Recently I saw a picture of Afghan women dressed in the traditional burqa, and it tore my heart. To me, wearing of the burqa represents oppression. For the past twenty years, under democratic rule, women of Afghanistan have been able to go to school and to hold jobs.

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I teach all forms of fitness and have for over 20 years. In my younger years, I had the freedom to bump around from place to place, teaching any format at any time. Time moved on and as I got older, daytime work changed from 9-5 working in an office to 12-12 living as a stay-at-home mom. Therefore, the way I taught classes needed to change too.

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That’s the kind of trust I want to have with my good Father, God. I want to let Him worry about what is happening on the beach of life around me.

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Have you ever noticed how often Jesus got interrupted? It happened all the time. Sometimes, reading the gospels, it seems that Jesus did more miracles in the interruptions than in the planned ministry.

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Dad is all of these things and yet not really – not anymore. He has Alzheimer’s Disease. I write to remember him, though he hasn’t yet departed from this world. I catch his glance and see a light of recognition and love for me in his smile, yet it’s challenging to recognize him there; the dad that I remember and expect is leaving us, steadily.

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After years of doting on little ones’ care, I’m now caring for my soon-to-be 97-year-old mama who came to live with us in Georgia. She is an amazing woman who has lived through much.

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