Wednesday, August 31, 2005


Some friends were out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant with their grown son and his young wife. The waitress delivered the bill and four fortune cookies.

They opened them, and read them aloud, one by one.

The daughter-in-law read, "You will make a prosperous business decision."

The father-in-law read, "There are big changes for you but you will be happy."

The mother-in-law read, "You have found good company -- enjoy."

Finally, the adult son pulled his paper out of the cookie, and read, "You have homosexual tendencies."

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then his wife slapped his forearm and everybody roared. How he pulled it off with a straight face was very . . . well . . . fortunate.


Prayer request: We pray in one accord for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. May each of us find a way to contribute to the clean-up and help bear their burden, Lord. It is when we are serving others that we feel Your presence in the sweetest, clearest way. Hint, hint: think Red Cross! (Revelation 3:20)

Tuesday, August 30, 2005


We’re having the softball team and coaches over for dinner tomorrow night, and out-of-town guests the following week. I’ve been wondering what to do about the Green Jell-O Holocaust on the off-white carpet in Maddy’s room. I guess I’ll have to accidentally leave a pile of laundry on top of the big spot if anybody wants a house tour.

I know better than to put off-white carpet in a kid’s room, but oh, well. She knows not to eat in her room, but . . . ditto. She snuck some kind of mint-green powder candy in there last spring. Naturally, it spilled, and then it got wet, and the pro carpet cleaner tried his best but it’s just one of those Cat in the Hat blobs that won’t go away.

But I guess I shouldn’t have been so persnickety about stain removal. When my hubby was driving our daughter back to North Carolina over the weekend, they saw this huge billboard, in full view of the St. Louis Arch, as they were entering the mean streets of East St. Louis:


Eww! Eww! Ewwww! Somebody should tell the economic development people about that billboard. If that’s a common consumer need in East St. Louis, I hope my loved ones didn’t even roll their windows down while passing through.


Prayer request: A great and good old friend, Jane, has gotten a marvelous new promotion and is moving from Raleigh, N.C., to Washington, D.C. She has been very content in Carolina, but this is a great opportunity. Strengthen her as she makes all the preparations, and bring her a solid buyer for her house just as soon as possible, Lord. She’s a good egg who deserves a smooth move. (1 Timothy 6:6-8)

Sunday, August 28, 2005


Only take heed to thyself, and keep thy soul diligently,
lest thou forget the things which thine eyes have seen,
and lest they depart from thy heart all the days of thy life:
but teach them thy sons, and thy sons’ sons. . . .
-- Deuteronomy 4:9

We went to the zoo last weekend. The inhabitants display amusing expressions and gestures that remind me of my relatives.

In the gorilla hangout, we saw a human inside the glass enclosure, cuddling and playing with an adorable baby gorilla in a tiny diaper. Relatives, all right – on my husband’s side.

The zookeeper was sitting on an easy chair looking normal and domestic, except the baby on his lap hanging playfully from his outstretched arms was a pointy-headed furtop with hairy armpits.

Behind them, leaning casually up against the glass, was a grown gorilla. I figured she was the mama, and the zookeeper was just acclimating the baby gorilla to human handling. After a few minutes of zoological nannying, I thought he’d give the baby back to her, like the 5:30 p.m. handoff at day-care centers coast to coast.

Then a friend set me straight. Actually, that fascinating little scene has the makings of a horror show, with chilling parallels for us humans.

See, the friend had been there the week before, and talked to the zookeeper. It seems the gorilla mama, Timu, the world’s first test-tube gorilla, had been rejected by her mother. She never got gorilla-style nurturing and love. She had been raised in the zoo nursery, and though the humans tried to simulate gorilla mothering as much as they could, it was tough.

After all that human interaction, when they tried to introduce Timu into the gorilla social group, they rejected her, too. Now she was not only rejected, but socially isolated. But gorilla breeding is important, so they wanted her to reproduce.

Timu did not bond with her first baby, Bambio. According to the zoo’s news archives, she was gentle and protective at first, carrying her five-pound baby in her hands. But she never did put her up to her chest for a hug. She kept losing interest altogether and laying her down on the floor. The baby’s body temperature got so low that zookeepers had no choice but to take her to the nursery and hand-raise her from there, like her mother before her.

Bottom line: nurturing is only partly instinctive. A lot of it is learned, by observation. You can’t give what you never got.

So when it happened again, with this baby, born April 8, the zookeepers took the baby away again, and are trying to model good mothering – holding, feeding, cuddling and playing with the baby in the demonstration booth -- hoping that Timu will learn from observation, and do better next time.

My friend saw the lesson for homo sapiens, with our addictions, our TV watching, our cohabitation, our full-time day care and our broken homes. Who pays? Children.

She wrote: “Imagine: ‘mothering’ is only one generation away from extinction. Loving and persevering in parenting (and marriage) should be imprinted – learned by living it. Is it any wonder young marriages are crumbling at such a rapid pace? How many young people are going at it without the pattern of having lived in it while growing up?”

She’s right. We have to stop monkeying around with motherhood. We have to do everything we can to support it, in our families and in our nation.

But boy, am I glad that I’m not, at the present time, lactating. That’s because, in researching for this story, I read that in another gorilla “baby neglect” case. The zookeepers found a young human mother who was breastfeeding, and had her sit outside the gorilla cage and demonstrate how it’s done for the wide-eyed spectator gorillas.

Now, that’s going all out – literally.

With my luck, if my dairies were currently in operation, I’d be getting a call any day now. Because I love animals so much, I doubt I could say no.

Hey! Let’s be for motherhood . . . but let’s not go ape.


Prayer Request: I’m getting ready to launch my new education website this coming Thursday. is intended to inform Nebraska parents and taxpayers about K-12 education issues and possible solutions so that we can help educators in this most important of tasks. I ask for prayers that Christian principles such as honesty, kindness, peacemaking and thrift will prevail in our public institutions such as schools. I pray that my efforts, as limited as they are, will be used by God to draw adults together to unite around children, and to make a positive difference for constructive change in my beloved home state. This one’s for you, Lord Jesus – You love us and our children the most. (Matthew 19:14)

Saturday, August 27, 2005


I went TGIF’ing with an old buddy yesterday, one of those friends with whom fun just happens, every time. We went to the local BBQ mecca and enjoyed listening to our talkative waitress. That’s right: we two verbal virtuosos were no match for Chatty Kathy of the wait staff.

