Yak Attack

"Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, its a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope and that enables you to laugh at life's realities." - Dr. Seuss

Breath taking

It is not the amount of breaths we take, but rather the number of moments that take our breath away.
 

Some of my little friends...

Mt. Everest...

Fishing in Laos...

Machhapuchhare Mountain (The Fish Tail) in Nepal...

My new great nephew, only a few hours old...

Words to strive for...

The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he's always doing both.

James Michener

The secret of genius is to carry the spirit of the child into old age, which means never losing your enthusiasm.

- Victor Hugo

Home

"He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home."
- Johann von Goeth

Communication

"The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn't being said."
-- Peter Drucker

Travel

"As the traveler who has once been from home is wiser than he who has never left his own doorstep, so a knowledge of one other culture should sharpen our ability to scrutinize more steadily, to appreciate more lovingly, our own."
-Margaret Mead

Grandma's Hands

Five Generations of Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn’t move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn’t acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. ‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking,’ she said in a clear voice strong.

‘I didn’t mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,’ I
explained to her.

‘Have you ever looked at your hands,’ she asked. ‘I mean really looked at your hands?’

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story:

‘Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

‘They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

‘They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special

They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

‘They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn’t understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

‘These hands are the mark of where I’ve been and the ruggedness of life.

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.’

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma’s hands and led her home.

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.

I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

– Author Unknown

Hopes

We should not let our fears hold us back from pursuing our hopes.

John Fitzgerald Kennedy

My fear has been that I won't recover enough from my accident to be able to return to work. My hope is for a better life for Tibetans. Keeping this hope foremost in my mind has helped in the recovery process. And, I am pleased to say that I am making really fast progress right now. My pain is significantly decreased, my mobility has increased, and I am gaining more function in my hand every day. Thanks to so many who have been sending warm thoughts, prayers and hugs my way!

My Christmas poem