"I can't do this. I don't know how."  "It's too hard. I'm not any good at this kind of stuff." "I'm not qualified." "I'm too old." "I'm too young."  "What if I fail?" "People will laugh at me." "It's too risky." "There are people better at this than I am." Do any of these excuses sound familiar? I confess, several of them, if not all of them, have found their way into my but-I-can't repertoire at some point. So insecure. So scared. Sometimes, just so lazy. The older I get, the more I'm learning this simple, terrifying truth: usually, what…

There was once a married couple who had been together for thirty years. One day they drove down a long, dusty country road, leaving their home to take a trip into town to get groceries and supplies.  As they passed mile after mile of agricultural land ripe with growing corn and wheat, the wife began to think of their many years together. She thought of how she and her husband had met at their high school dance. They had fallen in love and became inseparable. Several years later they were married.  She recalled how they had held hands everywhere they…

My kids love impressions. The crazier, the better. And being a singer, I always find it a hilarious exercise to see if I can manipulate my voice enough to oblige their whims. Today I spent all day conversing like the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland. When bad manners were displayed at dinner, the Queen of Hearts yelled, "Off with your head!", causing an eruption of giggles. In the past few months, I have spent much time as the Count from Sesame Street, Patrick from Spongebob Squarepants, Maria from The Sound of Music, Elmyra from Tiny Toons, Ethel Merman and…

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. " (Matthew 5:43-45) I don't know about you but loving my enemies can be a tall order sometimes. People can be hurtful. Even downright mean. It's easy to want to defend ourselves or our loved ones, to right the wrong, or inflict the same kind of hurt we have suffered. After all, the world tells us to destroy our enemies. We must claw our…

And the tears came. Poor daughter of mine. Today's math work was dividing decimals. Something she's done a hundred times before. Certainly a task much easier than some of her more recent math assignments---solving long lines of x and y problems, multiplied by square roots and divided by more of the same.  "What's wrong, sweetie?" "It just doesn't make sense to me." Sniffle. "What doesn't make sense to you? How to move the decimals?" "No." "Then why doesn't it make sense?" "It just doesn't." As she wiped away her warm tears, smearing them across her blotchy cheeks, I sighed and…

"Mom, we have a problem." I blinked, trying to focus on my daughter and her probing look. Only moments ago, I was studying, my mind full of the sounds of ancient Israel: the shrill cry of blasted horns, stomping feet, the thundering crash of an enormous wall splitting and crumbling apart, the bellowed cries of victory... Jericho would have to wait for a moment. I swiveled in my chair to face my daughter, noting the anxious lines around her eyes. "What's wrong?" "Callie." "What happened to her?" Bethany pursed her lips in irritation. "She's crying." "Why?" Taking a deep breath,…