

This year (as well as every year), many people are alone and have no one to celebrate with.  Others are living a very difficult season in some arena of their life and cannot embrace the joy.  There are the poor & disadvantaged who find the typical expressions of celebration beyond their means. Many of us reading this live in lands or work with those who live in lands where Christmas is a non-event.  We are far from loved ones and many external “environment enhancers” that remind & prepare us for the holidays. There are a myriad of reasons - from estranged relationships & divided families to illness to distance to finances - that dampen the holidays for many.

But these days I’m thinking about those who are grieving the loss of a person this Christmas. There are people all around us who are living their “First Christmas”:  the First Christmas without someone dear to them.  Their First Christmas with that empty ache, a place unfilled at the table, a void that is unquenchable, memories that hurt and well-meaning people completely forgetful about that important loss.  The entire house – and season – reverberates with loneliness & melancholy.   This is the underlying soulful tune being played alongside the joyful carols throughout the holidays.

My “First Christmas” came in 1997.  My youngest brother was killed in a car accident that September.  He was only 30 years old.  I was living in Argentina at the time with my husband & our two small girls.  I had travelled to California for the funeral and although I had experienced sadness and loss to some degree in other ways in my life, for the first time, grief appeared in living colour.  Actually, it didn’t just appear - it invaded.  And it marked my life forever.

Even though I had been living overseas for some time, and therefore was used to going two years at a time without seeing him, after his death he was everywhere.  For months I thought I saw him walking down the street or coming out of a store or hanging with a group of young people in a plaza.  Young people don’t just die before Christmas!  They are supposed to outlast their parents!  But he didn’t.  I grieved him being gone.  I grieved for my Mom, for my Dad.  I grieved for his girlfriend.  I grieved for the whole family.  And I felt very, very far away.  But grief doesn’t respect kilometers.  It doesn’t respect age.  It doesn’t respect culture or economic status or your marriage or your role as a parent.  It doesn’t respect how mature you are or even how spiritual you are.  It just comes.  And it lingers…at the holidays, at birthdays, and at other special days that are part of your memory with that person.

As the years pass, there is a strange phenomenon with grief that recurs at the holidays.  It is resurrected.  There is something so collective, so relational about the holiday season that even after you make it through the First one, every successive holiday that brings any reminder of that family member or friend, resurrects sadness.  Sometimes it comes upon you through other unrelated things – you find yourself “crying for no reason”.  You may not even put the pieces together but I have found that much of it traces back to resurrected grief over that person.

Seven years later after having moved to Spain, I had another even more cruel “First Christmas”.  I lost my Mom, in the same month as my brother, but this time to a suicide.  I was devastated.  Beyond the sadness was the terrible guilt, with its choking questions and “what if’s”.  I developed a fear of depression as it had played a role in her death.  My role as the eldest daughter was complicated by living a continent away.  My Mom had been renting and we had to get everything out quickly.  This forced me to decide many things before I was ready.  When I returned to Spain, exhausted and grief-stricken, the festivities arrived quickly and were completely overwhelming.  I wanted to scream at the world, “How can you be celebrating?!  Don’t you know my Mom is gone?!”  I had to press on as a mother myself and enter reluctantly into some of our traditions for the sake of my own 3 kids.  But there was no joy that year for me.  Any half-hearted joy expressed was purely for my kids’ sake.

The ensuing Christmases have been slowly, but steadily, more merry.  But for me, Christmas changed forever in 1997.  Then it was irrevocably branded in 2004.  Certain elements of my Christmas Past are gone and my mood is wistful this time of year.  I miss receiving Mom’s “perfect” gifts.  I miss my brother’s relationship to his nieces.  I miss my Mom’s exuberant, child-like excitement at Christmas.  I worry about my Dad, my other surviving brother, my Mom’s siblings.  There is gratitude for memories sweet.  And there is regret for things not lived.  There is melancholy and there is love.  They are my companions at Christmastime.

This holiday season, may we all be aware of the underlying bittersweet carol that plays all around us – and reach out to touch a heart in need.

