FATHER'S DAY

 

My grandmother Isabel was a founding member of the Father's Day Committee.  I can't find her in this picture.  Maybe you can.  Father's Day Picnic Spokane, WA 1915.

I’m so thankful that we have a day set aside to honor fathers. It’s a meaningful time to reflect on and celebrate the powerful difference a father can make in a child’s life.

To underscore that impact, researchers Fagan and Palm from the Institute for Family Studies shared this insight—click here to read the whole report.

The term “activation relationship” describes the emotional bond between fathers and children that enables the child to feel safe to take both physical and social risks and explore their environment. … When fathers interact with sensitivity and warmth, they provide a secure base for exploration and encourage children to go out into the world and then come back to share with [their] fathers.

That quote resonates deeply with me. Reflecting on my own father, I realize he must have done a good job—because I left home at 18 and never looked back. My dreams unfolded by the grace of God just as I hoped. I found myself traveling the world: first by car, train, bus, steamboat, and airplane.

Later, I was fortunate to marry a man who shared that same love of adventure—especially through sailing. Even more importantly, I was blessed to have a husband who loved his children wholeheartedly.

Interestingly, Spokane was already a vibrant place back in 1915. The women of the community planned a special Father’s Day picnic in one of the city’s beautiful parks. (See photo above.)

The Spokesman Review recently shared a powerful story about the origins of Father’s Day, which started right here in Spokane.
One highlight from that story was about the descendants of Sonora Smart Dodd, the woman credited with founding the holiday. Her great-granddaughter, Betsy Roddy—the last direct descendant—continues to honor that legacy. Each year, she writes two Father’s Day cards: one to her father, and one to her great-grandmother. It’s a touching family tradition that keeps Sonora Dodd’s vision alive and reminds us all of the lasting impact of fatherhood.

This year’s Father’s Day celebration in Spokane marked a special milestone and served as a reminder of how fathers help build strong, resilient communities.

I am filled with gratitude for fathers—both past and present.

As Luke 11:11 reminds us:
"What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent?"

SALUTING 250 YEARS OF DUTY, HONOR, AND COUNTRY

 

Photo by Chris

My experience as a Sponsor with the ROTC Sponsor Corps at Eastern Washington University back in 1965 was thoroughly enjoyable. We marched every day, practicing for military parades—and I loved every minute of it.

That said, the scene described above may be all too familiar when a drill sergeant singles out a new recruit in an effort to toughen him up. Some recruits respond well to this kind of challenge, while others look for creative ways to avoid it altogether. I've heard of recruits becoming drivers for officers or working as company photographers—clever ways to steer clear of the drill sergeant’s attention.

Kitchen Patrol (KP) is another strategy that sometimes works. If you show up at 3 a.m. to peel potatoes, you might just earn the rest of the day off. Of course, I’ve never been in the military myself, so I can only speak from what I’ve heard.

Now, looking ahead to this Saturday in Washington, D.C., there will be a celebration marking 250 years of the U.S. Army. Congratulations to all our brave warriors on this incredible milestone!

DUCKS, FLOWERS, AND YELLOWJACKETS

 

Photo by Chris 2016 Monroe, WA

William Spurstowe (1605–1666), a Puritan clergyman, saw sermons everywhere. "Knotty trees. Crumbling walls. Flying insects. A gentle breeze. For Spurstowe, everything was an opportunity to think about God." After sixty years of such reflection, he wrote a book entitled The Spiritual Chemyst, detailing this practice.  Click here to read the "Cripplegate" article.

In many ways, I can relate to Spurstowe’s view. God has comforted me, surprised me, and even warned me through His creation—sometimes in ways I only understood in hindsight.

When I lost my sister, for instance, He sent a cheerful robin. I watched it search for worms, and in that simple moment, I felt a quiet reassurance, a small mercy in the middle of grief. At another time, I attended a memorial for the sister of an acquaintance. During the service, the surviving sister mentioned that yellow roses were her sister’s favorite flower. After her passing, a yellow rose unexpectedly sprouted in her garden—something she hadn’t planted, as far as she knew. A small, surprising sign of beauty and comfort.

