2020 Retrospective

How many people would say they thrived in 2020? Isolation looked good on me. I wrote a book, took control of my health, created a cook book and changed careers, again. New friends were made, exhilarating experiences were had and bucket list items checked. It is that time of year for a “look back” with a little holy anticipation for the future. Let’s begin shall we?

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For the Least of These

Jerry Mbokani is my refugee son from Africa. The COVID-19 shutdown in Uganda where he is currently exiled has hit the urban refugee community in ways few of us can possibly imagine. If you are a refugee in the city, you work and then you eat. With all industry shut down, the refugee does not eat. All transportation in Uganda has been shut down as well. It is an impossible situation short of the miraculous provision by people who are the hands and feet of a living God. Continue reading “For the Least of These”

Through My Eyes

I did not go looking for a refugee family in Africa to adopt. They found me. It started as just an ordinary writing assignment for an ever curious storyteller and blossomed into a life altering relationship orchestrated by the ONE who answers our prayers. The thing is, I had never prayed to adopt a refugee family from Africa. God, what are you up to? Continue reading “Through My Eyes”

Machine Guns and Women’s Underwear

What do machine guns and women's underwear have to do with sending filmmaking equipment to Africa? My missionary friend saw my post from Walmart that I was buying crates to make a shipment to Africa. He sent me a warning that corrupt customs officials were confiscating items of value and holding them for ransom. It seems that white women traveling alone to Africa were targeted for this tactic. He recalled that my last crate of Christmas gifts for my African refugee family was transported by just such a white woman traveling alone. Continue reading “Machine Guns and Women’s Underwear”

Christmas in Africa in August

Not even a power outage could dampen the spirits of Jerry’s family as they eagerly surrounding a big red crate full of Christmas gifts from their American grandmother. The gifts went from Indiana to New Mexico to Uganda with a detour to the African bush and then made the journey to Jerry’s house via hours of public transportation through a torrential downpour. We planned a video chat so that Grandma could share in the joy of the moment. A cell phone that won’t hold a charge, a power outage from the storm and a flashlight was all they had, but it was still Christmas, in Africa in August. Continue reading “Christmas in Africa in August”

Africa-Civil War-Refugees…Who Cares?

Africa is the most corrupt continent on the planet. The plight of a refugee in Africa is seldom on the mind of the typical American. We are busy living our lives of freedom, running the kids to after-school activities, dreaming of our next sports car or planning our next vacation. I might consider myself willing to help others but I was certainly never ever thinking about genocide, civil war or exile in Africa. It was so unrelatable to my middle-class American life. Until Jerry connected with me on Facebook. Continue reading “Africa-Civil War-Refugees…Who Cares?”


At age 62, Mother’s Day took on significant meaning when I was adopted into the Bushi tribe in Africa. My new sons pronounced me Mwamikazi “Queen Mother.”? I have never been one to take the traditional path. In fact, I feel a little like Abraham when God told him in his old age, he would be father to the nations. Having no children of my own, I am surely an oddity. I have started collecting children and grandchildren in my old age. Continue reading “Mwamikazi”