Presence, Security

A Hopeful Wind

April 11, 2026

A hopeful wind blew into my house from Asia this week. It brought back my daughter, who had been traveling there since early last November. She started in Bangkok, then journeyed through Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, and finally back to Thailand. Along the way she volunteered at an elephant sanctuary, supported families through homestays in villages, earned her scuba diving certification, climbed rocks, kayaked, and learned.

She told me that in Vietnam, they call the war the “American War.” She toured caves in Laos and Vietnam where citizens survived during the war years. She saw the Killing Fields in Cambodia, where thousands of people were brutally murdered. She went to a visitor center in Cambodia and met “hero rats,” animals that are still being trained today to help clear the country from unexploded landmines (and the rats are not harmed because they don’t weigh enough to trigger the bombs).

With a retired hero rat in Cambodia

 

That was when she started to realize something. The Costa Rica job paid for her airline flights and also provided room and board. That was all, though. There wasn’t any salary associated with it—and it was hard work. Sea turtles lay their eggs at nighttime, so the job included monitoring long stretches of beach with a partner, often for hours at a time. Sleep was often difficult. I had a chance to visit her and her team, and I walked along with her one night for turtle patrol. It was exhausting.

It was good work, important work, but if most of her teammates held master’s degrees and were still basically only earning room and board, what did that say about her plan, her dream, of continuing her education at the master’s level?

When she got home from Costa Rica, she found a summer, in-between kind of job, working as a zip line operator at Heavenly Valley resort, up in Tahoe. That job included a discounted rate for shared employee housing. Whoever would have guessed that adding “zip line guide” to a resume would be helpful in finding future employment? It worked for her, since last summer she went to Catalina Island and was a zip line guide there.

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Presence

A Little Bit of Easter Thankfulness

April 4, 2026

New growth on a pine tree that we saw on our walk today. Made me think of resurrection hope.

It rained earlier this week.

In California, my drought-prone, beloved home, rain is almost always a cause for celebration, especially since March was one of the driest and warmest on record. So a little rain at the end of a dry, warm month was very welcome. Longtime readers might remember that I have a goal of walking a certain number of steps each day. I try not to be fanatical about it, but sometimes? I am a little fanatical about it. So the other day, when it was finally raining, I got home after a long day of work and realized that my step count was nowhere near my goal. It was raining, but not very much, right? It was barely sprinkling, actually, and Biscuit needed to go for a walk, too. Sure, my phone said that heavy showers were expected soon, possibly with thunder, but so far the sky looked friendly, and isn’t the forecast often mistaken?

The forecast was not mistaken.

Of course, we had reached the point on our walk that was furthest from our house when the sky opened and the rain started in earnest. We picked up our pace. My leisurely stroll turned into a jog—and then into an outright run. We got wet. Would it be fair to partially blame Biscuit for our soaking? He was the one who stopped every ten feet to sniff and pee, sniff and pee, during the first part of our walk, when the clouds were still sprinkling lightly and I was mentally congratulating myself for getting outside and walking in spite of the forecast.

Eventually we made it to the post office and were shivering and dripping under the covered porch, staring at the rain that was coming down in buckets. I grabbed my mail, which would surely be soaked by the time we ran the rest of the way home. Home wasn’t far, but in a deluge of water? It felt like a mile.

But here is a lovely thing about living in my small town. Our town’s postmaster was at the back of the post office, closing up for the day. She came out, saw me standing there clutching Biscuit’s leash and my mail, and said, “Do you need a ride?”

“Biscuit’s pretty wet,” I said.

(I was too, actually.)

“I don’t mind,” she replied.

I picked up Biscuit, and we jumped into her little Honda. We were ferried the short distance from the post office to our house—door to door service. Yes, we were wet. But what a thing to be grateful for this week, that we were able to get a walk in at all. And more that when we needed it most, somebody was there to help us get home without getting any wetter.

So I am grateful today for that rain and for the blessing of a ride home. I am grateful that there was cinnamon and cream for my hot tea, and that it warmed me up after I shed my wet clothes and dried off Biscuit. My daughter will be home in a few days from her five months of traveling in Asia: Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam. My youngest is getting ready to go to Japan for a semester abroad in the fall. I have a cell phone, and people who love me are only a phone call or short drive away. I live in a town where you can get a ride from a neighbor in a torrential downpour. And today, especially—I am grateful for Easter and resurrection hope.

I do not know why this beautiful chicken crossed the road. We ran into her on our walk today, which was not rainy at all. Biscuit was curious! I think they could have been friends.