Malaria kills 1,200 children daily, about 50 per hour, around the world. 90% of those deaths occur in Africa. Earlier this year, we handed out 200 mosquito nets in a rural area outside of Bujumbura city and I wonder how we can do more, help more and prevent more deaths.
The problem isn't the gallon of milk, or the errands we are sent on. The problem is found in our attitudes when the errand doesn't suit us.
It's been said that the love you have for someone can be measured by the pain you feel in their absence. I have found that there's truth to that statement.
I have four children, each one is precious to me. My firstborn was the first with everything. He was the first child born to our family. The first one we taught to walk, the first one we walked to school and the first one to leave home. He was the "trial run" that paved the… Continue reading The Paintbrush
Wherever you are as you read this, I pray your eyes be open to the least of those that surround you in your world. I don’t have long, drawn-out answers to explain away the pain of this world. This world we live in is waiting for its redemption from the grasp of sin, until that day God’s answer to suffering lies in the hands of us, His children.
One of the most painful experiences for any parent is to let their children spread their wings and fly. The first time I had to let go was in 2003 when my son Tommy left Africa to attend university Stateside. I wrote a poem for him, as I have for each one when they left. 2003 wasn't so long ago, was it?
I wrote this in 2015 remembering my mother and wanted to reshare on the anniversary of her death 12 years ago. I love you Aiti, always. I tucked in my seven-year-old daughter last night and inhaled deeply as I looked around her room. She had a night light. She had her music. She had her… Continue reading The Last Time Mama Tucked Me In
The water is off today.
One of the hardest things to do when you're told what to do, is to do it.
On a side note, another innocuous change in me as a parent as I've grown older is found in my lunch offerings for my fourth child, our bonus baby. Yesterday, she had samosas (a fried slightly spicy meat pie that is the food of heaven) and marshmallows for lunch. I was tempted to feel "parent shame" until my oldest son (who I had messaged her menu to) said, "It's ok. Let her enjoy life."
The student has become the teacher!