When I was still a perfect parent--living under my parents' roof, wearing clothes they bought for me, talking on the phone (a landline!) they paid for; I swore I would never treat my children the way my parents treated me. I wouldn't keep my children from doing what they wanted, make them do chores, or tell them no. I would be different. I'd understand them, and treat them with "respect".
When I first started writing this blog, the original plan was to show all the happiness and joy this walk brought me.
Today is my father's birthday. He's no longer here to celebrate it, but each year on this day, I still say a prayer and send him a wish. It's quiet, and it's ours. Memories Can Be Sweet When I was in junior high and high school, my father and I would get up early in… Continue reading What I Remember: Tea with My Father
No amount of police shaming or race shaming is going to fix what is wrong with our world. Neither will stereotyping, race-baiting, or hashtagging. Truthfully, the color of a person's skin is the least of our worries. Sin doesn't care what color our skin is, it simply looks for a chink in our armor. We don't need other countries to destroy us, they just have to sit back and wait for us to destroy ourselves--to allow sin to destroy us, one choice at a time.