State of (In)Security

I’ve been silent for a while because we were in Cambodia for three weeks and I’ve spent another three trying to dig my way out of 4000+ pictures (cameras can be both a blessing and a curse).

While we were there, we spent a day with the team from our church at Kam-Air, Cambodia’s first and only wakeboard park, founded by one of our kids and run by Alf and my son-in-law, John.

The park has “acquired” its own dog (acquired as in the dog showed up and stayed). He’s a medium-sized dog that has been christened Goliath. He looks vaguely shephard’ish to me, and he loves John.

Progress

If you’ve been reading here very long, you know our family is heavily involved in Cambodia. I’ve been leading short-term mission trips there for several years, and last year our daughter and her family moved there (read about it herehere and their blog here).

Our church has partnered with IJM there the last few years in the work they’re doing to fight sex trafficking of minors. An enormous amount of work has been done there over the last decade, and I was privileged to write a summary of the progress for our church’s web site.

If you’d like to read about it, click here.

Two pollices down

Being a critic of anything is a thankless job (that’s critic in the formal sense, not in the Internet age “I’m brilliant because I have a computer” sense). The word “critic” comes from a Greek word (doesn’t everything?) that means “able to discern,” and that’s what the best critics do — they are discerning about what they’re watching (TV/movies) or eating (food) or listening to (classical music), and then they express what they discerned in a reasoned, hopefully entertaining, way.

But, as mentioned, in the Internet age, everyone’s a critic, because everyone has an opinion, and most think that an opinion is all it takes to be a critic.

Everybody must get …

I heard a story tonight I’ve heard before. This isn’t the first time this has happened — my grandmother had favorites she told over and over, and we laughed with gusto every time we heard them, because she told them in a way that made them fresh every time. It won’t be the last time it happens — as I get older, I hear myself telling stories I’ve told before and wonder whether I’ve told it to the current audience, and pray I haven’t, because I do not have Mimi’s gift for storytelling. Unfortunately, the yawns usually tell me I have …

This particular story involved two young girls and an evil man (I don’t throw that word around lightly, as you will see).

One Twelth of 12 Angry Men

I just finished reading Escape, and I’m angry.

I’m angry Carolyn lived most of her adult years in fear.
I’m angry her eight children were not allowed physical contact (hugs, etc.) with their parents.
I’m angry that after all she’d documented, her first lawyer still allowed Jessop to have visitation rights to those kids.
I’m angry that Carolyn didn’t even have the police to turn to when she escaped, because they were all in the FLDS as well.
I’m angry that we give this kind of barbarism protection under the guise of “religion”.
I’m angry that, although Carolyn’s escaped the physical clutches of the FLDS, her spiritual condition has not.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

This was originally going to be titled “A Love Story in Four Acts,” but I realized that would lose my main target audience (males) before I got started. Gentlemen, now that I have your attention, you should read this if:

  • You have a daughter.
  • You’re married to someone’s daughter.
  • You’re dating or have dated someone’s daughter.
  • You want to date someone’s daughter.

Ladies, you should read this because the content is still “A Love Story in Four Acts”. Just don’t tell the guys.