Turns out her name is Danielle Renee. She is from a neighboring small town with a relatively small high-school graduating class. But in that class with Danielle Renee were not one, but TWO other girls ALSO named Danielle Renee.

What are the odds? We were amazed.

I was able to get one word in edgewise, that they could date Larry, Darrell and Darrell from TV fame about 20 years ago. You know, the two brothers who were both named Darrell because their parents couldn’t think of another boy’s name that they liked as well. “Our” Danielle Renee is too young to know what I was talking about and just gave me the familiar puzzled but tolerant smile of the young savant for the dotty old fool.

She did say, however, that she dated a boy for two years but had to break up because it was just too much of a good thing. His name? You guessed it: Daniel. Now, if HIS middle name would have been Renee. . . .


Prayer request: That good old bud, Cindy J., has a mom who recently developed uterine cancer and breast cancer, and now in recent days has learned that a new malignancy has been found in her thyroid. Father God, we thank You for the gracious way this elder has been facing these trials, and for the strengthening of the relationship between mother and daughter, as the roles are gradually reversing before their eyes. Grant them both a supernatural peace, and the knowledge that, as believers, You will be with them come what may. (Matthew 6:31,32)

Friday, August 26, 2005


Every time I’ve come in to Maddy’s new kindergarten, which is in a private Christian school, I have had to look down, concentrate, and mutter, “Don’t say anything crass. Don’t swear. Don’t say _____________!”

Well, not really. But I was wondering what it would be like at a Christian school -- whether it would be boring and homogenous, with everybody pretty much the same.

NOT! There’s a wide range of ages among the parents, as I’ve already lamented, and both fancy cars and beaters in the parking lot. There are homemakers with babies and hard-charging career men and women. There are a couple of kids from different races in Maddy’s class, and I’m sure there’s a wide range of special needs among the 500-plus kids.

And even though the atmosphere is Christian, there’s plenty of diversity in that realm, too. On the first day, I noticed another mother who was wearing one of those white Amish bonnets, a flowered dress that looked hand-crafted, and old-fashioned lace-up shoes. I thought, “Oh, boy! A Quaker! I’ve never been this close to a Quaker before, except at the Living History Farms or the Amana Colonies. I wonder if they drove up in a horse and buggy, and make their own soap and stuff.”

Instantly, I looked down, concentrated, and muttered, “Don’t say anything crass. Don’t swear. Don’t say _______.”

All of a sudden, the lady in the 17th Century bonnet took out a really fancy schmancy digital camera, and starting snapping pix of her little boy, with a great, big smile.

Hey, Pilgrim! That’s diversity!


Prayer request: We continue to lift up my wonderful Uncle Dave, who has been battling emphysema and is in a hospital ICU after breaking a rib in a fall and experiencing horrendous trouble breathing. Doctors predicted he wouldn’t make it through the night, but he did. Praise You, Father, that all four kids made it home and enjoyed a strong dose of their father’s humor and leadership. He asked the doctor, for example: “Am I on first base? Am I on second base? Am I going home?” and the doctor replied, “You’re still swinging!” and then Dave shot back, “Oh, really? Well, can I cancel the flower order?” However, the situation is still very difficult for all of them. Breath of Life, we pray that You will take this believer home in Your timing with a minimum of suffering, surrounded by love. (Psalm 5:12)

Thursday, August 25, 2005


Maddy’s first day of kindergarten was just like everybody said: totally great, and awfully sweet.

She insisted on bringing an apple for her new teacher, who is about 25 years my junior, but with a brilliant smile and a nurturing attitude. I loved seeing “Phonics” as the second thing on that daily schedule, too.

Maddy knows one other girl in the class of 16, but Kaylin was visiting with two other girls when we arrived. Kaylin didn’t see her, so Maddy stood alone, all shy. Then Kaylin turned, saw Maddy, grinned, and ran over to her.

What Maddy did next told me she is going to be all right: she took Kaylin’s hand. The two of them walked, hand in hand, down the hall to their kindergarten classroom, with their big backpacks bobbing. It was like a Hallmark card.

What was left OUT of the scene was me, jumping and clicking my heels in joy and relief for getting her this far! Just kidding: I had a lump in my throat the size of a watermelon. It was a wonderful day.


Prayer request: My Uncle Dave is in crisis, struggling for breath, as his long battle with emphysema might be coming to an end. He fell and broke a rib, and I know from having that happen this past summer that it’s hard to breathe with all that swelling. For him, it might be becoming impossible. Father, we commend Dave’s strong, funny and beautiful spirit into Your hands. We pray that You will lift him up and over the pain and fear, bringing him to You with a minimum of suffering, and that his four children will get a chance to say goodbye, if it be Your will to take him now. We always called him “Uncle Ace.” Lord, thank You for his life. (Luke 4:10)

Wednesday, August 24, 2005


Maddy goes off to kindergarten this afternoon – hyperventilating with excitement in her blue and green plaid jumper, white blouse and Hello Kitty underwear. My only hope is that she NOT show off the latter to the boys, no matter HOW new and pretty her undies are. We need to avoid making THAT kind of a first impression, especially at a Christian school.

My lament about being the oldest mother by far, dealing with a teacher about the age of my first-born, has been met with tons of encouragement from my fellow older mothers. One wrote about her son’s kindergarten teacher, who was “about four-foot nothing and didn't look much older than her class members.” Here’s what happened:

“She called me one day to say, ‘Mrs. _____, I think you might want to have a talk with Christopher.’ Immediately my thought was: MY little darling? In TROUBLE?!? Curiosity got the best of me, so I replied quite innocently, ‘Why?’ She replied, ‘I've noticed that he has a problem with reversing his numbers. I thought you might want to know he is going around telling everyone you are 54!’

“I thought for a minute, and used some of the wisdom my advanced age had provided, replying, ‘Oh, that's OK. They probably think I look really GREAT for 54!’

“Then the second call came. ‘Mrs. _____, I think we have a problem. Did you know Christopher thinks he is . . . one-half DOG?’ I thought for a moment and then replied, ‘Oh, that's OK. He gets that part from his FATHER'S side!’

“I think then Mrs. N may have suspected where the REAL problem could be found. No more calls after that.”

It gave me new hope for surviving the school year. Old age, cunning and stealth will defeat youth and vigor, every time!


