Early copy for June 3 column

The Big, Not-so-Bad, Misunderstood Wolf

I return home on Sunday from Honduras after helping the Chispa Project establish their 70th elementary school library. Together with 15 of my readers, we shelved 1,400 illustrated children's books.

Among the titles, I found the Spanish copy of "The Three Little Pigs." I've always had my suspicions about those pigs. I think they were likely "crisis actors" hired by the lame stream media to scare us.

So, while volunteers worked vigorously to paint the library, build shelves and haul book boxes into the school, I did my own in-depth research about those porkers.

First stop, YouTube, where I watched the serious work of investigative journalist Jon Scieszka reading his book, "The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs!" (Puffin Books 1996). The book comes complete with drawings from police sketch artist Lane Smith.

I'm sharing an abridged version, but Mr. Alexander T. Wolf, aka, "The Wolf," begins with the claim, "Nobody knows the real story because nobody has ever heard my side of the story.

"The real story is about a sneeze and a cup of sugar."

Apparently, Al was making a birthday cake for his granny while dealing with a "terrible sneezing cold." When he realized he was also out of sugar, he left his house searching for a neighbor who'd loan him a cup.

The first house he visited was unbelievably made of straw. When he knocked, the door fell down around him.

Wolf called out, "Little Pig, Little Pig. Are you in?"

Al got no answer, so he turned to leave, when he was suddenly overcome with a huffing, puffing sneezing fit.

To his shock, the house fell down right in front of him. Even more surprising, he saw Little Pig face down in the straw — dead.

Wolf later told investigators, "It seemed like a shame to leave a perfectly good ham dinner lying in the straw. So I ate it up."

Next, he went to the pig's brother's house and found it was made of sticks. Sadly, the rude pig refused him entry, saying he was shaving his "chinny chin chin."

Disappointed, but not vengeful, Wolf turned to leave when another sneezing fit brought this house down, too. Same deal. "Dead pig. Second helping of ham."

These pigs seemed none too bright, but Wolf gave them another chance by knocking on the door of the oldest sibling.

When Big Bro Pig, refused to even discuss the sugar shortage, Wolf became a real blowhard. He made such a scene with his cyclonic sneezes that the cops were called.

Wolf tried telling his straightforward honest account, but news reports were jazzed up because no one cares about a sick guy borrowing sugar.

After my riveting research, I sat in stunned silence. Silence except for the screaming swarms of kids piling into the new library, celebrating with games and fun.

Listening to this book from inside Honduran boarders reminded me of the many applications of every story.

To those who sleep in comfortable homes in the U.S., the boarder crisis seems like the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing to get our jobs, our Medicare and our lovely way of life.

But while the Wolf in Scieszka's story had only a bad cold, the drug route from Colombia to the U.S. smothers Hondurans, plaguing them with complex issues like corrupt government and gang violence.

Despite this, the people showed Chispa volunteers another side of what we wouldn't expect from those threatened by the Wolf. They showered us with hospitality, open doors and kids grinning from ear to ear at the sight of their first children's book.

Fortunately, Chispa has stocked enough copies of Scieszka's exposé that Honduran children will read the true story of the Pigs in their own language.

While volunteers busied themselves reading, dancing and playing soccer with the children, I logged onto the Dark Web for deeper research.

Apparently even Scieszka doesn't know this, BUT <stage whisper> the Wolf turned state's evidence on the Goldilocks case and he's now in the Witness Protection Program.

You'll never hear this journalist speak of him again.

——————————————————

If you had fun hearing this children's story, think how much Honduran children learn from a book like this. Share in the fun by visiting the website ChispaProject.org. Donate online or send checks made out to "Chispa Project" to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602.

Read more of my columns at www.thechaplain.net. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or leave voicemail at (843) 608-9715.

Correction. Bob Vila has only one “l”

Bob Vila has only one "l" in his name. I corrected in copy below




A Memorial Day Note to My Neighbor

If you find this newspaper column pinned to your door, it's because I asked your neighbor to place it there.

In fact, if I have my way, your friends will copy it and post it on several porches, or at least on their social media accounts.

