Photo: Noriko Cooper

It was a cold, rainy winter morning in Santiago, Chile. Our entire family was up very early that morning. We were heading to the airport where Dad would embark on a 14-hour flight to New York. Dad had secretly planned this trip without telling anyone, not even my mother.

For years, he had worked in the American-owned copper mine companies in northern Chile and then in foundries in Santiago. He loved working with American engineers. It was there that a dream was born to go and take his family to los Estados Unidos de Norte América (The United States of America). With the help of those engineers he had secured a visa. This cold and rainy morning he was making his dream come true.

I was 10 years old and nothing could have prepared me to understand what would happen to us that morning, specifically what would happen to my eight-year-old sister.

The time came to say good-bye and Dad started to hug and kiss each of his boys, his little daughter, and lastly his 36-year-old wife. As he was walking out of the terminal through the metal gate and then onto the plane, my little sister burst into screams, grabbed his trousers and begged Dad, with tears running down her cheeks, "Please Daddy don't leave me, please don't leave me!"

Held on Like an Octopus

He picked her up, held her tight in his arms and kissed her over and over. When Dad tried to put her down, she refused. She held on to him like an octopus, pulling on his trousers while her screaming and crying echoed throughout the small airport. He picked her up, holding her tightly, and the tears subsided. This scene went on for several minutes as Dad struggled to pull her off his arms and body. The moment came when he had to pull her off for the last time and run to the plane. My mother picked my sister up in her arms and we all cried together as we saw Dad go up the ladder into the plane. The rain was subsiding but we could feel the drizzle on our faces joining the tears on our cheeks.

It was two years until we joined Dad in America. I think my sister never recovered from this separation. When Dad passed away years later, I stood by her side as she cried and held onto him at his funeral service and secretly said to him, "Daddy, please don't leave me, please don't leave me."

Every time I remember this experience I think of what it meant for Jesus to leave his "boys" behind—what it meant for him to leave them behind while he stepped into Calvary. What it meant for him to be hanging on the cross and not be able to soothe their pain and dry their tears. And when the final hour came to depart and say good-bye, to give the last hug and say the last words, I wonder how difficult it must have been for Jesus—not to mention what it must have felt for the boys. His final words of encouragement resonated in their ears for years, and have resonated for centuries in the lives of millions.

"Don't be worried! Have faith in God and have faith in me. There are many rooms in my Father's house. I wouldn't tell you this, unless it was true. I am going there to prepare a place for each of you. After I have done this, I will come back and take you with me. Then we will be together" (John 14:1-3).

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By Sergio Torres. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines. Scripture taken from the Contemporary English Version ®.
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Photo: Andres Rodriguez

Recently, I heard someone say that the cure for resentment is to pray two weeks for the person for whom you're holding the resentment. Having some "issues" along those lines at the time, I made special note of those words of wisdom.

What is it in those words that can bring a cure for resentment? Is there something extraordinary about two weeks? Is it simply that making an effort to pray for someone with whom we're struggling softens our hearts toward them?

Actually, I think the key that makes this wisdom true is the word for. Praying for, not about.

What's the difference? Quite a bit, really. Praying about prayers are the kind that go something like this: "Lord, please make this person leave me alone. Do something about her mean attitude. After all, Lord, if she weren't so awful, I wouldn't have to hate her." In other words, praying about someone is really all about me and my own suffering.

Praying "for" not about

In contrast, praying for other people calls upon God's power to change the person for his/her own good, and to bring healing in whatever may be lacking which has caused the negative actions. It can never be the wrong thing to pray for our enemies, no matter what they've done to us. The Bible says, "Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you" (Matthew 5:44). It's not easy, but it sure does put the smack-down on resentment.

Praying for the good of our enemies provides a two-fold miracle. First, it dilutes the development of bitterness in our own hearts, no matter how innocent we are and no matter how guilty the other person is. Second, it opens the opportunity for God to actually change that person rather than just to protect us from him. It also gives us an opportunity to share in the intercession that Jesus performs for us. We may offend God, but Jesus continues to pray for us and for the healing of our faults.

When you think about it, isn't praying for our enemies really the best answer for everyone? By doing this, we go beyond asking for a bandaid for external actions and allow our enemies (and ourselves) to be transformed from the inside out.

