how to: care for everyone

How to: care for extroverts                                                   How to: care for introverts

Here's the deal, you guys:

It's never too late for anything.

My dad recently officiated this wedding.

This bride is a 72 year old gal who has never been married. She has taken care of her sister (who has Down's Syndrome) for her entire life, and was recently bound to a wheelchair because of a bone disease.
The groom is a 75 year old former Navy fighter pilot who nursed his late wife through years of heartbreaking cancer treatments before she died.
And now they are newlyweds. The bride's sister was the maid of honor. She got to wear a pink dress and a tiara. The groom wanted everyone in attendance (except my pops) to stay seated during the entire ceremony so that his bride had an ideal view of the whole scene as she wheeled down the aisle.
I just think this whole thing is darling.

Abednego; world's greatest dog

If there is anything cuter than my pup opening up his Christmas present, I need you to prove it to me.

Choose Joy

My dear friend Jensen gave me this for Christmas. It is a perfect gift.
In case you don't have your French-English pocket dictionary handy, it means "Choose Joy: because it's all relative."

I talk myself out of joy a lot. I believe a cynical whisper that says joy is far off and I have to work for it before I can have it. I get confused when I see joy in front of me and think it was supposed to look like something else. I think it's not for me, it must be meant for another person. I try not to touch it in case I'm not supposed to. I tell myself that I don't deserve joy. Not just yet. I think I even believe that if I choose joy, I'm just setting myself up for pain later on.

This is all not quite right. And believing this lie makes me not quite right.

I trust a man who said that He came for me so that my joy may be full, so this gift is a beautiful reminder that His joy is available to me whenever I choose to choose it.

You too. Choose joy.

you didn't know this turned into a photo blog did you?

I'm sorry. I'd love to write something delightful here, but I've got this monster term paper hanging over my head. The semester of hell is almost over. Have another picture. Later.

this is my dad

Nigeria, circa 1980