Oh, That Paula Dean!

Now here is someone that is a real kick in the pants! That laughter, the love of food, the love of butter, that personality and so much more.

Lately, I've been wishing I could call her Aunt Paula, or Gramma Paula or Cousin Paula and even Paula, my mother. Or even just be my best next door neighbor, Paula! That would suffice.

If only I could be related to her somehow. Now that would just be heaven on earth! I could imagine the countless hours of time I would spend in her kitchen, watching her cook or helping her taste the end results. Or I could just be the slave that helps clean up after her. No matter, I would just love to know and love her like family.

There aren't too many folk in life that I feel that way about but Paula Dean is surely one of them!

I've been thinking about writing her a personal letter just to let her know these very things. But then I get intimidated thinking she already has a HUGE fan club of men and women who desire the very same thing as me. So, what difference would my letter make in her day?

Oh, but to day dream what she would cook or bake is just a heavenly dream.

She just cracks me up with that laughter, her easy-going spirit, that 'motherly' tendecy in her and the fact that she just gets into her cooking, but better yet tasting all that she cooks.

So, as I write this I think of how silly it is to be putting all of this in words but she's just been on my mind and I thought I'd get it all down now or never.

She is one of the quintessential cooks who make cooking more than a chore. She is up there with Julia child's and Jacque Pepin. Okay, Rachel Ray is pretty close to tops too.

Enough of my drooling and star dazing...Paula Dean is equal to Kitty of 'That 70's Show.' in terms of her laughter. Too much!

Oh, Paula Dean where art thou?

I've Become Blind...

When I think of someone getting old, I don't think of myself.

Have I gone mad? Have I gone blind?

What makes one old in the eyes of another?

When did I begin to realize that I am no longer 25?

What possessed me to remind myself of what I feel like and not what my age may give away?

When did the laugh lines begin to form down and no longer up?

Where in the world does the concept of aging gracefully come from?

Why is there is a difference of standard for aging women versus men?

Why do most women tend to age more uh, shall we say less beautiful with age?

Is this god's sense of humor toward women?

Or was it to continue to boost men's egos up until the very the end?

I sure hope my being Asian will truly be an advantage to me, and so far it has, but will I be one of the lucky ones who ages with beauty over time? Or just the opposite?

Yikes! Imagine me at 65! Hello, world here I come! Wrinkles, flab, gray haired, saggier eyelids, salt and peppered moustache between the nose and upper lip, and a triple chin.

Good thing I already had a face lift before all these things could happen to me at 40. If only I could have afforded to...

So, I guess I've become blind as the years have gone by, but I guess it's helped in the sanity department. Too much too soon would have pushed me over the edge. And not a moment too soon.

So, the secret to aging is not acknowledging it all and just imagining oneself when viewed in a mirror that 'I am the fairest of them all.'

I don't think I will be able to keep up that mantra but hey, I'm alive and that counts for something!

So Odd...photo by don campbell

It's so odd to feel like adding a writing about pumpkins and friends and life, followed by my last piece showing a photo of death. But I guess this is just a good example of how we must cope with such things, and why the need to 'go on with life', as we'd drive ourselves crazy with such news daily. I feel guilty but realize it's a must for my spirit. So here it goes...

Michael and I had a tradition that we started when we were both in college, at Chico State, and actually kept up until last year. We would have a pumpkin carving party with friends and lots of food. Sometimes we did it on Halloween night, in the early days, and then as time went by we did it when dates were available for our friends.

So far, we've only talked about having a carving party but no date set yet. And next Saturday, just days way from Halloween, we will not be in town, so it just might not happen again this year. But... Michael and I were talking about maybe changing our little tradition. We thought why not do it after Halloween? It's still fall and pumpkins are still part of the Thanksgiving holidays, so I think we will start with this new tradition. And I'm looking forward to it. We decided instead of spooky things we'll just carve out horns of plenty and a turkey. Yea, right! LOL!

Anyways, we are looking forward to doing something different and new.