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By Gwen Simmons. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines. Scripture take from the NEW KING JAMES VERSION © 1982.
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Driving down the highway, on the Olympic Peninsula, I got to thinking about how difficult this spring has been to enjoy. Every day has seemed gloomier than the one before, and with two restless toddlers, there have been many moments filled with energetic frustration, over the lack of warmth and sunshine.

Looking out the window, my eyes caught sight of masses of gigantic shrubs covered in bright yellow flowers. Anyone, living on the Olympic Peninsula might be frowning right now, because I am talking about Scotch Broom, a plant that is not native to the area and manages to take over whatever space it can find. You can find it basically everywhere on the Peninsula.

I remembered y parents had told me some funny stories about Scotch Broom in their neighborhood. Apparently, if one of the residents had this plant growing in their yard, a letter would be promptly sent out informing you to get rid of this noxious weed immediately! The funny thing is, this plant is actually quite pretty to look at. I often think I might take some home and put it in a vase.

As I looked out my car window this particular day, I was struck by what a nice contrast the Scotch Broom made against the dark, densely growing evergreens. It was as if the Scotch Broom created a fire flame effect through the trees and I began to think about the Bible verse from Matthew, "Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house" (Matthew 5:15). In the middle of a very dark and depressing spring, there was some light, even if it was just through the color of a noxious weed. The brightness was impossible to miss.

What is a Weed?

I thought more about the analogy. When I was a little girl pulling weeds with my father, I asked him to define what a weed was. He told me, "Anything you do not want growing in your garden." By that simple definition then, it seems as if many plants might be misunderstood as ugly and noxious because people have defined then as weeds. Scotch Broom is considered a noxious weed, because it is difficult to control and crowds out native plants.

Our role as Christians is this world may come across similarly to people who do not fully understand why we believe what we do. In some cases, the very fact that one is willing to be open enough to state his or her faith beliefs might be considered offensive. People have often tried to argue with me by telling me that I have a limited perspective on life because I am Christian. This makes me feel like a weed, misunderstood. Just as a beautiful flower can be classified as something to get rid of, so Christianity can be dismissed as limiting, by those who don't understand.

Scotch Broom spreads quickly covering the otherwise gloomy landscape with yellow brilliance—even if there are those who want this weed gone. I want to grow just as rampantly in my faith as the Scotch Broom. I do not want to hide my faith, but let it be a light to those around me, even if it means not being liked by everyone.

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By Marion Ruybalid. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines. Scripture taken from the NEW KING JAMES VERSION © 1982.

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Photo: Keith Barlow

It's time to prepare our typhoon box again. This is the large plastic bin that holds enough food, water and necessities for a week or more if a bad one were to hit us.

Last summer, our first in a typhoon zone, it all seemed like a bit of an adventure. Putting together the contents for our box was like packing for a fun camping trip. Besides the suggested paper goods, I chose foods that could be made with hot water or eaten straight out of the can or bag: mac ‘n cheese, baked beans, soup, ramen, chips, dried fruit, apple sauce and peanut butter crackers. Only when I saw bleach on the list did I give pause. Bleach for what, I asked. For sterilizing the water, my husband responded. Oh.

We did have one category 4 storm and since I was 36 weeks pregnant, the military requested that I sit out the storm in our local hospital. So for two days, my husband and I played games, ate in the cafeteria and videoed the bending palm trees outside our window. My son was home with his grandmother and they watched Disney movies and made popcorn and generally drove each other crazy. But that was all.

For many reasons, which you can find by turning on any news program, I feel a bit more serious about it this year. After what has happened in Myanmar and China, natural disasters, or acts of God as some like to call them, seem like more of a reality to me. And I'm being more careful as I prepare this year's typhoon box.

Why is That?

Why is that? Why do we have to experience something before we're willing to prepare?

We have to get a ticket or cause an accident before adjusting our driving. We have to be diagnosed with diabetes before we'll change our eating and exercise habits. We have to watch our spouse pack his or her things and drive off for a "few days of separation" before we realize our marriage needs attention. And sometimes we have to experience the loss of a loved one to begin to appreciate those we still have.

