The Pod and the Path

We live inside a pod. It shelters us, shapes us, and gives us form. Yet the pod is not life itself; it is only a vessel. One day it must break open, and what is within will continue on. For much of my life, I searched for certainty in mysteries. I wanted proof of a…

The Road Before Us

I’ve often wondered why injustice thrives while truth and honesty remain dammed behind corruption, lies, and misdeeds — a barrier controlled by criminals guilty of horrific crimes against humanity. We long for justice; we crave the truth. Yet none dare throw the first stone, for beneath our polished exteriors lies the same shadowed humanity, the…

Levels of Humanity

My first awareness of different levels of humanity came while serving in the military at Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland. After being wounded and rescued by a renegade medivac team from what was supposed to be a suicide mission during the first days of Operation Allen Brook, I was sent there to recover. In need…

One Size Fits All

A few years ago, my RCA television remote stopped working. I went to the local market in Phnom Penh, where I knew that if I found one replacement, I’d find a hundred more piled high in baskets. Because of my poor eyesight, I prefer remotes with large buttons and clear letters. After some searching, I…

Detours

In the Northern parts of the United States, the roads are quiet. No cities to slow you down, no travelers to share the miles. Cruising at a hundred in a Thunderbird feels effortless when you’re the only one on the highway. Everything was smooth until I reached the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where the sky…

The Third Trimester

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind with Melinda and Kate visiting. Their presence brought us closer to many Wat Opot children and families, reminding me how much I cherish stepping into a grandparent’s role, supporting without leading, watching parents guide their little ones with love. While Dr. Kate was here, a former Watopotian…

Crossing the Fence

As a boy, my father played semiprofessional baseball in Grandville, Michigan. He earned a few dollars each game, but money was tight, and our family often couldn’t afford tickets. Mom, ever resourceful, usually found a way to get us in, until one night a new gatekeeper refused. Dad went inside to sign in, while Mom…