Phnom Penh Pals: Team Helm in Cambodia

Today, I heard my son reciting nearly word for word a library book we hadn't read in a week. He remembers so much of what I say. I am saddened to think of all the outbursts over his sister's crying that he has witnessed in the past few weeks. This is a good reminder to watch my tongue, and to own my tendency towards unholy anger. I am encouraged that modeling repentance is a great good we can accomplish for our children, since I surely have many opportunities to live by example.

Several months before she died, my Grandmother gave me an adorable succulent plant. Over the past twenty years, that plant has flourished in many different contexts -- high school, college, medical school, residency, and married life. Succulents are easily divided. Somewhere along the way, I began giving a cutting of this plant to each of my dear friends as a reminder of the nature of love: growing and multiplying. The metaphor of this plant taught me much about how God loves us: sacrificially and continually. Friends with less than green thumbs received more than one of these little plants. And always, always, I found myself with more at home than whatever I had given away. Until this month.   Over the winter, I had moved all my plants to the top of my refrigerator - where they would be safe from the curious hands of visiting toddlers. Recently, I noticed the plants were not looking well. Most of them bounced back pretty quickly when I put them back on the kitchen table in