Sometimes It's Too Much...photo by AP

I have gone through times of keeping up with the world news and then realizing it's all the same crap, the same people, the same disasters that kill, the same kinds of wars, the same idiotic stuff that man does to man, as well as nature to it's land masses. So, then I turn it off for awhile and feel much better. But then I realize I feel better because I don't have to deal with it. It's as if I can just live my life and let others live their lives and that will be that and I should be happy.

But unfortunately, turning off the news from the tv or the radio doesn't stop this ol' brain from wondering how many children have died this week, what country is struggling to provide for its people, those countries at war how many more deaths and are they nearer to a resolution? Probably not.

So, now I keep up with the news via BBC World News. It seems to give a much better and less filtered version of the news than the States.

But it is also heartbreaking to constantly hear the death tolls rise, the amount of displaced peoples increase, the number of children affected, and the urgent cry of the United Nations urging for more help than they are capable of.

Death is an interesting thing because on one hand it is this terrible loss for those who are still living, yet as time goes by the person(s) who have passed do just that pass. Those living, whether we push the death deep down or whather we have resolved ourselves of that person(s) death. But I think either way, as humans, our nature is to 'go on with life' which is what everyone says you need to do, but then it seems that we almost forget or no longer acknowledge the person(s) that died in our lives.

I'm not quite sure how to explain it but it just seems to me, and with my own little experience with death, it is pretty damn easy to forget about those who died. I'm embarrassed to admit this but it's true. Perhaps it would be different, and I hope it would if I had lost a child or a spouse, or family members. I just don't know.

But before I get myself in trouble, I'm realizing what I'm really speaking of are those who die everyday from poverty, disease, malnutrition, violence, homelessness, old age, and who die with no new person reporting their deaths. These deaths are just one more number in the human death toll.

It's just difficult for me to know that so many people of this world, die without the love of a family, of friends or a community. They simply perish without any one person identifying them as a friend, a person of their community, a father, an uncle, a sister or a mother.

Sometimes it's just too much for me to fathom and I struggle with wanting to create something for these very people. But the deaths are just too great in number and the ability to meet each of these people is unrealistic. But I hope to create something, someday for those who are nameless in death.

I don't know what it will be but I hope someday to do something so that these lives are not in vain.

Depression....

I'm awake and thinking about my nephew who struggles with deep depression. I am saddened. I can only imagine what his parents and sister are going through. Perhaps his sister doesn't really know how to deal with this, as she is only in junior high. But then maybe she does. I'd like to think she is handling it okay but something tells me she is not and is not able to vocalize her fears her thoughts or her ability to really comprehend what this disease is like for her brother. And what it means for her, and her parents. To live with a family member who has depression is one thing, but to truly understand it in all contexts seems quite another.

I know my nephew is hanging in there as he is on meds, seeing a counselor and has the incredible support of his family. For this I am extremely thankful. But he has also allowed me into his head, his heart and his darkness through his writing. It is not so dark to me, as I can relate to what some of his writings are expressing. But there are deeper writings that suggest such a place that no one else can even go without having this disease.

Having been in Student Ministry at Chico State, I was able to have first hand experience with much of this dark side with several students of mine, who struggled greatly with the darkside of life. But with a lot of help, meds, counseling and unconditional support, they both have come through much of this darkness. But unfortunately, it is a disease that is lifelong and easily resurfaces before one has had a chance to get a grip on it once again.

So, I pray for the longevity of this disease with my nephew and pray for stability for as long as possible. Hoping to not crawl to the other side where the demons truly call one's name.

I pray for all who struggle with depression whether in the form of clinical, bipolar or deep depression, that each one may have the help they need and the support necessary to get through each of these dark times.

To my nephew...I know you can pull through this...And I will continue to support you no matter where you are.

