Mario will finally be released from prison on July 28, 2025.

The Demonic Assignments

This month has been challenging, to say the least. After much reflection, everything finally came into focus — and with it, an understanding of why the attacks have been so frequent. Ministering the Word of God is my calling, and so I have been using social media as a means to reach the masses. The Holy Spirit has been most accommodating, guiding the words that pass through my lips. But guess who hates this work? Satan. He and his minions are ever-present, and they have assignments against people like me — those who are committed to bringing light into a dark world.

The Appointments

For three weeks, I have been attempting to schedule an appointment to visit Mario. All year long, this had been a seamless process — but suddenly, the system began freezing, and I was unable to complete it. Multiple attempts to reset my password proved futile. In frustration, I called the prison and explained the situation, only to be told that the matter needed to be escalated to Sacramento. The response from the facility was dismissive: “Try again in about an hour, or maybe tomorrow. It should be working.” It never did — so the only option left was to visit as a walk-in.

Getting Out is another means of communication. Through this app, it is possible to send text messages and videos to Mario, as well as schedule appointments. Despite being well-acquainted with the platform, every attempt to make an appointment was met with the same response — a message in large, bold, red letters: MARIO ******* BLOCKED. When a call was made to seek assistance, the response was about as warm as one extended to an unwanted telemarketer.

The Spectrum Account

The goal was to leave no later than 10:30 a.m. Mike was in the process of making changes to the Spectrum account — but since the account is under my name, the call had to be made personally. The service was being cancelled due to outrageous price increases. What seemed like a ten-minute task stretched into forty-five. Now the departure time was closer to eleven, and frustration was mounting.

In haste, “California Rehabilitation Center” was entered into the GPS, and the drive began. About ten minutes in came the realization: the money for the visit had been left behind. Turning around added another twenty minutes to the delay. By the time the car door closed again, the GPS showed an estimated arrival time of 11:55 a.m.

The system does not make allowances for late arrivals — that much was certain. It felt like yet another attack. So there was only one thing left to do.

Pray.

Two Choices

On the last visit, Mario expressed concern — he was uncertain whether he had been cleared for parole to Arizona. As he put it, “Sometimes, it’s not until a few weeks from our release date that we find out if we can get paroled out of state.” Even so, the uncertainty did little to dampen his excitement. After all, he only had a few more months left.

Then, on June 26th, Mario’s sister received a call — and with it, the news: he had been granted permission to parole to Arizona and reunite with his family.

Two weeks before that call, Mario had reached out seeking advice. He had been contacted by a faith-based Christian organization — privately funded, dedicated to helping inmates transition into their new lives. It is a sober-living environment that accepts residents by referral only, and Mario came highly recommended by the prison itself.

The matter requiring attention was a DUI from the early 1990s — an outstanding issue standing between Mario and a valid driver’s license. This organization had the resources and connections to help facilitate exactly that kind of resolution.

The only counsel offered to Mario was simple: pray, and ask God for direction.

Mario’s Decision

Mario will turn 50 in November. The program offers a six-month stay, along with practical support in finding employment — a meaningful foundation for someone stepping back into the world after years inside.

After praying about which direction to take, Mario made his decision. The confirmation came in an unexpected but unmistakable way: the pastor from the organization called him, and at the end of their conversation, he prayed over Mario. For Mario, that prayer settled it.

The Routine

During the visit, the heartbreak his family felt over his decision was shared with him directly. The words were candid: “Mario, keep this in the back of your head — this is your last hope for freedom. You cannot mess this up.”

He didn’t flinch. “Tia, I have it in the front of my head.”

Mario went on to explain his intention: to protect and maintain the routine that has sustained him — reading Scripture, serving God, continuing his AA work, and learning how to reenter a complicated world. Inner Vision offers regular Bible studies, and that consistency matters deeply to him. More than anything, Mario felt he needed this season of structured transition before stepping fully into life outside.

And then there is Buttercup — a beautiful golden retriever puppy he has been helping train as a service dog. She remains at his side. Mario described her simply, and without hesitation, as his best friend.

The Visit

Frazzled as the arrival was, by the time the food was finally gathered, Mario could be seen coming down the hall. Being the last visitor in, with slim pickings for seating, the guard was asked for a table in the shade.

Together, we read from Matthew 10:26–42, pausing at every verse to go deeper into its meaning. This passage, titled “Courage Under Persecution,” opens with a call not to be afraid, and the reminder that “nothing is concealed that will not be revealed.” It continues with the assurance that God knows even the fall of a sparrow — and that every hair on our heads is counted, so we need not be afraid. It closes with the promise that whoever receives a disciple receives Christ himself — and that even a cup of cold water given in His name will not go unrewarded.

Landing on this chapter was a happy accident — what had been intended was Matthew 7:21–29, but the verse reference had slipped away in the moment. What was found instead was precisely what was needed.

My Prayer

Lord, You know Your son Mario and all the suffering he has endured. I beg You, Lord, to bless him and continue to pave a safe passage for him when he gets out. I pray that Mario would excel in this program and ease into finding employment. Lord, nothing is impossible with You. Grant Your son Mario the special graces he needs to get by.