No, I'm not trying to promote my column. This Memorial Day, I'm calling your attention to your American flag.

Pull your curtain back now and take a look. Is it wavering, wilted or worn? Is it torn, tilted or tossed aside?

Has your red, white and blue become more like orange, tan and gray?

Has the symbol that survived "the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air" become only a tarnished driveway marker for your guests?

If so, I'm asking you to properly retire the old flag.

On Bob Vila's website, he touts his "Tried, True, Trustworthy Home Advice," with four ways to properly give Old Glory a resting place (BobVila.com).

The most common disposal method is to burn the flag as suggested by the US Flag Code — not something I recommend to my Northern California neighbors.

My favorite suggestion is to repurpose the flags by sending them to organizations such as Stars for Our Troops and Socks for Soldiers.

If you prefer more ceremony, Vila offers guidelines to bury the flag in a wooden box.

But the most convenient method is to visit the local hardware store and deposit your worn Old Glory in their flag disposal box. Villa says similar collection programs are maintained by the Boy Scouts, veteran's organizations and police stations.

And while you're at the hardware store, pick up a new flag. Take her home and proudly repost her. By the way, she prefers to be hung high from the eave of your home, not whipped to shreds from the bed of your truck.

But wait. I'm not finished. I ask one more thing.

Let her fly solo. She's a one-man woman, true only to Uncle Sam.

While she may graciously make room for the MIA flag or your state flag, adding the Christian flag becomes problematic. It begs the question, "Which flag deserves the higher honor?"

I'm only sharing my opinion, not necessarily flag protocol, but I encourage you to remove special interests banners like, Stars and Bars, rainbows, black or blue lives, and political campaign flags.

Celebrate your free speech, but please transplant those single-interest flags to another pole. Old Glory is an attention hog. She prefers to lead the way, not be second fiddle.

When I fly her, it's all about her. Nothing else.

Those who died serving our country fell under one flag. Today, more than ever, it's time we stood under one, single individual flag.

You're probably asking about now, "Who are you to be so demanding? What's it to ya?"

Allow me to pull rank on this Memorial Day.

I'm the chaplain who has paid his dues.

I was the guy who said the prayer as the flag-draped bodies of fallen heroes were carried onto the plane brining them home from Iraq. (OIF '09)

I'm the guy whose Notification Team walked into the driveways of nearly 30 different homes. Under the flapping flag found in most driveways, I watched our commander deliver the words, "Ma'am we regret to inform you …"

I'm the chaplain who stood at attention while the honor guard folded the flag over a hero's casket.

Who am I to chastise the disrespectful display of the American flag?

I'm the guy who performed the funerals that concluded with a kneeling sergeant presenting a folded flag to grieving parents.

I choked as I heard him say, "On behalf of the president of the United States, the United States Air Force and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your daughter's honorable and faithful service."

The flag is important to me. I want it to be important to you. Buy a new flag this weekend and let her fly high and alone.

All sales are final.

My mission is done here.

Websites mentioned in today's column
http://www.starsforourtroops.org/
http://www.socksforsoldiersinc.com
https://www.bobvila.com/articles/how-to-dispose-of-an-american-flag/

————————

Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

Column for syndication -- Memorial Day Weekend

A Memorial Day Note to My Neighbor

If you find this newspaper column pinned to your door, it's because I asked your neighbor to place it there.

In fact, if I have my way, your friends will copy it and post it on several porches, or at least on their social media accounts.

No, I'm not trying to promote my column. This Memorial Day, I'm calling your attention to your American flag.

Pull your curtain back now and take a look. Is it wavering, wilted or worn? Is it torn, tilted or tossed aside?

Has your red, white and blue become more like orange, tan and gray?

Has the symbol that survived "the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air" become only a tarnished driveway marker for your guests?

If so, I'm asking you to properly retire the old flag.

On Bob Villa's website, he touts his "Tried, True, Trustworthy Home Advice," with four ways to properly give Old Glory a resting place (BobVilla.com).

The most common disposal method is to burn the flag as suggested by the US Flag Code — not something I recommend to my Northern California neighbors.

My favorite suggestion is to repurpose the flags by sending them to organizations such as Stars for Our Troops and Socks for Soldiers.

