It was an uneventful train rain ride on an uneventful afternoon.  Until it wasn’t.

Stepping off on to the station platform in my home town, I heard a voice yelling.  Actually, it would be more accurate to say he was screaming: "No!  No!  No!" As he shouted, the train conductor's arms were flailing—but only for a moment.

That’s when he dove off the train. Having managed to dodge him, I had to know why he was rushing with t[...] 

When you're two, being with Grandma and Grandpa is cool.

When you're ten—not so much.

Tim was at that awkward stage but never failed to hug his grandparents every visit. Wishing to reinforce good behavior, I once told him, "You know, I love the way you give such great hugs to Grandma and Grandpa. That's very nice of you! And I know they love, it too."

Timmy's reply: "Well, they won't be around forever. Someday they're [...] 

Before traveling to Vicente Guerrero in Mexico, I had never even heard of, let alone met, a Oaxacan. They are among the poorest of the poor.

Partly because of their “lowly” heritage and partly because they are indigenous, they are looked down upon by many, so they typically get the crummiest of the crummy jobs. If it’s dangerous or back-breaking or low paying, a Oaxacan is usually doing the task.  My daughter and I were there to learn about them and minister t[...]