Amen.

This is the story of a remarkable woman — a dear friend named Lan.

Lan

Lan was born in Hà Nội, North Vietnam. She is now 75 years old. When she was five, her family fled south to escape the grip of communism — a decision that would shape the entire course of her life.

Her husband was already serving in the army when they married. By the time North Vietnam invaded the South, the couple had two daughters. Her husband was captured and taken to what the communist regime called a re-education camp — though in truth, it was a concentration camp in every meaningful sense. Families were told the detainment would last eight days. He would not be released for six years.

During that time, South Vietnamese soldiers held in these camps were subjected to indoctrination — forced to sing songs of worship and tribute to Hồ Chí Minh.

Visits were not open. They were scheduled. Lan’s husband would write to inform her when she was permitted to make the journey.

The Visits

To reach her husband, Lan and a group of other wives would board a bus and travel eighteen hours to the edge of a jungle. There, they hired motorcyclists to carry them deeper into the forest. At a certain point, even those guides would go no further — the fear of communist soldiers was too great. From there, Lan and the other wives carried their supplies the rest of the way themselves.

By the time she finally reached her husband, a day and a half had passed since she left home.

The Meeting

The visiting room held a long table — perhaps eight feet across. When her husband was brought out, the distance between them allowed only the reaching of hands. A communist guard stood watch over the entire conversation. After fifteen minutes, the visit was over.

As desperately as Lan wanted to cry, she had been warned against it. If any of the wives wept, the men would be punished with more intense labor. So she held it in.

Homecoming

There was no announcement. No formal notice. One day, after six years in the re-education camp, her husband simply came home. He was required to report to the local police once a week.

The Exodus

Leaving a communist country required an underground network — secrecy, risk, and the willingness to pay dearly for the chance at freedom. In Lan’s case, the currency was gold — specifically, gold leaves, a form of payment used in that time and place. The price was three gold leaves per person.

By then, Lan and her husband had welcomed a third child — a son, still a newborn. They paid the price and they prayed. Then they waited. A full year passed before word came that their passage out of Vietnam was available.

Lan’s daughters were eight and six years old when the family departed. But their newborn son could not come. The journey was too dangerous — those who fled communist Vietnam became known as “the boat people,” and the passage carried enormous risk. The fear was real and specific: an infant’s cry could betray them all. The baby stayed behind, left in the care of Lan’s parents.

The Boat

They boarded a bus and were transported to the shore. There, a tiny fishing boat — loaded with fifty people — set out onto the dark waters of the South China Sea.

It was not long before a devastating discovery was made: the compass was broken. With no instruments to guide them, they turned to the night sky, navigating by the North Star.

By the fifth day, the boat was sinking. The men worked through the night, bailing water with everything they had — but it was not enough. By seven o’clock in the morning, they were exhausted, their strength spent. There was nothing left to give.

And so, together — Catholics and Buddhists alike — they prayed. They prayed for their souls. They prepared to die.

Then, a young man on the boat spotted something — a small speck against the sky. An airplane. Desperate, they tried to start a fire to signal it, but everything on the boat was soaked. It seemed the last chance was slipping away — until the captain’s wife remembered she had a mirror. They caught the light and flashed it toward the sky.

Two soldiers reached the sinking boat by dinghy and asked if they needed help. They were rescued — women and children first, then the men.

From Sea to Shore

The USS Bainbridge transported them to a refugee camp in Singapore. What followed was neither quick nor simple. To gain approval for residency in the United States, Lan and her family were scrutinized before a Singaporean judge. Under penalty of perjury, they were required to swear that every piece of information they had provided was true — a grueling process in every sense of the word. They were also interviewed by U.S. officers and were ultimately sponsored by a Catholic organization and the UNHCR — the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees — an organization that has spent more than seventy years working to protect and advocate for people forced to flee war, persecution, and violence.

Lan and her family remained in Singapore for three months, preparing for the life ahead. The next five months were spent in the Philippines, where a series of orientation programs helped them acclimate to what life in the United States would require of them.

The Payback

Lan and her family signed loan documents to cover the cost of their airline tickets to the United States — a debt they fully intended to repay.

As legal refugees, they received assistance through a government program: a stipend of five hundred dollars a month, plus food stamps, for a maximum of eighteen months. Lan’s family was out of the program in thirteen — because her husband found employment. He took the graveyard shift so he could send money back home, working steadily toward the goal of bringing their son to the United States.

Though Lan had three years of law school and an accounting degree, the language barrier closed every door she tried to open. Unable to find work in her trained field, she took out a loan and became a cosmetologist. She worked in that profession for three years — and then felt something stronger pulling at her. A calling to social services. For twenty-three years, she served the Social Services Agency of Orange County, giving back to people in need.

Lan and her husband paid back every penny of those airline tickets. Five years after their arrival, she and her family became American citizens.

This past Thursday, Will graduated from high school.

The Early Birth

The invitations had been sent. We were all eagerly waiting for the birth of our first grandson. But God had other plans.

