Sunday, May 18, 2025

THOSE WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE US

 

Memorial Day 2016 near Carnation, WA. Photo by Bobbi.

I have been privileged to visit cemeteries across the country, from Virginia to Washington. Each one holds its own quiet story, a solemn reminder of the sacrifices made. At Arlington National Cemetery, I was particularly moved by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The precision and unwavering dedication of the stoic guards left a lasting impression on me.

At national cemeteries like Tahoma, near Tacoma, WA, military veterans are buried free of charge—a fitting tribute to their service. In contrast, some families have chosen private plots, with gravesites stretching from New York to California to Washington. These resting places vary greatly: some lie in vast, sweeping cemeteries; others in small, almost hidden spaces. Some are marked with headstones, while others remain unmarked. Some of the deceased served in the military, while others did not. Each grave, however, represents a life, a story, and a connection to history.

As Memorial Day approaches, it’s important to pause and remember those who have defended our nation. It’s a time of reflection and gratitude. For me, one memorable moment was when Chris and I stumbled upon a beautifully solemn scene during a Memorial Day weekend, possibly in Monroe, WA. The precision of the ceremony—it was deeply moving and a tribute to the dedication so many put into honoring our fallen.

This year, I hope to watch military band concerts on TV, taking in the music and tradition from home. Someday, Chris and I may visit the cemeteries in Spokane to place flowers on the graves of our ancestors—a quiet gesture of remembrance.

I’m reminded of these words from Scripture:

1 Thessalonians 4:16–18
For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.

May we carry that encouragement with us as we honor and remember.






Sunday, May 11, 2025

MOTHER'S DAY-- HONORING MOMS

 

1944--  Jay, Grandma Isabelle, Grace, me, Aunt Emily, Kit, Aunt Jeanne, Richard

It was a joyful day when the cousins finally met. We were all close in age—except for Jay, who was two years older than the rest of us. Richard was born in January, I came along in July, and Kit, the youngest, was born in August.

Our families traveled from California and Wisconsin to Spokane for that first reunion. It marked the beginning of a lasting bond between us, one nurtured by our remarkable mothers—Grace, Emily, and Jeanne. From that point on, they made sure we stayed connected. I was happy to have 2 girl cousins, Rinda and Janet, and my sister Evy born between 1945 and 1947.  Last of all we had cousin Bobby, and my brothers Davy and Wayne born in the 50's. 

Thanks to their dedication, we saw each other at least once a year. In between visits, letters and gifts kept our relationships strong. Their consistent efforts helped build a deep and lasting connection among us. 

I believe what truly sustained our closeness was more than just our mothers' efforts—it was also the shared foundation of values we grew up with. Our Judeo-Christian upbringing gave us a common moral ground that shaped our lives and deepened our connection.

Looking back, I’m grateful for the love and intention that brought us together and kept us close. What began as a simple family visit became the foundation of lifelong relationships. The traditions, values, and memories we share continue to shape who we are today. And though time and distance may stretch between us now, the bond we built—rooted in family, faith, and the care of three devoted mothers—remains.

Here's to all moms on this special day.

Proverbs 31:26 She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.


Saturday, April 26, 2025

LIFE: A MEMOIR

 

Daughter Heather 1972 -- not afraid of dogs

Life hurts—sometimes. We face both big and small “owies.” We carry fears, anxieties, and memories that shape us.

For me, the wounds began early—when I was just five years old. I was playing in the sandbox at a neighbor's house with their little girl. As long as I stayed in the backyard, I felt safe. But eventually, I wanted to go home. She didn’t want me to leave and refused to walk me to the gate. So I ran—alone.

That’s when their big red Chow dog attacked me. It mauled both of my arms and both of my legs. I don’t remember what happened next, but I’ve been told I was rushed to the hospital, where the doctor cauterized the bite wounds. I still carry the scars. And that’s where my fear of dogs began.

