Don’t change your mind while in the air!

I ate them all.

The Million Dollar Smile is a good name for a movie.

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave…when first we practice to deceive.” (Walter Scott)

I thought I should write it down, lest I forget any of it.

A story exploded out of my granddaughter’s mouth and I was swept down the current.

Ashu’s story was unimaginable, but sadly true; a type of Cinder-fella story. After two weeks of procrastination, he finally showed up at my house to tell me his story. Now I understand why it took him so long to come; it was a matter of courage —facing the truth. As he unfolded his life, he was once again confronted by his family, the battle scars opened again, the anger and the unanswerable questions were rebirthed. But at the end I heard a story he had never told. Now I stood with him like a friend, a witness who shared his secrets, his private life. At last, he finished and reclined on the couch; “I feel so light.” That was the final line of his story. I was glad he told me his story, but now he’s opened up and shares his own stories. He enjoys writing his thoughts and recently commented that he’d never written a poem. So here it is; a poem. Perhaps better categorized as a thought poem. The poem describes one of the lowest times of his life; and there were many of them. Perhaps this was the climax —the end result of so many lows. Again,[…]

I wonder, India, how are you doing in the midst of so much pain and big loss? Children who hadn’t known death, are now stabbed and crippled in pain. India, your magnificent ship is barely floating. I wish to throw you a life jacket… grab hold and hang on. Written during May, 2021Sadness, grief and tears;India Covid crisis Is God good? Can it be? Is God love? Help me see!People cry out; oh, God, where is your love? People weep and grieve; oh God look down and see! Your land, India, lies wasted and in great need. Sorrow’s flood, pools of tears turn land to swamp People cry out; oh, God where is your love? People cry out, Oh God, tell us where is love? Your land, India, lies wasted and in great need. Jesus came as your son, to be hope when there is noneJesus came to be light when day dawns as dark as night; To cast fear out of loveTo free our hearts for lifeYour son died to give lifeHe gave purpose to dieSo, cry India …declare God is love! As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves.When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning,with wreckage[…]

India, how are you doing in the midst of so much pain and big loss? Your magnificent ship is barely floating.

At the last curtain call, long applause resounded and the annual school program came to an end. Former students faithfully came to catch a glimpse of the old days, appreciating the feeling of welcome to the school where they grew up and learned life. A young man suddenly charged towards me but stopped abruptly in front of me. He pounded his clenched fist to his heart, bowed before me and touched my feet with his fingers; a greeting bursting with love, respect and honor. Of course, it’s Indian tradition, and doesn’t always carry those wonderful tones, but when it comes from the heart it’s as good as the best hug ever. Touching feet is significant. The one who first taught touching feet did so as a lesson to his disciples. He took off his cumbersome garments as a servant would, kneeled down in front of each of them and washed their feet. In the previous story I mentioned the little girls who touched my feet; they scoured my feet like pots and pans. My little friend, Budwara, “touched my feet” whenever she looked at me; it wasn’t just physical touch; the love and respect shining from her eyes was as[…]