*If it would help you or someone you know to read a more complete version of my journey with grief,  “Grief in the First Person”, please write to me at:

**If you or someone you know have recently lost someone you love, I recommend this small but powerful series in the healing process:  Special Care Series by Doug Manning

Photo by:  Samurajii

November 12, 2012


When you travel by airplane, there are many kinds of landings: smooth, rough, lucky, terrible...People are usually glad to be on the ground again and often clap after a successful one (or maybe it was after a terrible flight that has finally come to an end and they clap in relief).

Landing means (1) you have arrived safely - even if the flight was rough and (2) you are in a different place than when you left (hopefully).   Landings are a big deal.  No matter what the flight was like, one thing is certain:  your new destination holds something new for you and your mind begins to fill with the expectations of this new place and what it holds.

Travels to new places...or new seasons of life...can carry different kinds of "landings" with them.  There are exciting landings which set you into a vacation, into love, into a new job, a new opportunity, a new role, culture, language, way of life...or landings into grief and loss, crisis and challenge.  Landings always seem to hold something new and least from the place you left when you got on.

I am experiencing a rough "landing" right now.  Actually, I physically "landed" two months ago, but for some reason my emotions & spirit can't seem to catch up with my physical body.  There is an internal struggle in different arenas and a seeming inability to settle in again in spite of much experience in this place.  My role has changed, my team is changing, my body is changing, my family is changing, even my marriage is changing.  I feel like there is a stranger who has invaded my person (not to get freaky or anything).  I don't recognize certain reactions or emotions or desires - No! these are impostors!  This isn't the real me!

Then who is the real me?  I ask myself this all the time right now.  It's driving me quite mad.  I prefer the landings where people clap.  Where people are getting off to happy things like tropical vacations or family adventures.  I didn't ask to land into change or loss or certain areas of grief!  On the other hand,  I bought the ticket.  I got on the plane.  I chose this life.  And I've landed.

I do want to settle in - in body, mind, soul and spirit.  Please unite them into one again, Lord.  Help me to "land my heart" again each day - day after day after day - until it makes sense, until I release, until I learn & mature...and until I begin to clap.

photo by:  Magic_Man

October 26, 2012

THE ROCK FROM WHICH YOU'RE CUT (on life calling)

"Look to the rock from which you were cut
and to the quarry from which you were hewn..."     Isaiah 51:1

The rock.
That sacred place you sensed The Call.
The granite altar where you said Yes.
It's the time & place you put down a stake that marked a change of direction -
and a piercing change of heart.

Through the years you've had to return there.
Sometimes with glad recognition & gratitude.
Sometimes with a heavy heart that is counting the cost.
Sometimes with desperate grasping for something solid to stand on
in the midst of deep questions & doubt.

But the rock is there.
Gaze on it often.  Ponder its meaning.
Consider its significance for today.
Gain strength & perspective from it.

And if there comes a desperate day
when you look back & cannot see it -
You must go away for a while with The Caller and listen.
Listen & watch.
Let Him paint the picture again,
whisper into your heart's memory,
remind you of the promise-words He gave you.

He will patiently revisit the quarry with you
and show you the place you were cut.
It will be a poignant visit.
It will be more sacred, more intimate than ever.
Because now you understand the cost.
Now you understand more about the price He paid for obedience.
Now you receive & live the rock's meaning with maturity.

The rock.
That hallowed place where you receive & renew your Call.
Let it give depth & security to today.
Treasure it.  Gain from it.

It's not just any rock.
It's your rock.
Live out your life as such.

Photo by: mikealten

October 19, 2012


Are you adjusting to some kind of "new normal" in your life?

I am.  And  so at first when I found myself crying about the stupidest things this week I was really questioning my sanity (I hadn't really put it all together yet).

The first time I caught myself crying was seeing my first futbol game of the season and seeing "my" team's new coach and it hit me:  Pep Guardiola (the old coach) is gone!  He is no longer our coach!  And this actually produced tears!  This is almost as bad as crying during a commercial when you're pregnant.

Yesterday in the pharmacy I was buying a medicine for my son who was home with the croup.  I explained the kind of cough and the pharmacist rather gruffly corrected my explanation (as Spaniards do; I should be used to this) and as he left to go get what I needed behind the counter I had to fight the tears back and say a mantra to myself:  "You will NOT cry about that.  You will NOT cry about that."