Prayer request: We are grateful that Maddy will receive a great education, starting today, but most of all, that it will be a Christian education. The older I get, Lord, the more I see that it isn’t the intellectual side that needs schooling so much, it’s the heart side. May Maddy be a star pupil in Your Word and Your ways, and pass the ultimate test of loving and believing in You . . . and may she give and receive a whole lot of joy in the process. (Philippians 4:9)

Tuesday, August 23, 2005


Several other older mothers have comforted me in my irrational fears of being the granny of the sandbox set at this back-to-school time. They’ve been there, done that, bought the Maalox. They made me feel lots better.

One wrote, “I have some cute spider veins happening on the inside of my left ankle, right where all the young moms get their tattoos! Problem is, my spider veins fan out asymmetrically and it looks like a tattoo gone bad.

“So now, not only am I the oldest mom of a fourth grader, I look like I tried and failed at getting a decent tattoo! When you add the streaking self-tanner to that, I'm sure all the hip, young moms will pity me on the first day of school!”


Prayer request: A baby boy named Reese, just two months old, has been diagnosed with cancer. His parents live in Kansas, and his mother, Anita, is the best friend of the niece of my neighbor. The family is requesting immediate prayers for a miracle. Lord Jesus, we know You hold this family in Your hand, and Your will is sovereign and always just. But Lord, this is a little bitty baby, and he deserves a healthy, long life. You would bring much glory to Your Name by granting this miracle of healing. Lord of love, thank You for Your peace and comfort. Thy will be done. (Philippians 4:6,7)

Monday, August 22, 2005


When’s the last time you went to the zoo? I had forgotten what a kick it is to hang out with those 20,000 extra-special creatures.

Sunday’s trip included a little voyeurism, as Mr. and Mrs. Ostrich took a fully-immersed bath together in front of our eyes. There was danger, as an egret tried to peck a lady’s toes from under a fence. There was discovery, big and small: I saw a pipefish for the first time – an eentsy weentsy orange shoestring of a fish. A second later, walking in the tube underneath the big sharks, I got a good look at all the fins they have. They have so many fins, and each for a different purpose!

But the best thing was coming around the corner in the gorilla house, and encountering a grandfatherly zookeeper in an easy chair with a tiny gorilla baby on his lap, wearing a diaper. The gorilla baby, not the zookeeper! The man was exercising the little one’s arms, and cuddling him, and playing with him, apparently to get him used to human touch. Right outside, with one huge arm up on the glass, waiting for this session to be over, was the gorilla mama. She had a look on her face that I’ve seen before: on human moms, the first time they drop their child off at day care.

That’s why I really love the zoo: everything is all so familiar!


Prayer request: What a wonderful community resource we have in the Henry Doorly Zoo. Lord, thank You for all the people through the generations who have built it up and kept it going and growing so well. It’s a model of good stewardship and honor for Your creation. Grant it success, for all creatures great and small. (Job 5:22).

Sunday, August 21, 2005


To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven. . . .
-- Ecclesiastes 3:1

This was the year I was supposed to be done with the whole schooling thing. I was supposed to kiss our third child, Eden, and send her off for the first day of her senior year. I would wave, misty-eyed, and then venture into the coffee shop to BURN MY BRA, shouting, “FREEDOM!”

At the end of this year, I could leap skyward, click my heels, and shout, for real, “No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks!”

No more bake sales!

No more papier mache volcanoes!

No more soup-label drives or beginning band concerts!

No more blasting powder and overhead cranes to get a lazy body out of bed before the tardy bell!

But ohhhhhhh, nooooooo. I’m not done with the PTA, carpools and sucking up at conferences just yet.

Our “whoopsie daisy,” Maddy, starts kindergarten on Wednesday.

Here we go again!

And I’m scared. The OTHER mothers will be 20 years younger. They will think that I am Maddy’s frumpy old grandma, bringing her to school so that her mother can hold down that cool job as a Wall Street investment banker, an airline pilot, or both.

The OTHER mothers will have six-pack abs, no clothes or underwear older than their child, and frisky, tasteful piercings or a sophisticated tattoo or two. They will run half-marathons and be bilingual, with fulfilling and lucrative careers in addition to being superior moms, compared to me, because no doubt they will require far fewer naps.

It’s almost the first day of school, and I’m already worried about flunking.

Not my kid. Me!

Maddy is prepared, though. When they ask, “How old IS your mother, anyway?” she will retort, “A hundred bundred. She’s going to be a big help to me in history class, since she lived through most of that stuff.”

I wouldn’t say I’m burned out. But our three older kids got the four food groups in every lunch I packed, and a loving note. Maddy will be lucky to get roofing tile, chocolate chips, chewing gum, and maybe a five-spot to hang out at the bowling alley for a few hours after school so I can extend my nap.

I’m trying to make a good impression, though. All week, I’ve been staring at my 17 white eyebrow hairs. If I pluck the white ones out, there really won’t be many left. So will I look younger . . . or deranged? Either way, will it be an improvement?

I’m working on my facial expressions, too. Kindergartners expect you to be surprised and delighted over their schoolwork. So even though it’s my fourth go-round on this stuff, I’d better play along.

Fat blob of hardened clay? It’s a dinosaur. Gasp! Clap your hands! Look amazed!

Odd swirls of black wire in plaster of paris? It’s a swan. Be astounded! Slack-jawed!

Of course, I’m exaggerating. Truly, I’m blessed. It’s fun to be back at this stage of life again, with such a cute kid. It’s a privilege to be put her in a private Christian school. It’s hilarious that she wants to wear her adorable plaid uniform to bed the night before, so she’ll be ready, first thing.

I’m sure . . . sob . . . the next 13 years will go by fast.

I’m pretty sure the Lord has placed me back in a school community in my old age for a reason. I still have a lot to learn, of course. But this time around, I’ll be the wise and experienced one. There won’t really be that many surprises. This time, I can be a giver more than a taker – if I can just stay awake.

And that’s pretty neat. In fact, I’m excited. On the first day of school, once I have my swig of Geritol and pluck a few white eyebrow hairs, even if I look pretty old and pretty deranged, I’ll get in there with the OTHER mothers . . . and prepare to be amazed!