Return To The Familiar...poem by kim

There comes a time when the soul must wander into new territory
Sometimes that new territory is familiar

Familiar because one has tread upon its dusty roads, slept upon its cemented floors, taken up residence with a familiar people
Familiarity as common as spoken words, tribal songs, shared life, experienced death, and danced without hesitation

When the soul finds its place of familiarity, it seeks out greater experiences than it once had before
Not because it disliked those experiences prior, but simply to be reminded why the soul has returned from time apart and why it now desires the love it has been distant from

The soul is reminded of sunrises, sunsets, windswept days, smells not so foul to them, laughter in the distance, wailing of death in the evening air, footprints going and returning from the village market, rickety buses expanded by the life of chickens, the freshness of fruits, the wreaking of sweat, the loudness of the roaring engine, the crampness of lives touching so closely and so familiar.

Music is universal and so too is a rhythmic soul
Clapping, smiling, laughing, drums beating, the circle of life unbreakable, children observing their elders,
dogs barking in unison, the earth moving in joyous sound and thunderous movement

There comes a time when the soul will experience far more than it can handle
Though laughter is present, so too is the reality of life so limited, sometimes so harsh, and death is inevitable, regardless where the soul wanders

But what shame that the soul must experience death in a manner that is victimizing, rampant, a terrorist among
the throng of people
It is a means to an end with no real understanding of its purpose
Mothers, fathers, aunt, uncles, grandparents and children will see the end of their lives
Greater number of mothers and fathers will lose their lives early
Grandparents will be left with the children to raise unless they too leave this earth before the children have had
time to grow up in life
The children will wonder what will become of them if all have left them, with nothing to help carry them to their future

Oh, the children...The future without AIDS
Their lives so innocent, so refreshingly alive, and yet what will become of them
Who will dry their tears, who will comfort them during a thunderstorm, who will embrace them when their soul is weary
What will become of them
Does anybody know
Does anybody care

Sometimes the soul must wander into new territory
Sometimes that new territory is familiar
It is the soul that will find a way to help these people to help themselves in living a better life
It is the soul that will need to teach, educate, demonstrate, implement ways that they, the children, the grandparents, those left behind and not afflicted by the enemy of AIDS
It is the soul that must find ways to deplete the destruction of AIDS to so many
and yet other enemies will come calling though they are not welcomed, though they may be familiar

What greater value is there of one's future, the children, as they carry on with the traditions, the culture, the language, the stories, the history
So it must be said that the familiar ways the very soul has interpreted is as their own people, their own families, their own sisters, brothers, aunt, uncles, grandparents, their own likeness yet a world and many miles away from their own

Though the soul is strong in many ways, it simply cannot take on all that is before it, without the asking of other hands, hearts, prayers and resources
The soul is weak without these others
The soul will simply crumble among the monstrosity of the familiar and the enemies
The familiar desires the soul but not for the price of its death, whether in spirit, money, government or in body
The familiar relishes the love and the embracing from the soul in whatever regard

Familiarity is spiritual, is worthy, is appreciative, is a presence so unlike something the soul could ever experience and forget

There comes a time when the soul must wander into new territory
Sometimes that new territory is familiar
The soul asks nothing more than the familiar

Suppose to Rain Tomorrow...Will it?

Fall has not really come forth to Chico just yet. It seems to be taking it's time and choosing the Indian Summer to remain as long possible. I do like Indian Summer, but I'd prefer fall.

So, the ol' weatherman says it's going to rain tomorrow in Chico. I sure hopes so. It would just clear things out, make things look greener, make the air smell delicious with Fall and my mind will be tricked in getting out my warm and cozy blankets, sweats, sweatshirts and slippers.

But it's still suppose to be in the low/mid 80's even the day after the rain tomorrow. What is up with that?

But my true excitement comes when winter hits. Oh, how I love winter. It's the smell, the rains, the cold air, the constant rains, the fog, the loss of leaves, the air of holidays to come.

Winter is so comforting to me. Perhaps it speaks to my melancholy spirit but it also lifts me up to no end.

I'm sure I'm one of very few who deal well with winter. And I'm sorry for those who really struggle with it. I suppose summer is much like to me as winter is to others. Truly.