At the grocery store I was able to buy my favorite yogurt after not having it all summer (we were in the US).  Yes, there were tears as I put that yogurt in my cart.  It was yogurt, people!  This is NOT ok.  It was pathetic and tomorrow I am going to have myself committed.

It took dinner last night to have my "aha moment".

Last night as I served dinner to the guests at our house who are here for some local training, I looked around the table and was both overwhelmed & grateful for the craziness of my life.  There were 4 Italians, 1 Argentine, 1 Greek, 2 Africans, an American and the three of us battling out understanding in 4 languages.  Because these "United Nations moments" at my house are fairly regular and because my friends and my kids'  friends laugh at us, (simultaneously perplexed & awed that we have this kind of life), that's when it hit me:  my girls would love to be here this week.  And the tears came.  The difference was, this time I understood their source.

My "new normal" of no girls at home anymore (both are now stateside in college) has meant many things, but this week I've been subconsciously missing them simply as my "companions".  They are companions in many areas but this week I realized how much I missed their companionship in the kitchen.  Those conversations as you chop together, the instant understanding about what each should do next as we get a meal ready for guests, the crazy songs they burst into that make us all laugh, the inside jokes as we work in joyful chaos together.  I realized this week in the kitchen (in spite of generous help from the guests) that I felt disorganized, behind and that I was struggling to "get it together".  And it dawned on me:  I usually have extra hands that make my load light & more fun.  And my heart ached I missed them so much.

There are many other things that stir up longing for them:  photos, skype calls, prayers, e-mails full of their personality, empty rooms, hearing a song they love, friends asking about them and much more.  But sometimes you underestimate the little things you will miss & there are unexpected moments that almost take your breath away when the longing pierces you afresh.

My "new normal"  will take some getting used to.  In the meanwhile, I am making a list of all the wonderful things we are going to concoct in the kitchen together at Christmas!

Photo by: SketchyK

October 15, 2012

HEART-ENCOUNTER (on superficiality)

Let me be startled by Your vastness,
Hungry for Your profoundness,
Settled into your depths,
Grounded in your wideness.

For this superficiality around me
Has no meaning.
It is a painful & powerful barricade.
It has no soul or relational nutrition.
It is a filler of space.

Everyone runs from place to place,
Encounter to encounter,
Relationship to relationship,
Saying words but really saying nothing at all.
It is emptiness. It is insecurity.  It is fear.
It is all some have ever been shown or known.

Instead of trying to find that deep person
Let me be that deep person
And call it out in others.
Give me this privilege & skill, Lord.

Let me live from such a place of depth with You
That others are invited to the deeper side -
A place that is vast yet safe,
Wide yet intimate,
Open yet sheltering.
Let it be irresistibly wooing in me.

Let me be one to bring out others’
best reflections,
deepest ponderings,
intimate self-revelations,
in a place of heart-encounter
that You & I create.

I like that it’s You & I.
I like knowing this secret that deep & intimate relationships
Were Your idea, they are Your intention for mankind.
You modeled this.  You sacrificed for this.
And I love that I have experienced this with You.

Create now,
From Your vastness,
With & through me,
A place for heart-encounter.

October 8, 2012

HARBOUR TIME (on soul care)

The little boat
had seen many days at sea.
There was still colour in her paint but her clip had slowed visibly.
The freshness, the eagerness, the vitality had waned.
These days it felt difficult to be a boat -
not natural but laborious.
Things that previously brought joy & life
seemed to painfully elude her.

She needs this harbour time.
Time to dock.
Time to bob in one place & see the same quiet things for a while.
Time to be attended to & not to attend.
A time of harbour rest, of safeness & sameness,
of warming sun, of staring at gulls,
of smelling salty air,
of taking in the gentle clanging & bobbing of other boats,
the occasional sound of a motor, the lines clinking against the masts.

The harbour is where I want to sit.
It's where I need to sit after an especially busy, intense season.
My soul yearns for a harbour experience of calming sights, smells & sounds.
All my senses need to feel her healing balm.
And all of me needs to know that:
Stillness is progress,
Quiet is impetus,
Solitude is movement.
Soul care is breakthrough.

One day soon I will look past the harbour onto the horizon.
First I will just notice it.
As time passes, I will appreciate anew its grandeur, its vision, its call.
And eventually I will yearn again to travel there on open seas.
For now, Harbour Time is where I renew those soulful yearnings.