There is one event that I hope we don't need to experience in order to prepare for: the return of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

"For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left. Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come" (Matthew 24:38-42).

There is no typhoon box, no diet, no project, no job that is more important than being prepared to meet our Savior. May we be diligent and be ready.

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By Joelle Yamada. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines. Scripture taken from the NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION ®.

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Photo: David Gilder

I received an invitation to a birthday party for two wonderful twenty-something friends. The email arrived with all the basic information about the party: the date, the time, the address, etc. What caught my attention was one line that said, "Dress Code: Casual Chic". Now, I knew some of the typical dress codes like black tie, formal wear, and business casual but I had never heard of "casual chic". So I wondered... Casual chic? What was that? What was I supposed to wear?

Christians face many challenges where mainstream trends and fads compete for attention. We may find ourselves venturing into the seducing and enticing pleasures of a "chic" world. Granted, dressing casually chic to a birthday party is no big deal. It only means dressing casually but elegant. What may be a bigger deal is when we face deeper issues in our lives and we depend on the "chicanery of the chic", the craftiness of this world, to guide us.

Chic Christians

The Apostle Paul had to deal with the Corinthians, a group of people who wanted to be "chic Christians". Corinth was no different than any urban "chic', metropolis today. To live in Corinth was to be chic. These "chic Christians" had deep problems. They were dealing with relationship issues, sexual issues, moral issues; not much different than today. In the process of living chic Christian lives, they sought out the "chicanery of the chic", the craftiness of this world, instead of seeking God's wisdom.

In the words of Eugene Peterson's The Message, Paul counseled them, "Don't fool yourself. Don't think that you can be wise merely by being up-to-date with the times. Be God's fool—that's the path to true wisdom. What the world calls smart, God calls stupid. It's written in Scripture, He exposes the chicanery of the chic. The Master sees through the smoke screens of the know-it-alls" (I Corinthians 3:18-20).

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By Sergio Torres. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines. Scripture taken from The Message ®.
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She always had a smile on her face. She lived in a small apartment at her sister's house. She had lived there for over three decades. No one would have imagined that big house without that small apartment.

Dolores was a quiet woman and always kept busy. Her two Cocker Spaniels were the love of her life. They had been a gift from a friend before dying, as were her flowers in the garden she cared for. There was not a corner where Dolores' roses, carnations and violets did not bloom in full splendor.

Every morning at dawn, this good woman would rise to have her morning prayer. She never started her day without a deep study of the Sacred Book, as she would call the Bible. Her face full of peace would shine with a special light after each morning prayer.

One day, something terrible happened at the big house. Two robbers broke into the house and held everyone hostage by locking them in a closet. Dolores' granddaughter was gravely affected by this incident and spent many months in therapy. She suffered from constant nightmares and had difficulty sleeping.

Reading and Rocking

It was then that Dolores offered to help her granddaughter. Every night, before going to bed, she would sit in a rocking chair next to her bed and she would read stories from The Bible Story Series. The child would carefully listen until she would slowly fall asleep. If by any chance she would wake up, she always knew her grandmother would be sitting in her rocking chair as a guardian angel.

Dolores now rests in the Lord, but her memory lives on in all of us who had the opportunity to meet her. She taught us that, more often than not, it is not necessary to do big things. All you need to do... is be an angel!

"To the Lord I cry aloud, and he answers me from his holy hill, Selah. I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me" (Psalm 3:4, 5).

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By Chari Torres. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines. Scripture taken from the NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION ®.
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Photo: Noriko Cooper

In this modern world we live in, It is harder than ever to be a parent. Everyone says that. But is it true?

Is it harder to be a parent today than it was two thousand years ago? Back then, kings could—and did—order every newborn slain. Cities were sacked during wars; famines and plagues were frequent visitors. The four horsemen rode regularly, and children were the easiest victims.

Okay, it is easier to be a parent in 2008 A.D. than it was in 33 A.D. But it was lots easier for parents in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries than it is today, right? Not necessarily.

Until well into the twentieth century disease was a real threat to children. Is it easy to watch your children die of diphtheria, scarlet fever, or cholera? Horses spread tetanus—we had no vaccine for that until 1927. Antibiotics only became available in the 1940s. Until then, children—your children—could have died from a scraped knee that became infected.