Prayer Request: We lift up the Craig Thomas family of Fort Calhoun. Craig, 28, has been diagnosed with Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. He’s a great person and he and his young wife Erin work extensively with youth in their church. They are a wonderful couple, and are steadfast in their faith that God has chosen a difficult path for them for a reason. The community is responding wonderfully, which is all Craig wants: not charity, but help for all those struggling with ALS. Lord, use this crisis to teach others about this disease and inspire them to reach out and help all those who are affected by it. Grant Craig healing and peace, and display Your glory in the many miracles that accompany a situation like this, where the community comes together around a hurting person. (Jeremiah 17:14)

Saturday, August 20, 2005


Hooray and hoo boy: the headlines had us on a roller-coaster ride yesterday.

First, the City of Omaha won the first round in the legal battle over whether or not they should get to annex our cute little town, Elkhorn. It’s so nasty and un-fun, after all we’ve done to build up our town. It’s soooooo depressing.

But that was the bad news. The GOOD news is, the Ten Commandments monument tucked away in a quiet public park in Plattsmouth, Neb., gets to stay there. The 8th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled against an atheist’s contention that it violated his constitutional rights to have it there on public property. It has been there since 1965, and nobody squawked before. It’s soooooo exciting that the judges realized it was just a nod to America’s Christian heritage that ought to stay.

So here’s what we do: we put up a Ten Commandments monument downtown, outside Omaha’s City Hall . . . with a red circle around No. 10, “Thou shalt not covet. . . .” We could add a little Post-It note that says, “Elkhorn.” And we could sign it this way:

“Don’t make me come down there! – God.”


Prayer request: Solace and rest for Elkhorn’s attorney, Duncan Young, who married a high-school chum of mine, and did a great job against tough odds in a losing effort at the trial level. Grant him success in the appeal, Lord, which is where we’ve hoped the tide would turn all along, as matters of law trump matters of politics. We’ll accept whatever comes, since You are sovereign and will make it work. May Your will be done, Father. (Ecclesiastes 7:14).

Friday, August 19, 2005


Having just returned from the North Woods on the Canadian border, where we had dinner at a little café whose founder developed a wonderful habitat for black bear and had a lot of great pictures around, I was shocked when I received this coupon from a local grocery store:



I know, I know, it’s a brand name. But I’d like to see them try to market that up in Orr, Minn.


Praise report: Thank You, Father, for encouraging and guiding my friends at the Boys and Girls Club in inner-city Omaha. They had a breakfast for more than 150 people yesterday morning to raise funds and friends. It went wonderfully. The needs of youth in the older parts of the Omaha metro are so great, Lord, but You have raised up these caring people to come alongside kids and keep them out of gangs and onto the right track. Grant them growth and success, and inspire me and others like me, with resources to help, to turn toward them, and not away. (Matthew 25:40).

Thursday, August 18, 2005


My adorable nephew Grant, son of my younger brother, lives in the Boston area. When he visited with his family last summer, he and our youngest, Maddy, had a whee together; she now considers him her best friend. Like our third daughter, Eden, he is happiest on a ballfield and has a thing for balls and bats. So for his 10th birthday, we sent him a Husker baseball shirt, commemorating the trip the University of Nebraska took to the College World Series.

In his thank-you note (my brother and sister-in-law don’t make no junk, so yes, he wrote a thank-you!), he said it was the first piece of Husker apparel he had ever had.


That’s incomprehensible to someone who lives here. Everybody wears Husker, all year long! I mean, they have TOILET PAPER and ROOFING TILES with the N.U. logo. And my brother Danny is one of the craziest Husker football fans in the universe. I couldn’t believe he hasn’t brainwashed his son by now.

So I was telling my cousin, and she quipped, “That’s terrible. We have to do an intervention.”


Prayer request: There’s a soon-to-be college freshman named Alison on an 11-hour drive today with her parents to begin college in Ohio. She’s the star catcher and hitter on our traveling softball team, a year older than our daughter, but they’re very close friends. Why? Because they’re both hilariously funny. Ali is like another older sister for Eden, a great role model for hard work paying off in a college softball scholarship. Lord, send Ali wonderful new friends, protect her, grant her success, and draw her ever closer to You during her collegehood days . . . but don’t let her forget her old hometown bud. (2 John 1:8).

Wednesday, August 17, 2005


I’m always talking about the crazy stuff our fellow softball parents do when we’re away on road trips. Turns out traveling hockey teams have just as many hijinks.

A friend of mine named Jane tells this one:

“Our hockey coaches are two 20-somethings, typical guys who are lots of fun. On one hockey road trip, they got the keys to one of the dad's rooms.

“When the dad returned to his room, where his bed used to be, the pillows and the bedspread were nicely made up – flat on the floor.

“The coaches had unassembled the bed frame and removed it and the mattresses. Quite the sight.”

Oh, those cheap, flat motel beds!


Praise report: Thank You, Father, for the lift in the voice of my friend Cindy that I heard on the phone after her high fever and hospitalization last week. Her battle with leukemia wages on, and I’m proud of how she reflects Your courage and resilience at every turn. Grant her rest and strength as she gears up for this last blast of chemo. Sing over her of Your love, Lord. (Zephaniah 3:17).

Prayer request: Safety and restoration for a friend’s son Scott as he enjoys an all-expenses paid trip to Seattle over a long weekend for a friend’s wedding and a well-deserved breather. May he seek You, and find You, and deepen his love and commitment. (Proverbs 8:17)

Prayer request: Healing, Lord for Beth Rains, the sister-in-law of my friend Allen. She fell on the pavement, striking the back of her head, and had an operation to relieve pressure on her brain. She is now in intensive care. We come up against the spirit of fear, and pray that her family and friends will lean on You during these difficult days. (Proverbs 1:33)

Tuesday, August 16, 2005


One of the most pleasant things that happened this summer is that I met someone who helped me make $75 many years ago with a funny headline. You see, Claudia Black was marrying a man whose last name was Coffey. I was a summer intern at the local daily paper, bored to tears writing headlines on what I called “en-GAG-ment” stories. I saw their names, and this headline popped into my head:

Black-Coffey Rite
Brewing For June

Hardy-har-har! Well, an alert reader sent it in to the Reader’s Digest, and I made $75, the newspaper made $75, and the alert reader made $75.

Well, this summer, I wrote a story about a friend of theirs, and she remembered my name and got in touch with me. We all had a good laugh about it – only I deeply regret that I left the newspaper before the guy’s cousin got married. Why? Because the cousin’s last name is also Coffey – and he married a girl named BEANS!!!!

Dang! The possibilities!

So when a friend sent this rather risqué email, I couldn’t resist sending it on to you. Today’s prayer request, I guess, is that I will develop some COUTH in my old age (Proverbs 11:22).
In the meantime, enjoy!