If you prefer more ceremony, Villa offers guidelines to bury the flag in a wooden box.

But the most convenient method is to visit the local hardware store and deposit your worn Old Glory in their flag disposal box. Villa says similar collection programs are maintained by the Boy Scouts, veteran's organizations and police stations.

And while you're at the hardware store, pick up a new flag. Take her home and proudly repost her. By the way, she prefers to be hung high from the eve of your home, not whipped to shreds from the bed of your truck.

But wait. I'm not finished. I ask one more thing.

Let her fly solo. She's a one-man woman, true only to Uncle Sam.

While she may graciously make room for the MIA flag or your state flag, adding the Christian flag becomes problematic. It begs the question, "Which flag deserves the higher honor?"

I'm only sharing my opinion, not necessarily flag protocol, but I encourage you to remove special interests banners like, Stars and Bars, rainbows, black or blue lives, and political campaign flags.

Celebrate your free speech, but please transplant those single-interest flags to another pole. Old Glory is an attention hog. She prefers to lead the way, not be second fiddle.

When I fly her, it's all about her. Nothing else.

Those who died serving our country fell under one flag. Today, more than ever, it's time we stood under one, single individual flag.

You're probably asking about now, "Who are you to be so demanding? What's it to ya?"

Allow me to pull rank on this Memorial Day.

I'm the chaplain who has paid his dues.

I was the guy who said the prayer as the flag-draped bodies of fallen heroes were carried onto the plane bringing them home from Iraq. (OIF '09)

I'm the guy whose Notification Team walked into the driveways of nearly 30 different homes. Under the flapping flag found in most driveways, I watched our commander deliver the words, "Ma'am we regret to inform you …"

I'm the chaplain who stood at attention while the honor guard folded the flag over a hero's casket.

Who am I to chastise the disrespectful display of the American flag?

I'm the guy who performed the funerals that concluded with a kneeling sergeant presenting a folded flag to grieving parents.

I choked as I heard him say, "On behalf of the president of the United States, the United States Air Force and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your daughter's honorable and faithful service."

The flag is important to me. I want it to be important to you. Buy a new flag this weekend and let her fly high and alone.

All sales are final.

My mission is done here.
————————————————————
Websites mentioned in today's column
http://www.starsforourtroops.org/
http://www.socksforsoldiersinc.com
https://www.bobvila.com/articles/how-to-dispose-of-an-american-flag/

————————

Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

Column for syndication -- 20-22May

Chaplaincy a sad Job? Not so Much.

As a hospice chaplain, I know that a sure fire way to bring any conversation down a notch is to mention my profession.

"Oh that must be a really sad job," is the reply of many.

"It can be sad," I admit. "But most often it's the opposite."

Folks sometimes respond with a confused tilt of the head, perhaps much like you're doing now.

So, to make my point, I offer these two contrasting stories.

The first case happened while I was working in a hospital. The patient was an 82-year-old farmer with a failing heart, someone nurses call a "frequent flyer." 

His heart problems had given his family multiple scares, but somehow doctors managed to resolve his condition long enough to return home. Each time, doctors told him he was terminal and suggested he sign up for hospice.

Nothing doing. "Give him more meds and he'll be ok" seemed to be the tack the family preferred.

But, on his final return, things drastically changed. Doctors twice restarted his heart and sent him to our ICU on a breathing machine. 

After a few days, the family was asked if the farmer could be disconnected from life support and be placed on "comfort care."

"No," the family said. "You must do everything possible."

In the next few moments, our staff made a concerted effort to define "everything." We explained that if his heart stopped again, "everything" could involve nurses straddling his chest to do compressions, likely breaking ribs.

They didn't seem to consider the indignity of it all when they said, "Just do it."

The man lingered several more days, requiring multiple resuscitations before he died. The staff and I definitely had sad jobs that day. 

But a year later I came to work for hospice and saw a much different approach to death. 

One of the first patients I met was an octogenarian and member of the greatest generation. This Navy vet was lucid enough to see the battle that lay ahead, so he agreed to be placed on hospice. 

