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Mary McLeod Bethune: She Has Given Her Best

I first heard about Mary McLeod Bethune when I was a student at Moody Bible Institute. She was an early graduate of my college - and an African American woman. I knew she had gone on to become one of the greatest women in our country. She was so well known that she earned the status of being featured on our postage stamps. But I didn't really know much about her. As I researched Mary McLeod Bethune for my book, When Others Shuddered: Eight Women Who Refused to Give Up . I learned a bit more about her remarkable life: She was the 15th of 17 children, born to former slaves. From an early age, she hungered for education. She graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a desire for missionary service to Africa - an opportunity she was denied because of her race. Undeterred, she started a school for African American girls in Daytona Beach, Florida, that went on to become Bethune Cookman University. She was asked to work with Franklin D. Roosevelt and led many African Am
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Does God Answer Stupid Prayers?

One day, I prayed to God about a stupid mistake I had made. My nine-year-old daughter and I had been out for a Saturday of shopping errands. As we hurried from our home to the car, Sabrina handed me her coin purse. Without really thinking, I dropped it into my lap for the short drive to the store.When we walked to the first store, I was holding her purse in my hand. But when we got ready to leave, I no longer had it. As we headed for the check-out my daughter asked, “Mom, can I have my money?” “I don’t have it,” I replied. “Yes, you do,” she insisted. “Remember? I gave it to you.” At that moment, I had absolutely no recollection of taking the coin purse from her. None. Then she added to my stress. She explained, “I had all my vacation money in it: thirty dollars!” My heart sank. My hands were sweaty as the details of my day ran quickly through my mind. It was one of those bad mommy moments. Could my memory be failing me? We rushed out of Walmart and headed to our car. We se

My Big Toe in the Water

Photo by Vincentiu Solomon on Unsplash I've been away from this blog for awhile now. Why? It's not because I have nothing to say. But, there has been so much going on in my heart and mind that it has been difficult to take the plunge and put those emotions into words. But it's a new year, and so I'm doing it now. Putting my big toe in the water. It feels cold. My body feels a chill rippling through it as I test what it feels like to see my thoughts displayed in black and white. Writing is vulnerability. Writing is seeing with our eyes what is felt in our hearts. Writing allows others in. Writing forces us to reckon with the many ideas fighting for attention in our brain, nailing them to the wall in a way with each letter, with each word. Okay... that was dramatic. But I feel it. And maybe you do too. Has it been awhile since you've written? Would you like to join me? Let's do it! I'm in water up to my ankle now and it isn't too bad. In fact, I'm get

54 Years, 54 Memories

In the wise words of Ferris Bueller: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” 54 memories on my 54 th birthday….in no particular order 1.      Camping in Acadia National Park in Maine (with no flashlight) on our honeymoon. 2.      Seeing our daughter for the very first time. 3.      Walking by the ocean at sunrise with the pounding sound of the waves. 4.      Setting up our family’s pop-up camper in Peninsula State Park. 5.      2 nd grade stamp club with Mrs. Candy Heart (my favorite teacher). 6.      Singing “Victory in Jesus” at 1 st Baptist with my Dad playing piano. 7.      Playing Barbie Miss America with my neighbor Lynn, every day, all summer long. 8.      Playing cards and drinking tea with Milt, Dale, and Kathy in their Wicker Park loft. 9.      Sleepovers at Janet Aarup’s, making an air-tent from sheets and a box fan. 10.   Walking Michigan Avenue between Columbia Coll

Airport Incubator

I’m sitting in the airport at Charlotte, North Carolina, on a Thursday afternoon. I am on my way home after a business trip. To my left is a grand piano where a pianist is offering a very energetic rendition of the Friends theme song. Also to my left, is a blue haired young man in his 20s with a nicely contrasting lilac bandana across his forehead. He is sitting on the ground, back against the staircase, enthusiastically singing along with the piano player, throwing in special requests (Do you know any Beatles?) and then, without luck, asks if he could jam on the piano for a bit. To my slight right sit two suit-coated men. The older man has white hair, a mustache, and glasses. He’s slowly drinking a beer. His lunch companion (it’s almost 4 pm, so maybe not lunch in airport world?) is a tall young man that looks like a mix of Anglo and Asian. He’s sporting a pin striped linen sport coat that is slightly wrinkled. All of a sudden they jump up and gather their suitca