After a routine checkup with her OB-GYN, Jenny’s water broke on her way to the elevator. Will was due in early March, but on February 13, 2007, he came into the world via C-section at St. Joseph Hospital. Thank God Jenny’s sister Amy was already in town for the baby shower — she would become Jenny’s rock through everything that followed.

Mikos and I stood at the window watching as a nurse treated baby Will like a routine birth. But something was wrong. At four pounds, eleven ounces, his tiny lungs needed far more than routine care. Turning to Mikos, the words came quietly but surely: “Something is not right.” As the father, his instincts were on fire — he could see his baby struggling to breathe. He knocked hard on the window to get the nurse’s attention, but she ignored him. Finally, he had had enough and called a doctor in. We could actually hear the doctor reprimanding the nurse for her negligence. By then, Mike had arrived — and we all stood there watching little Will fight for his life.

Will was immediately transported to Children’s Hospital of Orange County, where he spent two weeks in the NICU. Because Jenny had undergone a C-section and was still under anesthesia, she had no idea of the trauma her son was enduring.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you, a prophet to the nations I appointed you.” — Jeremiah 1:5 (NABRE)

The Love of a Mother

Every single day, Jenny was at her baby boy’s side — watching over him, staying until Mikos arrived to take his turn. The two of them formed a circle of love around Will, and by the time he reached his proper birth weight, he was finally released into the arms of his family. In the meantime, little Maddie was in the loving care of her Aunt Amy and me. We took turns so Jenny could be where she needed to be — with Will.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you, a prophet to the nations I appointed you.” — Jeremiah 1:5 (NABRE)

Fighting to Live

When life begins with a battle, it can only mean one thing — God has a special plan for you.

Will has always been a fighter, and he has had to prove it more than once. From the very beginning, God gifted him with an athletic spirit and the physical ability to match. He played soccer, baseball, and basketball, and picked up surfing and snowboarding along the way. He excelled at every one of them — but basketball became his true passion.

He didn’t just show up and play. He sacrificed weekends, put in the hours, and gave everything to his craft. For years he committed to a club team, competing at a level that demanded real dedication. By his sophomore year of high school, his teammates recognized what everyone around him already knew — they voted him captain of the Junior Varsity team.

Sports and Politics

A coach can make you or break you.

Michael Jordan was cut from his high school varsity team as a sophomore — not good enough, his coach decided. It took persistence, a growth spurt, and a junior varsity season that turned heads before the world discovered what was really there. We all know how that story ended.

Will’s high school was serious about sports, and that meant winning came first — sometimes at any cost. Suddenly, six-foot nineteen-year-olds began showing up on the varsity roster. These are what people call “holdbacks” — kids whose parents chose to give them an extra year to grow, develop, and gain a competitive edge, both athletically and academically. They’re often bigger, stronger, and sometimes two full years older than the boys they’re competing against. Will could read the room. He knew the odds had shifted, and rather than fight a battle that wasn’t his to win, he made a smart, graceful pivot — to golf.

He never missed a beat. Because that’s who Will is. A fighter doesn’t quit — he adapts. And he has never lacked for people in his corner. He golfs regularly with his grandfather Mike now, and true to form, he’s excelling at that too.

“I will instruct you and show you the way you should walk, give you counsel with my eye upon you.” — Psalm 32:8 (NABRE)

Work Ethic

Will once said something that stopped me in my tracks: “You’re not always going to be the best, and you’re not always going to get picked to play.” For a young man still in high school, that kind of self-awareness is rare — and telling. It’s the kind of lesson that can only be learned from the inside out.

His parents have worked hard to pass something even more valuable than athletic talent down to Will and his sister Maddie — a genuine work ethic. Following in Maddie’s footsteps, Will started working at Porky’s Pizza at sixteen. For two years he was the dough boy, putting in the unglamorous hours that no one sees. Now that he’s eighteen, he’s out delivering pizzas — showing up, being reliable, doing what needs to be done.

Maddie, for her part, is carrying a full-time internship and still finds time to deliver pizzas too. These two didn’t fall into that by accident. They were raised that way.

So to all the Porky’s Pizza customers in Yorba Linda and Anaheim Hills — please be kind, and please tip generously. You just might be opening your door to two of the finest young people around.

The Grandma’s

A Family Celebration

Jenny’s family made the long trip from Minnesota to be there — all seven of them. That kind of love doesn’t need explanation. You pack a bag, you buy a ticket, and you show up. And show up they did, filling the room with the particular warmth that only family can bring. Our entire family was there as well, gathered around this young man who has given us so much to celebrate.

My Prayer

Dear Heavenly Father,

Please watch over Will. Protect him — guard his heart and his mind, and lead him always toward what is right in Your eyes.

Lord, I pray not just for Will but for all who are graduating — for every young man and woman stepping into a world that will pull them in a thousand directions. Direct their paths toward holiness. Do not let them be swept away by every wind of doctrine, but anchor them to You — the King of Kings, the One who knew them before they were formed in the womb.

Amen.