The veteran's family also asked the doctor to do "everything." By that they meant, "Please do everything to make his passing comfortable and dignified."

The family then invited me in to talk with him. Within moments of our meeting, he expressed his faith in God and spoke of the love that awaited him in an afterlife. 

On my second visit, his heavenly expression of faith inspired me to start humming a hymn. My humming leaked out of his room and soon, one by one, his family added the lyrics that filled the sacred space.

"Some glad morning when this life is o'er,

I'll fly away;

To a home on God's celestial shore,

I'll fly away."

A slanted smile broke through the man's pained expressions as he joined the chorus.

"I'll fly away, Oh Glory,

I'll fly away;

When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,

I'll fly away."

More humming. More quiet and then a request.

"Will you say a prayer, chaplain?" asked his daughter.

My prayer, recalled the words of the psalmist, assuring this family that there was no place their dad could go without the comforting presence of God:

"Where can I go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there."

At the end of the day, the difference between these two families was how they expressed their view of the word "everything."

The first family wanted doctors to do "everything" medically possible to stay alive. The second family wanted "everything" to include all things that comforted: medically, emotionally and spiritually.

The farmer died alone, perhaps painfully, and likely scared. The veteran died as he had lived – with friends, family and faith.

Yes, even as a hospice chaplain, I have sad days. But those days most often give way to fulfillment as I witness the dying courage shown in the faces of folks like this veteran.

——————————————————-

If your loved ones are facing their final days. I encourage you to call your local hospice and inquire how they might help bring dignity, love, and courage to those dying moments.

Read more columns at www.thechaplain.net Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

Small correction to Column for syndication -- 13-15 May

Regarding the 5th paragraph from bottom that says:

"The answer to "Why?" is because he loves the US. You and me."

Please delete "the." Sentence should read;

The answer to "Why?" is because he loves US. You and me. 



Some Wicked Uses of a Wicked Bible

 

Even if you're not much of a Bible reader, you might want to check out the "Wicked Bible, "aka" Adulterous Bible," or "Sinners' Bible."

 

Printed in1631, the WB is so-named because it omits "not" from the seventh commandment.

 

Sounding more like Hippie "free love" of the 1960s, readers are told in no uncertain terms "thou SHALT commit adultery." 

 

Fortunately, when the error was discovered a year later, only 1,000 copies remained to be recovered and burned by the church.

 

Still, justice had to be done. King Charles I hauled the printers Robert Barker and Martin Lucas into court where the judge revoked their printing license and fined them 300 pounds, equal to $80,000 today.

 

How did the egregious misprint come to be? Some scholars suggest industrial sabotage by a rival printer. But my column proofreader, Davalynn Spencer, sides with the scholars who say it was a result of underpaid and overworked copy editors like herself.

 

Today, it is supposed that twenty WBs remain in circulation, most likely in England. So, imagine the shock when the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand announced that a student discovered one of these "adulterated" versions.

 

The version was found in 2018, but its discovery was made public only this week to allow archivists the chance to authenticate and preserve the book.

 

I sympathize with Bob and Marty. They likely never suspected their simple mistake would be carried forward four centuries.

 

Still, lest we laugh too hard at their misfortune, perhaps we should confess that we too tangle the original meaning of the commandments. We do it when we overemphasize a commandment or alter its intent to espouse our favored viewpoint.

 

For instance, there are some who promote the Bible as a science book. They cite generational begat lists to pronounce that the earth was created at 4004 BC. Never mind a world of geological science suggesting thousands upon thousands of years old.

 

Others remodel biblical passages into an Armageddon roadmap. They interpret every new conflict as a prelude to WWIII. Some even hope to accelerate these wars in order to hasten the prophesied return of Jesus.

 

But worse yet, some use the Bible to promote a political party or espouse partisan viewpoints.

 

For instance, "Thou shalt not kill" recently gained favor with the leak of a Supreme Court opinion on abortion. While the commandment is paraded on placards around the court steps, it remains noticeably absent from any discussion of wars or capital punishment.

 

But the most wicked use of Bible authority came last year when protesters sought to forcefully oppose the transfer of power. In trying to reinstate "God's favored one," they showed little understanding of the commandment "Don't take the name of the Lord your God in vain."

