A few years ago I had the opportunity to tag along with one of my nieces on a trip to Zimbabwe, Africa, to volunteer with African Impact, an organization devoted to reversing the declining lion population in Africa by saving, breeding, and returning lions to the wild. It was a fascinating experience replete with plenty of lessons, but one in particular stands out.
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The first full day after we arrived, we went out to “meet” the lions . . . well, in my case, the three ten-month-olds that you see in the picture with me… Chando, Amandla, and Chabalala (left to right). I knew absolutely nothing about lions at this time since I had been there less than 24 hours and most of that time was spent sleeping, but I did know that they were wild animals, so I was supposed to be afraid.

However, this was picture day. All new volunteers had their pictures taken with one of the sets of lions on their first day, and after watching my niece and a couple of others get their pictures taken… and not get eaten… I lost some of my initial trepidation. Plus, there were two guides, a trainer, and a guy with a gun… and I, of course, had a stick!  What could go wrong? (The theory behind the stick was that like any cat, lions are easily distracted, so if one of them were to start for me, I was to wiggle the stick and the lion would see it, forget about me, and go for it… yeah, right… but I bought into it.)

As you can see, I have lived to tell the tale, but that is not the point I wish to share. My point is that by the end of my three weeks, after I had learned all about the lions, and how to behave around them, and how to become a part of their pride and show dominance… after I watched them behave like the wild animals they really were, I don’t think I would have sat for that picture, because now I had a healthy respect for and fear of them again.

That first day I believed I was safe because I saw men standing there ready to protect me, and I watched others have their pictures taken and leave unharmed. But that was a belief born out of ignorance. By the end of my stay I was much wiser.

I think we often approach temptation and sin in a very similar way. We have that initial healthy fear of it, but then we see others escape unscathed and perhaps even see an environment of relative safety or acceptance, so we go ahead and “take a seat.” If we are lucky or prayerful, hopefully wisdom comes before harm does, and we once again gain a healthy respect for the dangers that exists.

First posted on February 25, 2015

I’m weary.

This might seem strange when I haven’t really had what one might call a hectic schedule lately, but it’s not that kind of weary.

I am weary in my soul. There is so much contentiousness right now, so much suspicion, anger, ranting, and finger pointing that I need a break. (And unfortunately some of that is from me.)




I took a bike ride the other day along the Sacramento River. The peacefulness of the river reminded me that when our spirit gets tired, God will make us “lie down in green pastures” and “lead [us] beside the still waters,” and promises to  “restore [our] soul[s].”

Therefore, I am going to take Him up on his offer. I am going to take off the month of August, and instead of writing new blogs this month, I will be posting five blogs from my first year––2015. Some of you have read them before, but perhaps the years will make them fresh once again.

I look forward to joining you live again in September. Refreshed, renewed, and reset.

Finally. After weeks, if not months, of anger, vitriol, and hateful language and actions, it was refreshing, and healing, to finally see someone take a step back and say “enough.” And, for a lot of us, this came from an unlikely source.

On Wednesday, July 8, Christian Cooper, the Black Central Park birdwatcher who had been the target of a white woman’s racist words and actions, announced that he would not work with the Manhattan district attorney’s investigation to prosecute Amy Cooper. As he said:


“On the one hand, she’s already paid a steep price . . . Bringing her more misery just seems like piling on…. So if the DA feels the need to pursue charges, he should pursue charges. But he can do that without me” (CNN online).

Likewise, I was watching CBS Sunday Morning and saw the story about Mack McCarter’s Community Renewal “WeCare” program started in Shreveport, Louisiana––a program that started with one neighborhood’s skepticism but has since  grown into a thriving support system in many communities.

Yes, we need justice, but we also need mercy and grace. Think of the sorry state we would all be in if God only dished out justice, for we are all guilty of unkind and unjust actions, statements, and/or thoughts (which God views as all the same––1 John 3:15; Matthew 15:9), just as we have all been the recipient, no doubt, of the same.

I am sure there are actions that need to happen on the national stage to address issues of inequality and injustice, but those ultimate, sweeping decisions lie with others. We have an element of control only in our small circle of influence. And on this personal, human-to-human level, actions like those of C. Cooper and Mark McCarter seem to provide the most healing.

Tenth Avenue North has a song entitled “This is Where the Healing Begins” which speaks to the walls we build up around us to protect ourselves, and only when we let them down and let God in can the actual healing begin.

Over the years, walls have also been built between the many layers of our society . . . from social to political . . . and while our government may be contemplating a broad, bulldozer approach, we can do our bit by removing one crumbling brick or warped picket at a time. Let’s do our part. Let’s show “God’s light” in these dark situations. This is how the healing begins.

If you answered “wallet” then you have just proven the power of advertising. But that wasn’t where I was going. I was headed toward “bookshelf, or personal library, or reading list.”

I know that during this time many of you seemed to have less free time, but I ended up with quite a bit more, and took advantage of it by reading . . . a lot. In the past I would pride myself with reading one, maybe two books a month. That seemed pretty good. But then the shutdown came and since I had a bit more time on my hands, I joined two book clubs . . . where some of the members read 12 books a month! (Overachievers!)


Now I didn’t suddenly aspire to be their equal, but I did find that I was capable of doing more reading, and before I knew it, I had quite a list of completed books! Here are a few that I have enjoyed.

From the Christian market I read My Boy, Ben by David Wheaton (a man and his dog story), and Called Out by former AMG Weekend co-host Paula Faris (about willingly leaving a lucrative journalistic career). I even consumed a few more Dee Henderson books (mystery with some romance sprinkled in) and Dani Pettrey titles (romance with some mystery sprinkled in). I am currently reading Slave by John Macarthur.

From the secular market I have read Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens, Educated by Tara Westover, Wild Swans by Jung Chan, The Pioneers by David McCullough, and The Keeper of Lost Things by Ruth Hogan (Talk about an eclectic mix!) Currently, I am reading Curveball by Barry Zito.

Even though the state and country are opening back up, I kind of like this new habit of reading more and watching TV (in particular the news) less. So I am up for suggestions and would love to know what you have been reading! Let me know! I look forward to hearing from you!

Today is July 4th, the day that normally expresses our unity and freedom, but this year’s lead up has not been all that encouraging. Some are questioning both of those attributes.

I think by now all of us have come to the realization that minds are not going to be changed. Period. No matter which side we are on––wear a mask––don’t wear a mask––police need to be defunded––police need to be supported––we have come to the conclusion that all of our pushing or pulling has only produced inertia, and all of our brilliant arguments are falling on deaf ears. We are each listening to the voices we want to hear.

In light of this reality, I would like to make a suggestion that could help us over this proverbial hump. (July 2nd, by the way, is the “hump day” of the year. Not bad timing.) It comes right out of that perpetual Amish calendar I love.

“It is better to give others a piece of your heart than a piece of your mind.”