Hunger was a problem, too. Most people were farmers a century ago. If your crops failed, you went hungry. If you lost that city job, your family went hungry. Few people starved to death in the United States, but childhood malnutrition left the Depression generation smaller than their parents or their children. Today, the biggest nutritional problem facing America's poor is obesity.

Drugs and Terrorism

Parents worried about drug use and terrorism back then, too. Today's illegal drugs—the big ones, like cocaine and heroin—already existed. They were even legal, at first. Patent medicines often contained unlabeled, addictive drugs. Alcohol and tobacco abuse was much greater. Both were more accessible to children back then—and more widely used by them.

Terrorists were then called anarchists. Their violence was just as random. There was also a stretch between 1950 and 1990 when it seemed we were twenty minutes away from nuclear annihilation.

Today, most parents raise their children free from hunger, free from the fear of death by disease, and in greater material comfort than at any time in history. Therein lies the problem. Parents today often fail the challenge of comfort and luxury. We willingly give our children everything—except our time and attention. Some parents get so caught up pursuing material goods and comfort that they have no time for their children. Both parents work, entrusting their children to hirelings during most of their children's waking hours. When at home with their children, they still do not spend time with them. Children have their toys—parents have theirs. Parents spend time playing with their toys, instead of with their children.

In the "good old days" families stuck together, read together, played together, worshipped together, just to survive. The children grew up stronger for that shared time.

Is it harder to be a parent today? Not really. But parents find it harder to take the time to be a parent. I believe this is what makes raising children a greater challenge today.

Spend some quality time with your children or your grandchildren today.

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By Mark N. Lardas. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines.
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Photo: Kathy Wynn

I think one of the prickliest positions to be in as a kid is the choosing of sides for teams in school sports. I was somewhere in the middle: not the first to be picked, but not the last either. My pain came in the suffering of others—and they were usually the same ones each time. You know them too. They were the kids who, for one reason or another, just didn't seem to fit into the athletic mode, and because of this, they were forced to endure the calling out of other people's names by captains whose athletic excellence far overshadowed any fitness in human sensitivity.

Somehow, it seemed that those kids got used to being called last. They just kind of stood, tapping their feet, waiting for it to all be over. But it always bothered me, and what bothered me most was how the P.E. teachers never seemed to catch on to this agonizing method of forming teams. What were they thinking? Why didn't they just choose the sides themselves and avoid the repeated public display of rejection?

Apparently, you can't always depend on adults to do the right thing. Fortunately, however, there will sometimes be a kid who will step up and take that adult's place. I'm so happy that my son had the chance to be one of those kids.

One day in high school P.E. when he was chosen to be a captain, he made a point of choosing the most unlikely kids to be on his team in dodge ball. Since he was a dodge ball champ, his curious selection really raised some eyebrows. Especially by those being selected! One by one, he called out the names of kids who had been left until last in previous times. As they heard their names, they would look at him in disbelief and point to themselves as though to ask, "Me?" His nod would affirm their place on the team, and before long, there were two teams formed: the top players and the formerly non-players.

Transformation

This simple act of affirmation and confidence transformed the new group into active, competitive participants. How did it turn out? You guessed it. They won! True story.I was thrilled that these kids, who had so long been overlooked by the jocks, were vindicated.

And then, an image captured my brain and held me captive. It was an image of me being a captain, standing before the crowd of people to choose for my team, I noticed someone quietly looking my direction, watching me with hopeful eyes, but not forcing himself to the front. He was just waiting, hoping to hear his name called. Waiting to show what he could contribute to my success, and anxious to bring me to a victory. But I'd have to choose him.

It was Jesus. The image really made an impact on me as I realized how often we all have the chance to choose Jesus to be on our side and how often we may overlook him in the crowd of other more popular choices. I thought of how I had felt compassion for the kids who had been left out, and then I considered how left out Jesus must feel when he is overlooked too. I hope I never lose the feeling of Jesus waiting for me to call his name, and I hope he is never surprised when he hears it.