 

Now, I know that I have little chance at getting anyone to discard their favorite biblical opinions. I can only hope that we can enlarge our views. The Bible is infinitely bigger than any of our theories. Nobody carries God in their pocket.

 

The Bible was largely written to answer the questions of who created the world and why it was created

 

The answer to "Who?" is God.

 

The answer to "Why?" is because he loves US. You and me. 

 

My Bible — not the wicked one —tells me that God loves all of us the way he loves each of us. And he loves each of us as if he loved only one.

 

So however one prioritizes the commandments, Jesus clearly announced his ranking — Love the Lord your God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself.

 

Our issues are complicated and intertwined. They won't be resolved with a single verse or be dismissed with clever edits. But they can be better understood through God's loving eyes.

 

Fortunately grace prevailed for our hapless printers when a 17^th century judge dismissed their fine. If you're curious to see the Wicked Bible, the University of Canterbury will post their digitized findings on the web in coming months.

 

In the meantime, my weekly writing — free of all wickedness — remains freely available on my website, www.thechaplain.net or by signing up for my weekly email at https://thechaplain.net/newsletter/.

 

 

Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

Column for syndication -- 13-15 May

Some Wicked Uses of a Wicked Bible

 

Even if you're not much of a Bible reader, you might want to check out the "Wicked Bible, "aka" Adulterous Bible," or "Sinners' Bible."

 

Printed in1631, the WB is so-named because it omits "not" from the seventh commandment.

 

Sounding more like Hippie "free love" of the 1960s, readers are told in no uncertain terms "thou SHALT commit adultery." 

 

Fortunately, when the error was discovered a year later, only 1,000 copies remained to be recovered and burned by the church.

 

Still, justice had to be done. King Charles I hauled the printers Robert Barker and Martin Lucas into court where the judge revoked their printing license and fined them 300 pounds, equal to $80,000 today.

 

How did the egregious misprint come to be? Some scholars suggest industrial sabotage by a rival printer. But my column proofreader, Davalynn Spencer, sides with the scholars who say it was a result of underpaid and overworked copy editors like herself.

 

Today, it is supposed that twenty WBs remain in circulation, most likely in England. So, imagine the shock when the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand announced that a student discovered one of these "adulterated" versions.

 

The version was found in 2018, but its discovery was made public only this week to allow archivists the chance to authenticate and preserve the book.

 

I sympathize with Bob and Marty. They likely never suspected their simple mistake would be carried forward four centuries.

 

Still, lest we laugh too hard at their misfortune, perhaps we should confess that we too tangle the original meaning of the commandments. We do it when we overemphasize a commandment or alter its intent to espouse our favored viewpoint.

 

For instance, there are some who promote the Bible as a science book. They cite generational begat lists to pronounce that the earth was created at 4004 BC. Never mind a world of geological science suggesting thousands upon thousands of years old.

 

Others remodel biblical passages into an Armageddon roadmap. They interpret every new conflict as a prelude to WWIII. Some even hope to accelerate these wars in order to hasten the prophesied return of Jesus.

 

But worse yet, some use the Bible to promote a political party or espouse partisan viewpoints.

 

For instance, "Thou shalt not kill" recently gained favor with the leak of a Supreme Court opinion on abortion. While the commandment is paraded on placards around the court steps, it remains noticeably absent from any discussion of wars or capital punishment.

 

But the most wicked use of Bible authority came last year when protesters sought to forcefully oppose the transfer of power. In trying to reinstate "God's favored one," they showed little understanding of the commandment "Don't take the name of the Lord your God in vain."

 

Now, I know that I have little chance at getting anyone to discard their favorite biblical opinions. I can only hope that we can enlarge our views. The Bible is infinitely bigger than any of our theories. Nobody carries God in their pocket.

 

The Bible was largely written to answer the questions of who created the world and why it was created

 

The answer to "Who?" is God.

 

The answer to "Why?" is because he loves US. You and me. 

 

My Bible — not the wicked one —tells me that God loves all of us the way he loves each of us. And he loves each of us as if he loved only one.