(Listserv members received about 20 wedding and engagement stories with headlines that had double entendres and slapstick humor)

Monday, August 15, 2005


This teacher friend of mine came home from school one day to find a trail and mess from her first-floor bathroom down the hall out the door and into the garage.

Her husband mumbled something about making NINE trips to the hardware store trying to find the right part. He had spent, in total, something like $1.89. And the plumbing problem was still not fixed.

He’s retired and she isn’t. Sometimes, this causes problems. So her philosophy is: bring on the plumbing problems in the future. How ELSE can he be “entertained” for a whole day and spend only $1.89?


Prayer request: We lift up all our teachers, Lord, for Your anointing. Grant them a happy, productive and fulfilling school year. Shield them from undue controversy and strife. Give them the peace of mind and confidence to allow creativity to flower, and nurturing love for the children to be at the center of their classrooms. Find ways for each of us to encourage a teacher this school year, Father, for what they do is so important for us all. Make their work, above all, pleasing to You. I especially lift up Lisa and Becky, two dear teacher friends and Christian servants. (Proverbs 8:21).

Sunday, August 14, 2005


He shall deliver thee in six troubles:
yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee.
-- Job 5:19

Last Friday night, the kitchen sink backed up and cascaded onto my beautiful maple floor, cupping the planks and splattering down into the basement toy room.

Then the laundry-room sink clogged, too. I had to hurl bucket after bucket of water out onto the driveway from both sinks.

I’m recovering from a rib injury. Lugging all those buckets of water was painful. I had to bend over sideways and waddle like a deranged duck.

The neighbors must’ve gotten an eyeful as this frowning, crab-like creature regularly kicked open the door and burst out onto the driveway, hurling buckets of water and emitting peculiar grunts, like an over-the-top pagan ritual.

In between hurls, I pumped the plunger and dumped drainer goo. But the flow still wouldn’t go no mo’.

The sinks kept refilling. Where was all this water coming from?

What was clogging the pipes?

And why had our water pressure been so puny? It took an hour to fill up a pan, and all I had to shampoo my hair was steam.

But I didn’t want to call a plumber. Who’s got $4,000 an hour?

Meanwhile, my spouse, who wears the logical/mechanical pants in the family, was inconveniently out of town. So I was stumped.

Suddenly, the overflow stopped. I stared suspiciously at the standing water for hours. Finally, I collapsed into bed.

Next morning, the sinks were empty! I rejoiced.

Too soon! Eerily, 24 hours later, the overflow was back.

Again, after an hour of crab-like scurrying and bucket hurling, it stopped. Again, next morning it was allllll better.

My spouse arrived home from softball Nationals in Georgia with our daughter late that night. I described the clog. He brought up the Shrimp Peel Holocaust from our newlywed days. Did NOT! I don’t even put WATER down the disposal anymore. . . .

Meanwhile, his suitcase sat on the tarmac in Atlanta in a thunderstorm. Everything was drenched.

So the next day, again crab-walking, I lugged three sacks of wet, stinky laundry to the cleaners.

I also had to take the dog to get spayed – HER plumbing needed attention, too.

The four daughters all had crises going on. TLC Alert!

Then, suddenly, my email startup page disappeared, with my irreplaceable contact lists. I was stumped.

Then the clog came back.

And our basement storage room flooded in a torrential downpour, so I had to wet-vac, bent over sideways, both whining and grunting.

No laundry, no dishwasher, no showers, and it smelled too plumbing-y to cook or eat in the house. Desperate situation.

Finally, the plumber came. He worked for two hours and couldn’t get anywhere. He said to call Roto Rooter.

Roto Rooter worked for seven hours and couldn’t get anywhere. They said to call the plumber.

This time, two came, with nuclear detonators, and finally fixed it.

Not really. The weight of the water in the line apparently just pushed the clog forward and out. Presto! It unclogged itself, basically. This, for $4,000 an hour.

They said the clog formed because the water line turns seven times through our house, when it should be making a straight shot.

Ohhhhhh. THAT made sense.

The computer guru recovered my email, salvaging my self-esteem by saying the problem was stupendously unusual.

Phone communications were restored.

Everyone got their TLC.

The dog feels fine, now a “Ms.”

The laundry is fluffed and folded.

Once again at peace, I sat down, and philosophized:

Life is like a plumbing clog: mysterious, hidden, with twists and turns. Sometimes it hurts, or makes us look silly.

Most things in life work fine without our intervention, like plumbing. But when things go wrong, if you hang in there, keep your sense of humor, and get help, eventually problems will work themselves out.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

This morning, though, my bathroom sink took a long, long time to drain.

I started to panic. I could feel the urge to crab-walk. But then I got a hold of myself, set my jaw, and told that clog off:

“Don’t mess with me. This, too, shall pass.”


Prayer Request: Surround the young people going back to school this week, or to college for the first time, with angels of protection and guidance. Strengthen their roots at home, but lift them into new friendships and directions with the wings of hope and discovery, and teach them that it is You doing the lifting. Special grace for our daughter’s Firestix teammates and for a special niece, Heather. May they all bring delight to their parents as they make this important transition. (Proverbs 29:17)

Saturday, August 13, 2005


Sign seen on a jewelry store window:



Prayer request: My computer guru, Tom, has been trying to sell his house. He and his wife are ready to move in to a brand-new house, but don’t want to do a bridge loan. I admire him for always sticking up for Your Name, Lord, in conversations with non-believers. He’s logical without being self-righteous. Oh, Father, he’s a good servant of Yours and a faithful husband and father of two adorable children. Bless him with a rapid home sale and a joyous move into new digs. (Colossians 4:6).

Friday, August 12, 2005


We were lunching, and my friend was talking about a former boss of hers who wasn’t very nice. She was a Canadian. Nothing against Canadians, my friend said, but frankly, she finds them to be rather cold.

Our other friend immediately said, “Well, Peter Jennings was Canadian. . . .” She paused for emphasis ‘til we completed her sentence and caught up with her macabre wit.

When it comes to humor, that was . . . Canada dry.


