DON'T CONFORM

 

Gen Z — what are we going to get with this next generation?

They might:

• Value authenticity—want to be “real” rather than polished.
• Be less swayed by traditional authority or institutions.
• Prefer side hustles, freelancing, or creative projects over traditional 9-to-5 jobs.
• Feel comfortable blending passions with income.

At first glance, these traits may feel new. But as I look back on my own childhood in the 1950s, I realize some of these values were already alive in my family. In many ways, we were non-conformists long before the term was popular. My dad didn’t think furniture was necessary when orange crates would do. My brothers dreamed of flying to Mars. My sister resisted joining youth group at church. I refused to play a musical instrument and often chose the opposite of what everyone else was doing—just to prove I wasn’t conforming. Meanwhile, my mom held firmly to her belief that every woman should get a college education, and she assumed that we were all “perfect people” who always made the right choices.

Of course, life eventually taught me otherwise. As I grew older, I discovered I was not perfect, and I couldn’t just wing it when it came to work or home life. My early goal had been to have fun—dating without any interest in marriage and resisting the idea of being a housewife. My post-college dreams were ambitious and adventurous: becoming a Rockette in New York City or serving as a Gray Lady in South Korea.

But life has a way of surprising us. My last boyfriend asked if I wanted to make our relationship more permanent. I assumed he meant marriage. Since his dream was to sail to Tahiti, I agreed, thinking our life together would be adventurous and house-free. Instead, we got hitched and settled into a house. To my surprise, Chris expected a full three-course dinner every night. I began checking books out of the library to learn how to cook. Six years later, after teaching first grade, we welcomed a baby girl. Once again, I turned to the library—this time for books on how to take care of a baby. Around the same time, our church started a mothers of preschoolers group, and I learned a great deal from being part of that community.

Still, there came a point when housework and family life felt overwhelming. That’s when I turned to God. I joined a Bible study and, later, prayer groups—especially after being diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Slowly, I learned that true self-esteem doesn’t come from perfection, achievements, or doing everything right. It comes from seeking God. With His help, I began to develop the talents and abilities He had given me. He was shaping me, not into the world’s idea of success, but into His image—reflecting His character and fulfilling my divine purpose.

As Romans 12:2 reminds us: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

TO HUG OR NOT TO HUG THAT IS THE AWKWARD QUESTION

 

My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins never hugged as we were growing up. Physical affection just wasn’t part of our family culture.

But over time, something began to shift.

Our family of non-huggers slowly started to change. A family friend, Nan—a warm and outgoing transplant from Northern Ireland—would hug us without hesitation. Then a cousin married a woman who hugged. Later, a mom of one of my son's classmates greeted me with a hug. These huggers just couldn’t help themselves—it was in their nature.

That’s when I started to wonder: why hadn't hugging ever been part of our norm?

I tried to analyze the situation. Maybe our family avoided hugging because our ancestors had survived contagious diseases by keeping their distance. Or perhaps it was more psychological—maybe we were all engineers or scientists who preferred logic to physical connection. Were we completely non-tactile by design?

Then came a new perspective.

A friend mentioned that hugging is medicinal. That is, it’s actually healthy to hug. Some even say it lowers blood pressure, reduces stress, and improves emotional well-being.

In faith communities, there's even discussion that the modern-day hug has replaced the “holy kiss” once practiced among early Christians. That’s a fascinating evolution in how people express warmth and connection. (Click here to find more thoughts on hugs.)

The Bible offers a beautiful image of embrace in Luke 15:20:

"And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him."

It turns out—even in Scripture—a hug can say what words cannot.

GRANDPA CLAUDE: THE GRAMMAR GURU

 

The above newspaper clipping was published in the Spokesman Review some years ago, offering a fascinating window into a moment from our family history. The incident it describes took place while Grandpa Claude was working for the U.S. Post Office in downtown Spokane. A small controversy broke out when he posted a sign on the post office's revolving door that read “go slow.” What seemed like a simple notice sparked a flurry of public reaction—letters of complaint were written, letters of defense followed, and all were published in the Spokesman Review.

At the time, Grandpa held the position of assistant custodian. From what I understand, he was eventually promoted to superintendent. Learning that he had once been a schoolteacher helped me better appreciate his attention to proper grammar. In that light, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he stood his ground on the phrasing of the sign.

Reading the article gave me a meaningful glimpse into what Grandpa was like back then—principled, precise, and quietly influential. It also brought to mind Proverbs 9:9: “Give instruction to a wise man, and he will be still wiser; teach a righteous man, and he will increase in learning.”

A Patriotic Journey: On Celebrating Independence Day

 

Independence Hall.  Photo's by Bobbi

As we celebrate Independence Day, I’m reminded of our family trip to the East Coast back in 1991. After a brief but meaningful tour of Washington, D.C., we continued on to Philadelphia—rich in history and significance to our nation’s founding.

One of the highlights was our visit to Independence Hall. Walking through that historic site, I couldn’t help but reflect on the profound work accomplished there by our Founding Fathers—work that, I believe, could only have been done with Providential help. It was Benjamin Franklin, after all, who famously called for prayer during the Constitutional Convention.

Following that inspiring experience, we took a carriage ride through the historic district. While I appreciated the charm and character of the area, I was disheartened by the visible damage and graffiti. It gave off a sense of neglect and unease—as if gangs had claimed parts of this treasured space. Still, we made it safely through and ended our tour with a visit to the Liberty Bell, a stirring symbol of freedom.

That trip left a lasting impression on me. I’m still amazed that the United States continues to be a beacon of hope for nations seeking liberty. May we always stand in the gap for those who long to be free.