God’s timing has also been startling. When our son Jes was 11, I allowed him to go to the store with two 12-year-old friends. I was uneasy about him crossing a busy street before turning 12, but the older boys promised to look after him. While I was at a farmers market, a yellow jacket stung me near my eye. It hurt enough that I decided to head home to remove the stinger. Just as I pulled into the driveway, Gary came running to tell me Jes had been hit by a car.

We rushed to the scene. The people who had hit him had placed a pillow under his head but hadn’t moved him. Shortly after, an ambulance arrived. At the hospital, we learned Jes had only sustained contusions and abrasions. I can’t help but think—if that yellow jacket hadn’t stung me, no one would have known where I was, or how to reach me. Even in a moment of pain, God was guiding the timing.

And then there are the times God simply delights us.

Years ago, Chris began saying we needed “more ducks in the world.” I thought it was one of his jokes. Our friends in Oregon gifted him a stuffed toy duck, which we still have. Soon he was collecting rubber ducks, then toy ducks of all kinds. It was whimsical and sweet. Then, when we moved to a condo in Monroe, our backyard became home to a real flock of ducks. How God surprises us—sometimes even with the desires of our hearts. I think Chris is over ducks now (at least, he hasn’t added to his collection recently), but the memory reminds me how God listens, even when we’re only half-serious.

All we have to do is look to see that God is near to us—in grief, in protection, in joy.

Psalm 145:18
The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth.

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THOSE WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE US

 

Memorial Day 2016 near Carnation, WA. Photo by Bobbi.

I have been privileged to visit cemeteries across the country, from Virginia to Washington. Each one holds its own quiet story, a solemn reminder of the sacrifices made. At Arlington National Cemetery, I was particularly moved by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The precision and unwavering dedication of the stoic guards left a lasting impression on me.

At national cemeteries like Tahoma, near Tacoma, WA, military veterans are buried free of charge—a fitting tribute to their service. In contrast, some families have chosen private plots, with gravesites stretching from New York to California to Washington. These resting places vary greatly: some lie in vast, sweeping cemeteries; others in small, almost hidden spaces. Some are marked with headstones, while others remain unmarked. Some of the deceased served in the military, while others did not. Each grave, however, represents a life, a story, and a connection to history.

As Memorial Day approaches, it’s important to pause and remember those who have defended our nation. It’s a time of reflection and gratitude. For me, one memorable moment was when Chris and I stumbled upon a beautifully solemn scene during a Memorial Day weekend, possibly in Monroe, WA. The precision of the ceremony—it was deeply moving and a tribute to the dedication so many put into honoring our fallen.

This year, I hope to watch military band concerts on TV, taking in the music and tradition from home. Someday, Chris and I may visit the cemeteries in Spokane to place flowers on the graves of our ancestors—a quiet gesture of remembrance.

I’m reminded of these words from Scripture:

1 Thessalonians 4:16–18
For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.

May we carry that encouragement with us as we honor and remember.

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MOTHER'S DAY-- HONORING MOMS

 

1944--  Jay, Grandma Isabelle, Grace, me, Aunt Emily, Kit, Aunt Jeanne, Richard

It was a joyful day when the cousins finally met. We were all close in age—except for Jay, who was two years older than the rest of us. Richard was born in January, I came along in July, and Kit, the youngest, was born in August.

Our families traveled from California and Wisconsin to Spokane for that first reunion. It marked the beginning of a lasting bond between us, one nurtured by our remarkable mothers—Grace, Emily, and Jeanne. From that point on, they made sure we stayed connected. I was happy to have 2 girl cousins, Rinda and Janet, and my sister Evy born between 1945 and 1947.  Last of all we had cousin Bobby, and my brothers Davy and Wayne born in the 50's. 