Particularly summers in Chico. It's just too D..... hot and we don't' have central heat and air. So i feel like I suffer greatly. But oh, poor me. Good grief!

Will it rain tomorrow? That's really my question and my request.

Whatever Happens to You

The Didache

My child, flee from all evil and from everything resembling it. Do not get angry, for anger leads to murder. My child, do not grumble, for this leads to blasphemy; be gentle-minded, for those of a gentle mind shall possess the earth. Be patient and have a loving heart.

Do not be one who stretches out his hands to receive but closes them when it comes to giving. If you have earned something by the work of your hands, pass it on as a ransom for your sins. Do not turn away from those who are in need, but share all things in common with your brother.

Your heart shall not cling to the high and mighty, but turn to the good and humble folk. Accept as good whatever happens to you or affects you, knowing that nothing happens without God.

Source: "The Early Christians," ed. by Eberhard Arnold

The Sounds of Life...poem by kim

Listen here.

Still your footsteps for one moment.

Stop your breathing for the moment so as not to interfere with the other sounds of life.

Do you hear the water trickle from the stream, as it makes it way around twigs and pebbles?

Close your eyes to catch the sounds of a butterfly flitter from one flower to the next.

Still your heart to the beat of drumming tribes.

Halt your mind from whizzing by this way or that way.

Open your mind to the sounds of a child being born this very moment.

Tune your ears to the wind as it whispers gently across the face of a parent working in the fields.

Slow your hands so they hear the footsteps of your child running into your arms.

Calm your spirit as it wonders what all the noise is about.

Whisper to your spirit that the sounds of life are to lift you away to places unknown.

Whisper to the spirits of others that you have come to enjoy the sounds of their lives.

Speak deeply to your soul so that it may be comforted by the aching cries within you.

Call to jesus that his spirit will free you to venture to sounds of the lives of others.

Listen here.

Come my way to be quieted and given peace of the sounds of your life.

Listen here.

Plant your footsteps in my path that will halt the sounds of your fears.

Listen here.

Abide here.

The Depth of This Soul...

The depth of this soul wants more than anything to get beyond the craziness of life, as I know it in suburbia and wealthy america.

The depth of this soul seeks groundbreaking, heartbreaking, hands-on purpose for this life that has been given to me freely, simply and purposefully. But now that I've fulfilled the purpose of my enjoying the extravagance of my wealthy life, I am ready to give up all that I have for the experience of looking into the eyes of children who are having to survive a life of extreme poverty. America truly has it's share, and I too want to experience this, but with as wealthy a country as ours, there really is simply no need or justification for such conditions to exist.

But to look to poorer countries it too is astonishing that they allow such conditions. But some how it seems easier to not blame them, their government, their agencies for their lack of programs, the lack of looking ahead, instead of the present situations. Perhaps it is because they are poor economically, that survival exists only for the present, not the future in their minds. Perhaps also because they know that wealthier countries will come bearing aid in every shape or form. I'm confused by what they expect and what they aspire to in their lands and simply waiting for the help to come is unfortunately, indicative of an unhealthy governmental system throughout. Like America isn't unhealthy! Yeah, right.

Anyways, the depth of this soul desires to jump ship for awhile and see how the other side of the world lives. I have malnutrition embedded in my brain, I have children's faces flash in and out of my mind, throughout the day, I have the urge to scream for resources and money from those in my life so that I can get to where I need to be...holding the fragile body of a child, whose parent(s) have passed from HIV/AIDS and whose own body is withering away from poverty, infection, malnutrition.

In my dreams I have seen myself holding me. I know that sounds weird. But there are photos of me when I was an infant, in the Vietnamese orphanage, with my stomach distended, my limbs extremely thin, and my body struggling for survival. It's as if I am holding myself, or jesus or some other child whose name I do not know.

The depth of my soul yearns for such an experience, not just once but for the rest of my lifetime.

If we can not feed the depth of our souls then why acknowledge our souls at all.