Some fears are easier to trace than others. I’m not sure why I’m afraid of cars. Maybe it’s the fear of being run over. Even as an adult I am still fearful. I remember when Chris and I were in Paris—I couldn’t bring myself to cross the street because of the overwhelming traffic. Chris had to gently guide me across by holding my neck and back, slowly pushing me forward. Since then, I’ve found it easier to just avoid cities altogether.

Another painful moment came when I was 7, visiting Grandma Grace Belle and Grandpa Roy. I was jumping from the hayloft into the soft hay below, laughing and playing. But as I walked back to climb up again, I stepped on a sharp piece of coal and twisted my left foot badly. It hurt so much that I begged my older brother Jay to carry me into the house. My foot was soaked in salt water and wrapped. And then? I went right back out to keep jumping. But from that day on, my left foot always hurt. We found out later that it was broken.  I have a bone pile under my ankle. I never had trouble telling my left from my right after that.

These experiences left more than physical scars. They planted deep longings—for safety, for healing, for peace.

So when I first heard in Sunday school that if I believed in Jesus, I would have eternal life—life without pain or tears—it was exactly what my heart longed for. That day, I put my trust in Jesus. I believed He would save me, and that one day, I’d live with Him forever.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to understand more deeply the truth of the Gospel: that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, but Jesus paid the price. We can trust Him—He loves us, prays for us, and protects us. And year after year, I’ve only grown more in love with Him.

John 3:16
For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.



Monday, April 14, 2025

RESURRECTION ROLLS RECIPE

 


In case you missed it here is a repeat of last years Easter recipe:

Resurrection rolls are a great Easter recipe that you can make with the kids. Cinnamon-coated marshmallows are wrapped in dough, then baked. When you break them open, they are empty inside, representing Jesus's tomb on Easter morning.

Ingredients

    • 1 (10 ounce) can refrigerated crescent dinner rolls
    • 2 tablespoons white sugar
    • 2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
    • 8 large marshmallows
    • ¼ cup melted butter

Directions

  1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Lightly grease a baking sheet.

  2. Separate crescent rolls into individual triangles.

  3. Mix sugar and cinnamon together in a small bowl.

  4. Dip a marshmallow into melted butter, then roll in sugar mixture. Place marshmallow into the center of a dough triangle. Carefully wrap dough around marshmallow. Roll into ball. Pinch the seams together tightly to seal in marshmallow as it melts. Place roll on a baking sheet; repeat.

  5. Bake in the preheated oven until golden brown, about 15 minutes. My oven was a little hot so I took them out after 10 minutes. 

Saturday, April 5, 2025

EASTER IS ON ITS WAY



Palm Sunday is coming up on April 13th. As we remember Jesus’ triumphal entrance into Jerusalem, riding a donkey over the palm branches spread along His path, we also look ahead to Easter, which will fall on April 20th this year. Reflecting on past Easters, we recall how Heather and Jessie often prepared lamb for our family meal, while we brought along our apple mint jelly—carefully saved and ready for the occasion, sometimes months in advance. But of course, that’s not the only thing we love about Easter.

Another highlight is the music. Whether we sing "The Easter Song" or "Christ Arose" in church or at home, the joy of worship through song fills our hearts. Samantha sometimes plays the melody for us on her flute, while Heather adds a few chords on the piano, creating a beautiful atmosphere of celebration.

In the worship video above, the congregation sings praises to Jesus, expressing their love and devotion through song. This is a great time of celebration in the Christian community of faith.


Revelation 1:12 Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, 13 and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. 14 The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, 15 his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. 16 In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength.

17 When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, 18 and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.


Wednesday, March 26, 2025

SEEKING DIVINE GUIDANCE IN THE AGE OF TECHNOLOGY

Snow path--  Monroe, WA 2015.  Photo by Chris.