Prayer request: The Nebraska Family Council is holding its regular Prayer Walk Around the State Capitol tomorrow. Focus this time: the judiciary. They have asked people to pray that Nebraska’s Defense of Marriage Act will be upheld at the 8th Circuit Appeals Court and set a good precedent nationwide for similar marriage protection laws. We pray for the people preparing the legal briefs in the case, that they will be guided by the Holy Spirit in overwhelming logic and persuasive power. We also pray that Judge John Roberts will be appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court because of his strong moral fiber and scrupulous application of the law. Lord, we pray overall that judges will be appointed who love truth and fear You according to the standards set forth in Exodus 8:21, I Kings 3:9, and Ezra 7:25. (Isaiah 1:26).

Thursday, August 11, 2005


The same funny mother-of-the-bride who revealed another MIB’s corsage stabbing Wednesday also told about her daughter’s recent pre-wedding nightmare.

For real, she is going to have eight bridesmaids. For real, the fittings had been done and her mother was going to pick the dresses up when they were ready and deliver them to each bridesmaid.

Well, this bride-to-be had a horrible dream – that she saw an old grade-school friend of hers from the neighborhood wearing one of her bridesmaid’s dresses.

Whaaaat? She wasn’t a bridesmaid!

But in this dream, the mother of the bride-to-be had decided, by her own volition, that this OTHER girl was a closer friend to her daughter, so she just gave HER the bridesmaid’s dress, and the OTHER bridesmaid was just out of luck.

Issues! Weddings bring out issues, don’t they? Look on the bright side – maybe the dress just wasn’t that girl’s best color, anyway.


Prayer request: There’s a faithful wife, Geri, asking for prayer for her husband Mark’s very serious heart condition, but assuring everyone that “God will get us through this.” We acknowledge Your sovereign power over this situation, Lord, and lift up their faith to You as a precious jewel which should be rewarded. Mark’s ventricles are only pumping blood to the rest of his body at 10%. It needs to be at least 25% to qualify for bypass surgery. Therefore, he is in desperate need of a heart transplant. Their young adult son has moved back home to help in his care so Geri can be at work. We come to Your Throne, Physician Lord, for the heart transplant to happen and healing to take place to restore precious blood flow. It is only through the Heart of Your Son, and His blood, that any of us can have ultimate healing. (John 6:55)

Wednesday, August 10, 2005


God never intended weddings to be such crazy, big productions. I mean, look at Adam and Eve. God set them up one day, there wasn’t much hoopla, and voila! They were raisin’ Cain.

I know a lot of otherwise lovely, serene, normal women whose lives have been transformed into a SCREAMING, EXHAUSTING, PERSPIRATION-DRENCHED, LIVING HELL by the effort it takes nowadays to give your daughter a nice wedding.

We’re talkin’ renting the hall more than a year in advance . . . limos . . . eight bridesmaid’s dresses . . . fittings . . . wedding favors . . . a chocolate factory . . . a video . . . an audio . . . an audiovideo. . . .

But a friend’s friend takes the cake. Her daughter’s wedding was impending, and she did, indeed, stress out. Finally, the big day came. Although she was on overload, she got through the whole schmear, and finally, late that night, was undressing for bed . . . when she noticed two little black dots on her upper chest.

Hmmm. How’d those get there?

It dawned on her that it was dried blood . . . and in her haste and stress, she must have pinned her corsage through her skin, and never even felt it.

We have four daughters. Read my lips: E-L-O-P-E!


Prayer request: There’s a first-born son, 24, who is coming out of three years on depression medication, and now, his dad says, he’s “trying to just be focused and happy enough to wake for the day.” He’s a computer genius, can run several miles without puffing, loves to discuss and write about philosophy, and has a lot going for himself in the cranium department – but appears to have no ambition to go back to college, or get a job. Before his father goes completely bald from pulling his hair out, Lord, we lift this precious and talented young man up to You for grace and healing. Show him You love him, and refocus his life so that he can trust in You and see a bright future. Give him a gentle nudge toward a productive new direction. (Isaiah 26:3)

Tuesday, August 09, 2005


My adorable, handsome, brilliant and charming nephew Mark has won an award in Air Force officer training school down in Alabama: “Most Motivated.” Here’s how his fellow officer trainees described him in the nomination. Don’t fear for our country: rejoice that future military leaders have such a great sense of humor.

(Translations: OT is Officer Trainee; PT is Physical Training; MTI is some kind of a training instructor)

“This self-proclaimed nerd is the only OT that has no need of a flashlight in the morning. With his goofy grin rarely found on other OTs at 0500, this goober lights the way to the PT pad with his bright white teeth. He bravely led his flight to a volleyball victory through his sheer enthusiasm much like a geek opening up his first graphing calculator on Christmas morning. Due to his unique marching style, he was requested to perform outside of the formation during drill practice. Always willing to give credit where credit is due. He promptly attributed his exceptional performance to another anonymous OT. Although the MTIs didn’t appreciate his distinctive marching style, he continued to press on, bouncing his way from one side of the drill pad to the other, undeterred.”


Prayer request: I’m so happy Mark is so happy, Lord, but I lift up to you the clerk at the dry-cleaning store yesterday, who was sooooo unhappy, complaining, and insulted by some things that were happening with her boss and co-workers that she felt were unfair. I urged her to get another job rather than be so miserable. If it be Your will to “transplant” her, Lord, we pray that You’ll do it sooner rather than later. Life is too short to be that grumpy on a beautiful summer day. (Proverbs 11:1)

Monday, August 08, 2005


The softball team got home from Nationals in Georgia last night, tired but happy to have been tested at the highest level, finishing 24th among 140 teams. One of the two teams that beat them wound up a very close third, so that’s braggin’ rights.

They underwent a different kind of test than on the ballfield with their interactions with someone they met on the trip. Their motel in Columbus turned out to be the full-time home of a bit of a character named George. He was very curious and friendly, and not a little bit odd. Apparently, some of the other softball teams who were staying there from all around the country stared at George and made fun of him, but the Nebraska Firestix made him their friend.

A gent in his 60s with the fine speech of a well-educated man, he sort of adopted them. He would hang around the common areas and enter their conversations, bring them milk and burritos, and even invite himself in to their rooms when they would gather to watch TV or talk.

He seemed harmless enough, and money was no object – one father helped George carry some heavy stuff up to his room, and he wanted to “tip” him $100, which of course he refused. This wasn’t about that; this was about friendship for a lonely, square peg in a round hole. So they served him bowls of cereal and applesauce, and talked with him a lot, and on the last day, some of the girls made him a poster to remember them by.

He said he’s going to get a U-Haul and move to Nebraska, they were so nice to him.