Jesus, Please....

Jesus, please...Grant me my wish to see, taste and experience this ravaged world that I live in. I plea with you to give me the opportunity to travel to not just one country, one village or one refugee camp, but to many countries and many, many villages and refugee camps where I can hold the hands of children, see the stories in their eyes, smile for those who have no reason to smile, to hear the sound of laughter because that helps get them through a part of their day.

Jesus, I plea with you to grant me the time, the money and the resources to go and visit these children I speak of, your children.
Please, Jesus, please.

I don't think I have wanted or desired anything more in my life than to be among your children in every condition imaginable.

I again, ask of you this request that comes from the deepest, most precious area of my soul.

Jesus, please.....again, here is the prayer you so simply gave to me one day in a past writing. I believe it speaks with great volume of my heart and my desires. No, we are not able to have our own children I understand more than I'd like to know, and yes, adoption is still a possibility, but if nothing else, I ask and pray for you, your will to give me the desire of my heart to place my feet on the many lands of these children all over the world. I then will understand that these children will be called our own. Jesus, please....

Aching heart your fears are valid
Aching couple your desires have been heard

Do as you are asked to do and I will grant you with my ultimate joy and peace
It may not look like what you had in mind, but bear with me as I continue to work in you both

Your hearts will be enflamed with children from many worlds, many places and backgrounds
Your hearts will take hold of such faces, such conditions that will feel like they are your own

These children are your own, in a way that you will forever change the path of their lives
These children are your own, in a way that will fulfill you like no other

Continue to wait for me
Continue to follow me
Continue to have faith in me
Continue on the path I have called you to and you will be given your hearts' desires

Know it's my timing, not yours
Know I relish you both in ways that make me proud
Know that I have plans for you and the ones that you love, whether they are yours or anothers'

I'm listening
I'm here
I'm all that you need

Not Just One Village or Country...photo by helen caux

I have had much time to think about what it is I truly want to do with my life and what possibilities are out there for me to do and take on.

It is with great urgency and my heart's cry that I not work with just one village or one country but to be able to fully understand the impact of the world's children in all reaches of our vast land.

I realize that there are so many of these children that I so desire to meet face to face and to find a way to say, you will be okay, somehow.

There are millions upon millions of refugee children and their families in Afghanistan, in Pakistan, in Cambodia, in India, in Africa, in Haiti, in Columbia, etc and all of these children either have their families or they are alone in a refugee camp, hoping one day to find their parents and rest of families. More often then not, much of these refugees have to move from one camp to another, with miles upon miles between each camp. Not only with out food, water or supplies, but the terrible danger of being killed, raped or bought into slavery. Or worse, taken their identification paperwork, that they had received at the last refugee camp. Without these papers, they can not prove who they are and where they came from. This is worse than being in a refugee camp. Because you are left to fend for yourself and prone to being prey to the Taliban, the paramilitary or the Bandistas or simply death's door called survival.

But in the end, it's all about the children, as they are the future of our nations, whom we are neighbors with, whether we like it or not. And because of the pandemic of the world's conditions from drought, war, to starvation, to HIV/AIDS and threatening diseases, these children need the help of all nations so that we can help them out of their dire conditions. So they can be the rulers and the movers and shakers of the next generation, and in hopes that it will be a better world than they have come to know.

I am not interested in just one village or country as I've stated but to be in the middle of seeing all children receive what they need in order to survive their current and future conditions.

This is my life's challenge and I will continue to seek out ways to be in the middle of it all.

There is no reason for me to live this comfortable life when others struggle for just the basic necessities of life.

I've lived, I've enjoyed and now it is time to give back all that I've been gifted so as not to live my life in vain.

Touched By Your Lives....photo by cara pattison

I've seen your faces over and over.

I've spoken to you in my dreams, putting my hands in yours.

In my dreams I've laughed with you, cried with you, listened to your horror stories of your country, your families, yourself.

I've been shown the scars of life in each of your stories.

