Time Marches On...

It's March already? How did that happen? It felt good to walk the pathway that circles Rice University this morning. First time in a while. We didn't make it all the way around, instead we stayed close to where we parked in case the clouds decided to unload on us.

Last Thursday I woke up to sad news. I had been regularly checking on a dear family friend, Don Vinzant, since I got the word that he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma last month. My dad was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in 2001, so I am familiar with this devastating disease. It usually causes intense pain and suffering to patients fighting it and it is a diagnosis you never want to hear. Don passed away peacefully March 10, 2011. I am thankful that his suffering was not extended, and at the same time I feel the ache in my heart for his family and friends who will miss him so much. He devoted his life to serving God and leading others to God through Christ. It was a blessing to have known him and to have him perform our wedding in 1983. Don and his precious wife, Carol, have touched many lives and I know Carol will continue without him, but I don't know how. It is my prayer that each person whose life was touched by Don will step up and emulate what he made look so effortless.

The next day, Friday, before I turned on the news I received a call from my sister. The first thing she told me was that my daughter in Japan was OK. That's always good to know, but I wanted to know why she felt the need to call me to say this. (Well - I think I actually yelled at her to tell me what was going on, but I did call her back later to apologize.) Then she told me about the earthquake in Japan, and that when I saw the pictures on the news it would scare me. She was right. I asked her to call mom and warn her not to worry about our family when she turned on her TV. When we hung up, I turned on my TV to the horrible scenes of the earthquake and tsunami. And prayed. And tried to call my daughter. Over and over. And wrote on her FaceBook wall how thankful I was that they were OK. And how I couldn't get a phone call through to her. And then I got an email from my daughter, telling me to turn on Skype. Oh yeah. So I signed on, and as her image appeared on my computer screen I was finally able to breathe again.

I am not going to ask, "what next?" My son took off by himself this morning from Arkansas, driving almost to our border with Canada to pick up a trailer and deliver it to Houston. He assures me he will be fine...