I hadn't asked to be told. I wish I didn't know. But I do. And I admit it hurts.
I Wasn’t Supposed to Know
When Stories Speak
You might have heard this one. I had. And yet, it spoke again and drove its truths down deep.
A Central Asian Birthday
We're all looking for something. We found it in a mud-brick house in the slums of a Central Asian capital.
Into the Dark
"I wasn't planning on spending much time looking out the window.... This time, however, the sights of the world passing beneath me drew my nose to the window and held my gaze.... And that's when my heart sank."
Thank You
By the time you read this, Laura and I will be somewhere in the middle of a 26 hour plane ride to the other side of this ol' world of ours. Even as we leave so many family members and friends behind, we don't leave without hope, hope so many of you instilled within us, and we're grateful.
Where’s My Sister? (A 9/11 Story)
The giant Furby consumed the room at FAO Schwarz, downtown New York City. Grant was petting its hair in between fake karate punches and kicks. His bowl cut and round glasses exaggerated his round cheeks. Too distracted by my new black mesh Nike basketball jersey, I didn’t notice Mom with the disposable camera. The faint … Continue reading Where’s My Sister? (A 9/11 Story)
They Make Me Rich
A word that flies high over these past four years of my sojourn here in Central Asia is the word loneliness. It's a monster I was not at all prepared to face. The monster came anyway. Turns out he's a hard one to chase away. Every last human being senses a deep-seated need that is … Continue reading They Make Me Rich
Cries for Help
A three-and-a-half-year-old's voice pierced the darkness between the back and front seat. "Is your husband home already?" she asked Laura. The little girl was sitting beside her mom and younger brother in the back. Laura was driving. "Yeah, he just got home," Laura said, heading down our street en route to their house in the … Continue reading Cries for Help
He Thought He Knew
He thought he knew. He didn't. Ten years passed. They weathered tempestuous seas those years, But each strike only strengthened them. The tears Dripped liquid, hardened, formed a solid cast, An anchor sure to hold their hearts, outlast The wildest raging of the sea, though fears Still mock. The fog that concealed truth now clears. … Continue reading He Thought He Knew
What I Learned Playing Uno With a 12-Year-Old
I sat across a coffee table from a 12-year-old, staring at my hand of Uno cards. If only I had a blue card or an 8, but it was not meant to be. My cards looked like the Spanish flag, all reds and yellows. I drew. I don't remember the official rules, but we were … Continue reading What I Learned Playing Uno With a 12-Year-Old