Friday Tidings

I was re-organizing the storage bins in my garage. Every plastic bin I used was made in China. Much of what I stored inside was too.  Many of my office supplies, electronics, even my toothpicks are from China. So when I read about a September “showdown” between our navy and China’s in the international waters of the South China Sea, it gave  Made in China  new meaning.  Experts agree that China will be the dominating naval force by 2030. China is aggressively seeking global economic and cyber superiority. Should America try and maintain military and economic superiority?  I grew up thinking so. Recently, a college professor posed a hypothetical scenario to his students:  China sends a flotilla of troops, a destroyer, and an aircraft carrier into our Pacific waters....undetected because of their superior technology.  China doesn’t want war, only occupation. China will rule the United States from Beijing. Further, China will offe

As a young mom, I used to wear out the knees of my jeans playing with the kids on the floor.  My jeans will soon be showing signs of wear again—my granddaughter just started crawling.  I watch her explore her world and wonder about the challenges she’ll face as she grows. While I may not be equipped to handle the life my grandkids face, I know the One who can equip them. Being a grandma for almost 14 years has taken me to my knees often—for prayer. Babyhood is only the beginning of the prayers.  Teen-hood needs exponential prayer. My grandson’s middle school world is daunting. In my 1970’s junior high days, the distractions didn’t come from screens. Arguably, we were in the computer dark ages back then. Now kids juggle screen time with higher academic expectations than I ever faced.   Then there’s modern parenthood. Parents face their own challenges to keep their family clothed, fed, housed, and educated for a changing world.  Somehow mom and dad use the sa

The high school debate team was a great place for me to channel my argumentative tendencies.  I knew everything I needed to know to beat the competition because I’d just returned from a week-long research and debate seminar.  I bounded down the stairs to the dinner table after spending a couple hours preparing for the next debate. I wanted to practice, and since my grandparents were visiting, I had an expanded panel of opponents.  With dinner plates brimming with chicken and vegetables, I decided to dish out my opening statement—The government is never going to solve America’s poverty. They’ve been trying and failing for years. Poverty will only be solved by getting more able-bodied people to work.  I looked around the table to see if they’d take my bait. My dad seemed enamored with cutting his chicken into small pieces. Mom took a sip of wine. Grandpa gave an audible scoff. Grandma smiled and said I needed to take a seat on Miss Primrose’s porch. I gave her a

If homes could talk, what would they say? There’s a special kind of quiet in the forest. When there’s no human noise, I can hear leaves falling and rain dripping from the tree branches. It’s autumn.  The trees have grown up around me as we’ve grown older together. It’s my birthday—a special birthday, because I’m turning 40.  Now, you don’t have to say how young I look, for I know I’m showing my age. But that’s okay, because age means I have stories to tell—and there are so many I’ve lived through.  It began with Morley and all of her energy and enthusiasm. I was just a hand drawn rectangle on a piece of paper before she brought me to life.  Morley and her dad worked with a volunteer crew to place one log on top of another until I was as tall as I am today. On my first Christmas, Morley decorated a small tree and we sat together and admired my shiny logs.  She had dreams for me—a wood floor and a rock fireplace, but she wasn’t given enough time. Her hospit