Removing My Website

  This boy. :-) He is the one who expanded my heart to see that I could do more--even for just one person. I shouldn't call him a boy or a kid. Enio is a fine young man who is raising his younger sister after the death of their mother. I wrote about him a bit here:  Thirteen Years in My Pocket Enio's serious, kind, and faithful soul marked me again in recent days. He is very young (at least to me--20 years old), yet very responsible. I see him follow through in detailed ways as he works (his boss is my host in   San Marcos, Guatemala ). Even when it is not his job, Enio helps others. I observe his ways in contrast to other young men his age (former coworkers) who are involved in a very serious situation against his boss. John 10:10 (AMPC) is playing out before my eyes:   "The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy."   I won't take long to explain, but a large amount of building materials were charged and sold (stolen!) supposedly to get money to...

  Sunset now spent, chilled panes reflected Beth’s bare face against the black night. Enough light spilled from the windows to illuminate the edge of a snowdrift that grew with the wind. Signs of life winked across the lake as families huddled in their homes, warm despite the blizzard.   Is anyone else alone? Surely I’m not the only one.   It didn’t feel like Christmas Eve. Her family traditionally celebrated on the night before Christmas. Finger foods and gifts fed their gaiety. As children, she and her brother thoroughly shook all the packages in the days before. Anticipation was high and didn’t end with the call for bedtime. In the morning, stockings were miraculously filled with small treats and presents before they woke.  This year, Christmas was at her dad’s house. He had long passed by the traditions of decorations and celebrations. She asked if he wanted a tree. He didn’t. He asked in return if she wanted one. “I don’t need a tree, Dad,” she replied. In the m...

  It’s 12:08. No one has peeked in! I wonder . . .   Beth’s thoughts floated toward her father.   12:10--still no one. Maybe they won’t notice?   Her defiance was unintended and reluctant. Midnight had come, but she didn’t want to hurry away just because a clock completed its revolution. No visitors were allowed beginning November 25, 2020, which was now 12 minutes in.  Just a little longer , she told herself. As soon as she was left, she couldn’t come back and didn’t know how long visitation would be closed down.   I’ll stay as long as they’ll let me stay , she resolved. Quiet enveloped Beth and her dad. He slept still, deep, and peaceful. The television was on--familiar light and sound for him. Her laptop, dimmer and softer, played voices of ministers familiar to her.  Occasionally the regular bustle of nurses rose into a wave of activity from the station outside her father’s room. Often it was the patient who cried out in pain. Beth prayed for him a...