Happy 4th of July. May "Ev'ry heart beats true

'neath the Red, White and Blue,"

---

Psalm 33:12 Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord,

    the people whom he has chosen as his heritage!

MOM SAID BE HAPPY GOD SAID BE HOLY

 

Mom high school graduation 1935

What Mom wanted for the five of us kids—Jay Leroy, Roberta Joy, Evy, Davy, and Wayney Boy—was for us to be happy. That was her hope and prayer.

As I grew older, I began chasing happiness in all the usual places—friends, money, popularity, traveling, self-improvement, career, and more. For a while, those things felt fulfilling. But deep down, it was never enough. There was always something more to strive for, a goal just out of reach.

On the outside, I had many blessings—my husband, children, houses, and much more. I did count those blessings, but then life took an unexpected turn. Like Paul in Scripture, I ended up with a thorn in my side.

In desperation, I prayed and prayed. I went from doctor to doctor searching for answers. Slowly, I had to let go of everything I once enjoyed—friends, family gatherings, traveling, aerobics, dancing, singing, putting on shows, working at the library... and more.

During this season of loss, I cried out to God. And in that quiet place of surrender, He placed something new on my heart: I could still pray, and I could learn to write.

This small beginning opened new doors. I joined prayer groups, started and led Moms in Prayer groups, and began writing—first a novel, then a blog. I immersed myself in God’s Word and found comfort in time spent with His people.

Yet even in this new path, I came to another crossroads. I finally gave up striving and asked God to do in me whatever He pleased. That surrender was the turning point.

He began to speak to me through Scripture, giving me verses that reassured me of His faithfulness—that He would complete the work He had started in me.

A dear friend, Nan, gently reminded me of something I hold on to: “It's in Trusting, not trying.”

"Sometimes life seems like words and music
That can't quite become a song
So we cry inside, and we try again
And wonder what could be wrong
But, when we turn to the Lord
At the end of ourselves
Like we've done a time or two before
We find His truth is the same
As it has always been
We never will need more

It's not in trying but in trusting
It's not in running but in resting
Not in wondering but in praying
That we find the strength of the Lord

It's not in trying but in trusting
Not in running but in resting
Not in wondering but in praying
That we find the strength of the Lord

He's all we need for our every need
We never need be alone
Still He'll let us go if we choose to
To live life on our own
Then the only good that will ever be said
Of the pains we find ourselves in
There are places to gain the wisdom to say
I'll never leave Him again"

----------------------------

Now, God is teaching me patience and perseverance—not the kind I would have chosen, but the kind I need. He is helping me love others better and guiding me to strive, not for worldly happiness, but toward His goal: to be holy, as He is holy.

As Philippians 1:6 reminds us:
“And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”

FATHER'S DAY

 

My grandmother Isabel was a founding member of the Father's Day Committee.  I can't find her in this picture.  Maybe you can.  Father's Day Picnic Spokane, WA 1915.

I’m so thankful that we have a day set aside to honor fathers. It’s a meaningful time to reflect on and celebrate the powerful difference a father can make in a child’s life.

To underscore that impact, researchers Fagan and Palm from the Institute for Family Studies shared this insight—click here to read the whole report.

The term “activation relationship” describes the emotional bond between fathers and children that enables the child to feel safe to take both physical and social risks and explore their environment. … When fathers interact with sensitivity and warmth, they provide a secure base for exploration and encourage children to go out into the world and then come back to share with [their] fathers.

That quote resonates deeply with me. Reflecting on my own father, I realize he must have done a good job—because I left home at 18 and never looked back. My dreams unfolded by the grace of God just as I hoped. I found myself traveling the world: first by car, train, bus, steamboat, and airplane.

Later, I was fortunate to marry a man who shared that same love of adventure—especially through sailing. Even more importantly, I was blessed to have a husband who loved his children wholeheartedly.

Interestingly, Spokane was already a vibrant place back in 1915. The women of the community planned a special Father’s Day picnic in one of the city’s beautiful parks. (See photo above.)

The Spokesman Review recently shared a powerful story about the origins of Father’s Day, which started right here in Spokane.
One highlight from that story was about the descendants of Sonora Smart Dodd, the woman credited with founding the holiday. Her great-granddaughter, Betsy Roddy—the last direct descendant—continues to honor that legacy. Each year, she writes two Father’s Day cards: one to her father, and one to her great-grandmother. It’s a touching family tradition that keeps Sonora Dodd’s vision alive and reminds us all of the lasting impact of fatherhood.

This year’s Father’s Day celebration in Spokane marked a special milestone and served as a reminder of how fathers help build strong, resilient communities.

I am filled with gratitude for fathers—both past and present.

As Luke 11:11 reminds us:
"What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent?"

SALUTING 250 YEARS OF DUTY, HONOR, AND COUNTRY

 

Photo by Chris

My experience as a Sponsor with the ROTC Sponsor Corps at Eastern Washington University back in 1965 was thoroughly enjoyable. We marched every day, practicing for military parades—and I loved every minute of it.

That said, the scene described above may be all too familiar when a drill sergeant singles out a new recruit in an effort to toughen him up. Some recruits respond well to this kind of challenge, while others look for creative ways to avoid it altogether. I've heard of recruits becoming drivers for officers or working as company photographers—clever ways to steer clear of the drill sergeant’s attention.

Kitchen Patrol (KP) is another strategy that sometimes works. If you show up at 3 a.m. to peel potatoes, you might just earn the rest of the day off. Of course, I’ve never been in the military myself, so I can only speak from what I’ve heard.

Now, looking ahead to this Saturday in Washington, D.C., there will be a celebration marking 250 years of the U.S. Army. Congratulations to all our brave warriors on this incredible milestone!