You've shown me the hope of today, yet the worries of your tomorrows are not far behind.

If only I could personally meet you face to face, instead of through the photos and the stories others tell of you.

Seeing the image of your faces is engraved in my mind, yet I have no idea who each of you are.

Will I ever be able to truly hold you in my arms?

Will I ever be able to take in your sweet smell of childhood?

I still hope for that day when my feet will step upon your land and search for you by name, by village.

As you can see, I've been touched by your very lives.

Angelina Jolie...Now, Samantha Smith...Then

Angelina Jolie is an Ambassador to Refugees through the UN. She is working hard and making news around the world. What I would give to work alongside her and among those she has been sent to by the United Nations.

I've always wanted to be an ambassador like those I've read about for so many years.

I remember in the very early 80's there was a young girl, about 10 maybe, who had written a letter to Soviet president Yuri Andropov about wanting peace on earth to the people of his country and the world.

This letter got wind and she instantly was granted as a Young Ambassador to the Soviet Union.

I remember thinking how wonderful and brave she was to have dared to write such a letter to such a big leader of the day.

Only 10 and shaking things up...what a hero.

I envied her and yet she unfortunately died a year or two later. Cause of death was a plane crash with she and her father.

Here name was Samantha Smith. I do remember the impact she had made on the world and in my life.

It's people like her who dare to dream and dare to make a difference in the only way they know how...through their voice.

I've learned a lot and have admired this child then and still in death.

A legacy she has left this world and to me also.

Where ever you may be...know that you truly made an incredible and brave impact on a world that was and is still at war with others.

May the peace you had dreamed about one day come true and be realized before the world comes to its end.

Oh, To Be Mother Teresa...photo by AP

For as long as I can remember, I have always admired, called her one of my heros and have wanted to be her in some form or another. Even if only to be her sidekick, like Lucy and Ethel but doing good for others.

I've had dreams of working along side her in many capacities in which she spoke little to me but smiled that brought an understanding to me that I was where I was supposed to be, near her side, helping her in the work she was called to do, working with the poor.

I have dreamt that dream many a times, and awoke sad that is wasn't true.

I would be wearing a simple beige, heavy cotton sack, with a simple, brown belt, loosely tied about my waist, and simple sandals that could have looked like what Jesus would have worn on his many journeys.

My hair was cut short, as to not get in the way of my work, nor to show any sort of vanity.

And I would pray daily with the other sisters of the order and then be on my way to meet Mother Teresa, where ever she had spoken me to meet her the day prior.

Oh, to awake and realize it was just a dream, albeit a mighty dream, that would never come true. But I recall how I felt, how things smelled and how I adored what I was doing, working with the poorest of the poor, along side the greatest and humblest woman on earth.

How fortunate was I!

Perhaps parts of the dream could come true someday. And I do hopes so somehow. I would love to be working in India, among the poorest of the poor, holding on to, rocking and caring for those who have nothing but their very souls.

Oh, to be embracing and living among the lepers would have been a dream come true.

And to pray over and for all of those very souls that they would find peace and joy in their situation.

Oh, to be a saint like Mother Teresa would be a dream come true.

Sainthood in the depth of working hands on, not as far as position of my soul.

Thank you, Mother Teresa, for setting such an incredible example of who we are called to be, workers of jesus and the voice of those who have no voice.

I hope to meet you truly in heaven one day....

A Letter Of Plea From Mother Teresa...photo by AP

This letter that Mother Teresa wrote was to President George Bush and Saddam Hussein in the hopes of dissuading them from going to war. Obviously, her letter didn't have the desired affect.

"I write to you with tears in my eyes and with the love of God in my heart, to beg you on behalf of the poor and on behalf of those who will end up being poor in the event that the war which threatens us is unchained.

I beg you with all my heart that you spare no efforts in favor of the peace of God and to reconcile yourselves with one another.

Each one of you has concerns enough and citizens enough to keep you busy, but first begin by hearing the One who came to the world to teach us peace.

