Caine’s Arcade

When I was a little girl, I loved to play office. My parents operated their own business, and as result there was always a surplus of paper, pens, clips, envelopes, folders — you name it, they had it — around the house. My father even had this stamp with his name and our home address on it. At eight years-old, I basically thought it was the coolest thing ever.

As for my office, I preferred to set up shop in my room; naturally, as that’s where I was in charge. There I would bring my clients in to discuss our handlings, and summon my employees for office-chats; for some reason I routinely found myself “forced” to penalize them for missing their deadlines. I’ll tell you now, it hurt me more than it hurt them. I considered myself to be a fair boss, but capable of laying down the law when necessary. I even had a badge. Okay, it was a name-tag, but it was pret-ty official looking.

When I wasn’t reprimanding my staff, I would organize everything into piles, or neatly in drawers. I would also make labels, and occasionally I found reason to tear things up; I did not have my own reason for doing so, but witnessed my father in this act many times, and I think I figured better safe than sorry. But what I remember most about playing office was the feeling of productivity, which in turn brought me joy, and still does to this day. Of course, in the end — or, I suppose I should say, the interim — I did not end up working in an office, but perhaps those skills aid me in my endeavor to write books. I like to think so, anyway. And I suspect it’s why, right now, all across the globe, there are tiny bakers and florists and homemakers and dentists and nurses all hard at work, doing what they love – maybe one day they’ll even get paid for it.

And there’s also this little guy, Caine, and his arcade. Ah, I am tempted to go into detail, expounding the awesomeness of what this young man has done. Instead, I’ll shut my mouth – er, my fingers. If you have not seen this video, I hope you’ll watch it now. In return you’ll find yourself smiling for a while, perhaps even the rest of the day, and who doesn’t need a nice, long smile. I did, and I’m still wearing it!

Happy Tuesday to you, my friends.



This is Zach Sobiech. Maybe you have heard his story. If not, you aren’t going to want to miss it. It’s one of those really, really, really special stories that gets you Uh! right there. You’ll likely be thinking about him the … Continue reading

An Effort Well Worth It

This morning I opened my inbox, and a post from “A Winsome Journey” was there to greet me. Maybe you know Jess? Like myself, she’s an animal lover, and not just your run-of-the-mill animal lover; I’m talking llamas, chickens, goats, lambs — you name it, she probably owns one. It’s a regular barnyard fiesta o’er yonder. Jess is very generous with her photos, capturing heart-melting shots and humorous expressions stamped across her furry family’s faces. This morning, however, the post was solely dedicated to her sweet dogs, Seamus, Finnegan, and Lexi. Go on over and have a read. It’s short and sure to brighten your day.

So there I was reading her post, all misty-eyed, when I realized my own sweet furry baby, light of my life, sparkle in my eye, was sleeping not more than a couple feet from me, all coiled up like a teeny-tiny snail. And there was this instant rush to my heart; you know, like when you enter a drug-store and that overhead fan blasts you in the face with warm air — like that, but in a good way.

I must admit that, Continue reading

A Treasure of Incomparable Worth: Father

Shoulders and calves. Oily scalp and big teeth. Sense of humor and charisma. Eloquence and fetching smile. Temper. Sweet tooth. Optimism and open mind. Intelligence and sophistication. Impatience and obstinacy. Cynosural wit.

My father gave these things to me. Some I didn’t want. Many I will always be grateful for. All of them make me his daughter.


She will start out small. Small hands. Small feet. Small smiles in the thick of sleep. She will not stay that way, however. She will grow. And you must grow with her.

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Kenya Bound

This morning, my best friend is on my mind . . .

She leaves for Kenya in roughly a month and a half, and will be gone for a whole year. I am bursting at the seams with pride. This woman, this impassioned follower of Christ, is giving up every comfort she knows to lay down her will before His, and serve His people among a third-world country. I will also admit now that, selfishly, I don’t want her to leave. I will miss her greatly. While we do not see one another as often as I would like, Amanda is like the extra rich canister of cocoa you keep in the back of your pantry; you don’t drink it every day, but should you be in need of something satisfying and restorative, it’s there waiting for you. I am thrusting my selfish heart to the floor, zip-locking my sadness, and focusing on the Good and Light, both of which are Amanda and God’s call for her life.

Kenya, in itself, is a beautiful country; the people, the landscape, the culture — it’s brimming with life and vitality. There are pockets of this wild and unindustrialized land that are prospering and thriving. The people are healthy. The children are being educated. Lives are being changed for the better. These advancements have much to do with people, missionaires like Amanda, who generously and selflessly give of themselves . . . for free.

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