Sunday, May 29, 2011


San Francisco beckons. Driving behind a zig zagging highway patrol car, broken honda on the embankment. Turning heads, passing the disaster, resuming speed limit. Flintstone house burnt orange. Wishing to see the inside and meet the owners. Onward, Father Serra points us.

The Park. Full of heady sights, sounds, and smells. Foxglove, mock orange, pink toddlers twirling in a field of white flowers, grass, rain, umbrellas, taxis, rhododendrons, people, vistas, planking, elevators, trees, sailboats, golden gate bridge, whitecaps, frisbees, picnic, raspberries, de Young, sphinx, bagels, laughter, smiles, bing cherries. Planking for three hundred photographs. Yes planking.

Japanese Tea Garden. Green tea with brown rice, warm. Ah, relief from drizzle and drain. Sunrays spotted. Friendly waiter. Mochi melts. Ducks on the water. Blossomless cherry trees. Year of the Rabbit. In more ways than one, year of the rabbit.

Talent Show of Harbor High. 7:30 curtain. Avoiding the rain, waiting for doors to open. Mother and daughter huddle, small umbrella. Larry in Idaho. Awaiting his return patiently, praying for safety and peace. Good talent. One singular student guitaring while singing of Jesus. Impressed with bravery.

Sunday church and sleep. Choir. Recovering. Rest. Rabbit. Michante.

Monday is it! Pirates, pancakes, popcorn. Laughing, smiling, listening to stories of planking. BJ's. Good-bye quince. Unbelievable to me.

Friday, May 27, 2011


"These people are not real" are words spoken to self-protect. I am real. Not merely words passing via a mysterious computer language. I am real. Reality lives beyond the electronic screen with words and sounds.

Fear of loss stems from one-sided requirements of a friendship. My hurts and angers cause forsakeness. Trying to keep them to myself, I cannot. They explode in my head, and then appear on the screen. Too late to backspace. They lay naked, exposed. Expect rejection.

Exclusion, non-communication, used as a bit to try to rein. The pony winces and neighs but it cries where none can hear. Rejection worked the first time. This time anger results. Hurt responds. One sided friendships are not friendships, are they?

Tears dried by ocean breezes while walking past school children playing. Tears hidden behind sunglasses, screens. They are real tears. I have real feelings. I am real. Stomach churns. Loyalty can be a weapon used against me. Grief stricken.

My friend, my friend, what does thou require of me? Whatever it is, it is law and unreachable.

"What is wrong, sis?" A friend listens to my anger, in spite of struggles. "Your sins are forgiven in Jesus."

Tears flow.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011


"Mom, why are you and Daddy able to forgive me and not only me, but my friends, when their own parents don't?"

Wow. What a question for a parent to hear from their teenager! Aren't car rides wonderful things? A place for people to not make eye contact, but have the most heartfelt of conversations. This was a door flung wide open with horses out in the yard in bright daylight. In that one question I could see into our daughter's thoughtfulness, her friends' lives, and an opportunity for a much bigger conversation.

Christians understand forgiveness because we know that we are forgiven. Our friends who do not know Jesus, do not understand true forgiveness. The forgiveness that Jesus provides is free flowing, like a mountain river after the winters' snow melts, it is overwhelming. Our friends that have not heard about Jesus' and all He has done for us do not know that free flowing forgiveness that has no requirements attached to it.

When friends see that forgiveness flowing from us, they may ask about it, and it turns into a wonderful opportunity to tell them about the forgiveness they have in Jesus. He has placed no requirements at all on that forgiveness, it is already there for them and for us. It takes us, or another person, to tell them this happy news so that they are able to see the forgiveness.

May the peace of the Lord be with you!