Hope for Orphans

If you've read my blog before, you've probably figured out that I care deeply about orphan issues. Beginning with the adoption of two of my children from Kenya through Colorado-based adoption agency and orphan care ministry, Hope's Promise, God took me on a wild ride around the world; and my art often flows out of what I've…Read more Hope for Orphans

Beading for Sammy

My fingers continue stringing beads fast and furious in Colorado, accumulating inventory for the July Texas PTA convention, while my heart wanders far away to the morning bird songs, traffic cacophony, blooming flowers, and singing children of Kenya. Sometimes a young boy steps into my imagination. His smiling face urges me on, keeps my hands…Read more Beading for Sammy

A Beautiful Girl in Haiti

Deep in the trenches of poverty and strife, a beautiful girl wearing a white head-band picks her way through garbage and crumbling cement and passes through the gates of Good Shepherd School. In Cite Soleil, the poorest slum of the poorest country of the Western Hemisphere, she aspires to something more than she inherited at…Read more A Beautiful Girl in Haiti

Port au Prince Haiti at a Glance

Port au Prince is the hustling, bustling, overflowing city-that-never-stops capital of Haiti. It is said that the streets are the living room of Port au Prince. From the brightly colored, stacked structures on the hillsides of the upscale Petionville suburb to the densely-packed, narrow crumbling streets of the City Soleil slum, it is an endless…Read more Port au Prince Haiti at a Glance

A Secret Garden That Changed My Life (In Vietnam)

We explore a silky summer evening, airbrushed with cool mountain air and golden sinking light. Newly arrived in Steamboat Springs, we wander west. The river is gift enough, flowing like laughter between us. One of those rare series of moments when you feel so alive, so present to where you are, so thankful to love…Read more A Secret Garden That Changed My Life (In Vietnam)

A Tale of Two Drowning Kids

The waters first lapped at my son’s feet when he was five years-old. I pulled our “twins” (by adoption - they are six weeks apart) from pre-school mid-year when we traveled to Kenya to adopt my daughter, never imagining they would miss the entire second semester. As days melted into weeks, I imposed structure on our nomad existence with…Read more A Tale of Two Drowning Kids