I was thinking about writing another blog but needed an idea.  Instead of consulting God I thought I'd ask ChatGPT.  Then I realized I was on the wrong path.  I need to take the path to God not Chat GPT. It is much easier to consult God in prayer than to turn on the computer, find the bookmark, and then write my question.  Why didn't I think of consulting God first? I pray that will be my first thought from now on.  

So I asked God to give me some topics to write about.  He put on my mind: "The world and all that is in it."  That resonated with me as I remembered Robert Louis Stevensons poem- "The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings." I could write about everything from the smallest bug to the largest natural formation, to books, people, animals and on and on.

Then I asked ChatGPT what in the world I could write about.  It gave me 30 topics about globalization--  none that appealed to me.  All were too big to even condense into a blog. The topics were devoid of any human spirit. ChatGPT is very secular.  

So from now on I will remember to pray.  
 
Just received this article.  Interesting read--  "Phoning a “friend”' by Candice Watters. It is about using a chatbot school counselor. It is everything children don’t need:

Declining mental health among American youth is no secret. It’s the subject of frequent news reports and bestselling books and a fixture of pop culture. Bestselling authors link the growing problem to smartphones and screen time. Meanwhile, school officials are worried about their students, burdened by parents’ expectations, and struggling to meet the rising demand for counselors. What if technology could solve this problem of its own making? 

Enter Sonny, a school counseling chatbot. In “When There’s No School Counselor, There’s a Bot,” Wall Street Journal columnist Julie Jargon describes the part human, part AI hybrid making its way into schools across the country. In the words of Sonar Mental Health, Sonny’s developers, it’s a “personal wellbeing companion” that K-12 students can chat with “about literally anything.” 

What sets this chatbot apart from pure AI, says Jargon, is the human element. She reports, “humans with backgrounds in psychology, social work and crisis-line support are always in the mix, reviewing the chats and taking cues from AI to inform their own replies to students.” 

But a closer look at Sonar’s own webpage and its “Human-In-The-Loop model” is less reassuring. Who are the humans listening in on conversations “about anything” with school children? They’re 20-somethings. Sonar says it hires young people because they’re “closer in age” with “similar backgrounds” and better able to “empathize and connect with the students.” It also makes Sonny “more affordable.” Indeed. 

At Sonar, youth input is central. “Teens know what works best for them,” their website says, “that’s why student voices shape everything we do,” including how Sonny sounds. Sonar’s co-founder Drew Barvir told the Journal that the AI speaks like a cool older sibling. 

Are these cool older siblings the mental health professionals who are “always in the mix”? Hardly. The website’s disclaimer says 20-somethings are “not licensed mental health professionals.” Such experts are further removed from the chats, providing support to the people who are monitoring the chats. 

But even that isn’t what it appears to be. According to Jargon’s reporting, a staff of six people, across shifts, can monitor 15 to 25 chats at a time. But Sonny, who is available to kids from 8 a.m. to 2 a.m., is being used by 4,500 middle and high school students over nine school districts. That math doesn’t add up. Sonny must be more AI than human—a lot more. 

Children in crisis need adults who know them personally and are committed to their good.

Sonar’s use of AI to “catch problems early” is no solution. Meeting kids on their phones—the very place responsible for so much of their mental anguish—and engaging them with AI chats that are monitored (loosely defined) by 20-somethings is deeply concerning. Far from solving school officials’ problems, Sonny is likely to make things worse. Children will think Sonny is a trusted friend, but they’ll be deceived. It’s a Frankenstien monster that’s part computer program, part 20-something mash-up without wisdom. And it will likely draw children into their devices even more, cutting them off from the real people who can help them. 

Even if Sonar could fully staff Sonny with trained mental health professionals, it would still be a bad idea. Psychoanalyst Erica Komisar, writing for the Institute for Family Studies, points to what children need most in this mental health crisis, and it’s not AI chatbots. What children need most is their parents. Parents, she says, “are the lenses that help children see just far enough into the future to understand the impact of their choices. They are the moral shelter children need to grow into emotionally and ethically-grounded adults.” To truly help children, Komisar calls for “ending the outsourcing of parenting to schools, therapists, and social media influencers.” 