You have the capacity and force to destroy the presence and image of God, in his men, in his women, and in his children.

Listen, please, to the voice of God.

God has created us to love each other with his love and not to destroy ourselves with our hates."

This letter was taken from Mother Teresa - Her Life, Her Work, Her Message - A Memoir by Jose Gonzalez-Balado

Hope Is Present In The Quiet Of The African Night...poem by kim

The wisp of the netting contains one in it's sheath, providing protection from the life beyond the threads of the thin cloth. 

The native wanderers wait for just the right moment to come forth, entering the present of the night.

The settling of the earth is warm from the day's heat, yet welcomes the cool of the night

The cloudless african sky glitters with the life of the stars beyond, illuminated simply by the light of the moon.

The quiet of the african night lays claim to the souls that have settled in for an evening of sleep, of rest and a stillness unlike the day.

The night lends itself to the rhythm of the very souls breathing, as the dreams in their heads lay simple and pleasant joys wanting and remembered from long ago.

The quiet of the african night freshens the weary souls whose lives find each day more challenging than the next.

In the quiet of the african night, a sense of hope still prevails before the golden sun rises in the East, leaving the calm of sleep in the eyes of one awaking to the light of day. 

Hope can remain in the quiet of the african night.

Hope must remain in the quiet of the african night.

But hope must also push through the quiet of the african night, to the rays of the dawning day. So that the very souls have more than sorrow and hopelessness to rise above from.

Hope is present in the quiet of the african night, but may that same hope be present in the light of day, every day. Not just in the night.

painting by mo osmon

I Want To End World Poverty....

There are so many issues on my heart that it is hard to know which to really just settle in and run with.

But there is no doubt that World Poverty is one of my greatest hearts' desires. And it should be as I was abandoned as an infant, without food, malnourished. But I was saved, sheltered and given food, love and a family. There are so many people and children who have some or none of the above.

I struggle with knowing this as I live freely and in great wealth. But what would be worse is if I did absolutely nothing to help in relieving this world-wide pandemic.

I'm a dreamer but being a dreamer and being an active dreamer are two different things.

Being complacent and letting other folks do the campaigning, the work, etc. is not my style and I look forward to getting my hands dirty in the middle of the action. I do best getting dirty and involving myself deeply.

There are things I'm questioning right now, but no matter, there is no need to stop doing what I'm doing, in order to regain my perspective. I've chosen to push on and still do what I can despite my questions.

I know as one person, I am unable to end world poverty, but I can make a difference in some way or another, if I am willing...

Heading in the Right Direction?

I've been wondering lately if we are heading in the right direction in life.

I've wondered if my 'sense' of what god wanted from us was even a reality, or just my own reasoning to move on and do something seemingly important and life-giving, rather than self-serving.

I'm even questioning whether we really can have a 'sense' of what god desires of us. If it's not a sense then what is it? It just seems so real and communicative that there seems no way for it to be anything but that.

I'm not really sure why I'm questioning all of this but it just has been in the back of my mind that I can't seem to help but question it all.

The question of faith and belief are at the heart of this question for me.

Explainable?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Where do I begin?

Where does it all end?

For whom does this only become reality for?

Me?

Only others?

Many?

None?

We've Postponed Our Move to Portland...

Okay, so it would seem weird to say you're leaving one moment and then having to turn around and say you're staying. I thought I'd feel strange having to share this with everyone. But in fact, it doesn't faze me.

The need to make our decision was extremely important. Michael was literally killing himself with having to continue working and figuring out our financial and house situation before we could move. The work kept coming, the financial was headache breaking and the house stuff was going no where. So, we needed to reassess where things were going and change gears.

We don't know what the timeline looks like in terms of moving to Portland, but it will be dependent on the house. Whether we can sell it, or get a renter.

I know there are so many friends and family that are thrilled that we have postponed, though it only prolongs the agony of our leave, but more time is better than no time.

So, more adventures and memories in Chico until the day we head else where!