Now we know why every other person in this state is a WEIRDO!!! This must have happened thousands of times before! Somebody tell the economic development people!

Just kidding. I’m very proud of how they acted, and know it gave Nebraska a good name with all who observed this kindness.


Prayer request: Every time I get to feeling sorry for myself and my petty little burden of woes, Lord, You bring me blinding insight that makes me realize how blessed I really am. A friend and her husband went out to eat after church yesterday, and ran into an acquaintance who asked for prayer for her granddaughter, Morgan, age 6. Born prematurely with detached retinas, Morgan’s birth mother put her up for adoption when doctors said she would never walk nor think normally. This lady’s daughter and son-in-law adopted her. The girl’s retinas were reattached. Only one "took,” so she was blind in her left eye. But she walks and thinks just fine, and everything was OK -- until this past week, when her right retina detached. She is now blind, and the parents have been told that she may remain that way if the retina surgery scheduled for Wednesday is not successful. Lord Jesus, we can’t even imagine. We fall at Your feet and plead for her to regain her sight, so that she can see Your creation and also “see” Your love and provision for her. Thank You for the faith and acceptance of her parents and grandparents. Let Your eye be on them, for they hope in Your mercy. (Psalm 33:18)

Sunday, August 07, 2005


And unto one he gave five talents,
to another two, and to another one;
to every man according to his several ability. . . .
-- Matthew 25:15

You’ve got your early Christian martyrs, who went one-on-one with lions and tigers rather than renounce their faith.

You’ve got your missionaries, who tried to stay out of cannibal soup pots, and boldly spread the Gospel where it was never boldly spread before.

You’ve got your world-renowned humanitarians like Albert Schweitzer . . . and your tireless healers like Florence Nightingale . . . and the ones who remember the forgotten, like Mother Teresa for India’s poor, and Chuck Colson for those in our own bulging prisons.

You’ve got your famous artists and scientists with faith as their inspiration, and musicians like Joseph Mohr and Franz Gruber, whose church organ wasn’t working one snowy Christmas Eve in Austria, so they sat down with a guitar and banged out a new song: “Silent Night.”

But what can the rest of us do to show our faith?

Do saints serve red Jell-O and casserole at funeral luncheons?

Do the retirees who mow the church lawn every week count as Christian soldiers?

How about the teenagers who sharpen and replace the pew pencils? The middle-agers who tithe? The guys who fix cars for single mothers? The grannies who hold the babies in the nursery so their parents can worship without a nervous breakdown?

Are these mighty works for the Lord, too?

You bet your sweet evangelistic bippy they are.

The little things – the humble things – the things that never make the news – they inspire and astound me, because of their endless variety. It’s like there’s a worldwide patchwork quilt of love that each of us is helping to stitch in our own, unique way.

I was privileged to be part of one person’s unique service recently. It sent a quiet but powerful message about choosing life and sharing God’s love.

A reader of mine in Kansas City saw my story about an unwed mother who was set to have an abortion, but a Christian friend pulled her back from the brink, and people came out of the woodwork to help her out. This young woman had the baby in mid-June – Dylan Michael – and is starting on that long, lonesome road of single motherhood.

This reader wanted to do something to encourage her, sight unseen.

So she made her a baby album. It’s a wonderful, colorful, original, whimsical, amazing scrapbook that’s 1,000 times neater than anything you could buy in a store.

I got tingles, just looking at it. The time and effort that went into it! There was a page to record memories of the pregnancy with construction motifs: “Baby Under Construction.” There was space for the tiny handprints and footprints, and a place for the mom’s hospital wristband and the baby’s cradle nametag. The colorful papers had teddy bears, bottles, binkies and duckies, with phrases like “bundle of joy,” “pitter patter,” “mommy’s boy,” “snuggle bug,” and “wiggles and giggles.”

Scrapbooking, you see, is her “ministry.” She makes scrapbooks for new babies born in her church, and for seminary students who come and go. She meets weekly with other enthusiasts – the “Scrapping Divas” – and they attend “crops” and conventions . . . in their signature tiaras.

Tiaras? Again, you bet your sweet evangelistic bippy. Endless variety, remember?

She wrote this to the new mom:

“I made this album for Dylan because I wanted to show you how much I support your decision to bring him into the world. I never really understood the love that God has for us, until I had my own kids. Just as we never question meeting the needs of our earthly children, He wants us to rest in the assurance that our Father will take care of our needs.”

What a testimony.

What a message.

Every time that mom sees that scrapbook in the years to come, she’ll be reminded that God is there for her . . . all around her . . . picturing a happy future for her . . . in endless ways . . . and you can bet your sweet bippy He always will.


Prayer Request: Courage and comfort for a friend’s friend, Jean, whose daughter Sarah had a brush with thyroid cancer a few years ago. Sarah is married and recently found out she is pregnant with the first grandchild . . . but the thyroid cancer is back. Oh, Lord, guide them to the right treatment, and empower their medical team with Your wisdom and skill in managing this situation for optimal health of mother and child. Go before them, Savior Jesus, and make their path simple and sure. (Matthew 26:32)

Praise Report: Another first grandchild came into the world on Friday, bringing great joy and celebration that we hope is shared one day soon by Jean, Sarah and their families. Welcome, Lilly Kristine! Your first name reminds us of Our Father’s all-powerful provision, and your middle name brings to mind your faithful and beloved great-grandmother in Nebraska. Bless your new grandparents’ first visit with you, and may you always feel the love of the Lord and the love of your extended family. (Matthew 6:28, 29)

Saturday, August 06, 2005


Footnote to yesterday’s story about Magic Grow sponge pellets: a reader remembers a freebie handed out to kids at a fair. It looked like a thick dollar bill and was the same size. You put it in water and it became a sponge that actually lasted quite awhile.

Move over, Sponge Bob: here’s the emblem of the welfare generation!


Prayer request: A friend’s friend, Alan, a physician, has been diagnosed with a difficult form of cancer that attacks the adrenal gland. He is going to fight it with unconventional methods. Lord, we pray that this trial will draw him and his loved ones closer to You and deepen their faith as he fights, and wins. Grant him healing, Father. And grant favor to my friend Linda, an amazing servant of Yours, who has agreed to babysit his son, who is autistic, for an unknown amount of time while he and his wife fight this battle. (1 Peter 4:10)

Friday, August 05, 2005


I’ve always wanted to invent something, and a $2.29 toy that Maddy got at the grocery store has given me an idea.