Thanks to their dedication, we saw each other at least once a year. In between visits, letters and gifts kept our relationships strong. Their consistent efforts helped build a deep and lasting connection among us. 

I believe what truly sustained our closeness was more than just our mothers' efforts—it was also the shared foundation of values we grew up with. Our Judeo-Christian upbringing gave us a common moral ground that shaped our lives and deepened our connection.

Looking back, I’m grateful for the love and intention that brought us together and kept us close. What began as a simple family visit became the foundation of lifelong relationships. The traditions, values, and memories we share continue to shape who we are today. And though time and distance may stretch between us now, the bond we built—rooted in family, faith, and the care of three devoted mothers—remains.

Here's to all moms on this special day.

Proverbs 31:26 She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.

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LIFE: A MEMOIR

 

Daughter Heather 1972 -- not afraid of dogs

Life hurts—sometimes. We face both big and small “owies.” We carry fears, anxieties, and memories that shape us.

For me, the wounds began early—when I was just five years old. I was playing in the sandbox at a neighbor's house with their little girl. As long as I stayed in the backyard, I felt safe. But eventually, I wanted to go home. She didn’t want me to leave and refused to walk me to the gate. So I ran—alone.

That’s when their big red Chow dog attacked me. It mauled both of my arms and both of my legs. I don’t remember what happened next, but I’ve been told I was rushed to the hospital, where the doctor cauterized the bite wounds. I still carry the scars. And that’s where my fear of dogs began.

Some fears are easier to trace than others. I’m not sure why I’m afraid of cars. Maybe it’s the fear of being run over. Even as an adult I am still fearful. I remember when Chris and I were in Paris—I couldn’t bring myself to cross the street because of the overwhelming traffic. Chris had to gently guide me across by holding my neck and back, slowly pushing me forward. Since then, I’ve found it easier to just avoid cities altogether.

Another painful moment came when I was 7, visiting Grandma Grace Belle and Grandpa Roy. I was jumping from the hayloft into the soft hay below, laughing and playing. But as I walked back to climb up again, I stepped on a sharp piece of coal and twisted my left foot badly. It hurt so much that I begged my older brother Jay to carry me into the house. My foot was soaked in salt water and wrapped. And then? I went right back out to keep jumping. But from that day on, my left foot always hurt. We found out later that it was broken.  I have a bone pile under my ankle. I never had trouble telling my left from my right after that.

These experiences left more than physical scars. They planted deep longings—for safety, for healing, for peace.

So when I first heard in Sunday school that if I believed in Jesus, I would have eternal life—life without pain or tears—it was exactly what my heart longed for. That day, I put my trust in Jesus. I believed He would save me, and that one day, I’d live with Him forever.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to understand more deeply the truth of the Gospel: that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, but Jesus paid the price. We can trust Him—He loves us, prays for us, and protects us. And year after year, I’ve only grown more in love with Him.

John 3:16
For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.

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RESURRECTION ROLLS RECIPE

 

In case you missed it here is a repeat of last years Easter recipe:

Resurrection rolls are a great Easter recipe that you can make with the kids. Cinnamon-coated marshmallows are wrapped in dough, then baked. When you break them open, they are empty inside, representing Jesus's tomb on Easter morning.

Ingredients

• • 1 (10 ounce) can refrigerated crescent dinner rolls
    
  • 2 tablespoons white sugar
    
  • 2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
    
  • 8 large marshmallows
    
  • ¼ cup melted butter

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Lightly grease a baking sheet.

2. Separate crescent rolls into individual triangles.

3. Mix sugar and cinnamon together in a small bowl.

4. Dip a marshmallow into melted butter, then roll in sugar mixture. Place marshmallow into the center of a dough triangle. Carefully wrap dough around marshmallow. Roll into ball. Pinch the seams together tightly to seal in marshmallow as it melts. Place roll on a baking sheet; repeat.

5. Bake in the preheated oven until golden brown, about 15 minutes. My oven was a little hot so I took them out after 10 minutes.