As parents, we feel the limits of our human intelligence. But how much more are the limits of the 20-something wellbeing companions who have never met the children they’re chatting with? Assurances that they’re guided by AI running on “machine learning” and “social media insights” fall flat. It’s no benefit that the youth on the other end of the chats are “safe and judgment-free.” What school children often need to hear is that they’re thinking wrongly, that their plans are foolish, or that a course-correction is overdue. They need to hear this from their parents, pastors, and other sources of wisdom. 

From the beginning, God made parents to love their children, with all of their unique needs, and bring them up in the instructions of His Word (see Deuteronomy 6:6-7 and Ephesians 6:4). This is where wisdom is found. Parents may occasionally need to enlist the help of a trusted pastor or biblical counselor—but never a computer-generated conversation overseen by a kid barely older than their own children.

AI-generated “counselors” can’t help children or teens in need of real support. It will only intensify the pathologies emerging from screen time and scrolling. Children in crisis need adults who know them personally and are committed to their good, adults who can help to see the truth about God, the brokenness of the world, and their own need for redemption and grace. They need this apart from the screens that are so often the platform of their suffering. Parents, your kids may need counsel, but they don’t need hybrid counseling chatbots. They need you.


Proverbs 1:23 If you turn at my reproof, behold, I will pour out my spirit to you; I will make my words known to you.




Wednesday, March 12, 2025

SIPPING LEMONADE AND SOAKING UP THE SUN

 

Growing up, some of my fondest memories were of the picnics I enjoyed with my family in Spokane. Whether it was with my dad’s side or my mom’s side of the family, picnics were always a time of laughter, games, and great food. The casual atmosphere and being surrounded by family made these summer outings something I looked forward to every year.

My grandparents set the tradition for picnics when planning picnics with friends from Wisconsin.  The Spokane newspapers would cover the events of a close-knit group of friends who had moved farther west. Those friends would gather together for their annual summer picnic. Grandpa was especially involved in the planning, taking on the important task of organizing the sports and games that everyone would enjoy. From three-legged races to tug-of-war, Grandpa made sure there was never a dull moment. I admired how much care he took in making sure everyone had fun, no matter their age.

On my mom’s side, the picnics took on a slightly different flavor. Those grandparents shared their love of summer picnics with friends who had moved from Iowa to Spokane. They invited my other grandparents to join them.  Wearing dresses and hats they took off their white gloves for the occasion.

From left to right I don't know the gentleman, next Grandpa Roy, Grandpa Claude, Grandma Grace, Grandma Isabel

In later years we would have family picnics when the five cousins gathered. Whether we were playing with frisbees, running around, or simply chatting and catching up, the atmosphere could be warm and welcoming--  except for one cousin who would play tricks on us.  

Picnics in Spokane had a special charm, and the locations were perfect for these family gatherings. Sometimes we would gather at Manito Park, with its beautiful green spaces and walking paths, and other times, we would head to Natatorium Park, where the carnival rides were available for us to ride. Either way, both locations felt like a retreat from the busy everyday life, a chance to slow down and enjoy the moment with loved ones. Here are the best places to picnic in Spokane now. Click on the word here to open.

Some years, we would even celebrate my birthday during these picnics, as my birthday falls in the summer. There’s something special about blowing out candles surrounded by the people who mean the most to you, with the smell of grilled food in the air and the sound of children’s laughter filling the space.

Looking back, I realize how important those picnics were in shaping my love for family gatherings and outdoor fun. They weren’t just about the food or the games, though both were certainly highlights. They were about the connections we made, the stories we told, and the simple joy of spending time together. Those summer picnics in Spokane are a cherished memory that will always hold a special place in my heart.

Proverbs 17:17 A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.