For a while, I have had a love/hate relationship with living in the Central Valley. It may be because I bought into what people were saying….there is nothing to do!
Well, this isn’t the bay area, where there are plenty of museums, venues, and events, but that doesn’t mean that there is nothing to do!
Case in point, the Kingsburg Historical Park is hosting an interesting exhibit on the Japanese internment experience. While it may be small, it provides some perspectives and spurs questions that are applicable even today.
I think it is going to be an interesting year. There are things that I am looking forward to, but I also feel a little concerned. Why? Well it all comes down to themes. When I read or see things, sometimes themes appear. So far this year, I have seen this thread of beauty through pain, and it has caught my attention.
It was reflected in the conversation of mother who is watching the cancer spread through her daughter’s body, but showed such strength, love and hope in that same conversation. Continue reading “Of Beauty and pain…”→
So I am finding it hard to write. Why? Mostly because I seem to be…..how can I say this? Wordy.
So today, since I am not feeling well (still feeling the effects of the flu) I am going to try and make these observations short. These are just some things that have stood out to me the past few days, and they seemed appropriate to think about on this day we remember the life of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
I read the following verse this morning…… Jeremiah 22:13 And woe to you, King Jehoiakim,for you are building your great palace with forced labor. By not paying wages you are building injustice into its walls and oppression into its doorframes and ceilings.Continue reading “A time to hate?”→
It is all about your view. The first two pictures were taken during the summer inYosemite, by Mirror Lake. There is a whole area where people have stacked rocks. (Much to many people’s irritation….but that is a story for a different time)
The third was a stack that was done by the Merced River in the park. (Ok…I did that one) I liked how much bigger it looked when I snapped a picture from a low angle. It made the rocks look only slightly shorter than the trees. I was pretty impressed with all those piles of rocks, as they seemed like a memorial of some sort, put there to remind someone of something. That was of course until our last visit this week.
Attached are photos from both Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks. At this time of year, the beauty of these parks are a bit muted. You see a few trees that are wearing their fall “glory,” but fall in the Sierra’s isn’t astounding. What you do see a “pop of color” here and there that I just happen to love! Both parks were pretty quiet when we went, and that made it even more special. It was a time (at least for me) to remember not only how small my problems are, but how big God is.
I love the picture of the path with the granite rocks dotting the way. I had to watch each step carefully as I walked, making sure to navigate around the bumps and place my feet on flat ground. Why? Because I am such a clutz! Now there was plenty of good ground to step on, but I had to pay attention to make sure that is where I was walking. I took the picture because that is really how I am feeling right now. My life’s path feels a bit bumpy, so I am taking it slow trying to make it through. The picture gives me hope, as the path does eventually smooth out, and I know my life’s path will too. It is only a matter of time…..
Until then, I am thankful that I live so close to these beautiful places where I can breathe in fresh air, see blue sky and get a change of perspective!
She called me objective. My friend is a bit older and has seen a bit of life. When she said that to me, I took it as a compliment. The more I thought about it, I accepted that it’s true. The problem with being objective? I don’t get to have a side. Sometimes it’s lonely where God has put me, out in left field. Then again, sometimes I am not alone.
It started with a friend of my hubby’s. She is actually an ex-volleyball player that he has kept in contact with. He told me that she needed prayer. I didn’t really need to know why, but he told me anyway. She was going to Mexico, because she had to enter the U.S. correctly as part of the process to become documented. Stupid me, I was surprised! I mean, what does someone who is undocumented look like? If you have read any of my writing, you will know that I don’t typically “not” think about things. So when this came across my path, I was hooked. Pondering…. Who really are the people they are talking about on the news?
It doesn’t matter which side is talking, they tend to lump people into a big group. And while these “dreamers” may have similar stories, I know that they are also more than that. So since I have been working on some other “getting to know you” type of writing projects, I thought about doing one of these. The problem…I just wasn’t sure? That was until, I knew I wasn’t out in left field by myself.
Mike (my hubby) came to me one day and proposed another project. “How about finding out who these people really are?” Not what the news, political parties or other people say they are, but straight from them. It’s good not to be alone. We had a moment when I told him that I had been thinking the same thing. (Thirty years of marriage must count for something.) So I hope you will join us. We hope to take the “issue” and present it for what it really is, the lives of everyday people. Taking this from what was once a dream of their parents, to “A Dream of their Own”………
My name is Wendoline. In 2002, just a few months after my seventh birthday, my brother, sister and I were brought to the U.S. from Michoacán, Mexico. My brother was eight and a half, and my younger sister just five. My father had already been in the United States a few times, but he would miss us too much and would come home. Things were financially rough when we were in Mexico. My memory of Mexico is sort of blurry, as it’s been over fifteen years since I was last in my hometown. The things I do remember though, is that it’s nothing like it is here. We lived in a small village, everyone was poor, but everyone loved each other. I remember when my dad was here and we were in Mexico, he would call us every day. He would tell us how he couldn’t wait for us to see how wonderful this country is, and he couldn’t wait to buy us all the toys that he couldn’t afford for us in Mexico.
Some years ago I was at a conference listening to a Priscilla Shirer, who writes bible studies, books and speaks to encourage women. I totally enjoyed her talk, but there was one point she made that became something that I try to live by. She told the group of women, “don’t be spoon fed the gospel.”
Since then, I still listen to sermons on Sunday mornings, on podcasts and I am involved in bible studies with other women. All of these I still consider being “spoon fed” information. Yes, even the bible study books we do! It is God’s word filtered through someone else’s lens. So, to take her advice, I make sure that I spend time doing bible reading on my own and contemplating what it means in my own life. (Then typically writing about it)The great thing is that I can go to the source, the bible. Now if you don’t believe in the bible, you may be like whatever, but wait! Don’t leave me yet. As a Christian, I should go to the source of my faith right? So no one can take it and twist it to their own particular point of view. That is what made sense to me a couple of years ago, and that is what makes sense to me now. Well if it works for biblical history, I thought it makes sense for any kind of history.