"Others went out on the sea in ships...
They saw the works of the Lord,
his wonderful deeds in the deep...
and he guided them to their desired haven."

Psalm 107:23, 24, 30

Photo by:  goodiegeorgia

October 2, 2012


(for the warriors who have had to leave the field they love)

Sacred Parentheses.
Divine.  Directed.  Thoughtful.
Purpose-Driven and Spirit-Filled.
God of History altering your walk –
The walk you thought was His intention forever.

This parting is a “sweet sorrow”
As was written long ago
Of two lovers´ supposed destiny & their ensuing separation.
A romance cut short.  A destiny stifled.
The knight in you rises up to protest -
But you hold your tongue
And kiss the hand of your King.
For He has spoken.

All the undone and unseen and unmet
Rise up before you
They contrive to steal your focus,
Dash your heart,
and wound you in your God- journey.

But your Royal Leader,
The Captain of your life and times,
And He defends you from their onslaught.
And he turns to you to gently remind:
“All results are Mine – and I am not finished yet.”

“In the lands you love,
I am still there.
In the unfinished dreams
I am still wooing and accomplishing
I just need a little time -
Only a parenthesis,
To weave your dreams into My history.”

Sacred parentheses.
Sent like an archer´s arrow
Into your heart & life.
Take the cup.
For you cannot yet see
The intentions of the God of history
Nor the purpose-injected destiny
He is unravelling for you.

Photo by:  CarbonNYC

October 1, 2012

HELP MY UNLOVE! (on aging parents)

It's probably fair to say that one of the most-prayed prayers of all time is:

"Lord, I do believe; help my unbelief!"

This has often passed my lips as I struggle to understand matters of life and faith.

But these days I have a new, consistent petition:

"Lord, I do love; help my unlove!"

You see, I especially need this prayer answered in me right now - and for someone I love very much.

I need it to love aging parents, these dear ones who are grandparents to my children.  The ones who carved out a Christian legacy, pinched pennies, walked in faithfulness all their lives, hiked mountains, showed their devotion to family by driving across the country every summer, who recorded family history in books & journals, who worked tirelessly in caregiving (and still do) and who diligently passed on Christian values, a strong work ethic, a love for the outdoors & a sense of adventure to their two children - one of whom is my husband.  Did I mention that they have lived sacrificially all these years we have been overseas, releasing us and their only grandchildren to follow our call?

Today age & disease is obscuring all this for me and I struggle to help them in ways they deserve.  It's not that I am not eager to help them.  It has just come as a shock to me that the elderly would not want help.  That was not on my radar.  And the denial!  I had heard all these funny "senior" jokes throughout the years that make light of all the aging issues.  But it turns out not to be so funny.  There has been denial about memory, abilities, judgement, the doctor's diagnosis, you name it.  No jokes, just plain, hard reality that everyone around them sees clearly - except them - and through their blindness I hear their frustration as they struggle to accept their stage in life.

Must it be so painful to grow old?  Is our only hope that the Lord will return and rapture us from out of this season?  Or what could Jesus be saying to all of our dear, aging folks?  What will He say to me when I get there?

Might He be saying:

"I am with you....even in this unknown, uninvited season of life."
"I hold your days - and your years - very tenderly and intentionally in My hands."
"I have beautiful plans to use you in new & different ways if you'll let me coach you."
"I have people ready to bless you if you will let them...and you will see Me revealed in new ways through them."

As these beautiful people struggle to process their realities & limitations, God help me to love them, to honor them in ways that they can receive and respect them in ways that will bless them.

"Lord, I DO love them; help my unlove!"

Photo by:  Homecaregivers

September 18, 2012


There is an anchoring in Jesus 
that I need.

In my travels and in my life journey,
Both in physical & spiritual realms,
I need an anchor.

As a human being I am a fellow sojourner
on this earth with the rest.
As a follower of Jesus,
I am a soul-journeyer, too.

Both aspects of this journeying
make me hunger for the Anchor.

This sojourning pilgrimage conjures up many pictures:
Mountains, valleys, meadows, rivers.
Fellow pilgrims, supporting characters, experiences.
There is danger, there is suffering.
There is joy and there is victory.
There are lessons.  There is growth.
There is a calling deep within us all
To make a journey.