When you put a capsule of the “Magic Grow Safari Animals” into a glass of warm water, it transforms before your eyes from what looks like a pill, to all kinds of cute little sponge animals. She has a cheetah, a rhino, a monkey, an ostrich, and who knows what else. She’s had a lot of fun watching them unfold and grow.

So I got to thinking: why couldn’t I put a dollar bill into a Magic Grow capsule, and put it in a glass of warm water? I would have all kinds of fun watching it unfold and grow into, say, a $20 bill. Then I could do it over and over, having more and more fun.

Wouldn’t that be nice? It would be a lot less stressful than day-trading, too.


Praise report: What a great run the Nebraska Firestix had at softball nationals this week! They finished in the top 40 among 140 teams. The tournament ended for them this morning with a 2-1 loss on the Olympic fields to a great, great team from Miami. The Firestix actually overachieved, and did the best of the three teams from Nebraska, so I guess you could call them “state champs.” Thank You, Father, for being so faithful, and for blessing them and teaching them, through the adversities of the early season, that believing in yourself and your teammates, and sticking to a challenging training schedule, pays off with a precious, lifetime memory and the knowledge that you can hold your own in the big time. (2 Thessalonians 3:3)

Thursday, August 04, 2005


Thank goodness for Native Americans. They add so much to our culture.

I mean, where would we be without Indian terms? Mississippi, Missouri, Miami, Schenectady, Yoknapatawpha, Okoboji. . . .

– and, now, Gassawawie.

If there wasn’t a tribe by that name, or a river or city, then there should have been. It struck me that way when I was handing one to Maddy in the 99-degree heat. That’s what we’ve always called a glass of water around our house. I know, I know: we’re weird.

But what did you expect? We’re native Americans, too.


Prayer request: As the unfair annexation claim by the tiny City of Elkhorn against the City of Omaha unfolds this week in Douglas County District Court, we come up against the spirits of oppression and power lust, and pray that our small town will prevail. Consolidating government power without a darn good reason is never the American way. Empower our attorneys so that Your plan of limited government will survive, Father. Among other worries, we think that if our neighborhood is swallowed up by the City of Omaha, we won’t be allowed to have horses any more, or be able to sell our property, barn and pasture with assurance of horse ownership for future owners. Another worry is that the city may condemn our neighborhood common property that we have paid to develop and maintain for decades – two horse arenas, a jump area, a pond, acres of open space and lovely wooded trails – and take them away from us. Lord, hear our prayer to conserve our town and Nebraska’s only equestrian neighborhood. (1 Corinthians 15:58)

Wednesday, August 03, 2005


It’s hard to imagine actually using these cynical one-liners in stressful office situations. But it’s fun to imagine yourself doing just that:

You say I'm critical like it's a bad thing.

Well, this day was a total waste of make-up.

Do I look like a people person?

I started out with nothing . . . and I still have most of it left.

Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.

Why don't you try practicing random acts of intelligence and senseless acts of self-control?

I'm not crazy. I've been in a very bad mood for 30 years.

Sarcasm is just one more service I offer.

Do they ever shut up on your planet?

I'm not your type. I'm not inflatable.

Don't worry. I forgot your name, too.

I work 45 hours a week to be this poor?

Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.

Chaos, panic and disorder . . . my work here is done.

Ambivalent? Well, yes and no.

Earth is full. Go home.

You're depriving some village of an idiot.

Look in my eyes. Do you see one ounce of gives-a-darn?


Praise report: Thank You, Lord Jesus, for the 4-1 victory Eden’s softball team lodged at Nationals against a very good Ohio team. Thank You for their favorable draw, which allowed them to play just one game in yesterday’s Georgia humidity, and, if they win again today at 4 p.m., they’ll only have to play one game again. Meanwhile, numerous other teams are getting worn out and “knocked off.” We are thankful for Your favor, and for the kind-hearted intercession of prayer warriors who love to see young people who follow You do well in the world. (Joshua 1:8)

Praise report: Lord, You are so faithful to Your word and Your ways. Thank You for leading my friend Tracy to wise advisors and prayer warriors who inspired her to put aside her feelings of hurt and anger in her current marriage difficulties, and humble herself, and submit to her husband in the boudoir. She became a peacemaker. Now things are much, much better! There’s no substitute for holy love between a husband and wife, to put things right. Her happy smile and peaceful demeanor are so wonderful to see, instead of tears and frowns. Jesus, You are the ultimate marriage Counselor, and we praise You for this victory. (Matthew 5:9)

Tuesday, August 02, 2005


(Hilarious photographs of grapes, strawberries, lemons and other fruits made into whimsically adorable faces.)


Prayer request: Lord Jesus, grant favor to Eden’s softball team as they begin competition at Nationals in Columbus, Ga., today. Special prayer for Eden, that she can overcome her jitters and slug the ball the way she loves to, for Your glory in gifting her with the prettiest swing ever. Oh, Lord, Your servants Jeff and Cory have worked so hard to coach these girls. Bless this team for overcoming adversity and sticking together beautifully as a team. Reward them with success. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12)

Monday, August 01, 2005


Maddy and I went to the new movie, “March of the Penguins,” yesterday in the heat of the day. Her dad and one sister are in Georgia at softball nationals, and her other two sisters were playing golf with their grandparents.

It was marketing genius to release that movie, with its gorgeous photography of icebergs and Antarctican snow vistas, in the dog days of summer. We actually cuddled because we were chilly, for once!

All babies are cute, of course, but not much beats the cuteness of baby penguins. Maddy loved the close-ups and their antics.

But what I loved best is how the documentary showed the unusual involvement of penguin fathers in caring for their young. It was incredible. Not only did it prove once again that evolution is an absolute crock, since both mom and dad penguins are equipped with special body parts specifically to get their young through the brutal winter – that had to have started off fully made and couldn’t have been built up incrementally over the eons -- but it put fatherhood in a tender and yet courageous light that was truly inspiring.

This movie should be shown on Father’s Day nationwide. If the father of your children was anything like this, rent him a tux and take him to this movie.


Prayer request: I am having an Internet discussion with a couple of atheists over whether the USA is a nation founded on Christian principles and other culture-war topics. It’s so hard, Lord, because they don’t know the Bible and don’t understand You, nor seem to want to. I covet prayer support from other believers to help me give them the truth, in a winning way, and open their hearts to the light of the Gospel. (Ecclesiastes 9:10)