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By Gwen Scott Simmons. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines.
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Photo: Bjarne Kvaale

I used to be Papyrus. For years now, the default font on my computer has been set to it. I loved the slightly splotchy lettering, rounded letters and long lines. It was the style of type that most felt like me. When I'd begin working on a letter or a paper or a to-do list, it somehow felt like me if it was in Papyrus.

But it doesn't feel like me anymore. One day it just wasn't right. And for the last several weeks I've been trying out different fonts. Calibri, Arial, Comic Sans, Lucida, Gil Sans, Palatino—right now Corbel is the frontrunner.

To be honest, it has scared me a little. Is my "font discomfort" indicative of some inner change in me? Has there been a fundamental shift in the way that I look at the world? Have I gotten too old and boring for Papyrus?

Priorities Shifted

Life is full of constant changes—a change in job, a move, a new baby, a new friendship, new responsibilities. But often those big changes have some unexpected secondary effects on us. We don't always realize how a new season of life changes even the little details. I woke up one day and my first thought was WOOHOO, the kids slept through the night and what was I going to make them for breakfast and should I put them in shorts or long pants today? And it hit me that three short years ago my first thoughts were actually all about me. It wasn't just the big change of becoming a mom. My priorities had shifted significantly and even my waking thoughts changed over time because of my new position as Mom.

Sometimes these bigger changes create less fortunate effects. Maybe we find ourselves with 12 extra pounds that seemingly appeared over night. Or maybe we realize that in the stress of change we've developed some bad habits in communicating with our kids or our spouse. Maybe the time you used to spend studying the Bible and praying has been overrun by the demands of your new job or new responsibilities.

My choice of word processing font may seem silly in the scope of life's big changes, but recognizing the little things in me that have changed on this journey has been good for me. It's helped me see more clearly the path I've been heading along and that allows me to adjust where I need to and align myself more clearly to what God has for my life. That can be hard work, but it's better than continuing to write in Papyrus.

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By Joelle Yamada. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines.
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When people spend their lives trying to transform or fix their spouses and kids, the natural result is exhaustion, depression and the hopeless sense of wanting to bail out of it all. In the book, Families Where Grace Is in Place, Christian author, Jeff Van Vonderen, suggests that God's grace can transform relationships within a marriage and family. He says, "The first step is learning the simple difference between God's job and ours. God's part is to fix and change. Our responsibility is to depend on the Holy Spirit, serve our families, and help equip them to be all they can be. The Christian family's ultimate goals of harmony, obedience, and full potential can be arrived at without using legalistic and manipulative methods."

Jeff shares his experience with a dedicated, well-meaning Christian father who often sacrificed his own comfort and needs to help someone else or to work for some higher goal. When problems came up, he directed them to do what he did by saying, "Quit complaining. When you focus on a problem, you become a problem. Just do the right thing. It doesn't matter whether you like it or not. The Kingdom of God is not a democracy."

Checked into Mental Health Facility

It wasn't until Jeff's wife checked herself into a mental health facility with symptoms of a physical and emotional collapse, and his children revealed that he made them feel like they were never going to be good enough, that Jeff began to examine the way he was living his Christian life. He realized he had been legalistic and harsh. Jeff believed with all his heart that the Bible was true—but there was something missing in the way he had been taught to apply biblical principles. "I always thought I was doing the loving and right thing by directing my family to just act on godly principles. I thought that doing and obedience were the simple answers to all our needs and problems. I didn't see that I was making them perform right on the outside, while inside their hearts were still aching for real compassion. If I'd given them the compassion first, as foundation to stand on, they would have had more real power inside."

Jeff is one of many Christian men and women who were taught that spiritual life results from performing according to certain principles. He gaged spiritual success by outward performance standards, and had not given his family the emotional and spiritual fuel to get them through life's challenges.

This father came to realize that denying a problem only prolonged it and strained relationships. He learned that "fixing" his spouse and children only led to disappointment and distancing in the relationship. By not allowing himself to submit to the discomfort of honest dialogue. Jeff could not understand the hearts of his family members. This father accepted God's grace and began offering it to his wife and children. It was then Jeff became free from the burden or pressuring, controlling and manipulating his spouse and children. Praise God!

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By Susan E. Murray. Reprinted with permission from the Lake Union Herald, March 2008. Copyright © 2008 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines.
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