Newsflash

Meet Scout, our little puppy-to-be! We visited her this last weekend.



I'm ready to hyperventilate, I'm so excited (that may be a slight exaggeration, but not much). She's a Pembroke Welsh Corgi, like Murphy. Can't wait to bring our baby home!

Happy Easter

Christ is Risen. He is risen indeed!

Keeping the Feast

I've been blog-friends with Milton, who blogs at Don't Eat Alone, for quite a few years. Like me, Milton spent his early years in Africa, and he also writes poetry. Recently Milton published his first book: Keeping the Feast.

As he says, "This book about what nourishes us: food, faith, family, and friends, and how all of those elements are essential ingredients of Communion--in fact, how every meal of our lives holds an invitation to the Sacred Meal."

I forgot to say that Milton's a chef, and has worked as a youth pastor as well. Who better to write about feasting, faith, and friends?

New Faces

Our little foster puppy for a few weeks (courtesy of Dad and Mary)!

A Quiet Moment

Now you know where I got my love for reading. From Dad, and also Mom. Isn't that the way it often works?

Of course teachers can play a big part, and grandparents, and librarians. Anyone who shows a child the many worlds to be entered simply through cracking open a book (or e-book, nowadays).

How'd you learn to enjoy reading?

Murphy's 14 Years

I waited a long time to post this--but last month we said goodbye to our sweet corgi dog, Murphy. As Anna said, he was "sassy till the end."

When the phone rings, no one's barking at us to hurry up and answer it. As we're going out the door, no doggie nips at our heels to move us along. If Jeff accidentally drops goldfish crackers on the floor while he's making his lunch, no one rushes over to gobble up the crumbs. And most of all, no velvety Murphy ears to scratch...they were the softest ears around!

Love you, Murphy. Since we had you in our lives, I'm forever a corgi fan.

Bridge of Hope

At The Justice Conference in February, I found out about a group helping children through an organization called Bridge of Hope. Today I spoke to Steward, one of their volunteers, about what the group's doing in India and other Asian countries. The young man called just as I was about to sit down, drink my tea, and read the Oregonian. After I got off the phone, it struck me how differently I live than most of these children, who often labor long hours for a bit of food. Many of them live in fear of sexual predators and struggle to obtain health care and minimal education.

I'm not sure how I'm meant to be involved yet. There are multiple places I can help out, and only so much time and money. But at least I can spread awareness. That's why I linked to Bridge of Hope.

Thinking about these children called to mind a poem I wrote a few years ago. It's about a Burundian friend and his little girls.

My prayer -- may all children, male and female, know what it is to be safe and cared for by adults they trust.



SINDAMUZI’S LITTLE GIRLS

All dressed up
for Sunday night --
beautiful thick hair
frizzed high,
batik wraps: purple,
yellow, magenta.
Sindamuzi’s little girls
are African orchids
beginning to bloom,
iridescent moths
hovering
at their father’s elbow,
lit candles
aglow
in the dusky rugo.


Kirundi words:
*Rugo -- a home and yard, usually enclosed by a fence