My life has been full of travels,
Of moves, of changes, of transitions
This has made me more aware of my need to shore up.

May all my travel-journeys,
Moves, changes & transitions
Be catalysts toward a soul-awakening need
For that deep anchoring
in Jesus.

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm & secure.”
Hebrews 6:19

September 11, 2012



My life has been so serious in the last few months,
I've barely been able to breathe, never mind laugh.

How did it get like that?

Somewhere in the growing stream of flights, suitcases, ToDo's, phone calls, routines, presentations, projects, budgets, financial issues, pressing parental needs, attitudes, being "on" all the time during home assignment, living with others constantly as gracious as they are, missing home, health issues among us, college transitions and a million other things, my smile waned.

There was no time or space for fun except for some occasional, brief stints into diversion.

You know what?

I do not want to be like that.

So the other day I had a conversation with God while on a walk and I said,

"Please make me laugh again.
please make me fun for my children.
Please help me make my husband laugh right in the middle of his day.
Teach me the art of not taking life so seriously that there is no time
for fun or play or tickling or bubbles or funny movies.
Even as my kids grow older and the fun looks different,
Don't let me lose the spirit of it."

I realize that I may have a higher "fun quota" than some others;
I do feel a deep need for this in order to stay healthy.
And I am also aware that I have chosen a precariously serious profession.
But in the midst of it all, let me laugh!
Help me to sensitively draw in those around me who need this God-given release, too.
Bring out the inner child that is an expert at play
in the heart of the responsible adult, hard at God-given work.

Please make me fun to be with!

Jesus encouraged us to be like a child...
And I'm sure some of His reasons are about their spontaneity,
their ability to laugh at the silly,
their drivenness to play and their great joy in the simple.

Grant me that hilarity of God, 
The joyfulness of His Spirit,
in the midst of this seriousness 
called life.

photo by: melissa_dawn

September 8, 2012


For some dear saints (D & S.O) 
who had to leave the field due to a debilitating illness....
but whose LOVE and LIFE CALL have beautifully merged
 as they live out HIS STORY in living colour before us all. 

When love begins so blissfully
Our imaginations write out our story
They run ahead of us joyfully –
Painting, sketching, splashing colours with abandon
It’s all part of the treasure-building season of First Love.

When Life Call is a strong undercurrent,
A guiding force in the First Love,
The world is yours!
You storm your country by force,
Laboring in prayer, battling spiritual forces,
Scattering seed, loving lavishly in word and deed,
Rejoicing in fruitfulness,
Identifying through the raising of your children among them,
Passionately pursuing language & cultivating a fascination with every aspect of the culture –
It is all burning within you.

And when That Day came
And this perfect union of First Love and Life Call were torn -
The pen was ripped from your hand.
Someone began to cross things out
of your imagined Life Story -
To erase, to revise, to change.
You were thrown, out of control and headlong,
into a Story unknown to you.
It is foreign.
It is unwanted.
It is not the one you imagined.
There were weeks and months and even years
Of resistance and grief and adjustment
To this new Life Story.
The middle chapters are bittersweet,
Full of questioning for the five.

When did you wake up and embrace it?
What was that moment like?
The one where you clearly saw
The Unseen Hand writing sovereignly
The day you chose to adjust the Life Call
Under His appointment
The day you declared: Our First Love will not change.

I’m sure the heavenlies cheered, no,
Exploded with joy on that day –
As well as every day you choose -
That your First Love will not change.

The chapters to come are written in His Book.
They are still unknown to you,
But they are known and precious to Him.
And every prayer you whisper, every love-deed you gift,
every patient enduring you demonstrate, every blue-eyed look of love or gratitude, is being recorded.

Your Story is different than you imagined.
But your Love is a Love Story worth telling,
Worth living,
Worth observing,
Worth praising,
Worth emulating,
Worth writing a book about,
And today – more than worth celebrating!

I’m glad you’re letting Him write your Story.
It is more beautiful, more poignantly His,
than any of us could have written or imagined.

Your Life Call and your First Love
Have merged into one.
And isn’t that what His Story is all about?

Happy, happy 25th.

Disqus for A Life of Interest