 

So however one prioritizes the commandments, Jesus clearly announced his ranking — Love the Lord your God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself.

 

Our issues are complicated and intertwined. They won't be resolved with a single verse or be dismissed with clever edits. But they can be better understood through God's loving eyes.

 

Fortunately grace prevailed for our hapless printers when a 17^th century judge dismissed their fine. If you're curious to see the Wicked Bible, the University of Canterbury will post their digitized findings on the web in coming months.

 

In the meantime, my weekly writing — free of all wickedness — remains freely available on my website, www.thechaplain.net or by signing up for my weekly email at https://thechaplain.net/newsletter/.

 

 

Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

Column for syndication -- Mother's Day weekend 2022

Imperfect Mom Taught me to Laugh, Learn and Pray

 

Some call her Ruby. Friends call her Dolores. I call her "Mom."

 

But don't dare call her "Tootie." Only her siblings called her that.

 

The name she is most proud of is "Valedictorian" of her 1952 high school class of four. Carrying that honor, she crossed town to enroll in Baylor University. A year later, she eloped with my father for life as a Pastor's wife.

 

Four years later, she was struggling with two toddlers, when I became her third child in diapers.

 

Mom wasn't Hallmark perfect.

 

She wasn't my best friend, my confidant or my hero.

 

She never taught me how to cook, how to match my clothes or how to deal with my feelings. To this day, she doesn't often express her hurts.

 

She told us that she loved us, but it seemed she had more of that commodity for my brother and less for my sister. She still maintains that preference.

 

She could ignite the house with her Baptist curse words like "dadburnit," "by cracky," or "dadgummit!" From the next room she'd yell, "If you kids can't get along, I'll throw that dad-blasted TV in the yard!"

 

It's funny now, but not so much then.

 

Yet as I grow older, the father of four, I see how Mom taught us to Laugh, Learn and Pray.

 

If you were to meet the 88-year-old, you'd better understand my column humor.

 

For instance, if you boarded an elevator and asked the occupants, "Up or Down?" my mother might reply, "Up or Down depends on whether you repent and change your ways."

 

I've been known to employ her pun humor when meeting a new chaplain. They are taken aback when I ask, "What abomination are you?"

 

Learning was a top expectation Mom had for her children. She'd studied to be a teacher, so spelling, syntax and grammar were her forte. (That's why she's proofread nearly all my columns.)

 

Somehow, Mom managed to budget for scores of Dr. Seuss books along with subscriptions to "Popular Science," "Highlights," and "Jack and Jill." Each week, she added a new volume of the Funk & Wagnalls Encyclopedia to her grocery cart.

 

She passed that love of learning to her children and grandchildren. When her granddaughter Sara established Chispa Project to bring libraries into Honduran elementary schools, Mom signed on to be a monthly contributor (see more below).

 

But my mother also guided my faith. As early as I can remember, she'd dress her three kids in Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and sit us in the pews of the churches my father pastored -- twice on Sundays and again on Wednesday night.

 

As a small child, I'd rest my head on my mother's lap while she sang songs like "Amazing Grace" and "It Is Well With My Soul." Hearing the lyrical notes pass through her diaphragm and erupt with an operatic tone gave me a peace that my life was directed with a purpose.

 

Twenty years after she'd left Baylor, I nearly broke her heart when I attempted to enlist as a military air traffic controller rather than study to become a chaplain. She burst into tears and Baptist-swore she'd find a way to send me to Baylor instead. She did.

 

But it's what she did two months later that changed my life forever.

 

She came to visit me in New Mexico, where I was working a summer job at a Baptist camp. She spied Becky's name on a bulletin board and commented, "You were in kindergarten with that girl. You should go meet her."

 

I did and four years later, Becky became my wife.

 

So actually, I think Mom is my hero after all. Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Mom's contributions will go a long way next week when I take 12 volunteers to Honduras to install a library focusing on literacy for girls. It's a joint effort with Chispa Project and another non-profit, Niña/ Learn how you can help at https://chispaproject.org/girlpower/ or https://ninahn.org Checks to "Chispa Project" accepted at address below.

 

------------------------------

 

Visit www.thechaplain.net to read more. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.